As he followed her upstairs, he heard the sound of childish laughter and splashing water. Hetty was probably giving Wendy her bath. Peggy Jo led him down the hall and into a large, neatly decorated room that had been painted an odd shade of brown. Sort of a reddish brown. The heavy wooden furniture appeared to be antique. Either that or really good reproduction pieces. He strolled in and took a good look around. He liked it just fine.

“This room has its own bath through there.” She pointed to the closed door on the right. “There’s a small TV in the armoire and a phone on the nightstand. And once you bring in your suitcase, feel free to use the closet and the empty top drawer in the dresser for your things.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I didn’t bring much. Just some underwear, socks, pajamas bottoms, a couple of shirts and jeans. I travel light and I’m not much for dressing up. But if you’d prefer that I wear a sport coat, I can—”

“How you dress is of no concern to me.” Peggy Jo stood tensely just inside the room. “Please, if you need anything, just let Hetty know.”

When she turned to leave, Jack caught up with her before she crossed the threshold. “Wait up.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t go getting yourself in a tizzy.” He hated that defensive expression on her face, the tense way she stood there, as if she were halfway afraid of him. Hell! He had put the fear of God into quite a few men, but never a woman. “I’m your bodyguard, remember. I’m here to protect you. If I’m to do my job the right way, I need to know certain things about this house and about your routine at home.”

As she sighed quietly, her shoulders relaxed. “Yes, of course. My bedroom is directly across the hall. Wendy’s bedroom is to your left, and Hetty’s room is next to Wendy’s.”

“Thanks.”

“Will that be all?”

“I notice you have a security system. I’ll need to know the codes.”

“Certainly. The password is sunshine. And the code is 1720.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “After I get settled in, I’ll need to ask you a few more questions.”

“By all means.”

She turned and sashayed across the hall and into her own room. What was it about her? Jack wondered. He’d seen women a lot better looking and most certainly with more appealing personalities, yet he found Peggy Jo intriguing. Was it because he saw her as a challenge? That had to be it. He sure wasn’t interested in her personally. He preferred his women a little less cool and defensive.

And apparently Miss Peggy Jo preferred her men—perhaps all men—to be kept at arm’s length.

The evening had passed fairly uneventfully, for which she was grateful. Wendy had been a little too mesmerized by Mr. Parker, and Hetty had been a little too solicitous. And Jack, as both Hetty and Wendy were calling him, had made himself a little too much at home to suit her. By the time he helped Peggy Jo tuck Wendy into bed, he was acting as if he were the man of the house. No doubt, Jack Parker was the type who simply took over, regardless of where he was.

As they left Wendy’s room, Jack placed his open palm across the small of Peggy Jo’s back. His hand was big and warm. And even such an innocent touch disturbed her greatly. She didn’t like to be touched. Not by men. And most definitely not by a large, rugged guy who towered over her by nearly nine inches. She rushed ahead of him in order to free herself from that massive hand.

Pausing in the doorway of her room, she waited for him, knowing that they had yet to finish up with their question-and-answer session.

“Do you want to go back downstairs?” he asked as he approached her.

“Not really. Hetty will close up. I’m tired and I’d like to take a long, hot bath and go to bed early.”

“Mmm-hmm. Why don’t you take that bath while I check things out downstairs and have a look around outside? I’ll lock up and arm the security system. Whatever other questions I have can wait until morning.”

“Thanks.” She took several steps inside her room, then paused and turned around to face him. “Despite my reservations about having a male bodyguard living here in the house, I am glad that you’re here. I’ll sleep better tonight knowing you’re close by. But I haven’t changed my mind about replacing you with a female bodyguard as soon as one is available.”

“I didn’t think you’d changed your mind,” Jack said. “But I’ll bet if you took a vote, Wendy and Hetty would vote to keep me.”

“Wendy and Hetty don’t have votes on this issue.”

“Pity.”

Jack turned and walked off, leaving her standing there staring at his back. As he descended the split staircase, he started whistling. He’d bet money that Miss Peggy Jo was still watching him. He could practically feel her heated glare boring into his back.

Just as he reached the foot of the stairs, the telephone rang. He stood still and waited for someone to answer it. The ringing stopped. He headed down the hallway toward the foyer. Suddenly he heard Peggy Jo’s voice calling him.

“Mr. Parker? Mr. Parker?”

He heard a sense of urgency in her voice. Damn, what was wrong? Before he reached the stairs, she called out again.

“Mr. Parker? Jack!”

He ran to the stairs, then took them two at a time. Peggy Jo met him on the landing where the staircase divided. She all but rushed into his arms. He reached out to steady her as their bodies collided.

Grabbing her shoulders, he said, “What is it? Are you all right?”

“It was him. On the phone.”

“Damn!”

“He said…he said for me to look on the back porch, that he’d left a present there for me.”

Jack felt her trembling, so without giving a thought to his actions, he pulled her into his arms to comfort her. And for just a moment she stayed there in the safety of his embrace, as if she truly liked the feel of his arms around her. But suddenly, when she realized what she was doing, Peggy Jo eased away from him, putting a foot of space between them.

“I’ll check the back porch,” Jack told her.

“Wait. I want to go with you.”

“There’s no need.”

“There’s every need,” she said. “Please don’t treat me like some weak, helpless female. This is my life, my problem, and I’m not going to back down just because I’m scared.”

Damn, he didn’t want to like her, didn’t want to admire her spunk. But he did. She was nothing like his mother. Nothing like so many of the women who claimed to be liberated females but in reality were as weak and clinging as their mothers and grandmothers had been.

“Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s go see what your secret admirer left for you.”

P eggy Jo absolutely hated the fact that she was glad Jack Parker stood at her side as they opened the back door and walked out onto the porch. The escalating actions of her stalker unnerved her. And the very idea that the man had been to her home, on her back porch, gave her more than enough reason to be scared. Phone calls and letters had been annoying, but recent events—like the ransacking of her dressing room at the station—made her realize her life could well be in danger. Jill had done the right thing contacting the Dundee Agency before she returned to Atlanta last night. And even though Peggy Jo would have preferred a female agent, she wasn’t going to complain—ever again—about being protected by a macho hunk. A macho hunk with a gun! When he had gone out to her car for his bag, he’d removed his pistol from his hip holster, then taken a look around the house before he had allowed her to come outside. She’d thought she would never see the day when she would give any man the power to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. Yet there she had stood, waiting for Jack to give her the signal, letting her know it was okay. For now, at least.

She might not like being forced to rely on someone else, but she wasn’t stupid. Due to no fault of her own, some outside force was wreaking havoc on her peace of mind. She could well be in real danger. The only smart thing to do in a case like this was just what Jill had done. Call in a professional.