Kate's jaw dropped. She felt like a player on a slot machine who had suddenly hit the jackpot.

'Allie' had to be Alicia Sawyer. G.o.d, and she'd doubted she had the time to get to the other woman's disappearance today.

But then, she'd imagined she'd have to wait while Billy told her about Pamela Kellerman's accident, and although that intrigued her it wasn't why she was here. But she'd been prepared to put up with that, so long as Billy eventually reached the point of Alicia's employment, although she had to admit she'd had doubts about how long it was going to take.

Yet now, quite incredibly, Billy had brought up the very thing she wanted, and she realised, belatedly, that he'd not been working at the stables when Pamela was killed. Kate could hardly contain her excitement at this development, and she struggled to find something to say that wouldn't arouse his suspicions.

'Allie?' she echoed at last, and then had to wait impatiently while he took another mouthful of his coffee before going on.

'Mrs Sawyer,' he agreed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 'The woman who worked here before you. She liked me to call her Allie. She said it reminded her of when she was a little girl.'

Kate strove for a casual tone. 'But you say she-she walked out?' She waited a beat. 'D'you mean she was fired?'

'No.' Billy was indignant now. 'Mr Guthrie wouldn't have done that. He liked her.'

'Did he?' Kate wasn't sure how to go on. 'What do you mean, then?' She remembered just in time that she wasn't supposed to know anything about her. 'Um-didn't she turn up for work one morning, or what?'

'She just left,' said Billy glumly. 'She didn't even say goodbye. Mr Kellerman said-'

He broke off abruptly. A look of undisguised horror had darkened his face, and all the hairs on the back of Kate's neck rose up in sympathy. She was sure he'd remembered something significant, something that still had the power to fill him with terror. She leaned towards him, silently urging him to finish what he was saying, and then heard the sound that had panicked him into silence in the first place.

Footsteps were approaching, and Billy slammed his mug down onto the desk, spilling half its contents in the process. 'It's Mr Kellerman,' he muttered, catching sight of his employer through the window into the yard. 'Crikey, what am I going to do now?'

Kate, who had her own reasons for not wanting to encounter Alex Kellerman at that moment, gave an impatient shake of her head. 'You're only drinking a cup of coffee!' she exclaimed, hiding her impatience. 'If anyone's in trouble, it's me.'

Billy was not convinced and, wrenching open the door, he confronted his employer with a nervous grin. 'I-I was just leaving, Mr Kellerman,' he muttered. 'I cleaned out the tack room like Mr Guthrie said.'

Alex Kellerman frowned, but before he could make any comment Billy had scooted away across the yard. The older man looked after him, an expression of momentary speculation crossing his face. Then he turned to look at Kate as he entered the office, and she had to steel herself not to look as guilty as she felt.

'Is something wrong?' he asked, coming into the small office and closing the door. Like the stables themselves, and the other buildings that made up three sides of the rectangle, the office opened straight out into the yard. He leaned against the door, but that didn't stop the feeling Kate had that the room was suddenly smaller. His eyes alighted on the pool of coffee. 'Did I interrupt something?'

'Of course not.' Kate spoke a little sharply, but she couldn't help feeling frustrated and it showed. 'I-Billy-well, I asked him to join me for coffee. He-he was looking for Mr Guthrie, that's all.'

'Really?'

'Yes, really.' Kate remembered she was supposed to be trying to gain his confidence as well and forced a smile. 'I suppose I shouldn't have done it, but it gets pretty lonely in here when Mr Guthrie's away.'

'Does it?'

His responses were hardly encouraging, and because she was far too aware of their isolation she took refuge behind her desk. She would have to soak up the coffee Billy had spilled, she reflected, but she'd do it later. She had no desire to get any closer to Alex Kellerman than was absolutely necessary right now.

'I suppose it was too much to hope that you hadn't heard the rumours,' he remarked after a moment, and this time Kate had no chance to control the sudden heat that burned her cheeks.

'I beg your pardon?' she said, her mind racing to find a convincing explanation. Her knees felt weak. Had he heard what she'd been asking Billy? Had he been outside the door long before they'd heard the betraying clatter of his feet?

Kellerman straightened away from the door, and once again Kate had to steel herself not to react.

If she was going to have any kind of success as a private investigator she had to stop behaving like a scared rabbit. If he was angry with her, so what? She hadn't done anything wrong.

Except...

Except take a job under false pretences. Except lie about her reasons for being here. Not to mention the fact that she'd accepted payment for investigating a woman's disappearance. Oh, yes, she was sure he'd believe there was nothing wrong about that.

He approached the desk and she stiffened. He was dressed all in black and she wondered if that was why he seemed so menacing today. Didn't he feel the cold? she wondered, her eyes flickering over the opened collar of his black silk shirt. There was no trace of the gooseb.u.mps she was suffering in the strong-muscled column of his throat.

But it was his eyes that really disturbed her. They looked almost black in his hard, accusing face.

