Eclipse Bay

about you?” she added quickly to change the subject. “Heard you got married.”
    “For a while.”
    “What went wrong?”
    “I told you that the men in my family aren’t real good at marriage,” he said.
    “As I recall, I told you that was an excuse.”
    Without warning, Rafe sat up on the edge of the lounger and rested his forearms on his knees. “Mitchell called today.”
    Hannah blinked. He could switch topics quickly, too. “Your grandfather?”
    “He wants me to come to dinner tomorrow night. Octavia Brightwell will be there. Says he wants me to meet her.”
    Hannah thought quickly. “Brightwell. The owner of that new art gallery near the pier?”
    “Yeah.” Rafe set his glass down on the table. “Apparently they’re involved, so to speak.”
    “Good grief. I saw her on the street the other day. She’s young enough to be his granddaughter.”
    “So I’m told.” He met her eyes in the shadows. “The thing is, I need a date.”
    She nearly fell out of the lounger. “You want me to go to dinner at Mitchell Madison’s house?”
    “Got anything better to do?”
    “Well, gee, when you put it like that, I guess not. As you once observed so pithily, the entertainment options in Eclipse Bay are somewhat limited.” She paused. “Your grandfather won’t be exactly thrilled to see you walk into the house with a Harte.”
    “Don’t worry. He’ll be on his best behavior because of his new girlfriend.”
    “Mitchell Madison making nice with a Harte.” She smiled slowly. “Now that should be interesting.”
    “Well?”
    “Okay,” she said.
    It was his turn to be wary. “You’ll do it?”
    “Sure. On one condition.”
    “What’s that?”
    “You have to promise me that afterward we’ll have our little chat about how we’re going to handle Dreamscape.”
    He thought about that for a few seconds. One shoulder rose in a negligent motion. “It’s a deal.”
    She felt a distinct chill all the way down her spine. But it was too late now to wonder if she’d just been had by Rafe Madison.

    She came awake very suddenly, listening to the silence with all of her senses. Her first thought was that an intruder had entered the darkened house. But in the next heartbeat she reminded herself there was no way anyone could have broken in without alerting Winston.
    She sat up slowly. “Winston?”
    There was no response. She could not feel his weight at the foot of the bed. It struck her that during the past two years she had grown very accustomed to his companionship at night.
    She swung her feet to the cold floor and stood. “Winston? Come here, pal.”
    She did not hear his claws on the hardwood in the hall. Anxiety raised the hair on her arms. She grabbed her robe and stepped into her slippers, listening all the while for the smallest sounds.
    Nothing.
    She went to the door.
    “Winston.” Louder this time.
    A soft, answering whine came from the foot of the stairs. Winston was in the living room. He did not seem hurt or scared. Instead she thought she caught the unmistakable anticipation of the hunter in the low sound.
    The relief was shattering. Not an intruder, after all. Winston had heard some small creature foraging around outside and had gone downstairs to investigate. Here in Eclipse Bay life was rich for a dog who had been raised in a high-rise apartment.
    Taking a couple of deep breaths to get rid of the light-headed sensation, she hurried out into the hall and went down the stairs.
    Winston was poised in front of the door. He glanced briefly at her and immediately returned his attention to whatever was prowling around outside. He scratched at the wood hopefully.
    “It’s okay, pal. You’re a city dog. You’re not accustomed to the kinds of critters that hang around garbage cans out here in the boonies. Trust me—you don’t want to actually catch one of them.”
    She reached out to pat his head. As soon as she touched him she realized that predatory tension was vibrating from one end of his sleek little body to the other. He ignored her hand. Everything in him was concentrated on whatever it was that had awakened him and drawn him downstairs.
    Hannah went to the window. She pulled the curtain aside and discovered that sometime during the night a heavy fog had rolled in off the bay. She had left the porch light on, but its glow did not penetrate far into the thick mist that enveloped the house.
    She told herself that she ought to go back to bed and leave Winston to his nocturnal