Public Secrets

to me that you’d need it. Has someone been bothering you? I can break off earlier and come out—”
“No.” Sighing, she pressed her fingers to her eyes . “No one’s been bothering me. Marianne was right, it’s just paranoia. I guess I haven’t gotten used to coming and going as I choose, but I intend to.” To prove it, she made her decision quickly. “Tell Pete I’d be delighted to be a presenter at the Grammys. In fact, I’ll start hunting up a dress tomorrow.”
“Someone will contact you about the rehearsals. Keep a night free. Bev and I would like to take you and Michael out to dinner.”
“I’ll ask him. He’s…Da,” she said on impulse. “What is it that makes you so comfortable with Michael?”
“He’s steady as a rock. And he loves you as much as I do. He’ll make you happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“I know. I love you, Da. I’ll see you soon.”

Maybe it was just that easy, she thought as she hung up the phone. She had a man who loved her, and who could make her happy. She’d never doubted Michael’s feelings, or her own. The doubts came from whether she would be able to give anything back.
Bundling into a slicker, she raced into the rain. The least she could give Michael when he returned was a hot meal.
She enjoyed pushing the cart up and down the aisles of the market, choosing this, selecting that. By the time she checked out, she had three bags loaded. Drenched, she settled back into the car. It was only three, but she had to turn on her lights to cut the gloom. Jet lag had set in, but the fatigue was almost pleasant, and suited to the rain.
The road was all but deserted. Other shoppers had planned more carefully, or were waiting for the storm to pass. Perhaps that was why she noticed the car behind her, turning where she turned, always keeping two lengths behind. Turning up the radio, she struggled to ignore it.
Paranoia, she told herself.
But her eyes kept flicking to the rearview mirror, and she could see the twin headlights glowing steadily behind her. Emma increased her speed, a little more than safety allowed on the slick roads. The headlights paced her. She eased off the gas. The trailing car slowed. Catching her lip between her teeth, she swerved into an abrupt left turn. Her car físhtailed, skidded. Behind her, the car swung left, then slid across the road.
Fighting for control, Emma punched the gas and managed to pull her car out of the skid. On a burst of speed, she turned toward home, praying the few moments’ lead was all she would need.
She had her fingers around the door handle before she hit the brakes. She wanted to get inside, to safety. Whether it was her imagination or not, she didn’t want to be caught outside and defenseless if the other car cruised up. Leaving the groceries, she sprinted out of the car. Then screamed when a hand clamped on her arm.
“Lady!” The young driver jumped back and nearly overbalanced into a puddle. “Jeeze, get a grip.”
“What do you want?”
The rain was dripping off a cap onto a blunt, freckled nose. She couldn’t see his eyes. “This your house?”
She had her keys, balled in her hand. Emma wondered if she could use them as a weapon. “Why?”

“I got three pieces of luggage, American flight number 457 from New York, for Emma McAvoy.”
Her luggage. Emma nearly laughed as she ran a hand over her face. “I’m sorry. You startled me. You were behind me when I left the market, and I guess I got spooked.”
“I’ve been waiting here for the last ten minutes,” he corrected and shoved a clipboard at her. “Want to sign, please?”
“But—” She looked over in time to see a car drive slowly toward the house. The figure behind the wheel was lost in the sheeting rain and shadows as it cruised down the street. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “Would you mind waiting until I get the groceries in?”
“Look, lady, I’ve got other stops to make.”
She pulled a twenty out of her purse. “Please.” Without waiting for his agreement, she went back to her car to unload.
Inside she double-checked all the locks. With the fire, the lights, the warmth, she’d all but convinced herself that she’d made a mistake. When she didn’t see the car reappear during the next twenty minutes, she was almost sure of it.
Cooking relaxed her. She liked the scents she created, the low murmur of music. As the hour grew later, the gray simply deepened. There was no twilight, just the steady fall of rain. At ease