Witchcraft

shove his feet into the boots. And then he was at the door, slipping off the chain. "Don't move," he ordered once again as he stepped cautiously outside. He shut the door softly behind himself. " Cavenaugh , wait!" She was appealing to an e mpty room.
    Angrily Kimberly sat up on the chilly floor, hugging her bare knees to her chest as she stared at the door. For what seemed an unbearably long time she continued to sit where she was, visions of the cowled figure holding the knife repeating themselves endlessly in her head. Suddenly, startlingly aware of her own near nudity as the icy vinyl finally made its presence known against her backside, she started to get to her feet.
    Halfway up she remembered Cavenaugh's injunction to stay where she was.
    Astonished that she had allowed the force of his command to keep her there on the floor for even a few seconds, Kimberly stood up completely and peered cautiously out the kitchen window. She could see nothing, and the thought that Cavenaugh was out there somewhere, facing who knew what on her behalf, finally jolted her into action. Turning away from the window, Kimberly started toward the hall to her bedroom. She needed to find her jeans and some shoes and a shirt before following her guest out into the stormy night. She was nearly across the room when the door opened again and Cavenaugh stepped back inside. Whirling, she halted to demand anxiously, "Are you all right? I was terrified!" He stood staring at her, eyes deep and unreadable in the dim glow of the firelight. The rain had dampened his shoulders and hair and the jeans rode low on his hips. Kimberly saw the glistening drops of moisture caught in the curling dark hair on his chest and was violently aware of the lingering hint of anger emanating from him. "I told you to stay down on the floor." Cavenaugh fastened the catch on the door and then started toward her. "I decided sitting on a cold vinyl floor wasn't doing anyone much good," Kimberly retorted, injecting a measure of irritation into her words. She found herself increasingly uneasy now and the sense of anxiety wasn't caused by what she had just seen through the window. "You didn't answer my question. I take it you're all right?"
    "I'm fine." He stopped beside the couch and pried off his wet boots. "Got a towel? I'm soaked."
    "Of course." Grateful for the small diversion, Kimberly reached into the hall closet nearby and yanked down a towel. She stepped forward to hand it to him and then remembered the short T-shirt she was wearing. "Here," she said quickly, tossing him the towel. "I'll go find my robe." She hurried to her bedroom door.
    "Did you see anything out there?" Opening the closet she pulled out the red terrycloth robe. "No, I couldn't find a trace of anything or anyone.
    Hardly surprising with this rain and wind." His voice came from her bedroom doorway. Startled that he had followed her down the hall, Kimberly fumbled with the robe. The darkness wasn't providing much privacy. She knew the pale length of her legs must be quite visible beneath the incredibly short hem of the T-shirt. Cavenaugh stood watching her as though he had a right, idly drying his hair and the back of his neck. "Perhaps in the morning we'll be able to find some signs," she suggested hesitantly, wondering why it was proving so difficult to get into the robe. Her fingers didn't seem to want to function properly. Although she had been quite chilled a few minutes ago her whole body now seemed unnaturally warm. "I doubt it." He didn't move from her doorway and the vividness of his gaze seemed to burn over her.
    "Who owned that T-shirt originally?"
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "I just wondered what man left that T-shirt behind for YOU to wear to bed. Will he be coming back to collect it or you in the near future?" Kimberly felt herself flushing and was glad he couldn't See the change in her skin color here in the darkness. Distractedly she managed to knot the red robe around her waist. "I always sleep in T-shirts. I buy them myself in packages of three. No one left it behind. Now, if you've finished commenting on my lingerie, I suggest we go back to the living room and talk over this situation." He didn't move. Kimberly drew in a deep breath and decided on a firmly aggressive approach. She walked straight toward the door, giving every indication that she fully expected him to step aside. When he didn't, she was forced to halt a foot away. "Excuse me," she said very politely. "You seem to be