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"Trust me, you don't. Unfortunately this is getting to be a way of life with celebrity books. There are so many crazies out there these days. And I know you're particularly sensitive because of what happened to Alexandra Waring."

"Bingo, you've got it."

There was a quiet knock on Cassy's door and then it opened. Her boss, Langley Peterson, stepped in. He had his briefcase in hand, ready to go home. Cassy held up a hand to signal she'd be a minute.

"Kate, I've got to go, but I'll keep you posted." After a moment, she said goodbye and hung up the phone.

"What's up?" Langley asked, falling into one of the chairs.

Langley Peterson, co-CEO of Darenbrook Communications, the parent company of the Darenbrook Broadcasting System, was a longtime officer of the privately held company which was controlled by an extremely colorful southern family. The Darenbrooks' empire had begun with a single newspaper in Georgia that the old man, Eirod B. Darenbrook, won in a poker game. Big El, as he was known, would marry four times and have children with each wife, but it would be his dynamic youngest son, Jackson, who would grow the company into a multimedia conglomerate consisting of newspapers, printing plants, electronic information services, satellites and broadcasting. Jackson's right-hand man in this had been Langley--who had married a Daren- brook daughter along the way--and he now oversaw the electronic side of the company while Jackson focused on the printing and publishing side. Jackson had originally hired Cassy Cochran to be the executive producer of DBS News, but in short order, she had, for reasons of expediency as well as emergency, ended up launching not only Jessica's show but recruiting almost all the independent TV stations that affiliated with DBS. And thus when Jackson Darenbrook had later seen fit to marry the new president of DBS, Cassy--a second marriage for both of them--Langley had not been fazed in the least. He'd simply been grateful that the Darenbrook Communications empire had been reorganized so that Cassy would never report to her own husband, which meant Langley did not have to look for a new executive.

"Oh," Cassy said to Langley, "it's this letter-stalker of Jessica's.

It's taken a turn for the worse and we can't seem to get her to take it very seriously. "

"I'm still not clear on why we are," he admitted, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose and bringing one ankle up to rest on his knee.

"At first I didn't understand Dirk's alarm, either." She stood up and walked around her desk.

"But then I took these home to read last night." She handed him some papers. They were photocopies of typewritten notes.

"The ones with the check marks are ones that Jessica has seen," she explained.

"The ones without are the ones security intercepted."

Langley started to read.

Dear Jessica, I know how lonely you have been. I have been lonely too. But now we will have a chance to get to know each other and move on to the kind of intimate relationship I know you long for.

If I may, I wish to suggest you wear less revealing clothing now.

Love, Leopold

"Leopold?" Langley said.

"Surely it wouldn't be hard to find some guy named Leopold in this day and age."

"If only we knew for sure that was his name," Cassy said.

"But keep going."

Dear Jessica, You mentioned the other day you needed one of these. I hope you like it. I look forward to seeing you wear it. Perhaps you will tuck it in your bosom. I do not like how much other men can see.

Ever yours, Leopold

"What did he send her?" Langley asked.

"A scarf," Cassy said.

"The creepy part was that she made the comment as a joke after a sex therapist on the show suggested using silk scarves in a bondage routine in bed."

Langley blinked, eyes still on Cassy. Then he winced slightly.

"That's revolting."

"Well, keep reading."

"Can we trace the scarf somehow?"

"Dirk's trying." She paused.

"It's a Versace."

"That guy who was murdered in Florida? The designer?" Cassy nodded.

His lip curling in disgust, Langley went to the next page- Dear Jessica, I watch your eyes in those unguarded moments and I see the sadness there. You mustn't give up hope. It won't always be like this. We will be together and after that, happy always.

You will be able to wear sexy clothes with me. I do not want you to think I do not find you alluring. Love, Leopold

Dear Jessica, It is with great joy I share with you that I am busy working on our future. After so many years of loneliness, the mere thought of you makes everything worthwhile, all pain merely a path to you. I watch you and revel in the love and warmth in my heart. I crave to cover your body with my own. Soon, Jessica, soon.

