Witchcraft

inside of the beach cottage. "After all, you live way out here in the middle of nowhere, drive a ten-year-old car, dress in jeans that look about as ancient as the car--" He broke off with a shrug. "How was I to know your financial status?"
    "I live out here because it suits me. Writers need lots of privacy and quiet, in case you didn't know. As for the car, well, I realize it's not exactly a late model Cadillac, but then I never did like Cadillacs . And the jeans happen to be very comfortable.
    Writers like comfortable clothes," she added far too sweetly. "You're getting annoyed, aren't you?"
    "Sharp of you to notice."
    "You're also scared," he reminded her flatly. "Which brings us back to the issue at hand." He lifted the rose to examine it once again. "They haven't found the kidnappers, you know." Kimberly licked her lower lip a bit nervously. "I'd been rather hoping something had turned up."
    "Not a thing. No leads, no clues, no descriptions other than that one you gave of the woman and Scott's insistence that he was being held by witches.
    Nothing." She heard the hint of controlled savagery in his voice and drew in her breath. "it must be very frustrating," she suggested uneasily. The emerald eyes lifted from contemplation of the rose, and Kimberly found herself staring into the remorseless gaze of a predator.
    In that moment she almost pitied the kidnappers. The realization of just how implacable this man would be when the people who had dared to threaten a member of his family were found was almost frightening.
    "Frustrating is a mild term for what I feel whenever I consider the matter," Cavenaugh informed her very evenly. Kimberly swallowed. "Yes.
    I can see that."
    "Sooner or later I'll have them."
    "The kidnappers? I certainly hope so. But if the authorities have nothing to go on ... "
    "I have my own people working on it."
    "Your own people! What on earth do you mean?" she asked, startled. "Never mind." He set down the wine bottle with the rose and reached for the glass of Merlot he had been drinking. "At the moment we should be discussing your situation. I don't think we'll take any chances. Someone may be out to punish you for having gotten involved. It's possible they know or have figured out who it was who rescued Scott that night. Regardless of what's going on you'll be safest at the estate. Can you be packed and ready to go early in the morning?" Dumbfounded at the suggestion, Kimberly nearly choked on her own sip of wine. "Ready to go? That's impossible. I'm not going anywhere. I have eight chapters left to write on Vendetta and a deadline to meet. Furthermore, this is my home. I'm not about to leave it. I can't just pack up and move in with you until the kidnappers are found! For heaven's sake, this business with the rose is probably a totally unrelated incident."
    "You can't be sure of that. If you had been sure you wouldn't have almost called me today. Even if the rose isn't related to the kidnapping, it's still quite deliberately vicious.
    You'll be safest at the estate."
    "No," Kimberly answered with absolute conviction. "It's kind of you to offer, but-"
    "This is hardly a matter of kindness. I owe you, remember?" he shot back harshly. "Well, consider the debt c anceled !"
    "That's not possible. I always pay my debts."
    "I haven't asked that you pay this one," she protested violently. "You no longer have any choice in the matter."
    "What on earth are you saying?" Kimberly leaped to her feet to confront him. "No one invited you here tonight. And no one is going to tell me what to do.
    I've been on my own a long time, Cavenaugh , and I like it that way. I like it very much. The last thing I intend to do is move into a crowded, busy household such as yours and stay indefinitely. It would drive me crazy and I'd never get any work done." He stood up slowly, the light from the fire playing over the bluntly carved planes of his face. The shifting, golden shadows alternately revealed and veiled the visible signs of the force of his determination, but Kimberly could feel the impact of it on another level altogether and it made her shiver.
    She wished with all her heart she hadn't made that phone call today. "It made little difference. I would have been here within a day or two, anyway," he assured her calmly as if he could read her mind. Kimberly didn't care for the ease with which he seemed able to interpret her thoughts. "Look, Cavenaugh , don't you understand that what you're suggesting just isn't