Eclipse Bay

like…like—”
    “Like a commitment?” he supplied with an air of amusement.
    “Yes,” she shot back, goaded. “Like a commitment. Which, I might add, neither of us has made.”
    “The subject has not arisen.”
    “That’s not the point.” She could hear the waspish edge in her own voice. “If I’m going to stay here, it will be on my terms, and that means separate bedrooms.”
    He moved his hand in a suspiciously careless manner. “Whatever you say. I’ll drive you back to your place and give you a hand with the packing.”
    “That’s not necessary.”
    “It’s the least I can do if you’re going to help me with the dishes.”
    Suspicion flickered briefly. He was being entirely too cooperative, she thought. But when she searched his gaze she saw nothing but mocking amusement.

    Much later that night she awoke quite suddenly, aware that something was wrong. She stared at the ceiling for a while before she realized that she could not feel Winston’s familiar warmth at her feet.
    There was a soft whine in the darkness. Alarm zapped through her. She sat straight up in bed and switched on the light.
    Winston was sitting in front of the bedroom door. He looked impatient to get out.
    “Oh, damn.” She shoved aside the covers, grabbed her robe, and hurried toward the door. “What is it? Is there someone out there watching us here at Dreamscape? I thought we left that problem behind when we moved out of the cottage.”
    Winston scratched politely at the base of the door. She flung it open for him. He trotted out into the unlit hall. She followed quickly.
    On the second floor landing she paused. “We should wake Rafe. He’ll want to be involved in this, whatever it is.”
    Winston ignored her. He trotted down the next flight of stairs to the first floor and disappeared. Hannah peered over the railing to look for him and saw a glow coming from the kitchen. Rafe was already awake.
    She hurried downstairs, crossed the hall, and walked into the kitchen. She stopped when she saw Rafe standing in front of the counter with a knife in his hand. He had taken the time to pull on a pair of jeans, but that was all. His sleek shoulders gleamed in the kitchen light. His bare feet looked strong and supple and very sexy.
    There was a chunk of leftover feta cheese on the plate that sat on the drainboard. Winston was positioned at Rafe’s feet, looking expectant.
    Hannah came to a halt in the doorway. “What’s going on here?”
    “Couldn’t sleep,” Rafe said. He dropped a bit of the cheese into Winston’s waiting jaws. “Came down here to get a bite to eat.” He held up the knife. “Want some?”
    “No, thanks.” She was torn between the urge to let him drop a bite of cheese into her mouth and the knowledge that if she had any sense she would hurry back upstairs. As was so often the case when she was caught between two equally opposing forces, she did nothing. “I was afraid that Winston had heard a prowler outside.”
    “Nope.” Rafe ate some more cheese. “He must have heard me come downstairs a few minutes ago. How about you? Sleeping okay up there on the third floor?”
    “I was sleeping just fine until Winston decided to follow you down here.”
    Rafe studied her with an unreadable expression as he munched cheese. “Hey, that’s just great. Lot of people don’t sleep well in a strange environment, you know? Sometimes they just lay there staring at the ceiling and think about things.”
    “Things?”
    “Yeah.” He sliced off another bit of cheese. “Things.”
    “Right. Things.” The dangerously enigmatic shimmer in his eyes was starting to worry her. It was definitely time to retreat, she decided. She gripped the lapels of her robe and took a step back. “Well, as long as everything is okay down here, I’ll go back to bed.”
    “You ever do that, Hannah? Just lie in bed and think about things?”
    She hesitated. “Sometimes.”
    “I’ve been doing it a lot lately.”
    “Is that so?”
    He put some cheese on a cracker and then popped the whole morsel into his mouth. “Aren’t you going to ask me what kind of things I think about?”
    She took another wary step back, not trusting his odd mood. “None of my business,” she said crisply.
    “Don’t be so sure of that. Tonight, for instance, one of the things I was thinking about was who, besides Bev Bolton, might be able to give us a few insights into the bedroom lives of our friends and neighbors here in Eclipse Bay. I had an