Witchcraft

fooling herself, she thought as she climbed out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. It wasn't going to be easy living in a house full of strangers. But handling figures in hooded robes who walked around carrying large silver daggers wasn't much more inviting. She could just imagine what the authorities would say if she tried to tell them what had happened last night. They would think she'd gone off her rocker. At least Cavenaugh hadn't questioned her story of what she'd seen through the window. The closed door of her bathroom and the sound of running water inside brought her up short. " Cavenaugh , are you in there?"
    "Were you expecting anyone else?" he called back provokingly. "Don't dawdle," she warned. The door opened a minute later and he stood in front of her wiping the last of the shaving cream off his neck. He was naked from the waist up and it was obvious he had made himself quite at home. Emerald eyes glinted as he took in the disapproving way she peered around him into the interior of the bathroom. "Your trouble is that you're simply not used to having a man in the house. Or anyone else for that matter.
    Don't worry, I'm fully trained. I won't leave my towels lying on the floor."
    "Are you finished?" she demanded frostily, wondering if there would be any hot water left. "Just about."
    "Good. Then you can start breakfast," she informed him triumphantly, sweeping past him to commandeer the small bathroom. He allowed himself to be pushed out into the hall, but not before she'd caught sight of the half-amused twist of his mouth. "A man would have his hands full teaching you the fine art of household compromise," he observed. "When it comes to having enough hot water for my morning shower, I don't believe in compromise. Go start the eggs, Cavenaugh . I like them on the well-done side." She started to close the door and then stopped. "Oh, by the way, I've decided to take you up on your offer. At least for a few days." He raised one dark brow. "No more arguments about returning to the estate with me this morning?"
    "Is the offer still open?"
    "It was never an offer, Kim," he explained gently. "It was more of a requirement. I can't stay here with you because I have too many other responsibilities at home. But I can't leave you alone here, either; not after what's been happening.
    The only alternative is for you to go home with me." She tilted her head to one side, studying him coolly through narrowed lashes. "If I have a few things to learn about sharing the bathroom, allow me to inform you that you have a hell of a lot to learn about diplomacy."
    "Meaning I ought to learn how to make commands sound like requests?" he drawled.
    Disdaining to answer that before she'd even had her morning c offee , Kimberly slammed the door in his face. Half an hour later when she strode into the kitchen dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a peach-colored shirt, she sniffed appreciatively at the aroma that greeted her. "Not bad, Cavenaugh . Not bad at all." She examined the eggs he was scrambling at the stove. A stack of toast was keeping warm in the oven. "I do my best to please," he murmured. Kimberly grinned.
    "Something tells me you just happened to be hungry yourself. Not that I'm complaining. I can't even remember the last time someone cooked breakfast for me. I'll enjoy it while I can." She opened the refrigerator. "What do you want on your eggs?"
    "Anything but hot sauce." She tossed him a disapproving glance. "You don't know what you're missing. I love it on my eggs." Pulling the huge bottle of pepper sauce from the refrigerator she carried it toward the counter.
    Actually, having Darius Cavenaugh around was rather interesting, she decided privately. What would it be like living in his house for a few days? Setting down the hot sauce, Kimberly leaned across the counter to collect a couple of napkins. It was then her eyes fell on the opened envelope from the lawyers. Instantly the good mood she had been indulging evaporated as she realized that Cavenaugh must have read the letter. "What's this all about?" she demanded softly, holding up the opened envelope. Cavenaugh didn't pause in the act of dishing out the eggs. "That's what I was going to ask you."
    "You opened this!" He nodded, putting the frying pan into the sink and picking up the two plates. She stared at him in stunned amazement. He didn't even appear mildly embarrassed. "You deliberately opened a private letter!"
    "I was curious."
    "Curious! My God, Cavenaugh ,