Love, Leopold P. S. Did you like my present? You have not worn it yet.

Cassy leaned closer to look over Langley's shoulder. As he turned to the next page, she said, "Jessica hasn't seen these. This one, the next one, is the one that set off the alarm bells with Dirk."

Darling Jessica, Beware, for there are enemies around you. But do not fear, love, for no one can keep me away. I

will be there soon, love, so close you will feel my protection. I will not let anyone hurt you. I will not let anyone keep us apart.

Love, Leopold

Dear Jessica, There are people who wish to hurt you. I will do my best to protect you, but you must be careful. Please, please, promise me you will keep a sharp eye out. I will be there as soon as I can be. Please do not wear revealing clothes. It makes it hard to control myself and yet I must until we are together. Love, Leopold

"And then we got this one yesterday," Cassy said, pointing.

Dearest Jessica, The time is drawing near for us to be together. I am coming to get you very, very soon. Do not fear, my love, for no one can stop me. I tremble at the thought of your touch.

Love, Leopold

"No, this isn't good," Langley sighed.

The band started, the cameras rolled and Jessica came striding into the studio from the back today, surprising the audience. They immediately rose to their feet, clapping and cheering the woman they had come to see.

Jessica walked down through the aisle, pausing to shake some hands, wave all around, slowly making her way to the front of the studio where she climbed up onto the set. She picked up a wireless microphone and turned to address the group.

"Thank you, thank you." No matter how many years she had done this, she still blushed when she got applause, a noticeable trait in an otherwise confident and fearless public face.

"Thank you all. This is great. Boy am I glad I came tonight." When they kept clapping and cheering, Jessica squinted and looked offstage and said, "What did you do in the warm-up, Alicia? Give them laughing gas? Camera people, get Alicia, will you?"

The camera on the high boom swept down on Alicia Washington, the slim black woman who years ago had started as Jessica's secretary. Alicia hid her face behind a clipboard as Jessica said, "For our viewers, another peek at Alicia Washington, my producer and head writer who, before the show starts, comes out here and warms up my audience." In the control room, the director jumped back to another camera, and Jessica, seeing the red light come on, leaned confidentially toward it to say, "And you thought my audiences simply become instantly unglued the moment I appear." She straightened up, laughing, pushing her hair back off her shoulders.

"She's looking great," the assistant director commented in the control room.

Indeed she was. Tonight's outfit was a short navy blue skirt and a pale blue silk blouse with a V neck that was not terribly revealing, but nonetheless still proved that Jessica's ample cleavage did not need the assistance of any Miracle Bra.

Years of a healthy diet and hard exercise had only en r hanced Jessica's looks. She had slimmed way down, but the camera distortion still made her look as voluptuous as any movie star, even when wearing her trademark cowgirl boots. She had a fast-moving line of them now with Gamer's of Fort Worth.

"All women wear cowgirl boots," the ads ran. Her green eyes blazed with excitement under the studio lights, and her teeth dazzled white, the combination making her smile utterly infectious--even to the gang in the control room. She moved with a style and grace now that had been lacking in her earliest years on TV. As TV Guide said, "Jessica Wright has grown into one of the most beautiful and charismatic personalities on the airwaves."

"Tonight's show," Jessica began, "is a bit different and rather fascinating, if I may say so myself. And if I may also suggest to viewers, I think you should get a pencil and piece of paper before we start. As you can see, we've given each of our studio-audience members paper and a pencil so they can make notes too."

She took a step forward to address the camera.

"Tonight we're going to talk to 'ordinary millionaires," a group of people who made over a million dollars by the time they retired. But these are not big movers and shakers on Wall Street, these are regular people with everyday jobs. One of our guests was a public-school teacher. Another was a short-order cook at a Howard Johnson's restaurant, and his wife, a secretary. Actually, this couple made over two million dollars.

Another guest, ladies and gentlemen, another millionaire, was a cashier at a Wal-Mart store for thirty-one years. "

A big smile.

