Witchcraft

dangerous confrontation. A confrontation with herself or with him, Cavenaugh wondered fleetingly. "Yes1 well, it's been a hectic evening, hasn't it?" she remarked condescendingly. Cavenaugh wanted to shake her. He'd like to show her just how "hectic" he could make her neat, self-contained world. Instead he said politely, "Yes, it has. I think I'll recheck all your locks before I go back to bed. And it might be a good idea if you left the door of your bedroom open."
    "So that you can hear me if I get carried off by witches?"
    "It's not really all that funny," he murmured. "I know," she said with a sigh, toying nervously with the end of her red sash. "I was scared to death earlier.
    glad you were here, Cavenaugh . Very glad." Wisely he decided to let that ride without following up with a demand that she let him continue to protect her. Given a few more hours alone in her room to think about the situation, she would come to her senses. "Get some sleep, Kim.
    Everything will be fine. Whoever was out there knows you're not alone now."
    "Good night, Cavenaugh ," she nodded, sounding vaguely wistful. He looked down at her, aware of the fierce restlessness in his body. She looked so intriguing with her amber hair in tumbled disarray. Her bare feet beneath the hem of the robe made her somehow charmingly vulnerable and he found himself wanting to pull her nervous fingers away from the sash that kept the old terry cloth robe close to her body. Taking a resolute grip on his senses, Cavenaugh stepped out into the hall. Then he thought of something. "There's just one thing, Kim."
    "What's that?"
    She frowned curiously. "The next time I give you an order in a situation like the one we had tonight, I'll expect you to obey it." Instantly he knew he'd made a mistake. The small frown on her face turned into a mask of feminine hauteur. "Since I don't expect too many more situations such as the one we experienced tonight, I don't see that as a problem. Good night, Cavenaugh ." He decided he'd better get out of her room before he said anything further to annoy her. Without a word he stalked down the hall, turning off lights as he went. Stopping in front of the fire, he poked at the embers, listening as Kimberly turned off the light in her own room and climbed into bed. A moment later the house was silent again. There was one more light still blazing, the one in the kitchen area. Cavenaugh walked over to flip the switch and his eyes fell on the buff-colored envelope from the Los Angeles law firm.
    Idly he picked it up, wondering why Kim hadn't opened it. Perhaps she had trouble on her hands from another source besides Scott's "witches."
    Long accustomed to dealing with trouble, Cavenaugh made his decision.
    He unsealed the envelope and lifted out the stiff, formal stationery.
    Then standing barefoot in Kimberly's kitchen, he read the letter without any compunction whatsoever. When he was finished he had even more questions about Kimberly Sawyer. Thoughtfully Cavenaugh refolded the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope. Then he turned off the kitchen light and walked to the uncomfortable couch. In front of the fire he stepped out of the slightly damp jeans and spread them out so that they would dry by morning. As he slid under the blankets Kim had given him earlier he propped himself on his elbow and stared intently into the glowing coals of the fire. Kimberly Sawyer was an intriguing woman. She was also proving to be something of a mystery. Above all, Cavenaugh reminded himself, he had an obligation to protect her. He owed her that much in return for what she had done two months ago. But it wasn't the sense of responsibility he felt that stayed on his mind as he allowed himself to go back to sleep. Nor was it the questions engendered by that letter in the kitchen. The last, disturbing thought he had of Kimberly was a memory of the way she had begun to respond to him when he'd held her in his arms. If he'd had a little more time or a more appropriate set of circumstances, he decided, he could have had her in bed. That realization was deeply satisfying. Kimberly awoke the next morning with a decidedly grim realization of her own. She knew she didn't want to face another night alone in this isolated house. Someone was deliberately trying to terrorize her. The man in the living room was offering shelter. She really had no logical choice but to accompany him back to the wine country until this business was all cleared up. No sense