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the risks they take."
    "Until they get kicked under the table," Zac muttered.
    "Well, I for one am very glad I took Miss Jones’s advice and hired you to come with us this weekend. I shall sleep a lot better knowing you’re nearby in case of need." Vandyke paused. "Do you carry a gun, Zac?" he asked in a low tone.
    Guinevere jumped in to answer before Zac ruined the image she had so carefully created. "Of course he carries a gun, Mr. Vandyke. But he prefers not to mention it at the dinner table."
    "I understand."
    "I’m glad somebody does," Zac observed.
    Later, after joining the others for a nightcap in the lounge, Zac decided he’d done his social duty. The first day of his long weekend with Guinevere was almost over, and thus far it had offered such highlights as an aging macho pilot in a Goodwill flight jacket who had made a pass at Gwen, dinner with a man who had a hard time hiding his personal anxiety beneath a layer of business charm, the discovery that Guinevere’s room was quite a ways down the hall from his own, and a bad choice of wine at dinner. The last had been Vandyke’s fault, but since the older man was picking up the tab it had seemed crass to complain. Zac had kept his mouth shut and gone back to tequila as soon as dinner was over. You were always safe with tequila.
    A roaring fire burned on the huge hearth in the resort lounge. The businessmen who had gathered at the hotel were well into a late-night drinking siege and Guinevere was beginning to look pleasantly sleepy. It was definitely time to go back to the room. Zac reached out to touch her hand.
    "Let’s go, honey. It’s late, and you’re half asleep."
    "Okay," she agreed easily enough. Smothering a small yawn, she obediently got to her feet and said a polite good night to Vandyke, who glanced up and then rose.
    "You two are going to your rooms?" he murmured, looking directly at Zac.
    "That was the plan." Zac arched one brow inquiringly. "Any objections?"
    "No, no, of course not. I just wondered… That is …" Vandyke coughed a little in embarrassment and leaned forward confidentially. "Look here, Zac, I hired you to keep tabs on, uh, things. I hate to sound priggish, but the fact of the matter is I would appreciate it if you stayed in your own room tonight. So I’ll know where to find you if I need you."
    "I hadn’t planned on leaving the hotel." Zac shot a sidelong glance at Guinevere, who was saying good night to Toby Springer. She couldn’t hear what Vandyke was saying. "Don’t worry, Mr. Vandyke. I’ll keep tabs on your briefcase."
    "Yes, well, thank you, but I’d like to know where you are at all times. Do I make myself clear?"
    Zac thought of the connecting door between his room and Vandyke’s. It was locked, naturally, but that didn’t mean much. The resort was old, the walls badly insulated. A man on one side of that goddamn connecting door would certainly be able to hear any sounds made by the occupant of the other room. A woman’s soft cry of passion would be unmistakable. And Guinevere had her image to maintain. She wasn’t likely to make love within earshot of her current client.
    Without a word Zac took the precious briefcase from Vandyke, collected Guinevere, and left the lounge.
    It occurred to him that maybe it was time to find out what it was about the development proposal being presented to Washburn this weekend that made Vandyke so damn edgy. The man was acting as if he needed a bodyguard, not just a baby-sitter for important papers.

Chapter Three
     
     
    "What do you mean you’re going to have a look in the briefcase? You can’t do that, Zac. Those are my client’s private business papers. Besides, it’s locked." Guinevere shut the door to her room as Zac strode across the carpet and set the briefcase down on the bed.
    "He’s my client too. Remember? And he’s acting weird."
    "I told you he was very anxious about a lot of things."
    Zac crouched down in front of the briefcase to study the locks at eye