She was forced to look at them, forced to look at him, forced to acknowledge his physical superiority. If he intended to fire her, there wasn't much she could do about it. He was not the sort of man to suffer any kind of interference in his private life.

'My wife's death,' he said now, the tips of his fingers just resting on the rim of her desk. A look of contempt crossed his face. 'That was what you were grilling Billy about, wasn't it? You wanted to know all the gory details about how she died.'

The breath expelled from Kate's lungs almost explosively. He didn't know, she realised weakly, hanging onto the edge of the desk herself for support. 'Um-no,' she stammered hastily.

'Your-your wife's accident is nothing to do with me. Besides, Billy wasn't here when it happened, was he? He's too young. I seem to remember it was about-well, several years ago.'

Kellerman's brows drew together. 'It was,' he agreed stiffly. 'Over two years ago, as you say.'

His thin lips compressed. 'Not that that matters. Billy's been working here for almost a year. He's bound to have discussed it with the other men.'

'Well, he didn't discuss it with me.' Kate was relieved to hear that she sounded almost confident.

'That's not what we were talking about.' And then, before he could ask the obvious question, she added, 'Aren't you getting a little paranoid, Mr Kellerman? People do have other interests in their lives.'

'Do they?' But she could see the doubt in his expression. 'Sometimes, I feel as if they talk about nothing else.' He took a step back from the desk, and pushed his hands into the back pockets of his tight jeans, the spread sides of his leather jerkin exposing a taut midriff above his belt. 'You have every right to think I'm over-reacting, Miss Hughes. But I'm afraid I have become very sensitive in recent months.'

She could believe it, and, ridiculously, Kate knew a sudden desire to rea.s.sure him. This man, who only moments before had seemed to present a real threat to her existence, was actually inspiring her sympathy. It couldn't have been easy living with all the gossip, she conceded. And if he was innocent of any charge, as he professed, it must have been doubly hard.

If...

'It's-understandable,' she a.s.sured him, glancing behind her at the pot of coffee sitting warming on its stand. She hesitated for only a moment before coming to a decision. 'Er-can I offer you a drink, Mr Kellerman?'

He seemed certain to refuse, and she prepared herself for his rejection. But then, he seemed to change his mind. 'Why not?' he said, nodding towards the spillage Billy had created. A small smile touched his lips. 'I'll try not to make any more mess.'

Kate found herself returning his smile, and then hurriedly turned away to take a clean mug from the shelf. Was he teasing her? she wondered. Was he trying to make amends for his earlier harshness? She didn't know, but when he let down his guard he was really nice.

Nice!

She picked up the pot with rather less complacence. Dammit, nice was not an adjective she could use to describe him. Aggressive, perhaps; sarcastic, definitely; maybe even dangerous. And how did she know his affair with Mrs Sawyer hadn't started exactly like this?

Her breath caught in her throat, and her hand shook as she poured his coffee. Just for a moment, she'd wondered what it would be like to have an affair with him. With Alex Kellerman? She was appalled. That was scary. She felt exposed suddenly, as if a sensitive layer of skin had been removed.

She used both hands to offer the mug of coffee to him, just in case her shaking hands warned him of how disturbed she was. 'D'you have any sugar?' he asked, as she was congratulating herself at succeeding, and she saw she hadn't offered him any milk either.

'Sorry,' she murmured, handing him the packet of sugar. There were no social niceties in the office 'Um-do you take milk too? I'm afraid I forgot to ask.'

'Black and sweet,' he a.s.sured her wryly, another of those small smiles playing about his mouth.

'Mmm, that's good,' he added, after tasting it. 'Slightly stewed, but full of flavour.'

Kate groaned. 'You don't like it!' she exclaimed. She gestured towards the filter. 'Would you like me to make a fresh pot?'

'No. This is fine.' He glanced behind him for a chair. 'May I sit down?'

'Of course.' Kate lifted her shoulders. 'It's your office.'

'So it is.' He grimaced and dropped down into an old leather chair that was situated beside the electric heater. 'Mmm.' He stretched out his long legs. 'That's better.' He crossed his booted ankles. 'Now, d'you want to tell me what Roach was doing here?'

She should have known he wouldn't forget, thought Kate, subsiding into her own chair with some reluctance. 'Roach?' she said thoughtfully, giving herself a few moments to compose an answer. 'Oh, you mean Billy,' she added needlessly. 'I can't remember now.'

'I believe he implied he'd been looking for Guthrie,' Alex prompted, his eyes sharp as they appraised her across the rim of his mug.

'Oh, yes, that's right. He was,' Kate said gratefully. 'That's why he came to the office.' She put her mug aside. 'Were you looking for Mr Guthrie, too?'

'As a matter of fact, I wanted to speak to you,' Alex remarked now, instantly banishing her smugness.

'To me?' she got out faintly. 'Why? Is something wrong?'

'What could be wrong?' he countered now, and she thought again how reckless she'd been in coming here. When Alex set down his mug on the floor beside his chair and steepled his hands across his flat stomach, she swallowed convulsively. But all he said was, 'I thought it was time I got to know something about the newest member of my staff.'

