When Peter started demanding answers to personal questions, she bolted for the door. He grabbed her upper arm as she tried to escape, his fingers digging deep into her soft flesh. “No, Cassidy!” “Please…I don’t even know you.” “How can you say that? I’ve been watching you for years. I know your favorite color, it’s green. You bring a paper-bagged lunch to work every Monday and Wednesday. And you chew the ends of your pens when you’re flustered.” “Let me go!” She managed to wrench open the door and began to run. Her heart beat so fast and her breathing was so rapid that she couldn’t hear anything else. Her legs burned from exertion. She hoped to find cover in the thick brushwood ahead. Her men had taught her a trick or two about surviving in the forest. Peter was a city boy, so he’d likely be clueless in these rustic surroundings. So could hope. It sickened and terrified her that one man could be so obsessed with her while she didn’t have a clue.
