“Did you have a nightmare last night? Maybe that triggered the reaction this morning?”
“No . . . no, I slept really, really well. I woke up happy and looking forward to the day. To writing another chapter on my book that’s due.” She moved her fingers across the gold and red cedar table. “I don’t know. It was crazy. Out of sync.”
Roan moved the coffee cup slowly around between his large hands. “Did you get this feeling of threat all the time back at your apartment in New York City?” He saw the stress and worry amp up in Shiloh’s eyes. He wanted to hold her. He had sworn not to make any move in that direction with Shiloh. He would respect her boundaries although, God knew, it was the last thing he wanted to do. Roan KNEW he could calm her. Help her. Make her feel safe and protected. But Shiloh’s fear of getting too deep into a relationship was scaring her away from him and Roan had no answer or way to get her to change her mind. She was worrying her lower lip; something she’d done often when she first came to the ranch. The last three weeks, he’d seen her relax. Until just now.
“I got that very same threat feeling at different times,” she admitted quietly. “I’d be out jogging in Central Park and it would hit me. But not all the time. Just sometimes.”
“Did you ever see a man watching you?” he wondered.
“There’s so many men and women in the park, Roan, I couldn’t honestly tell if one of the men was looking in my direction or watching me from the bushes.”
“What other times did this feeling come over you?”
“In my apartment.” She wrapped her arms around herself, closing her eyes, trying to push away the terror that she always felt when it happened. “I’d be at my desk writing, or watching TV, and it would hit me. And then, I could hear movement on the other side of my apartment door. Like . . . like he was rubbing sandpaper against the door. I could hear it. It scared the hell out of me.”
He felt his gut tighten. “Did your door have a peephole?”
Nodding, Shiloh said, “Sometimes, when I heard that noise, I knew he was out there.” She gave him an apologetic look. “But I was too scared to go check. To see who it was. I was afraid if I approached the door, he’d bust it down and grab me.” She tapped her head. “Writer’s imagination firing on all cylinders, believe me.”
“So you stood or sat there listening to it?” Roan was getting a firsthand taste of how she was being stalked. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
“Y-yes. I’m ashamed of myself, Roan. I should have gone to the door. If I knew what his face looked like, I could have helped the police. But I was too damned scared. And I gig myself now that I didn’t force myself to look out that peephole and prove there was a man out there trying to get into my apartment.”
“Besides that sanding sound, were there any other indicators someone was out there?” he asked gently, seeing the fear drench her green eyes.
“Yes.” Shiloh shivered and looked away, her voice strained. “He slowly started turning the doorknob. First one way, and then the other. It—it was horrible, Roan. I was so afraid he had a key to my apartment. That—that he’d open it up and come in after me.”
To hell with it.
Roan set his cup aside and reached out, his large hand scooping up her smaller one. He saw small beads of perspiration on her upper lip, saw the scattered, wild look of a hunted animal that was trapped in her gaze. “You’re here, with me,” he growled. His fingers curved firmly around her damp ones. “No one is going to hurt you while you’re here with me, Shiloh.” Roan saw some of the fear dissolve, her mouth, tight and compressed, relaxing a bit. He was deeply touched that he had that kind of positive impact on her. But he’d known that from the day he’d met her at the airport. There was something magical that drew them to each other. They were good for each other too. Roan wished for the hundredth time that Shiloh understood their connection was solid.
“My head knows that,” she whispered, giving him a brief look, feeling shame. “But my emotions are shredded by six months of this terror, Roan.”
He gently turned her hand around between his, holding her troubled gaze. “If this EVER happens again while you’re here?”
“Yes?”
“Call me. I’ll come from wherever I’m working and get to you as soon as I can.”
“What will that accomplish?”
“I’m trained to see the enemy, Shiloh. And I’m good at looking at a lot of people and picking out a predator.” He watched her gnaw on her lower lip, feeling the fine tension in her hand and arm. “You don’t know what this guy looks like. Maybe his body language or the way he’s looking at you would give him away to me.”
“God, Roan . . . how did he find me out here?”
“You’re assuming he did.”
“The only time I get this horrible feeling is with this stalker.”