Midnight Jewels

him more thoroughly overtook Mercy.
    "Dinner," she repeated. She heard the acceptance in her own voice. "I'll look forward to it," she added impulsively.
    "So will I."
    He moved to the door and she followed. When she opened and held it for him, he stepped over the threshold and then turned to face her. Standing just outside her apartment he seemed to be a part of the night's shifting shadows. Something told Mercy she might be safer if she kept him outside her door. Croft regarded her silently for a long moment and then he lifted his hand.
    Mercy's fingers tightened on the wood of the door. Part of her belatedly urged her to step back out of reach, but she couldn't move. His fingertips touched the nape of her neck, gliding softly. It was the lightest of caresses and Mercy forgot all about wanting to dodge those questing fingers. Instead she was almost overcome with the desire to turn her face into the palm of his hand to kiss him.
    She was afraid the longing showed in her eyes when she looked up and saw the recognition and flare of masculine satisfaction in his hazel gaze. His fingertips moved once more across the nape of her neck, stirring the fine hair that grew there. Mercy shivered.
    Croft removed his hand. "I've been wanting to do that all evening. Good night, Mercy."
    "Good night, Croft." She could barely speak.
    He turned away, vanishing into the darkness before she even got the door closed. She sank thoughtfully back against the wood panel and worried briefly about him walking all the way down the hill to his car at night. Ignatius Cove was a safe little town, but still...
    Then she shook her head at the ridiculousness of worrying about Croft Falconer. If she was going to waste time worrying about anyone, it should probably be herself.

    Croft waited for Saturday to pass with a restless impatience that was almost alarming. He wasn't accustomed to this kind of simmering uneasiness. Inevitably in his life there was a time for waiting and a time for action. Each reinforced the other, fitting together with a symmetry that kept the Circle closed. But this period of waiting was different. It was not the kind that presaged violence, yet it contained some of the same elements. There was the familiar, acute sense of awareness and the feeling of intense physical readiness. The difference was that he didn't seem to be able to channel or control his impatience the way he normally would.
    It was because this time be was waiting for the woman, Mercy Pennington. Waiting to discover her completely. Waiting to claim her.
    At dawn he found a secluded spot on the beach below the inn and tried to slide into his morning meditative trance. The results were fragmented at best. The running afterward went better, but it didn't do much to stem the tide of urgency that was building in him.
    He told himself to slow down mentally and let the course of events work its inevitable way to the ultimate conclusion. He knew what he was doing. He could control the end result. After all, he had seen the wonder and the wanting in her last night.
    His fingers curled briefly in a small flare of desire as he remembered the feel of her. Touching the nape of her neck had let him know what it would be like to touch the rest of her. He doubted if she even realized just how much he had learned with that single caress. She would be soft, sensitive, vulnerable, and graceful in bed.
    He wondered what she was thinking today at work. He knew she was still wary of him. He deliberately hadn't done much to counter that and he knew why. He couldn't tell her everything, but he found himself wanting to be as honest with her as possible.
    Croft thought of the man who had used Mercy so badly in California and winced as he walked back up the beach to the inn for breakfast. Mercy would not be quick to forgive another man whom she perceived as a user and a liar.
    But he had his priorities, Croft reminded himself. The book was the key and Mercy had possession of the book. Furthermore, she was not about to give it up. Nor was there any way to simply take it from her. She would know instantly what had happened and who had done it. No, Croft decided. He and Mercy were bound together for a while whether she liked it or not He couldn't let her out of his sight until he had followed the trail of the book and found the answers he needed.
    But he was honest enough to admit that he had other reasons for not wanting to let go of Mercy. Reasons that had nothing to do with closing a