But now everything had changed. She wasn’t the woman Johnny thought she was; she no longer filled out the image—and she wondered what would happen if he ever found out. She felt sick to her stomach; she didn’t understand what was going on inside of her. This morning she’d felt no need to be loved by John Henry Braden—but this evening she did.

She slipped off her bathrobe and let it drop to the floor—then she heard the bedroom door open and close again.

“Johnny?”

There was no answer.

She shut off the water and listened.

“Johnny, it’s been a long day.”

Still no answer.

She put the robe back on and cinched it tight. She walked to the bathroom door and poked her head around the corner; there was Chris Riddick, sprawled out on her chaise lounge with a grin on his face and his hands folded behind his head.

She charged into the bedroom. “How dare you come into my private quarters without my permission!”

“Nice outfit,” he said. “A little casual, but then I suppose this is an unscheduled meeting.”

“Get out of here!”

“Or what—you’ll call your chief of security? I’m already here.”

“You’re fired. I want you out of this house in ten minutes.”

He just looked at her and smiled.

She ran her fingers up the front of her bathrobe and closed the neckline a little. “I’ll call my husband—he was here just a minute ago.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you—Beulah.”

She sank down on the edge of the bed.

“You never have understood my job,” he said. “I sure hope you pay more attention to the Secret Service than you do to me. See, my job is security: I walk into a room before you do; I keep people from getting too close; and I never, ever allow you to meet with a stranger alone—even if you want to. It’s just too dangerous; you never can tell what a stranger might do—or say. So what I do is stand right outside the door—that way I can listen in and make sure nothing goes wrong. See?”

She nodded.

“It’s a thankless job, believe me. There are lots of things I do that you probably aren’t even aware of. When you spilled coffee on your dress the other day, who drove home and got you another one? I did. When you broke a heel on your way up the Capitol steps, who ran over to the Old Post Office Pavilion and bought you another pair? I did. And when that sweet old woman at the Endor Library showed you all those nice pictures and you ran off like your hair was on fire, who went back to say thank you?” He grinned. “I did.”

“What do you want?”