She grabbed her robe, pulled it on, and went to the door. She watched through the peephole, letting Reed in before he even knocked. "I'm glad you're here. I was just debating whether to call you."

He looked drawn and troubled, and his eyes narrowed at her words. "Why? Is something wrong?"

Taylor eyed him speculatively. "You mean, besides dealing with Rick's death and getting through a tribute to him and an entire show? Yes, something's wrong. Why do I get the feeling you already know that?"

Reed blew out his breath. "Let's not do this dance, Taylor. Please-- not tonight. Just tell me what happened. I'll answer you if I can."

"Fair enough. Jonathan Mallory called the radio station. Not once, but repeatedly. He insisted on speaking to me. I didn't take the calls." A pause, during which time Taylor studied Reed's unchanged expression. "I see you're not surprised."

"I'm not."

"Okay, then. Your turn."

"Jonathan told me he tried to contact you." Reed shrugged out of his coat and tossed it aside, not even bothering to hang it up. "He's determined to speak with you. He reached me about an hour ago on my cell. He wanted to find out if we'd be together tonight and, if so, at whose apartment, so he could get through to you there."

Taylor went very still. "He doesn't have my number. It's unlisted. So how could he get through to me here?"

"Unlisted numbers can be gotten. Besides, it's a moot point. He's calling my cell phone and asking for you. That way, he'll be sure to connect no matter where we are."

"Tonight?"

"Yes."

"It's twelve a.m." A p.r.i.c.kle of apprehension darted up Taylor's spine. "This is starting to creep me out." She met and held Reed's gaze. "What' ever he wants to talk to me about, you know what it is. That's why you're here. You're worried. And it doesn't look like legal worry to me. Tell me what's going on. And it better not include the phrase 'attorney-client privilege.'"

"It won't." Reed knew he had to tread carefully. He couldn't mention Jonathan's past, including either of his borderline incidents. But he could reveal his current, insistent romantic interest in Taylor, and even his drunken state when he'd blurted it out--well, that didn't breach any rules of confidentiality.

And he'd be d.a.m.ned if he wouldn't give Taylor enough to go on so she could protect herself--if protection from Jonathan was what was needed.

"Reed ...," she prompted.

"Jonathan Mallory wants you," he stated flatly. "He told me to stand aside so he can move in, now that you've had time to get over his resemblance to Gordon."

She started. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. He's convinced that the two of you could have some kind of serious relationship."

"I don't believe this." Taylor averted her head, dragging a hand through her long hair as she tried to process what Reed had just said. "This is crazy. I met the guy twice. The first time I freaked out because I thought he was Gordon. The second time I was jumping out of my skin. He asked me out and I turned him down flat. So where would he get the idea we're en route to some kind of relationship?"

Reed frowned. "I can't answer that. All I can surmise is that between listening to your radio show and whatever karma he perceived between the two of you, he feels like you have some kind of connection, like you'd understand each other. Look, he was pretty drunk when he called me and babbled all this stuff. But that's the gist of it."

"Karma? Connection?" Taylor stared at Reed, totally thrown by the explanation, and experiencing a terrifying sense of deja vu. "Is being delusional a genetic trait in that family? Because Jonathan Mallory sounds almost as unbalanced as--" She stopped short of saying Gordon's name. "Do you think he'd ...

do ... anything?"

"No." That much Reed could answer honestly. "Jonathan's persistent. But he's not violent."

"Right. Neither was his brother--not until that night." Taylor was starting to shake. "Reed, I want him to go away. I'll get a restraining order if I have to. With everything that's going on, I can't handle this, too."

"I know." Reed reached out, his palms caressing her shoulders. "That's why I'm here."

Her chin lifted in a show of resolve, but her lips quivered as she spoke. "I won't take his calls. You'll have to be the intermediary. Tell him I'm not interested--not in speaking with him, dating him, or starting a relationship with him. As for his ordering you to stand aside, that's intrusive and borderline obsessive. Tell him I make my own decisions about my social life. Tell him I've had enough drama in my life to last forever. Tell him. . ." Taylor's voice faltered, and something inside her just seemed to give out. She began to cry, tears gliding down her cheeks as she covered her face with her hands.

