“You’re good with the boy,” Sophia said, not realizing she’d spoken the words aloud.
Logan clucked his tongue. “As opposed to being downright mean and rotten?”
Sophia snapped her head up, annoyed at Logan for sucking the joy out of a purely innocent comment. “It’s a wonder you can stand up straight with that giant chip on your shoulder.”
He put his head down, stared at his boots and sighed heavily. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. You paid me a compliment and—”
“You found something sinister in an honest observation.”
Logan’s dark brows lifted, creasing his forehead. “You make me sound like a devil.”
Since when did Logan care what she thought of him? She searched his eyes and with a shake of her head admitted, “I don’t think you’re mean.”
He looked away, unwilling to share a poignant moment with her, unwilling to realize that she didn’t hold harsh feelings for him the way he did for her. “Edward has had a rough childhood. His parents have made bad choices, and the boy shouldn’t have to pay for that.”
As he spoke, she noted the pain in Logan’s voice. For a brief moment, she wondered if Logan related to Edward because he’d had pain in his life, too. Pain she was certain he attributed to her mother’s relationship with his dad. “Life isn’t always fair,” Sophia said.
He stared at her. “No, it isn’t.”
Sophia balked at his negative tone. This conversation was going nowhere. “I’d better get back to work.”
She brushed by him, but before she was out of his reach, he took hold of her arm, his fingertips gently digging into the flesh. His touch stirred her senses. She paused for a second, sensations rippling through her body. On a silent sigh, she turned to face him. “What?”
“I’ve got appointments all afternoon, and the hike with Edward later. We have to talk about Ruth’s party sometime.”
“Your schedule is busier than mine. Tell me when, and I’ll be there.”
“First thing tomorrow morning. Come to my office at 8:00 a.m. sharp.”
Logan’s home office was private, so there’d be no chance of Ruth catching on. She’d never suspect a thing and that was the whole point of the surprise. Sophia dreaded being alone with Logan, yet what choice did she have—they were partners. “I’ll be there.”
He released his gentle hold on her and she walked away. But the impact of Logan’s touch stayed with her for the remainder of the workday.
Well past seven o’clock, she closed up her office and left the lodge as the sun made one last blazing hurrah on the horizon. She enjoyed the glorious sunset on the walk home. But when she climbed the steps leading up to her front door, just as she put her key into the lock, a rustling sound from behind her interrupted her peace. She felt a presence. Someone was in the bushes. She turned sharply to see who it was. “Is someone there?” she called out.
No one appeared. There was no response. In the fading light she scanned the area, searching the garden, shrubs and thicket of trees and then farther, past the yard. Had she imagined it? With her back turned, she’d been so certain that someone was approaching from behind. An eerie sensation crept up her spine.
For a moment, she stood perfectly still, listening. A lump formed in her throat and before she allowed butterflies to take flight in her stomach, she gave herself a mental talking to. Don’t let your imagination go wild. No one is out there. It was probably the wind.
Though at the moment, not so much as a breeze blew by.
Sophia shook off the feeling of déjà vu, turned the doorknob and flipped on the light switch as she entered the house, making sure to lock the front door. She moved carefully through the rooms, looking around, and finally decided she was being silly. She was safe on Sunset Ranch. There were security gates, and the property was well guarded.
But just in case, Sophia slept with the lamp on that night.
The next morning, Sophia stood at the cottage’s entranceway, staring at a plain piece of folded, white computer paper she’d lifted from the welcome mat outside her door. Curious, she glanced out to the yard, looking to find someone who might have left her a note. Coming up empty in her search, she unfolded the paper quickly and read four words typed above the crease.
She blinked, and reread the note.
Her shoulders slumped, and her breath came in shortened bursts. “Oh … no.”
Slight tremors coursed through her body, and she fought the sensations, trying to make sense of what she’d found. The words were not threatening—should not instill panic. And yet she couldn’t tamp down her fear. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her … again.
You are very beautiful.
Last night, she’d been certain someone had been watching her. And today, as she’d slipped into her brown slacks and sleeveless cream blouse after her morning shower, she’d realized how foolish she’d been.
“Don’t be paranoid, Sophia,” she’d said into the bathroom mirror, tying her long hair back into a loose braid. “You heard a frightened animal dash from the yard or a bird flitting through the branches of the tall pines.” She had herself convinced it was nothing. But after seeing those four words, Sophia feared her world could very well tip upside down. She wasn’t convinced or sure of anything anymore. There was only one conclusion she could come to.
Someone had been outside her cottage last night.
Someone was watching her.
Sophia squinted against the morning sunshine, looked around the yard once again and then shut the door. Her legs wobbly, she made her way to the sofa and lowered herself onto it.
She closed her eyes.
She had to get a grip.
Yet she couldn’t move or summon up the energy to start her busy day. Her mind flashed to two years ago and that very frightening time in her life.
Shortly after her mother’s cancer treatments had begun, she’d landed a position on the chorus line for the Las Vegas Fantasy Follies. Hospital bills had piled up faster than she could work them off. She’d been scared and worried about a mother who was in major denial about the severity of her illness. Out of necessity, Sophia had become both a worried, doting daughter and the only breadwinner for their little family.
When the first note had arrived to her dressing room, Sophia hadn’t thought much of it. Her mind was on her mother’s chemo treatments … and kicking her legs high enough and in sync with the other dancers in order to keep her job. Two more notes had followed. After she’d received the third note delivered to the dressing room, her closest friend in the follies remarked, “Oh, wow, Sophia. You have yourself a stalker.”
It was then that Sophia had learned that propositions usually came to showgirls in face-to-face encounters with gentlemen backstage after the show. They weren’t typed out on unadorned, untraceable white computer paper.
The notes kept coming sporadically; there was no rhyme or reason to them. Sophia had gotten spooked on several occasions when she was sure there was one particular pair of eyes in her audience with deeper, more observant, more sinister motives than watching pretty girls dance, jiggle and tease on a glitzy stage. There were other times when she felt as if she were being followed home, although she’d never seen a soul. Her life had been one great big ball of fear. Fear for her mother, fear for her job, fear for her safety. She’d called the police once, and they’d taken a report noting her complaint, but they said no crime had been committed and Sophia figured she was pretty much on her own.
Until Gordon Gregory had come to her rescue, her grey-haired knight in shining armor.
Gordon