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lying, cheating bastard then, Rick, and I doubt you've changed one bit. Excuse me." She jerked free of his grip and strode briskly down the hall, not looking back. What rotten luck to run into him here at Gage and Watson after all this time. One of the perils of being an undercover investigator, Guinevere told herself with an inner sigh.
    Zac answered the phone on the third ring. Guinevere knew at once that things were not going well on the other end.
    "I hope you're not yelling at her again, Zac. If you're not careful she's going to abandon the whole job before you move in, and then where will you be?"
    "Not much worse off, if you ask me. Do you know what she wants to do now, Gwen? She wants to put grass on one entire wall. Grass, of all things. She's gone crazy."
    "I expect she's talking about grass cloth, Zac. It makes a very handsome wall covering."
    "There's already a nice coat of paint on all the walls."
    "Yes, but having one wall papered will soften the overall effect. Trust her, Zac. You hired her for her advice, so take it. Listen, I called to tell you I've got my big break in the Zoltana case," she went on excitedly.
    "I'm not sure if I can stand the suspense."
    "Now, Zac, don't be condescending. This is important. I'm going to have my first appointment with Madame Zoltana tonight after work."
    "Ask her to look into her crystal ball and tell you whether this interior designer of mine is going to survive until the end of the week, or if I'll be charged with justifiable homicide."
    "You aren't taking this seriously, are you?"
    "Damn right, I'm taking it seriously. Between you and the interior designer, the assets of Free Enterprise Security are going to be wiped out before I ever get into my new office."
    "I mean my case. You're not taking my case seriously."
    "You want me to get on your case?" he threatened mildly.
    "Not particularly," she retorted. "All right, Zac, go back to sniping at your interior designer. I've got more important things to do. I just thought I'd let you know where I'll be after work, since you said something about having dinner together this evening."
    "I'll be at your place when you get home. Don't be late, or I'll eat without you." Zak broke off to yell at the hapless designer. "For God's sake," Guinevere heard him shout, " put away that damn baby blue. I am not having baby blue in my new office."
    "I'll see you for dinner," Guinevere said into the phone. "You can cook." She hung up the phone before Zac could respond, wondering what he would end up bringing home for dinner. He was spending a great deal of time at her apartment these days, moving in slowly but surely, as if he hoped she wouldn't notice. A couple of his shirts were now hanging unobtrusively in her closet, and he kept a toothbrush in the bathroom. His socks and underwear were starting to show up in a dresser drawer, all carefully folded. At least he was neat.
    Guinevere smiled to herself at the thought of Zac trying to be subtle. She left the pay phone and started toward the elevators. It was as she pressed the call button that she glanced back and saw Rick Overstreet leaning casually in the doorway of his office, lighting one of his fancy cigarettes. His eyes never left her as she got into the elevator. Guinevere shuddered as the elevator doors slid shut. He was beginning to make her feel like prey, she realized. And she hated the sensation.
    At lunchtime she hurried back to Camelot Services to conduct the interview with Evelyn Pemberton. Trina smiled knowingly as the secretarial candidate walked through the door, and Guinevere had to smile back. Miss Pemberton appeared at first glance to be exactly what she had been waiting for. In her early fifties, the handsome, gray-haired woman wore her years and experience with a womanly authority that Guinevere responded to at once. She'd like to have that same confident authority when she reached Miss Pemberton's age. Guinevere rose to greet her, giving the woman her most charming