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best thing to blackmail. "Well, I'll withhold judgment until I've met the woman," she told Francine, just as Miss Malcolm arrived.
    Two hours later, at
eleven o'clock
, Guinevere got up from the word processor with a small sigh of relief. She forgot sometimes just how hard this kind of work could be. Coffee break was hailed joyously by one and all when it arrived.
    "I'll see you down in the cafeteria," Guinevere said to Francine as they left the office and started down the hall. "I want to stop by the ladies' room first."
    Francine nodded. "Okay. We'll be waiting."
    Inside the rest room, Guinevere checked her hair, washed her hands, and straightened her royal blue blazer. A Camelot Services employee was supposed to look professional at all times. Satisfied, she went back out to the corridor, deciding to give Zac a ring. He was supposed to be meeting with the interior designer of his new office today for a final rundown on plans and preparations. Zac had not gotten along well with the interior designer during the past few weeks. There had been numerous arguments over what constituted essential furnishings and what nonessential furnishings. There had also been several knock-down-drag-out discussions over the cost of everything from the floor covering to the desk calendars. On most of those occasions only Guinevere's presence had forestalled all-out warfare. Unfortunately, she couldn't attend today's conference.
    She was halfway down the hall en route to the pay phone at the other end, when Rich Overstreet glided out of his office and into her path. His movements were catlike, like his eyes. Guinevere, who had been doing her best to avoid any such accidental meetings, managed a polite smile.
    "Good morning, Rick." She accompanied the greeting with a small nod and attempted to step past him.
    "Join me for a cup of coffee, Gwen." Rick did not move out of her way. The golden cat's eyes were intent and serious. "It's been a long time."
    "I'm afraid I can't just now. I have to make a phone call, and then I've got to meet some friends down in the cafeteria."
    His mouth crooked sardonically. "Don't I qualify as a friend?"
    Guinevere gave up any pretense of superficial politeness. Two years had not changed Rick Overstreet; you still had to be blunt to get through to him. "Not exactly, no."
    He put out a hand and caught her arm, his fingers resting on the fabric of her blazer. "Gwen, you know that's not true. It's been two long years and everything's changed now."
    She lifted her chin, her eyes scathing. "Because your wife is dead? That doesn't change a thing, Rick. Please let me go."
    "Did I hurt you so badly two years ago?" he asked gently.
    "No."
    "I think you're lying, Gwen."
    "I was never the one who lied , Rick. You were the one who had that bad habit."
    He shrugged slightly. "Can you blame me? I wanted you very badly, Gwen. I knew you wouldn't come to me if you found out about Elena."
    "You were right." She had found out about Elena, just before she had been about to leave on that first weekend trip with Rick. Guinevere had been horrified, hurt and infuriated. But she had been grateful she'd discovered the truth before she had gone to bed with Rick Overstreet. The thought of being the other woman made her sick.
    His eyes warmed with masculine promise. "Elena's gone now."
    "So is whatever we once had," Guinevere said heartily. "Please let go of my arm, Rick."
    "How long have you been seeing that guy who met you for lunch yesterday? He looked as if he owned you."
    Guinevere's eyes narrowed. "No one owns me, Rick. You of all people should know that."
    Rick ignored the crack. "He didn't look like your type at all, Gwen."
    "You're hardly an authority."
    "More of an authority than you want to admit, and you know it," he said softly, his fingers still gripping her sleeve. "We could have been good together, Gwen, if you hadn't lost your nerve."
    "It was hardly a question of losing my nerve. What I lost was my faith in you. You were a