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turned to thank Ben for the ride, only to find him getting out of the car, too. He grabbed her satchel and her hastily packed gym bag from the backseat and then walked up the front steps to the door. Lindsey followed, fishing her keys out of her purse, then unlocking the door.  
    “You stay here often?” Ben asked, as she entered the alarm code.  
    “Sometimes.” She didn’t want to admit how many times in the past few months she had found an excuse to stay over with her friends rather than go home.  
    “Where should I put your bags?”
    She motioned down the hallway and Ben walked in the direction of the spare room, his tall frame filling the narrow hall. In the laundry room, Lindsey took Steve’s dog dish from a shelf and filled it with kibble. Maybe she was staying here too often. But what was the alternative? Staying at her house and waiting for her stalker to show up? Move—again?  
    She put the water and food outside the back door and let Steve into the yard. The dog lapped up some water, then jumped up onto the patio furniture and lay across the cushions, his tongue lolling and his tail wagging slowly. She sat next to him and scratched his head in the spot that made him smile and close his eyes.  
    She watched Ben open the sliding door from the living room and step out into the courtyard. This was where they had met the first time, at a party Dave and Kathleen had thrown. The yard had been crowded and lit with tiki torches and strings of festive lights that reflected off the pool. Kathleen had dragged her toward the fountain in the corner to introduce her to Dave’s colleague. He was tall, broad-shouldered, handsome, and when he shook her hand, the touch had taken her breath away.  
    That was before the disaster. Before everything went to hell. As usual.
    Ben sat on an ottoman and faced Lindsey. His scrutiny made her shift uncomfortably.  
    “I’m okay now,” she said. “Don’t you have to go back to work?”  
    “Yes, I probably should get back to the office.” He didn’t look happy about that.  
    He leaned forward and took her hand in his, the touch sending a surge of energy through her.  
    “Look. I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you need to talk to the police about this.”  
    “I have talked to the police,” she said, frustration welling up inside her chest. “I have moved. I have changed my phone number—twice. I got a dog. I installed an alarm system. I report this stuff—and nothing changes.”  
    “Would it help if I went with you to report the mugging?”  
    She shook her head and pulled her hand from his. “I’m not reporting it. I’m not getting laughed at again.”  
    “But I was there. I was chased, too.”  
    “Then you report it,” she said, standing. That would be even worse, dragging him along to the police station so he could see the condescending looks and hear the doubt-filled questions. Her shoulder and neck muscles tensed even more at the thought. Ben had witnessed enough of her humiliation for one day.  
    Ben shook his head and stood. Steve jumped down from the settee, alert now.
    “Set the alarm when I leave,” Ben said, walking back to the house. He paused at the door and gave her a long look. “Be careful.”  
    “Ben, wait,” Lindsey said. He stopped. “Thanks for the ride. And for getting me out of jail.”  
    He nodded. And then he left.

    “Mr. Stanton was looking for you.”
    Sharon’s voice had the sing-song cadence of a seasoned tattle-tale. Ben nodded toward his secretary but kept walking into his office. “New client,” he said. “Got tied up in court.”
    “Well, which is it? You have a new client? Or you got tied up in court?” Sharon asked, her tone as pinched as her expression.  
    “Yes,” Ben said, closing the door to his office and ignoring the indignant huff from his secretary. He was pretty sure other lawyers liked their assistants. That wasn’t the case with him and Sharon. Their relationship could best