They must wonder who in the world I am, Eve thought as she took Sergei’s gloved hand and allowed him to help her out of the car. Exiled royalty? Rock star? Or more likely, just somebody with wa…ay too much money. The possibilities didn’t exactly amuse her, but they did provide distraction from her quickening pulse and the nervous knots accumulating in her stomach.

She paused in a breezeway to check the directory. “I’m not sure where it is-he just moved here recently,” she explained to Sergei, waiting impassively at her shoulder. It had occurred to her that he would almost certainly report to Sonny the fact that she’d had to look up the location of her own doctor’s offices. “Oops-there it is.” She pointed to the letters that spelled out Matthew Shepherd, General Practice, with a suite number on the ground floor, then turned her whole body so she could look Sergei in the eye. “I’m sure I’ll be okay from here on, if you need to go and park the car.”

He stared back at her, unblinking. “The car will wait.”

Damn. What was he going to do, follow her right into the exam room? She drew a resigned breath.

God, she felt nervous; her teeth all but chattered. Why, because somewhere in this place, only a few doors away, now, Jake would be waiting for her? Because in a few more minutes, for the first time in more than a week she’d be seeing him face-to-face? What was the matter with her? Why was she like this, scared as a virgin bride on her wedding night?

Ah-there it was, the door, like all the other doors, with a plaque like all the other plaques, identifying this as the office of Dr. Matthew Shepherd, General Practice. Eve pushed open the door and went in, Sergei trudging right behind her.

Maybe that’s what it is, she thought-just the idea of the doctor’s office. She hated going to the doctor-always had. Her supposedly annual checkup was an ordeal she dreaded, and usually managed to postpone at least a few months past the due date.

This doctor’s office was like any other she’d ever visited, down to the last detail-a huge lighted tank filled with tropical fish along one wall, a child-sized table littered with children’s books and play blocks in one corner, tweed-covered chairs and racks filled with well-thumbed copies of News-week, Woman’s Day, Reader’s Digest and’ Sports Illustrated. From the other side of a counter a cheery and efficient-looking receptionist greeted her and invited her to “sign in” on a roster attached to a clipboard, then please take a seat. She then looked around Eve at Sergei and said, “May I help you?”

Sergei’s cold blue eyes swept the waiting room, narrowly scrutinized its only other occupant, a burly man in a plaid wool shirt-jacket and an Atlanta Braves baseball cap who was deeply engrossed in Sports Illustrated. “I’ll be back,” he rumbled, and turned and walked out of the office.

The receptionist waited until the door had closed completely. Then, eyes sparkling with unmistakable amusement, she murmured, “Did he really say that?”

Eve let go of a breath of relieved laughter. “I’m afraid so.” The man in the baseball cap lowered his magazine and winked at her, and her mouth popped open with surprise as she recognized Jake’s partner, Agent Poole.

Before she could say a word, however, the receptionist pointed to a door next to the counter and said quietly, “You can come on back.”

Eve’s heart pounded beneath the weight of her collar as she reached for the knob and turned it. Would he be there waiting for her, she wondered, just on the other side of the door?

But when she opened the door and walked through, into the corridor beyond, it was the receptionist who met her. She identified herself as Agent Franco, then led Eve down one hallway, around a corner and into another, past several closed doors and finally ushered her into a large exam room.

“I’ll take that collar,” Agent Franco said in a brisk but not unfriendly tone as she followed her in and closed the door.

Numbly, Eve undid the fastenings and handed it over.

The crushing weight of her disappointment was an eye-opener. It also both appalled and humiliated her. What had she been thinking? When had she forgotten, if indeed she’d ever really realized before, the fact that it wasn’t simply Jake Redfield who wanted Sonny brought to justice? This wasn’t Jake’s operation, it was the FBI’s. What had given her the notion that it was…somehow personal?

And the worst of it was, though she didn’t want to, she still had to ask. “Is Jake-I mean, Agent Redfield…?” She stopped, cheeks flaming.

Agent Franco was speaking to the pocket of her uniform. “We’re clear,” she murmured, then nodded at Eve. “Just have a seat.” She went out, carrying the collar.

Eve muttered aloud to herself, “This is ridiculous.”

