Witchcraft

well. No, she thought absently, more than just well. It would be done right. With all the loose ends tied up.
    She wasn't certain why she knew that on the basis of only having spent a few hours with him, but she didn't question the knowledge. She had been hoping the extra half-glass of wine that she'd allowed herself tonight might dispel some of the strange tension she was experiencing, but it didn't seem to be working. Kimberly was just about to sink a fork into the elaborately decorated baked potato when the lights flickered and went out. "Well, damn. There goes my chance to finish that novel tonight," she murmured with a sigh. Across the room the fire crackled.
    Picking up her plate, the hot sauce and the remaining glass of wine, Kimberly started toward it, intending to finish her meal while sitting in front of the hearth. The purr of a sophisticated car's engine in her driveway captured her attention when she was halfway across the small room. The sound rose briefly above the increasing howl of the wind and rain and then sudddenly fell silent. Someone had chosen a miserable night to come visiting. A moment later came the knock on her door.
    Kimberly had already set down her dinner and was peering through the tiny window set in the door panel. It was impossible to see who stood on the step because the porch light was not working. "Who is it?" she called with a trace of unease. Except for that incident two months ago, crime was not a real problem around here. Nevertheless, Kimberly was instinctively wary tonight. That business with the rose had unsettled her more than she had realized. There was no answer. Perhaps whoever it was couldn't hear her over the roar of the storm. Taking a deep breath and telling herself not to be so skittish, Kimberly unlocked the door, leaving the chain on, and opened it a couple of inches. "Who's there?" she inquired coolly, peering through the small opening. The man on her front step turned his head in that moment, and the faint light from the fire flared briefly on his roughly etched features. His gaze flicked over her shadowed face; a gaze that Kimberly knew would be emerald green in the full light of day. Cavenaugh ." he said. Kimberly closed her eyes with an odd sense of relief at the succinct answer.
    " Cavenaugh ," she repeated. The rough texture of his voice brought back memories of the last time she had seen him. It also brought an indescribable wariness that she had never been able to properly identify or understand. As she stared up at him the wind screamed eerily, just as it had that night two months ago when she had gotten herself involved in the incredible situation that had led to her meeting Darius Cavenaugh .
    She realized abruptly that he must be getting chilled out on her porch.
    Without another word she closed the door, undid the chain lock and then allowed him inside. She stepped back as he moved into the firelit room, her eyes moving over him, trying to accept the fact he was here. "What a coincidence that you should show up tonight." she finally managed politely as she motioned him to a comfortably overstuffed chair in front of the fire. "I was thinking about you today. What are you doing here?
    Have you come on business regarding that mess two months ago? Let me have your jacket. The electricity went off but the fire should keep the place warm. I was just about to eat. Have you had dinner?" When he simply looked at her as he shrugged off the suede jacket he was wearing, Kimberly realized belatedly that she was babbling and wondered why. It wasn't at all like her. Annoyed with herself she hastily closed her mouth and silently accepted his jacket. It was still warm from the heat of his strong, lean body and the leather seemed to carry a trace of his scent. As soon as she caught the hint of the unique masculine essence, Kimberly knew she had never forgotten it. How odd to have that surprisingly intimate realization about a man whom she barely knew; someone whom she'd had no relationship beyond the quite limited association brought on by the events of two months ago. "I think," Cavenaugh said calmly as he sank down into the old chair, "that you did more than think about me today." Startled, Kimberly finished hanging up his jacket and then started back across the room. "What on earth are you talking about?"
    "That was you on the phone this morning, wasn't it?
    When Julia mentioned that a woman had called and then claimed to have misdialed I had a feeling-", He broke