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  Victoria sighed. “All right. I’ll play dumb.”

  “Thank you,” Harry said, glaring at her.

  “My pleasure,” Victoria said, glaring back. “What’s the second concern?”

  Harry lost his train of thought again. Those soft brown eyes really sparkled when she glared. There was a lot of fire in Victoria. How the hell was she ever going to play dumb enough to fool Bond?

  “Harry,” Victoria repeated. “What’s the second concern?”

  “What?”

  “You said you had two concerns,” Victoria said, speaking slowly and clearly. “What … is … the … second … concern?”

  “Oh,” Harry said. “Bond finds out you’re a setup and gets rid of you.”

  Victoria swallowed. “What exactly do you mean by ‘gets rid of’?”

  Harry’s uneasiness solidified into frank doubt; he must have been out of his mind to think about involving Victoria in this. She could get hurt. The whole plan was out of the question. “Bond’s never hurt anyone before, but we’ve got a hell of a lot on him. If we get him now, he won’t see the outside again for some time. And even con men have been known to get violent when facing a lot of prison time—”

  “Oh,” Victoria said.

  “—which is why I think this is a dumb idea,” Harry went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I don’t think this will work. I think we’d better count you out.” He got up to go, relieved.

  Victoria stayed seated. “Wait a minute. If I don’t do it, who will? You?”

  “No.” Harry shook his head. “Nobody’d believe I’m a college professor. Alec can carry it by himself. He and that Banks woman are going to dinner with you anyway. Just let him handle it.”

  “But then Alec might get hurt,” Victoria said.

  “Well, it is his job,” Harry pointed out. “It wouldn’t be the first time he’s taken a risk.”

  “It wouldn’t?” Victoria said, visibly appalled. “I thought all he did was investigate fraud, like some sort of accountant-avenger. I thought the worst that could happen in his job was a paper cut.”

  “Uh, no,” Harry said.

  Victoria bit her lip. “I’ll do it. I can’t let Alec take all the risk.”

  Harry’s heart sank. “Sure you can. It’s his job.”

  “No.” Victoria’s voice was firm. “This will work a lot better if I do it. And you and Alec will be around all the time. How much danger can I be in?”

  “I don’t know,” Harry said. “Any is too much.”

  “Why, Harry.” Victoria smiled at him. “That’s really sweet of you.”

  “The hell it is.” Harry scowled at her, resisting that smile with every ounce of self-protecting skepticism he could muster. “Do you know how much trouble I’d be in if a civilian got bumped off while working undercover for me? I’m only seven years away from full retirement. I don’t need this.”

  “Harry, do you really loathe me as much as you seem to?” Victoria asked, and Harry was caught flatfooted.

  “No,” he said. “What? No. What are you talking about?”

  “You look at me as if I’m something that’s going to bite.” She looked up at him, sweet, confused, puzzled, adorable—

  Harry caught himself. The hell she was adorable. She was manipulating him. “You know damn well what’s going on here,” he blustered. “Business. And if you’re going to play games, you’re out.”

  “I never play games.” Victoria stood up. “I just wanted to know where I stood with you.”

  Too close, that’s where she stood. She was close enough that if he leaned forward, those soft white curls would tickle his cheek. He took a step back. “Right where you are is fine,” he said. “If you’re going through with this, get dressed.”

  The phone rang a little after seven, and Dennie draped herself across the bed to pick it up. “Hello?”

  “Banks, is that you?”

  “Hello, Taylor,” Dennie said. “What do you want?”

  “What the hell have you been doing?”

  “What are you talking about?” Dennie made a face at the phone. “I’m on vacation. Leave me alone.”

  “The hell you are. You’re doing something because I’ve got about forty people on my butt warning me what they’re going to do if you don’t stay away from Janice Meredith. What the hell are you harassing a feminist for, anyway?”

  Dennie froze, visions of her scoop disappearing before her eyes. If an ignoramus like Taylor had heard about it … “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’ve been chasing her around some hotel lobby and watching her eat.”

  Dennie closed her eyes. Janice had set the bloodhounds on her even though she’d stayed away from her. This was one angry woman. “I just tried to talk to her. That’s all, I swear.”

  “Well, stop it. She’s got a lot of powerful friends. I mean it. If I get any more calls, you’re fired.”

  Fired? Dennie’s stomach did a fast plummet. She couldn’t afford to get fired. She had to stay employed long enough to save enough money to quit. Walter’s dog biscuits were not cheap. He’s bluffing, she told herself. “Boy, Taylor, you really know how to back your reporters. Definitely a Pulitzer Prize–winning spine you’ve got there.”

  Taylor’s voice rose to its usual shriek. “I didn’t send you out on any Janice Meredith story, and I’ll be damned if I’ll take the heat for you for nothing. Now lay off or you’re fired! Got it?”

  Dennie swallowed. “Gotcha, Taylor. You’re a real pro.” She hung up on him, chilled by his threat. Journalism jobs weren’t all that easy to get or she’d have jumped Taylor’s ship a long time ago. And there was no doubt he’d fire her in a second if he thought his own job was in any danger. But she couldn’t give up the interview; it was going to be too good. And it was a whole lot more than a story now, anyway; it was a quest. Something she had to do to prove she really was good, really was gutsy and brave and intelligent and—

  Employed. Employed was necessary. How could she get this story without losing her job? Stick with Alec, she thought. Not even Janice Meredith could get her fired for dating an old friend’s nephew.

  Could she?

  Sure, she could, but Alec was Dennie’s only hope. If she was careful, surely she could get Victoria to support her. Surely Janice would understand. Dennie winced and decided thinking about doing risky things was counterproductive. She should just dive straight in. Patience would. When they were little kids out on her uncle’s farm in the summers, Patience was always the first one to jump into the pond. She’d stand on the ledge on the far side and yell, “Come on, Dennie,” and Dennie would dip a toe in the shallow end and shake her head. Only after an hour of yelling and coaxing on Patience’s part and watching and doubting on Dennie’s part would Dennie actually stand on the ledge. “Come on, Dennie,” Patience would repeat, the living embodiment of her name. “I’ll catch you. Jump. It’s great!” And Dennie would hold her nose and jump, and it would be great, except for the time she skinned her knee on a rock by jumping crooked, or the time she scraped her toe on the ledge and it bled, or the time she broke her arm—

  But Patience had always been there to catch her. And now she wasn’t. Patience was on her honeymoon so she wouldn’t even be available for bail if Janice got Dennie arrested. A smart woman would pack her bags and head back to Taylor and safety.

  Even while she had the thought, Dennie knew she wasn’t going back. Before, she’d been doing a too-easy job without realizing it. Now, she knew. If she went back without the interview, she’d be a failure, even if it was only to herself and Walter. She had to go on, even if she lost her job. Even if she got arrested for stalking. Even if Patience wasn’t there. She was going to have to jump.

  “Right,” she said and went to get dressed, but her fingers fumbled with the zipper, and she finally leaned her head against the mirror and took deep breaths until she was reasonably calm again.

  Risking was turning out to be a very depressing business.