Two days later, Anthony stood at his front door and kissed Christy goodbye. The marriage proposal still hung in the air between them like a dirty diaper that nobody wanted to change. It was avoided. Christy, because she didn't want to give Anthony an explanation as to why she said no. And, Anthony, because he no longer wanted an explanation. He wanted an official “yes."

"You won't leave the house?" he asked.

"I told you I have no place to go today," she reassured him.

"I believe you, Owani. I’m only making extra sure."

After last week's conversation and no further indication that she was still in danger, Anthony knew he had to give Christy some freedom. What she didn't know was that Anthony had been allowing her to make small trips by herself without him because he was having her watched. Unbeknownst to her, a P.I., who was retired from law enforcement, had been following her when she left the house. So far, she'd made a trip to her apartment, a doctor's appointment for her yearly checkup and she even volunteered one day at the preschool where Litzy used to work.

Anthony hired the man because he not only had the ability to tail Christy without her noticing, but he was able to provide security in the event Van and his cronies still had any misguided ideas about snatching her. Anthony was certain that was no longer a viable threat, but he still wanted to be cautious. He was glad that the P.I.’s services wouldn't be required today. He would've been uncomfortable leaving for the east coast knowing she was driving around, even with the hired man tailing her. He felt better knowing she was home and still abiding by the rule that she head straight to the hidden room in the unlikely event anyone showed up at the house.

"I can always call Alexander if there's an emergency, right?" she asked, looking up at him, her blue eyes holding him captive.

"No. X is out of town today." Anthony hadn’t shared with Christy that he’d had a tip on Van’s whereabouts. He wasn’t sure if it would pan out, but he didn’t want to miss any opportunity that might lead him to the man.

"You go to the room, Christy. You already know this. Turn on the cameras and if something seems suspicious you call the police. We're no longer hiding the fact that you're here with me."

"I didn't mean that kind of emergency, Anthony. I know who to hide from if I need to. I mean other kinds of emergencies." She bit her lip as she thought. "You know, like a fire."

He kissed her head and said, "If there's a fire, call the fire department, honey. In the meantime, no leaving the house today."

She smiled and stood on her tiptoes to nip at his chin. "I know," she told him. "I'm going to clean up our breakfast dishes, take a shower and finish my painting. I might even attempt dinner." She smiled up at him.

He grinned, his dimple causing butterflies to announce their presence in her stomach. "I'll be late. I have business on the other coast and it'll be all day," he told her. "You go ahead and eat without me. I'll eat on the road." He'd just eaten an omelet that tasted like burnt milk and cigar ashes. He couldn't imagine how she'd managed that, but she had and he did his best to swallow it without choking. He was in love with a woman who was a worse cook than his sister. He should send them both to culinary school. Or better yet, he could teach them a thing or two in the kitchen or do all the cooking himself. He actually didn’t mind it.

He gave her a long lingering kiss and headed for his truck. After climbing in he realized he'd left his sunglasses in the house. He unlocked the front door and went searching for them. He called to her as he passed her doing dishes in the kitchen.

"I think you left them in the sunroom," she yelled over her shoulder.

After he'd bought Christy art supplies, she took over the sunroom and made it her space. He didn't care. He never used it anyway.

He grabbed his sunglasses from the table and started to leave when he caught sight of her easel. He hadn’t seen her work yet. Unlike him, who'd shared his secret passion with her, she'd insisted that she wasn't ready to share her painting. He knew she painted her fears and guessed that she might've been embarrassed by them. He could hear her banging around in the kitchen. He walked around the easel and cautiously took a look. His eyes widened as he slowly perused the canvas. She was talented. It was a thunderstorm scene, as he knew it would be. The sky was black and areas of it were lit up by the slice of lightning that ran through the center of the picture. He was in awe of how she managed to paint different elements of light and darkness. He stood further back and was able to appreciate the beautiful landscape that served as the backdrop for the storm. It was a mountain scene and Anthony was impressed by the detail.

He started to walk away and something caused him to look back. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? He stood in front of the painting and took two steps back. He closed his eyes and opened them quickly. He was now certain of what he was seeing. Painted into the landscape was a man's profile that blended perfectly with the shape of the mountains. He couldn't mistake the strong jaw, straight nose and long black hair. He was seeing himself. Christy was painting her fears and apparently, he was one of them.