"I can't believe I'm falling apart like this," she wept. "I never fall apart. I..."

Reed pulled her against him, tangling his fingers in her hair and just holding her. "Maybe you need to. You've got too d.a.m.ned much on your plate."

"When those phone calls came into the station tonight, I almost lost it." Her voice was m.u.f.fled against Reed's shirt. "He kept calling back, and he wouldn't leave his name, and .. ."

"And you were afraid it was that weirdo who called you in the middle of the night."

A nod. "Not that this is much better. I'm creeped out. And I'm scared."

"Don't be. I'll get Jonathan to go away."

"But will he listen? He's conjured up a whole scenario that's so removed from reality that--" Abruptly, Taylor stiffened in Reed's arms. "You don't think it's possible that Jonathan Mallory is the one who's been hara.s.sing me, do you?"

There was the barest hint of a pause before Reed answered--but it was enough to make Taylor pull back and scrutinize his expression. "Reed?"

"I don't know," he replied bluntly. "I don't think so, but I can't be sure."

"But you're not shocked by my question. Which means the possibility occurred to you, too."

"Yeah. It occurred to me."

"Based on more than random speculation."

"Taylor, don't." Reed's jaw set, but he looked more pained than emphatic. "I've already pushed my ethical boundaries to the limit. I can't say any more."

Her eyes widened. "Are you saying .. . ?"

"I'm saying I can't discuss my client. But I'm also saying I'd never stand by if I thought he was a danger to you. There's a huge difference between infatuation and physical a.s.sault. Jonathan has major issues, but he isn't Gordon. Don't let your emotional vulnerabilities drown out your reason. I'm asking you to trust me. I know you're not quite ready to. But try."

She stood there for a moment, staring up at him, her lashes damp with tears. "I'm a mess," she whispered at last. "My emotions are raw. And you're right. I can't even separate Gordon from Jonathan anymore.

I feel like this is an instant replay of last September. The question is, is that irrational fear or clearheaded logic talking? I just don't know. I can't even trust my own judgment.. How can I trust you?"

"Because of what's happening between us. Because you know I won't let anyone harm you. And because you know I'm in possession of all the facts, including those I can't discuss, and that I'm smart enough to know what to do with them."

Taylor's head felt as if it were going to explode. "I understand what you're saying, but..."

"But it's a huge leap for you. I realize that." Reed pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin. "Make the leap. If for no other reason than because I'm more objective about this than you are. I can separate reason from emotion. Except when I touch you. That's the only time my objectivity goes right out the window."

That much Taylor understood only too well. "I can't even think anymore," she murmured. "I'm exhausted. Too much stimuli. Too little sleep."

"No sleep," Reed corrected, his lips in her hair. "Not for either of us. And talk about stimuli."

"That's not what I meant."

"1 know. But it's what I meant. What happened between us last night was as consuming as it gets--despite the fact that the timing was even worse than I realized. The result is major emotional overload."

Taylor sighed. "I guess you're right. Ironically, I set tonight aside to recoup. I figured that if I was alone, I could sort through everything's that happened these past few days, and recharge my emotional batteries a little. It seemed like a great idea, especially since after the show, I was so drained I could barely walk. My plan was to come home, take a bath, and curl up in bed. It didn't work out that way, did it?"

Reed leaned back and tilted up her chin, searching her face with a questioning look. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No. G.o.d, no." She was suddenly wide-awake, shaking her head vehemently even as he asked the question. "Everything changed after I got those messages from Jonathan Mallory. My new wounds were still smarting, and at the same time, someone was tearing open the old ones and pouring salt in them. When you buzzed from downstairs, I was staring at the phone, debating whether it was too late to call you. I wanted to beg you to come over."

"Then I'm glad I'm here."

"Me, too. Talk about mental telepathy." Taylor fought her natural instinct for emotional self-protection, abandoning all the unanswered questions and throwing herself into the here and now. "Stay. I need you."

