"I don't want to be played."

"Oh, I don't know." A smile touched his lips. "With a guy like that . . . it could be fun."

When my lunch break was over, I returned to my cubicle and Vanessa's soft, crisp voice rose from my intercom pad. "Haven, come to my office, please."

I immediately reasoned that I hadn't done anything wrong, I couldn't possibly be in trouble, but each word pierced me like I'd been shot through the heart with a nail gun.

I was pretty sure Vanessa's romantic long weekend hadn't gone well, because she'd come back in a bitch of a mood. She wore the same serene mask as always, but when it was just the two of us in her office, she had "accidentally" knocked over her pencil holder and asked me to pick all of them up. And then she dropped a file folder, and asked me to collect the papers that had flown everywhere. I couldn't accuse her of doing it on purpose. After all, everyone had moments of clumsiness. But I knew it hadn't been accidental. And the sight of me on my hands and knees had definitely improved her mood. She seemed almost jovial by the time I'd finished putting the file back together.

I realized that in a very short period of time, I had acquired a new person in my life to be afraid of. "She does that same self-absorbed, grandiose, bullying thing that Nick does," I had told Susan during our last session. "Except she's sneakier about it. She's a stealth narcissist. God, how many of these jerks are out there?"

"Too many," Susan said ruefully. "I've heard varying statistics, but I could make an argument that three to live percent of the population has either strong tendencies or the full-blown disorder. And although I've read that three quarters of all narcissists are men, I personally think it runs about fifty fifty."

"Well, how do I stop being an N-magnet?" I had demanded, and Susan had smiled.

"You're not an N-magnet, Haven. None of us can escape having to deal with a narcissist now and then. But I'd say you're better equipped than most to handle it."

Yes . . . I knew how to handle a narcissist. You could never disagree with one. You had to look awed by everything they did, and miss no opportunity to flatter or praise them. Basically, you had to sell out in every conceivable way, until there was nothing left of your dignity, self-respect, or your soul.

Vanessa didn't bother looking up from her desk as I entered the open door to her office. "I'd like you to knock before coming in," she said, still concentrating on her computer screen.

"Oh. Sure." I went back to the doorway, knocked on the doorjamb, and waited for a response. Vanessa said nothing, only kept typing. I stood in the doorway and waited for a full two minutes until she finally paused to glance at me.

"Come in."

"Thank you," I said with exquisite politeness. "Have a seat."

I took the chair across from her desk and looked at her expectantly. It was unfair that someone so rotten on the inside could be so pretty. Her eyes were round and light in her oval face, and her hair was a perfect pale sweep across her shoulders.

"I'd like you to straighten the coffee area and clean out the machine," Vanessa said.

"I cleaned the machine yesterday," I said.

"I'm afraid you need to clean it again. The coffee doesn't taste right." Her brows lifted. "Unless you feel it's beneath you? I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Haven."

"No, it's fine." I gave her a shallow, innocuous smile. "No trouble. Anything else?"

"Yes. About your lunch hour activities."

I didn't reply, only stared at her innocently.

"You were doing something with the new tenant in his apartment this afternoon."

"I introduced him to an interior decorator," I said. "He asked me to."

"You didn't clear it with me."

"I didn't realize I had to," I said slowly. "It was more of a personal favor."

"Well, I have a rule that I should have explained before, Haven. There is no 'getting personal' with any of the tenants in this building. It can lead to trouble, and it can get in the way of doing your job effectively."

"Believe me, I wouldn't — " I stopped, completely thrown off guard. "There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Mr. Cates."

Some of my genuine consternation must have gotten through to Vanessa, because it was obvious she was pleased. Her face softened with the kind concern of an older sister. "I'm glad to hear that. Because someone with your history of failed relationships could make a huge mess of things."

"I . . . " My history of failed relationships? I'd only had one. One failed marriage. I burned with the desire to remind Vanessa that she'd been through a divorce too, and she was hardly one to talk. But somehow I managed to keep my mouth shut, while my face flooded with red.

"So," Vanessa said with a gentle smile, "no more private meetings with Mr. Cates, right?"

I looked into those clear eyes, at her smooth, tranquil face. "Right," I half whispered. "Anything else?"

"As a matter of fact . . . I noticed one of the vending machines near the conference room wasn't working. I'd like you to read the service number on the machine and call for it to be fixed."

"I'll do it right away." I forced my lips into a smile and stood. "Okay if I go now?"

"Yes."