Lucy took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She’d spotted her tail three days ago, and she’d realized yesterday that someone had searched her apartment.

But so far her observer was keeping his distance. Maybe she could make it a few more hours. She struggled for a reasonable tone of voice. “I’ll do my best. But if anything happens, tell my parents I love them, okay?”

“You’ll be fine, drama queen.”

Lucy disconnected before she said something she’d regret. Drama queen? Did Casanova think she was some flaky paranoid? Hadn’t she proved her worth over the past weeks? Casanova. Who’d come up with that handle, anyway, and why?

She put the cell phone back in her purse and started to exit the rest room, but then she caught a look at herself in the mirror. She looked like a mad woman, her wavy brown hair escaping from its customary bun and frizzing around her face, her cheeks flush with panic, eyes wild with fear behind her glasses. She took five minutes to neaten her hair, powder her nose and apply her pink lipstick. The shade did nothing for her, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t exactly supermodel material these days. She only wore a little makeup because she was in an executive position and the other female executives did.

She’d been trying to fit in, not call attention to herself.

When she looked and felt more composed, she left the sanctuary of the rest room and headed for her office, hoping she could close the door and hole up in there for the rest of the afternoon. She was afraid that if she had to deal with anyone, she would fall apart.

Some spy you turned out to be, Lucy Miller. Disintegrating at the first sign of danger.

As luck would have it, she rounded a corner and ran right into the bank’s portly CEO, the man who’d hired her.

“Oh, hello, Lucy,” he said politely. “I was just looking for you.”