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prey.
    "Yes, goddammit, there are a few other things I'd like to know. Were you planning on inviting him in for a nightcap? What's his view of the evening's entertainment? Is it as charmingly innocent as yours?"
    Guinevere swung her gaze from the bookcase to Zac's glittering gray eyes. "Mason is falling rapidly for my sister. A typical male reaction around Carla. She's about all he talked about on the way back here this evening. Now, if we're going to discuss innocent evenings, why don't we dissect yours? How long did the after-work session with Elizabeth Gallinger go? Did you find it necessary to conclude your business over dinner and a few drinks? Did you go to her place or yours after that?"
    Zac ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression turning frustrated. "My meeting with Elizabeth was all business."
    "Really? No more chitchat about babies and biological clocks?" His eyes narrowed quickly, and Guinevere knew she'd struck gold. "Oh, I see. The subject did arise, then? Before or after you gave her your analysis of Gallinger's security needs?"
    "You don't know what the hell you're talking about. I left Elizabeth several hours ago, went home, and started trying to call you. I thought you might be in the mood for a late dinner. When you failed to answer your phone for over two hours, I finally decided to come over here and make sure everything was all right."
    Guinevere couldn't stand the way he was starting to pace back and forth in front of her. The movement reminded her too much of a stalking cat waiting to pounce. Uneasily she kicked off her pumps and got to her feet. She walked past him, ignoring his glare, went into the kitchen, and turned on the light. The mini-blinds were raised and she could see that Mason hadn't yet let himself into his apartment. The studio window was still dark. Guinevere reached for the teakettle. She didn't feel like waiting for the new coffeepot to crank through its elegant ritual. Zac appeared in the kitchen doorway as she switched on the burner.
    For a long moment they looked at each other without saying a word. With a woman's instinct Guinevere knew that some of Zac's initial fury had cooled.
    "Everything was just fine, Zac. There was absolutely no need for you to be concerned. We don't have to account to each other for every moment, do we? We're having an affair. We're not married. The simple truth is that Carla and I spent a pleasant evening at the gallery. Mason walked me home afterward. That's all there was to it." She kept her tone quiet and remote.
    He was silent for a moment. "I discussed business with Elizabeth and then went home and started calling you. That's all there was to my wild evening too."
    "I don't like being called your mistress."
    "I'm sorry. Lately I've been feeling"—he paused—"possessive." His gaze was steady. "What should I call you?"
    "The name is Gwen. You don't have to use any other labels." She turned away to reach for a couple of mugs and saw the light come on across the street in Mason's apartment. There was no sense adding new fuel to a fire that was starting to die out, Guinevere decided. Catching sight of Mason through the kitchen window would probably not set well with Zac. Out of sight, out of mind. She put the mugs down on the counter and went to lower the blinds. Her hand was on the cord when an abrupt movement in the studio caught her eye.
    "Zac!"
    He was at her side instantly. "What is it?"
    "Zac, there's someone in Mason's studio. Oh, my God, look!"
    Mason had sauntered into the high-ceilinged room, automatically turning on the lights. A dark, hooded figure, who had apparently been inside the apartment when Mason opened his door, dashed across the floor, hand upraised. From their vantage point Guinevere and Zac could make out Mason's startled reaction, and then the hooded figure was upon him.
    "Call 911." Zac was already on his way out of the kitchen, heading for the front door.
    Guinevere reached for the phone, punching in the short