With her fantasies supposedly disposed of, why on earth was she still so nervous? It wasn’t as if it was a real doctor’s appointment. And yet, as she gave the examination table-not, thank heaven, one of those short ones with the stirrups at the end-a sideways and wary glance, she felt as vulnerable as if she were perched on its slick paper covering wearing nothing but one of those tissue paper napkins. Her neck, completely bare for the first time in more than a week, felt fragile and exposed, her head too heavy for it to support. Tremors rippled through her in waves, almost as if…

But, she thought, I’m not afraid. Why would I be?

Why indeed, when she was surrounded here by FBI agents, in the middle of an operation so efficient, they made it look routine? They must do this sort of thing all the time. She was in absolutely no danger. She knew that. So why was her heart pounding and her breathing quick and shallow? Why were her hands so clammy and cold?

Because, her truthful soul insisted on answering, you are afraid. There’s all kinds of fear-your body’s just not programmed to know the difference. It’s not your life you fear for, dummy. It’s your-

No! Oh God, no. Don’t even go there.

At that moment the door opened and Jake walked in. Eve’s stomach flip-flopped, her mouth opened and air rushed out in a soft, helpless gasp.

See? Aha-I told you so!

Shut up. No sir, no way.

“Eve.” Jake’s nod was brief and impersonal, and of course unsmiling, as he moved aside to make way for Dr. Shepherd, who pushed into the room after him like a big, wet, friendly dog wallowing through a crowd.

“Hey, there, Eve-honey, how we doin’ today?” The doctor loomed in front of her, his white coat and FDR grin blocking her view of Jake, who was looking unexpectedly handsome, she thought, in his FBI uniform of dark gray suit, crisp white shirt and blue-and-navy-striped tie, with jaw freshly shaven and his thick, unruly hair neatly tamed.

Okay, that’s all it was, she told herself, drawing a careful, relieved breath. Just a little bit of physical attraction. Nothing you can’t handle.

“Well, you’re lookin’ pretty good,” Dr. Shepherd mused, giving her cheekbone a cursory brush with his thumb. “Little yellow here, still, but that’ll be gone in a day or two, and you’ll be your gorgeous self again. How you doin’ with that collar? Doin’ okay? Gettin’ a little bit uncomfortable?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” said Eve, flicking a glance at Jake, just visible beyond the doctor’s shoulder, leaning against the door in his familiar brooding stance-arms folded on his chest, one ankle crossing the other.

His examination completed, Dr. Shepherd stood back, folded his arms and frowned. “Don’t really like the idea of you wearin’ that thing all the time, young lady, especially since we’ve got no way a’knowin’ how long you’re gonna have to keep up this charade. Tell you what-I believe it’s time we started you on some physical therapy. What do you think? Three days a week? We can set it up somewhere out there on the island so you don’t have to come all this way. That way we can keep those neck muscles toned. Jake-that okay with you?” He turned to ask the question as Jake straightened and pushed away from the wall.

“Long as you don’t bring her along too fast,” he said in his expressionless, federal agent’s voice. He came, arms still folded, to stand beside the doctor. “Don’t want her graduating out of that collar before she’s done what she needs to do, do we?” His dark eyes studied her, heavy-lidded and surly.

“Unless…” he murmured, “you’ve changed your mind about staying out of your fiancé’s bed?”

“No,” she answered him, the word soft but emphatic. “I haven’t changed my mind-about anything.” And suddenly she found her gaze locked with his in a struggle she could neither fathom nor escape, a struggle some buried instinct evidently considered vital, because it focused on it all her physical and emotional energy, every sense and perception. Dr. Shepherd simply disappeared; the room around her faded into darkness and shadow. She saw nothing except Jake’s eyes, lit from within by that strange, angry glow; heard nothing except the sound of his breath, poised to form words that he didn’t utter. She felt nothing except the energy from his body that seemed to flow across the space between them like an electrical charge.

“Well, then, I’ll get on it-see what I can set up for you.” Dr. Shepherd’s jovial voice released her from the spell.

She jerked her head toward him and answered breathlessly, and with more than a small measure of guilt, “Yeah, okay, that’d be great. Thanks…” She returned his wave, waited until the door had closed behind him, then jerked herself half-around and took two steps away from the man who still stood gazing at her, motionless and silent.

The movement had been instinctive, an attempt to escape the attraction that still held her like the grip of some powerful magnet, but with that increased distance came, not release, but instead a jangled, off-balance feeling as if her entire being had been knocked off its axis. Her throat felt raw and raspy as she tried a careless laugh. “What the hell was that? You decided not to trust me?”