Tenderness flashed in Reed's eyes, and he framed her face between his palms. "I'm not going anywhere. Not till morning. I'll stay right here with you all night." He cleared his throat, clarifying what he had in mind, in case she had any doubts. "And if being held is all you want, then that's all I'll do."

"Not a chance." She dashed the tears off her cheeks, then began unb.u.t.toning his shirt. "I want a lot more than that. I want to shut out the world and all its ugliness. I want to relive every unbelievable sensation we felt last night. I want to experience new ones we have yet to discover." A watery smile. "Besides, we're still perfecting the art of going slow, remember? It's like my self-defense lessons. Tons of practice is required to get it exactly right. Isn't that what you taught me?"

A corner of his mouth lifted, and he unbelted her robe, backing her toward the bedroom. "How could I have forgotten?"

She was naked by the time they reached the bed. Reed eased her down, then stepped back to yank off the rest of his clothes.

For the briefest instant, he paused, glancing out the window and scanning the dark street below.

Nothing.

The last thing he did before lowering himself into Taylor's waiting arms was to grope for his suit jacket, find his cell phone, and turn it off.

So much for Jonathan's call.

No upsets. No interruptions.

Nothing but Taylor.

He covered her body with his.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 7.

4:35 A.M.

The shrill ringing of the telephone on the night table pierced the silence of the room.

Her head pillowed on Reed's chest, Taylor snapped out of her half doze instantly. "Oh, no,"

she whispered.

"Let me get it." Reed pushed himself to a sitting position, reaching across Taylor to s.n.a.t.c.h up the receiver.

"No." She grabbed his arm. "If it's him--the guy who called last time-- he'll go crazy if a man answers my phone at this time of night. I'll get it."

She stared at the phone, noting the sickeningly familiar caller-ID designation of "private" on the LCD display. Steeling herself, she lifted the receiver from its cradle. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Where were you last night?" It was the raspy male voice, its pitch altered this time to a low baritone.

"I waited for hours."

Taylor's entire body started shaking. "Waited? Waited where? Who is this?"

"Answer my question."

She forced herself to summon up the psychologist within her. "Someone dear to me pa.s.sed away.

I was too upset to be alone. I stayed with friends."

"Friends." The voice was too synthesized for Taylor to figure out whether there was skepticism in his tone.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Now, who are you and why were you waiting for me?"

"I told you to sleep alone. I meant it. Don't force my hand."

Before Taylor could respond, there was a dial tone.

CHAPTER 20.

8:35 A.M.

HARTER, RANDOLPH & COLLINS.

Douglas Berkley waved away the cup of coffee Reed offered him, not even taking the time to sit down. Instead, he stood behind one of the plush chocolate brown leather chairs, gripping its back with both hands.

"I have a nine-thirty meeting, Reed. What's so urgent that you had to see me first thing?"

Reed didn't mince words. "We have a situation," he said tersely. "It can't wait."

"Does this concern the doc.u.ments? Because, regardless of the issues, those are right on track. I'm meeting Jonathan for dinner tonight. We still have a few minor points to work out. I'll be back at the brownstone Monday evening and set to sign the papers and make the necessary announcement, as scheduled, on Tuesday."

"It's not about the company. It's about Jonathan."

Douglas's eyes narrowed. "What about him?"

Reed laid out the whole series of events, from soup to nuts, sticking to the facts and none of the conjecture.

By the time he was through, Douglas's lips were drawn into a grim line. "You think Jonathan's the one hara.s.sing Taylor Halstead?"

"It depends on when you ask me. Sometimes I think it's absurd, that he'd never screw up his future that way--not now. Other times, like last night when he was ranting on my cell phone, I remember the old Jonathan, the one who convinced himself that every woman he wanted, wanted him, and that he could create a relationship simply by--"

"You don't need to remind me." Douglas walked over to the sideboard, poured himself a gla.s.s of water, and took a gulp. "She's a redhead, like the others?"

"Yes. But, unlike the others, she's already involved."

"Does Jonathan know that?"