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channels and there’s nothing to watch,” Morgan muttered
as she turned off the TV. She picked up the coffee mug and sipped
the brew in a desperate hope that more caffeine would chase away
the heavy exhaustion which hung on her.
    After Stella and Shawn had left, Morgan
showered and went to bed only to toss, turn, and lie awake for most
of the night. She had turned down Stella’s offer to stay with her.
After all, she was a grown woman and the bodyguard had said she’d
be safe, but every creak the house made sent her heart racing. When
a dust storm rolled through and the windows rattled with the wind
gusts, she’d laid in bed and listened. Around two a.m. Morgan
finally gave up and turned on the cable news stations before she
relaxed enough to slip into a light sleep.
    Her eyes traveled over to the clock on the
digital receiver. Eight forty-five. Shawn should be here shortly.
If someone had told her yesterday morning she’d be sitting at home
twenty-four hours later waiting for her bodyguard, Morgan would’ve
thought they were nuts. She placed the cup in the dishwasher and
went to the master bedroom.
    She walked into the adjoining bathroom,
flipped on the light and studied her reflection. The deep royal
blue wrap dress Stella insisted she wear highlighted her fair
complexion and dark brown hair.
    The door bell sounded. “Showtime,” Morgan
whispered as she turned off the lights, picked up her purse and
walked to the door. Butterflies danced in her stomach, and she
instinctively placed her hand on her belly. Why was she nervous?
Could it be the interview, the stalker or him? No, not him. She paused and closed her eyes. “Focus, you have a job to do.” She
barely reached the front entry when the doorbell chimed a second
time. She peered through the security peephole.
    The mid-morning sun shone and Shawn stood
several feet back from the front door studying the nearby desert.
He wore a gray suit with a white shirt and he appeared taller than
she remembered from last night. Morgan opened the door. Shawn
turned and gave her a quick once over. A nervous tremor rippled in
the wake of his gaze and Morgan uttered a silent prayer that the
outfit she had chosen for the interview would meet his approval.
Stella told her Shawn had done some security work for people in the
entertainment industry. If her dress was wrong, he’d probably peg
her as an amateur, and for some reason she didn’t quite fathom at
this moment, that thought irritated her.
    A smile softened the firm line of his lips.
“Ready?”
    Morgan relaxed. “Yes, let me set the alarm.”
She quickly closed the front door, punched in the code and then
stepped out, locking it behind her. “Let’s go.”
    Morgan turned and walked toward his SUV with
Shawn at her side. He moved with a quiet grace which caused the
butterflies to dance again. She cast a quick glance at him and
caught him surveying the street beyond her front yard. Say
something , the little voice in her head prodded. “Quite a dust
storm last night.”
    She cringed. Geez Morgan, you’re being
stalked and the first topic of conversation with your new bodyguard
is the weather? She gulped and continued to march toward the
passenger side of the vehicle.
    “Yeah, it was a bad one. The patrol cars
reported that besides the storm, everything was quiet.”
    Morgan chuckled. “Yes. But thanks to my vivid
imagination, every time the wind rattled the windows I thought of
my stalker.”
    She reached his SUV, stopped and craned her
neck up to peer at him. He crooked a slightly guilty smile. “I
wondered about that. You appeared so confident when you told Stella
she didn’t have to stay last night. You’ve got quite a poker face.”
Shawn reached over and opened the door.
    “Thanks,” Morgan said as she slid in. She
buckled her seat belt and fought the urge to study him walk around
to the driver’s side. This may not be as bad as I
imagined.
    Shawn sat down on the driver’s side, reached
down and handed her