Deep Waters

to see the bluff path. Across the cove the lights of the town and Crazy Otis Landing sparkled in the distance.
    Charity's arm, tucked inside Elias's, was warm and supple and softly rounded. He could smell the scent of her shampoo. Something herbal, he concluded. It mingled with the balmy sea breeze and her own unique fragrance. The sum of the ingredients created a potent dish that aroused his hunger.
    A balanced flow had to be restored in this relation ship, he reminded himself. He had to stay centered. Hayden's words echoed in his head. He who knows the Way of Water lets his opponent come to him. A man and a woman hovering on the brink of an affair were adversaries whether or not they acknowledged it. Each wanted something from the other. Each had an agenda.
    The good-night kiss at the door was tricky, but Elias had braced himself for it. He brushed her mouth lightly with his own. When she started to put her hands on his shoulders, he took a half step back. Her arms fell to her side.
    "I'll see you in the morning," he said.
    She watched him through the veil of her half-lowered lashes. "Thanks for dinner. It was wonderful. Can I return the favor on Monday night?"
    Satisfaction blossomed inside him. "I'll look forward to it."
    "Afterward we can walk down to the Voyagers' campground and watch the starships arrive." She grinned. "I'm sure everyone in town will be there. Fun for the whole family. Better than the county fair."
    "Never a dull moment in Whispering Waters Cove."
    "Tell me, Elias, if the ships do happen to show up as advertised, will you be tempted to leave with the aliens?"
    "No." He looked into her eyes and felt the heat rise. "Something tells me that the answers I want are here, not somewhere out in space."
    She stilled. "Are you sure of that?"
    "Very sure. But I haven't finished asking all the questions yet. Good night, Charity." It was time to go. He had to get off her porch before the riptide caught him again and carried him back out to sea. He turned and went resolutely down the steps.
    "Elias?"
    Her soft, husky voice brought him to a halt. He looked back at her. "What is it?"
    "Did you prove your point?"
    "What point?"
    "The one you've been trying to prove all evening." She gave him a rueful smile. "That you're back in control? That even though things got a little exciting out there on the bluff the other night, you're still Joe Cool?"
    "Ah, that point." He should have known that she'd guessed what was going on. "Maybe."
    "Having fun yet?"
    "No, but it builds character."
    She laughed and shut the door in his face.
    Elias realized he was grinning like an idiot. A joke. That was definitely a joke. Maybe not a great joke, but still, what could you expect from a man who was new at this kind of thing.
    He backed away from the porch, turned, and broke into an easy, loping run. With any luck, he could work off some of the excess sexual energy that was charging his senses with lightning.
    In spite of the ache that desire had created in his lower body, he felt good. Better than he had since Hayden had died. Better than he had in years. He ran faster. Below the bluff, silver moonlight played on the waters of the cove. The air was a tonic in his blood. The night stretched out forever.
    He ran for a long time before he slowed to a walk, turned, and started back toward his darkened cottage.
    He saw the movement at the window just as he reached the garden gate. He came to a halt and stood quietly in the dense shadow of a madrona tree. He watched with interest as a dark figure scrambled out over the sill.
    The intruder grunted when he landed, panting, on the porch. As soon as he caught his balance, he started to struggle frantically with the raised window.
    "Shit." The expletive was a low, muttered exclamation.
    Elias recognized the voice. Rick Swinton.
    Swinton finally closed the window with one last, anxious shove. He swung around and dashed down the porch steps into the garden. There was a splash as he blundered straight into the reflecting pool
    "Goddamn it." Swinton hauled himself out of the shallow pool and tore down the path, wet chinos flap ping. He never saw Elias standing quietly in the thick darkness created by the madrona tree.
    Elias could have reached out and touched him. Or stuck out a foot and sent Swinton sprawling. He did neither.
    Instead, he followed his uninvited guest at a discreet distance. Swinton ran around to the front of the cottage and pounded down the narrow, tree-lined drive that led