by Linda Barlow
He shifted, pressing her back against the arm of the sofa, fitting one long leg between hers so she could feel his hard muscles against her inner thighs. At the same time one of his hands settled lightly over one of her breasts, reminding her of how wonderful it could be between them.
"Not that you were seriously thinking of going," she added, smiling.
"I’d be crushed if that’s what you really wanted." His lips moved deliciously on her throat. She groaned and circled his neck with her arms. There was no real doubt about it, of course. She was about to suggest that they move to the bedroom when Chester pounced, landing squarely on Daniel's back and digging in his claws.
"Dammit, not again!" Daniel rolled defensively off the couch, and Chester neatly took his place on Kate's chest, flopping down against the warmth of her body and beginning to purr loudly. On his knees on the Oriental rug beside the couch, Daniel glared at the two of them—Kate, who was laughing, and Chester, who was giving Kate an indignant look as if to demand why her comfy breasts were shaking up and down.
"Ornery cat," he snarled, grabbing the orange tomcat and putting him down firmly, but not roughly, on the floor. Chester yowled in protest. "He's territorial all right. I think he's planning to fight me for you." He reached awkwardly over his shoulder to rub the spot where Chester had landed. "You never warned me he was trained to attack. He's fierce as a lion."
Kate's laughter escalated. "Daniel in the lion's den."
"Very funny."
She controlled herself sufficiently to ask if Chester's claws had done any real damage. "Let me see," she said, pulling Daniel down beside her again and working the buttons on the front of his shirt. She bit her lip as she watched the smooth sculpted muscles of shoulders and chest emerge. 'Take it off," she said, dry-mouthed.
"Are you kidding? With him running around loose? That thick shirt's the only thing that saved me just now." But his hot eyes were flaring with barely contained passion.
"Let me see your back."
He turned, slipping the shirt off his shoulders. Beneath his smooth skin, muscle could be faintly seen to ripple, but there were no deep scratches, only a few red marks. "I think you'll live, Haggarty," Kate said, her voice husky from the longing she had to run her hands over the naked flesh before her.
He turned back and met her eyes. Sparks sizzled between them, and the wires tightened within Kate's body. It was going to happen. She couldn't stop it.
Chester prowled around the sofa, eyeing Kate's cozy body and Daniel's bare back. Daniel shot the cat a cautious look. "He's planning his move. He's going to pounce when I least expect it—and I can just imagine the moment he'll choose. I'm beginning to think you've lured me in here so your familiar could finish me off, witch." He sidled up against her and ran the tip of one finger from her collarbone down along the open buttons of her top, between her breasts and across her stomach to the snap that closed her jeans. "Can you put him out?"
"No, sorry, but he's an indoor cat."
"Then come with me to my place. I'd prefer it that way. If I'm going to be the first man to make love to you since Arthur's death, I want it to be special for you." He glanced around the room of her old Victorian house. "I don't want to do it in the house where you lived with him. Come home with me tonight."
She could feel her heartbeat kick and scamper in her throat. "But the driving's terrible."
"I live in Winchester—it's not far away." When she hesitated he added, "Humor me. I feel strongly about this."
"What if the storm keeps up and I get stranded? I have rehearsals tomorrow."
"Tomorrow's Sunday. Don't they ever give you people a break?"
"Usually I have Sunday and Monday off, but that changes depending on our schedule. The theater is always closed on Monday, but we have performances every other day, plus matinees on Saturday, Sunday, and Wednesday."
"So you'll have Monday off?"
"Not this week. We have extra rehearsals right before a new production opens."
"Well, I'll get you back, I promise. Besides—" He was drawing breath to continue, but he ended up turning his face away and sneezing explosively. "Dammit," he swore, unsuccessfully searching his pockets for some tissues as he sneezed again.
She caressed his hair. "It's cold and wet out there, Daniel. Let's stay here and build a fire. Your hair is damp, and your cold'll get worse if we go out again."
"I don't have a cold." Bending over, he sneezed again, six times in rapid succession. "There's only one thing that could cause this." He turned his glare accusingly on the huge mound of tawny fluff who was hostilely contemplating him from the other side of the coffee table.
"Oh, no," Kate said. "Chester."
"Chester," Daniel repeated with a scowl before sneezing again.
She disentangled herself and got up from the sofa to coax the unsuspecting Chester into her arms. She rubbed his head vigorously as she carried him toward the rear of the house. "I'll put him down in the basement. His box is down there, and he's made himself one or two cozy beds there, too."
But when she opened the basement door, Chester, sensing he was being banished, leapt out of her arms. Crash. He knocked over a broom and mop that were propped in the back hall near the basement door as he tore off in a blur of orange. But he didn't anticipate Daniel, who brought him down on the hall carpet with an impressive tackle.
"No more claws, big fella, or… " Daniel's voice trailed off as he hefted the creature and carried him gingerly back to the basement door. "It’s hard to think of a threat that’ll impress a cat." He was having quite a time holding on to the squirming animal.
"What's the matter?" Kate asked a moment later when Daniel closed the door with Chester still on their side.