It was a slow afternoon at Memorial Regional Hospital so when the man with the deep cut down the center of his palm walked into the emergency room, he didn't have to wait long. The nurse on duty took his information and ushered him to the back where she cleaned his wound and told him the doctor on duty would be in soon.

She passed Dr. Dubois and told the pretty surgeon, "You might want to wear a mask. The guy in bed one reeks to high heaven."

Dr. Veronique Dubois didn't reply as she headed toward bed one and pulled back the curtain. Looking at the clipboard she was holding, she addressed her patient without looking up.

"Mr. Diamond, seems you've done a number on your hand. Says here that you cut yourself slicing bread?"

"Yeah, that's what happened, Doc. I was holding a big fat loaf of French bread in my hand and went to pull the knife through it and didn't realize how soft it was. Sliced right through the bread and my palm."

She finally looked up and took in the man's appearance. By the looks of him he was homeless and she highly doubted he cut his hand slicing bread. His clothes were filthy, he needed a shave and when she glanced at his hand, his fingernails were caked with dirt. And the nurse was right. She should've worn a mask. He smelled like human excrement and the worst case of perspiration she'd ever encountered. She would stitch him up and get him out of her emergency room as quickly as possible.

After giving him a tetanus shot, she pulled up a chair and went to work. He talked nonstop and barely paused for air. She was glad. She didn't want to make small talk. After a few moments he said something that caught her attention.

"I recognize you. You're the lady doc that used to come to Camp Sawgrass," he said. "You're Dr. V."

She stopped mid-stitch and looked up.

She was surprised when he gave her a brilliant white smile. "I know you don't recognize me. You never fixed me up, but I saw you work on some of the guys out there."

She took a deep breath and quietly said, "You must have me confused with someone else."

He lowered his voice. "You don't have to pretend with me, Doc. I'm not going to get you in trouble. I appreciate what you did for us guys out there."

Ignoring him she went back to stitching his hand and stifled a gasp when he added, "Even if Anthony didn't."

"How would you know what Anthony does or doesn't appreciate," she said in a whisper, still not meeting his eyes.

"I guess I don't know. What I do know is that you ain't come around for a while and I guess he hasn't noticed since he's shacking up with someone new."

Veronique’s head snapped up. He nodded. "Everybody knows you're his woman...or at least you were. Is that why you don't come to the camp anymore? Because he found someone new?"

She took a deep breath and tried to bite her lip to stop the next words from coming out, but they spilled out anyway. "What do you mean by shacking up? Because if you mean that he has someone else in his bed, I'm not surprised."

"She's not just in his bed," the man laughed. "She's living at his house. As in full-time, setting up house, living together. Heard he was going to marry her. Might already be married."

Dr. Dubois didn't say another word but made quick work of sewing up the man's hand. She secretly fumed and couldn't get him out of her ER quick enough. After he was gone and she washed up, she headed for the nurses’ station.

"I have a personal emergency," she told the head nurse. "You'll have to page whoever is on call for back up. I don't know when or if I'll be returning today." She started to head for the door when the woman called her.

"Aren't you going to wait until Dr. Patten arrives?" the stunned nurse asked. "What if we have someone come in before he gets here?"

"I'm sure you can handle it," she called out as she headed for the door.

Dr. Veronique Dubois seethed as she drove home. Anthony Bear had a woman living in his house? A woman that he was going to marry? Impossible, she convinced herself but knew she wouldn't be able to think of anything else until she confronted him. And she needed to do it in person.

She made it to her townhouse in record time. She took a shower, reapplied her makeup and blew her hair dry. She dressed in her favorite outfit. A professional number that somehow reeked of sensuality and showcased the green eyes that were enhanced by perfectly arched brows. She was ready to head out the door when something occurred to her. There was no way she would show up letting Anthony and his supposed fiancée think that she wasn't capable of having a man in her life. She went to her jewelry box and pulled out the diamond engagement ring that had been given to her by the man she was involved with before she'd met Anthony. He'd never asked for it back, and she’d never offered. She put it on and headed for Anthony's house.