Free Deadlier Than the Pen by Kathy Lynn Emerson Page B

ground, Damon Bathory was standing on the roof of the Equitable Building with his back to her, apparently contemplating the panoramic view of the Narrows, Staten Island, the North and East Rivers, and most of Manhattan and Brooklyn. This observation area at the weather station, run by the War Department's U.S. Army Signal Service to gain up-to-date information on storms and temperature, welcomed visitors at any time, but no one else seemed to be in evidence today.

Diana debated giving up and going home. Her jaw was throbbing, as were other assorted aches and pains she'd acquired by landing so hard on the ground in that alley. Moreover, the blister on her heel had opened again. She was having second thoughts about warning Damon Bathory of Foxe's suspicions, now that she knew he had possession of her notebook. But most of all, she'd begun to be afraid. When she'd followed him up here, she hadn't anticipated finding herself alone with him.

An instant before she could turn and flee, he swung around to face her, fixing her with his steady, compelling stare. His smile contained neither warmth nor humor, but his deep, resonant voice and hypnotic gaze held her still for his approach.

"You've been following me, Mrs. Spaulding."

Denial came automatically. "I haven't -- "

"Shall I enumerate all the places you've turned up since you failed to get what you wanted from me in my hotel room? Later that day, you lurked outside an art gallery while I was inside. Yesterday, you dogged my footsteps to a candy store, the barber shop, and other places too numerous to mention. Last night you all but pressed your nose to the window while I supped at the Everett House. I could see you, only half-concealed by the shadows, peering in at me like a starving waif. I thought about asking you to join me," he added in dulcet tones, "but I decided you deserved to suffer for your impertinence. Then we both attended the same play."

"It is my job to review plays," she protested, but the game was up. At least he did not seem to know that she'd also followed him to Bellevue. For some reason that eased her mind. She did not think he'd be happy to hear she knew of his visit there.

"Your job," he repeated. "Yes. I see. And I am just another of your assignments."

Diana could rationalize that her need for an interview required her to stay, but she knew there was more to what she was feeling than that. More than she wanted to think about just now. Reminding herself she was not powerless, that she could run if she had to, she stood her ground.

Why did this man affect her so strongly? Whenever she encountered him, she felt she should beware of him; yet she did not seem to be able to heed the warnings flashing through her mind and simply walk away.

"Let's start again." The hard glitter in his eyes belied his reasonable tone of voice. "You followed me all day and evening yesterday, and the afternoon before that, and trailed downtown after me again this morning."

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He said nothing about Poke. She dared hope that meant he had not noticed the watch she'd posted. That presented her with another problem, however. How could she get him to talk about the man he'd accosted in the park, the man he'd given money to?

"You meant to follow me after the play, but I slipped away from you."

Again she nodded. Remembering the notebook, she knew she should be frightened. She should run, but a strange lethargy had crept over her, sapping her of any desire to escape.

He came closer, his tantalizing mouth at eye level. She'd not noticed before how perfectly formed his lips were. They parted, revealing strong, white teeth, and a delicious warmth stole over her like a down coverlet. Without thinking, she took a step in his direction.

"I hid from you, Diana."

Her gaze flew upward to meet the consuming sensuality of his expression, but the use of her first name startled her enough to bring her to her senses.

She did not have to ask him how he