He sneezed and looked a little sheepish. "It's dark down there. I can't just heave him somewhere he doesn't want to go."
"You can't?"
"You monster," he said, rubbing a suspicious-looking Chester behind the ears. "Don't fret, buddy; it's your house, after all."
As she stared dumbfounded at the handsome, sneezing devil cuddling the cat he was allergic to, Kate once again knew that she liked Daniel Haggarty very much indeed. Their eyes met, and warmth drifted through her. It was a different kind of warmth from the sensual heat he inspired, although that was there, too. It was a quiet, intimate communion between two sympathetic hearts and minds—a golden, timeless moment she wished would never end. And she knew that Daniel was right: On some profound level, they did know all the important things about each other.
Daniel set the cat down as his vigorous sneezing started up again. Once again, he patted his pocket. "Wouldn't you know it? I forgot to bring my medication. Do you suppose there's a pharmacy open around here?"
"You needn't suffer." She reached for his hand. "I'll come with you to your place. Give me a couple of minutes to get ready."
The banked fires in Daniel's eyes leaped to flame again. "What about Chester?"
"He's got his cat box and lots of food." She opened the door to the basement so he could go down when it suited him. "He'll be all fine for the night."
Daniel smiled wickedly. "So the damn allergy is good for something at last."
* * *
Chester was lying on the rug in front of the fireplace when Kate came downstairs with her backpack, but there was no sign of Daniel until she heard a muffled sneeze from the small study that opened off the living room. Arthur's study. Most of his things—books, papers, personal effects—were still in there. Although she had meant to do it many times, she had never had the heart to sort through them and decide what to keep and what to throw away.
"What are you doing in here?" she asked when she found Daniel examining a photo of herself and Arthur on vacation in Montreal.
"Trying to escape from your cat." His voice was faintly sarcastic as he added, "Is the shrine off limits?"
"It's not a shrine."
"Arthur Kingsley, M.S.W.," he read from one of the degrees mounted on the beige-papered wall. "What was
he, a social worker?"
"Yes. He worked with disadvantaged kids."
"A noble profession," Daniel said in a neutral tone. He picked up a wedding photograph in a silver, heart-shaped frame and examined it. "He was a good-looking guy," he said, staring at Arthur's tall, lanky form. "Very attractive."
Kate took the picture away from him and placed it back on the desk. She treasured that photograph. When she was seated here at the desk, she could always see it. She and Arthur had had the heart-shaped frame made for an earlier photograph of them together in high school. Even though the frame seemed kitsch now, she still loved it. She felt almost protective of it, and she didn't want Daniel to touch it.
Undeterred, he picked up the other picture that she always kept on her desk, the one of her and Arthur surrounded by their college friends. It was the same photo she used as a computer screen saver. "You look so young," he noted. "Who are these other guys?"
"They're the same friends I play Hunt the Night City with, that computer game I told you about. It's a good way for us to stay in touch."
"So you still hang out with your husband's old friends?"
"They're my old friends, too. We met them in college. Arthur and I went to the same school. When Arthur died, they took care of me. They were awesome, and I loved them dearly."
He said nothing. He studied the photograph for a few more seconds, and then put it down. She watched a little uneasily as he continued his exploration of the room, running his fingers over the volumes in the bookcase. His mood had changed again. Dear heavens, what a volatile man he was.
"Do you spend a lot of time in this room?" he finally asked.
"I use it as a study. All my computer stuff’s in here. This is the desk I sit at when I play the game with my friends. Do you want to check out my gaming rig? It’s pretty sweet."
But he continued prowling around, not showing any interest in her computer equipment at the moment. He picked up a journal. "The Proceedings of the American Society of Spiritualists?" He shot her a dark look. "What's this doing here, Kate?"
"My mother gave me a subscription for Christmas last year."
"Ah, yes. Your fascinating mother." His tone had hardened. He picked up a deck of tarot cards and shuffled them idly. "It's clear where your talents as an actress come from. That's all you share with her, I hope?"
"What are you getting at? I thought we were leaving."
He waved his hand at the wedding picture and Arthur's effects. "We are. There's one thing I want to settle first, though, Kate. You know now that I'm possessive. This mausoleum annoys me. He’s been dead for ages, but all his stuff is still here, as if he just stepped out for a trip to the grocery store."
Kate flushed with irritation. "You seem to have knack for spoiling things."
"Look, I'm just trying to understand you. I know you haven't completely gotten over your husband's death. I get that. But I don't want to make love to a married woman."
"Married!"
"I know the sort of people who subscribe to these journals; I've researched the subject, remember. A faithful widow for three years. It reminds me of many cases I've investigated. The surviving spouse who can't accept the fact of her partner's death." His face had turned rigid with his "Scorpio brooder" expression. "How often do you go to séances, Kate? How often do you have cozy little conversations through a medium with your dear deceased Arthur?"
Kate's breath left her in a gasp. Her eyes closed automatically. "I don't go to séances. You can be very cruel sometimes."
When he spoke again it was from right beside her. "Maybe. But it's cruel of you to ask me to compete for your attention with a ghost."
"I'm not asking any such thing. I'm not a spiritualist, for godsake."
