All Night Long

explain or cover up her need to stick to a ritual.
    To her astonishment, Luke didn’t even smile at that. Instead he inclined his head in a very solemn manner.
    “Absolutely,” he said. “Breakfast is critical.”
    Was he making fun of her? She couldn’t be sure. She drew herself up and took a step back, preparing to shut the door.
    “If you don’t mind, I need to make a phone call,” she said.
    “Sure.” He moved back a little. “See you in the morning.”
    She closed the door partway and then hesitated briefly. “I almost forgot. Just so you’ll know, I will probably check out tomorrow.”
    He gave her a hard look. “You booked two nights.”
    “The second night is a contingency, in case I’m unable to leave on schedule for some reason.”
    “We don’t do contingency bookings here at the Sunrise on the Lake Lodge. We’ve got a strict twenty-four-hour cancellation policy.” He checked his watch. “You’re way past the deadline.”
    “We will discuss your cancellation policy tomorrow after I find out whether or not I’ll need to spend another day in Dunsley. Good night, Mr. Danner.”
    “Good luck with your personal business here in town, Miss Stenson.”
    “Thanks,” she said. “As far as I’m concerned, the sooner it’s finished, the better.”
    His mouth kicked up in an amused smile. “I’m getting the feeling you’re not real taken with our picturesque mountain resort community.”
    “Very observant of you.”
    “Good night—”
    “Don’t say it,” she warned. “I’ve heard it before.”
    “Can’t resist.” He grinned. “Good night, Irene.”
    The door made a very satisfying thunk when she closed it in his face. The snick of the bolt sliding into place sounded even better. Very firm. Very final. Luke Danner might be new in Dunsley but he was, nevertheless, a part of this place that she hated.
    The last thing she wanted to do was get involved with him.
    She went to the window and peeked through the curtains to make sure that he was, indeed, leaving the premises.
    Sure enough, he was going down the steps. He raised one hand in casual farewell, letting her know tha e was aware that she was watching him.
    When she was satisfied that she was alone, she took the phone out of her purse and hit redial. She had lost track of the number of times she had called Pamela’s number since arriving in Dunsley that afternoon.
    Still no answer.
    She ended the call before voice mail picked up. She had lost count of the number of messages she had left today. There was no point leaving another.

Two
    Spectacular, haunting, amber-brown eyes lit with intelligence and shadowed with secrets; gleaming dark hair cut with precision to follow the line of her jaw: a sleek, vital, delightfully feminine shape; sexy high-heeled boots and a dashing black trench coat. And the lady did breakfast.
    What was wrong with this picture?
    He sure as hell was no fashion guru, but he trusted his instincts, Luke thought. Right now his instincts were telling him that Irene Stenson wore the boots and the trench and the attitude the way a man might wear a Kevlar vest—as battle armor.
    Who or what was she afraid of?
    And what was it with all the lights? He’d checked again a few minutes ago. Cabin Number Five still looked like a bulb factory run amok. He’d only gotten a quick look earlier when he walked her back t he place, but he was sure he’d seen a couple of night-light fixtures plugged into the wall sockets in the front room. Then there was that flashlight she’d pulled out of her pocket.
    Scared of the dark, Irene Stenson?
    He abandoned the attempt to finish the chapter he had been working on all week and powered down the computer. He couldn’t think about The Project tonight. His brain was consumed with the puzzle that was Irene Stenson. Other portions of his anatomy seemed to be equally interested in investigating the matter. He had left Irene in her cabin three hours ago, but he was still restless and vaguely, disturbingly aroused.
    He needed to prowl. On nights like this, the really long nights, he usually went for a walk to knock off some of the sharp edges. Afterward he poured himself a medicinal dose of the strong French brandy that he kept in the back of the cupboard to smooth out a few of the remaining rough spots. It was not always an effective routine, but it worked fairly well. Most of the time.
    Tonight was different, though. He didn’t think a hike along the lake shore and a shot of brandy