the night in the Grayson mansion had sent her around the bend. And maybe she was just suffering some sort of delusion brought on by hunger, she thought with a grin. Grabbing the sheet she'd used the night before, she draped it over her head and left the house, sprinting down the driveway toward her car.
Unlocking the door, she slid behind the wheel, uttered a silent prayer, and shoved the key into the ignition.
"Thanks, Lord," she murmured as the engine roared to life.
She was pulling away from the curb when she heard the voice again.
Don't go.
She hesitated a moment. There was something compelling about that voice, an aching loneliness that touched her heart.
Maybe she really was going mad, she thought, and with a shake of her head, she put the car in gear and headed for home.
Part One Chapter Three
Lainey sat in front of her computer, staring at the blank blue screen. Try as she might, she couldn't concentrate on the book she was supposed to be writing - a book that was due in just three months.
"Think plot," she muttered.
But all she could think about was the Grayson mansion, and the mysterious voice that had spoken to her.
Who had that sexy male voice belonged to?
How had that fire started in the fireplace?
Who had left a carton of orange juice on the back porch of a house that hadn't been lived in for ten years? Who had been reading the newspapers?
Why had she felt so at peace there?
Why did she want to go back?
Oh, Lord, maybe she was losing her mind. Maybe there hadn't been any fire. Maybe she'd imagined the orange juice. And the voice? Had she imagined that, too?
She glanced through the photographs of the house that she'd had developed earlier that day, and then frowned as she stared at a close-up of the third story. Was that someone standing at the window?
Rummaging around in her desk, she found a magnifying glass and studied the photo. Was that a person, or merely a shadow?
She stared at the slightly hazy form, noticing that a faint blue aura seemed to surround the figure.
It had to be a shadow, she thought, or a glitch in the film.
Switching off her computer, she sat there for several minutes. It was a mystery, and she loved a mystery. Her mind made up, she grabbed her purse, her jacket, and her camera. Plucking her keys off the top of the TV, she left the house.
Twenty minutes later, she was standing at the end of the long winding driveway that led to the Grayson mansion.
He squinted against the late afternoon sunlight as he watched her walk toward the house. He had sensed her presence long before he looked out the window.
He studied her as she drew nearer. He thought her quite the prettiest creature he had ever seen, with her long black hair, soft brown eyes, and smooth tawny skin. She wore a pair of tight black pants, a bulky pink sweater, and a pair of short white hoots. He liked the way she moved, as fluid as water.
Why had she come back?
He checked to make sure the door to the room he'd chosen for himself could not be opened, and then he listened to her footsteps as she moved through the house. So strongly could he sense her presence that he could almost see her as she moved slowly from room to room. She stopped in front of the fireplace for several moments before going into the kitchen.
The sound of her footsteps drew nearer, and then he heard her approach the third-floor room.
Lainey stared at the door for a moment, then turned the knob. Nothing happened. She shook the knob, then pushed on the door.
"Are you all right in there?" she called, jiggling the knob again.
He cocked his head to one side as he visualized her standing on the other side of the portal. What manner of creature was she? Didn't she realize how puny her human form was, how easily it could be destroyed? He could crush her with one hand, vaporize her with a single glance.
"I know you're in there," Lainey called. "I saw you in the window yesterday. I heard your voice." She tapped her foot, exasperation warring with concern because he refused to answer. "Are you sick? Do you need a doctor?"
He shook his head, amused by her boldness, dismayed by her apparent lack of fear, and even more appalled to learn that she had been able to discern his thoughts