"I once heard you talking out loud to Arthur," he persisted. His hands had fallen heavily upon her shoulders, holding her still for his questioning. She had a sudden image of herself sitting before a video camera, being interrogated by this sometimes-ruthless man.
"Talking to Arthur?"
"On the stairs, after the party, on the night we met. You were saying you missed him."
She remembered his sardonic remark about communicating with the spirit world.
"In my experience, people who talk to the dead are either crazy or duped."
"How about lonely?" She tore herself away from him. "Or have you never known what that feels like?"
He stared at her in ominous silence for several seconds before saying, "Swear to me you're not involved in spirit circles, Kate. It's the one thing I don't think I could take."
"Why not? What have you got against mediums, anyway? You're fanatical on the subject."
He just scowled.
"I resent being hounded by you about this, Daniel. A few minutes ago you wanted to make love to me."
His eyes seemed to darken as he stared into hers, the blue irises retreating as the pupils dilated. "I still want to make love to you. There's nothing I want more. But I won't share you with anybody, least of all a ghost."
She drew a deep breath. She didn't understand this side of him. It had disturbed her from the start, and she knew with every ounce of intuition she possessed that there was going to be trouble between them because of her mother, her crazy upbringing, and even her personal beliefs in the extraordinary powers of the human mind. She wondered what Daniel would think if she told him about her childhood, growing up in a haunted house.
How could she ever explain to him about those years? He would think she was inventing the whole thing.
She sighed. "I'm not a spiritualist, Daniel. I still miss my husband, but he's dead and I'm alive. I've accepted that. I'm sorry if I seem to you to be carrying around an excess of emotional baggage from my marriage. I'm trying to shed it. It may still take a while; I may have to ask you to be patient. If that's too much to ask"—she paused, not wanting to say it, but feeling it necessary to make the point—"there are plenty of other women you could be pursuing instead of me."
His hands were on her once more, and she could feel his tension. "I don't want anyone else. I want you."
"You have me." She pointed to her backpack. "I've got everything I need, and I'm going home with you tonight."
His fingers tightened slightly, and she felt dizzy with awareness of his sheer physical power. She wondered why she felt no fear of him. Emotionally he frightened her, but not physically. He was much taller and stronger than she, but in that realm, at least, she trusted him. It must have been so from the moment they met, or she never would have accepted a ride from a dark stranger on an even darker night.
"Don't ask for patience from me. When I get you into my house, into my bed, I won't be capable of much restraint. If you come with me tonight, please be sure you want my loving, because I don't think I could bear if it you changed your mind."
She raised her hands to his face and touched the feathering of hair above his ears. "Patience with my emotions, not with my person. I give the latter to you willingly."
He sighed and pulled her almost savagely close. She could feel his accelerated heartbeat against her breasts. One of his hands slid into the hair at her nape and forced her head back. He kissed her hard, his tongue invading her with a furious passion, which she met with the surge of her own body. She felt alive, very much alive. She could feel Daniel's warmth flowing into her body, making every cell cry out with the joy of living.
Breathing unsteadily, Daniel disengaged himself enough to see her passion-flushed face. "You turn my bones to water, you know that?"
She smiled at him and slid her fingers through his dark, silky hair.
"Let's go," he agreed, taking her arm and leading her out of the study. She caught one last glimpse of her wedding picture as she shut the study door behind them. She spoke again to Arthur, silently this time: "Wish me luck, love."
Chapter 9
The driving sucked. Kate sat huddled in the seat next to Daniel, staring through the fogged up windshield and trying by sheer force of will to keep the car saf
e from the tangled branches that were being torn off by the high winds. Massachusetts Avenue in Cambridge was a mess, with a couple of power lines down from the wind. Conditions got even worse as they drove through Arlington Center toward Winchester, the wealthy suburb where Daniel had his home.
Once, when the car skidded on the rain-slick road before straightening out, Daniel reached to cover her hand with his. "Scared?"
"A little." She had never felt completely safe in cars after the terrible accident that had killed Arthur and injured her.
"Nothing bad's gonna happen—I promise. It's blowing much harder than it was an hour ago, but we'll be fine. I'm being very careful. Do you trust me?"
His tone inspired confidence. He seemed so competent, so capable. "Yes."
His mouth turned up in a lecherous grin. "Big mistake, lady. You'll be marooned in the storm with me—completely at my mercy."
She grinned back, waves of excitement churning within her despite her nervousness about the storm. "I just might enjoy that."
Half an hour after leaving Cambridge, they finally pulled into the long driveway that led to Daniel's house. There their luck ran out. A small tree was down, blocking their way. "Everybody out," said Daniel cheerfully. He grabbed her overnight pack from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder. "We hike the rest of the way."
The rain seemed to be pelting down even harder in Winchester than it had been in Cambridge, but the worst hazard was the ferocious wind. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if they were struck by a falling tree limb. It was also cold, much chillier than usual for this time of year. Before they had gone more than a hundred yards, Kate was shivering.
"How much farther?" she gasped, clinging to Daniel's arm.
"What?" he yelled back.