Kate's mouth felt unpleasantly dry. 'But didn't Mr Guthrie-?'

'Oh, sure. Sam has no complaints about you. I'm sure you know you charmed him right from the start.'

'But not you.' The words were out before she could prevent them. 'I mean-well, I don't mean that exactly.' She inwardly cringed. 'Um-do you have a problem? About my work, I mean.'

'Why should I?' Alex leaned forward in his seat, resting his arms along his spread thighs. 'But your working here is bound to cause repercussions. I just wondered what your family thought about that.'

Kate expelled an uneven breath. 'My-family is quite happy about me working here,' she told him, refusing to think about what her mother had said when Kate had told her what she intended to do.

'So they don't think I'm as wicked as the press has painted me?' His eyes were intent. 'They don't believe I killed my wife for her money?'

Kate stared at him. 'For her money?' she echoed blankly, and he stifled a bitter oath.

'Oh, haven't you heard that part of the story?' he queried scornfully. 'Well, don't worry. If you stick around here long enough, you will.'

Kate drew a breath. 'It must have been very-painful for you.'

'The standard response.' His lips twisted. 'They all say that.' He paused. 'Well, those who believe me-or say they do, at any rate-a.s.sure me of their sympathy. I think I'm supposed to be grateful, or something like that.'

'And you're not?'

Once again, Kate spoke without considering what she was saying, and Alex's face mirrored a faint respect. 'Do you think I'd tell you?' he asked, and she caught her breath. His lips twisted. 'I don't have a satisfactory answer for what happened to Pamela. I'm sorry she's dead, but the pain came long before she fell off the horse.'

Kate didn't know what to say. This was not a conversation she had ever expected to be having with him. She'd never dreamt that Alex Kellerman might talk about his wife's death to her. And if there had been money involved, people did crazy things.

'But I didn't come here to talk about me,' he said, getting abruptly to his feet, and Kate realised that she was under his mental microscope once again. He came towards the desk, idly straightening the pile of letters and bills she had yet to deal with. 'You never did tell me what you did before you took this job.'

'I worked for my father,' said Kate at once, glad she could answer truthfully. But then, when that obviously wasn't enough, she added, 'He-he had a small-insurance agency in-in Bath.'

'Not in King's Montford?'

'No.'

'And you didn't think of continuing with the agency?'

Kate shook her head. 'No. It-it wasn't the same after my father died.'

He conceded the point, but he still seemed curious. Was it only her imagination, or was he as suspicious of her answers as she was of his? 'I still don't see why you'd want to do this job,' he said at last. His eyes narrowed. 'It isn't as if there's any responsibility involved.'

'I don't need responsibility.' Kate could have added that she'd had more responsibility than he could imagine in her comparatively short life. 'I obviously wanted a job, and there aren't that many to choose from. Not-not everyone wants to employ someone as-as old as me.'

He gave her an old-fashioned look. 'Am I suppose to answer that?' he asked levelly, and her skin burned at the irony in his face. The office wasn't large, and she was far too aware of his maleness.

He could have no idea how inexperienced she was at fencing with any man.

'I-I just meant a lot of employers are looking for younger women,' she explained awkwardly.

'I'm sorry if you thought I was fishing for compliments. I-I'm not like that.'

'What are you like, I wonder?' he mused, and her throat tightened almost convulsively. 'Are you one of those females who imagine it would be a thrill to sleep with a killer?'

Kate gulped. 'You're not a killer!' She refused to consider the rest of what he'd said.

'How do you know?'

She didn't, of course, and a few moments ago she'd have believed almost anything of him. 'I just know,' she declared, somewhat naively. 'Do you think I'd have taken this job if I'd thought you'd-you'd-?'

'Murdered my wife?' Alex was laconic, and she reluctantly nodded.

'When my father was alive, he always used to say I was a good judge of character,' she agreed, getting to her feet.

'Your father?' He paused. 'The insurance agent.'

'That's right.' She was grateful he had reminded her. 'I'm sure if you'd met him you'd have liked him, too.'

'Was he as gullible as you?' he asked sardonically, and Kate took a steadying breath.

'I don't think I'm gullible, Mr Kellerman. Just because I'm prepared to give somebody the-the benefit of the doubt.'

'And you think your father would approve of you working for me? Someone of your-age and intelligence typing statistics into a computer? Come on, Miss Hughes, do you really expect me to believe that?'

Kate shrugged. 'Perhaps I'm not as intelligent as you think...?' she began, and then flinched when he leant towards her.

'And perhaps you're too d.a.m.n clever for your own good.' His lips thinned. 'I'm not stupid, Miss Hughes. I can recognise a phony when I see one, whatever your editor thinks!'

'My editor!' Kate could have collapsed with relief, but instead she forced herself to meet his shrewd gaze. 'I don't have an editor,' she denied swiftly. 'Whatever you think you know. I'm not a journalist, Mr Kellerman. I've never worked for a newspaper in my life.'

'Can you prove it?'