"Yep. Ordinary jobs, extraordinary savings. Ordinary Millionaires, that's our show. Also joining us will be the Mr. and Mrs. of money matters. Ken and Daria Dolan, who will help us to get our finances and savings on track so we can retire millionaires too." She pointed into the camera.

"When we come back."

They faded into commercial.

The stagehands helped the guests take their seats on the set and get their microphones connected. The boom microphone swung in closer to augment the sound. Jessica gave each of the Dolans a kiss and a hug, as they were old friends and had been on several times, and quickly shook hands with the other guests, reminding them it was her job to run the show, so they should just sit back and relax and talk to her as if they were sitting in her living room at home.

"But I'd be a nervous wreck sitting in your living room too!" the schoolteacher blurted out.

They all laughed and Jessica gave the teacher a pat on the back before moving over to her chair. Facedown on the seat was another index card.

A last-minute note from Bea or Denny, no doubt.

Wrong.

I am here, darling Jessica.

What the heck is going on, Cassy? " Will Rafferty demanded as the network president came striding into the newsroom. Will was the executive producer of " DBS News America Tonight," the programming that preceded " The Jessica Wright Show" live at 9:00 p.m.

"They won't let the mobile unit through the front gate. They say the center is sealed off."

Heads turned in the newsroom but no one stopped working. That's what good newspeople did--they tried to live lives while continuing to work at the same time.

"It is closed, I'm afraid," Cassy acknowledged.

"We've had a major security alert. I'm sorry for the disruption, but do the best you can.

It may take a while. "

"Charlie," Will said to a technician as he followed Cassy, "run out to the gate and get the video from the truck, will you?"

The guy took off.

When they reached the privacy of the hallway. Will asked, "Another bomb threat?"

Cassy looked around and then said quietly, "A stalker infiltration."

"Oh, no, not for Alexandra again."

"No," Cassy told him.

"This time it's Jessica."

"Jessica?" He sighed.

"Well, check in with Alexandra, will you? She'll want to know."

"I'm on my way."

"She's in editing bay two," he added. Then he hurried back into the newsroom.

"Hey, Midge?"

"Yeah?" The assistant producer was sitting at a computer terminal scanning copy.

"When Charlie comes back with the video, make sure it gets to sports, okay? It's the Yankee stuff we need for tonight."

"Will do," she promised without looking from the computer screen.

"I'll be right back," Will said to no one in particular, walking quickly out of the newsroom, across Studio A, into the outside corridor, past the hubbub of Studio B where the taping of "The Jessica Wright Show" was breaking up, down another hall, through a doorway, past Makeup and Hair, past a blue door before stop ping in front of a green one. He knocked and the door immediately swung open, held firmly in place by a huge fellow who squinted at him suspiciously.

"If it's my stalker," Jessica's voice merrily called, "tell him I'm not in."

Will popped his head in.

"It's me."

Jessica was sitting in a bathrobe in front of the makeup mirror in her dressing room, wiping the worst of the makeup off her face. At the sight of Will in the mirror she beamed, threw down the cotton ball in her hand and turned around.

"Hi," she said in that special voice one likes to save for special people.

"Excuse me um, hello?" she said, addressing the bodyguard now.

"Mr. Terminator? You can step just outside the door, if you please. And close the door behind you, will you?"

The man moved past Will and closed the door behind him.

"Are you okay?" Will said, rushing over to kneel next to the bench she was sitting on.

"What's this about a stalker?"

"Oh, I don't know, some guy who's been sending me love notes," she said, gesturing to indicate that the specifics weren't worth knowing about.

"Dirk told me not to say anything to anyone because he wanted to check out the people here at West End. So anyway, now, this guy somehow got past security and left a note on the set."

"On the set!" Will almost roared.

"It wasn't a bad note," Jessica added quickly.

"It just said he was here and--I don't know. Dirk freaked out." She kicked her head toward the door.

"So I'm stuck with Mr. Terminator around the clock now." She smiled.