of my favorite places."
She exited the freeway, and he noted she drove with ease and skill. He sat back in the seat, admiring her from the corner of his eye. She wore a pale yellow blouse under a dark green jacket, and a matching skirt that was long enough to be businesslike and modest, yet short enough to show off a pair of very shapely legs.
A few minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot. The building had been designed to look as if it were made of logs. The roof was painted to look like snow.
Grigori held the door for her, then followed her inside. There was a bar to the left. The restaurant was located at the end of a long hallway to the right.
A pretty brunette in a very short red dress and black stockings led them to a table in the back room. She brought them a bowl of peanuts, a menu, and two glasses of water.
Marisa reached for a peanut, shelled it, and tossed the shells on the floor. She laughed softly at Grigori's expression. "It's all right. It's expected."
"Ah." Glancing around, he noticed that peanut shells did, indeed, litter the floor at every table.
Marisa studied the menu. "What are you going to have?"
"Steak."
"Hmmm. I can't decide whether to have the seafood platter or a turkey sandwich."
She was still trying to decide when the waiter came to take their order.
Grigori ordered a steak, very rare, and a glass of red wine.
"The seafood platter, I guess," Marisa said.
With a nod, the waiter took the menu and left the table.
"Do you come here often?" Grigori asked.
"Not really. So, when are you performing again? I'd love to see one of your shows."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. The show closed last week."
"Oh, that's too bad. Where are you going next?"
His dark gaze moved over her and she flushed, wondering if her words betrayed her disappointment at the thought of his leaving town.
"I'm thinking of taking a vacation," he replied.
"Here?" She couldn't disguise the hope in her voice. "In L.A.?"
"Yes." His gaze swept over her in a most disconcerting manner. "There is still much I haven't seen."
She looked away, her cheeks suddenly warm. The arrival of their dinner couldn't have come at a better time.
"You weren't kidding when you said rare, were you?" Marisa asked when he cut into his steak. "I think it's still moving,"
He glanced at the rich red juice that oozed from the meat. "It is the only way to eat a steak." He speared a chunk and offered it to her.
"No, thank you. I prefer mine to be at least a little bit cooked."
"You do not know what you are missing."
She wrinkled her nose with distaste. "To each his own," she murmured, and felt his gaze move over her again.
"Yes," he replied quietly, "to each his own."
She had the distinct impression he wasn't talking about steak.
Chapter Five
There was a man waiting for her on the landing outside her apartment when she got home from work the next night. At first, she thought it was Grigori, but then the man stepped out of the shadows and she realized the only thing the two men had in common was that they were both tall.
"May I help you?" Marisa asked.
"I hope so." He had short blond hair, ice blue eyes, and looked to be in his mid-forties. A thin scar ran along his right cheek. A large silver crucifix hung from a thick chain around his neck. "You are Marisa Richards, are you not?"
"Who wants to know?"
"Forgive me. My name is Edward Ramsey."
Marisa shook her head. The name meant nothing to her. "What do you want?"
"To save your life."
Marisa stared at him in astonishment. Save her life? "I'm sorry, I think you must be looking for someone else."
"I'm looking for two - " A dark shadow appeared in the man's eyes. "Two men. I think you may have seen them."
"Are you a police officer?"
"No."
"You must have me confused with someone else."
"I don't think so." His clear blue eyes met hers with a directness that was disconcerting. "You were at the Roskovich Carnival on Friday last, were you not?"
"Yes, but how did you know?"
His thin lips curved in the slightest of smiles. "I have my ways."
Marisa crossed her arms over her chest. The man had done nothing to frighten her, yet she was frightened just the same. "I think you'd better go now."
Ramsey held up his hands, as if to put her at ease, and she noticed