Witchcraft

off with a faintly slanting smile.
    "And later on the phone rang again but the person on the other end of the line had gotten cold feet by the time I picked up the receiver.
    That was you too, wasn't it?" Slowly, her amber brows knit together in a small frown, Kimberly walked over to the kitchen and poured another glass of the Cavenaugh Merlot wine. "How did you know?"
    "A hunch. The number's unlisted and people rarely misdial it. Two or three such hangups in one day were a little suspicious. Something told me it had to be you. Offhand I can't think of anyone else I know who would have hesitated to make the call." His mouth moved briefly, wryly. "Everyone else seems to have no qualms at all about contacting me for just about any reason."
    "You didn't even call me back to make certain," she pointed out quietly as she walked back to her chair in front of the fire. He reached up to accept the glass of wine she offered. Almost idly Cavenaugh held the glass so that the deep ruby liquid was lit by firelight. He perused the color with an expert's eye and then took a cautious taste. "Very good," he pronounced, watching Kimberly over the rim. "It should be. It's a Cavenaugh wine," she murmured dryly. "Cost me half a royalty check."
    "I know." He swirled the wine in the glass and smiled faintly. "You must have known I was arriving tonight." She blinked, mildly surprised. "How could I know that?"
    "Beats me. The same way I realized it was you on the phone today, I suppose." He took another sip of the wine and continued to watch her. "Coincidence," she assured him roundly. Kimberly found herself having to quash an unsettling sensation of intimacy caused by his words. She'd had that bottle of wine in the kitchen cupboard for several days along with a few others. It was odd that she'd opened it tonight. Then ..... "Well, maybe it was more than sheer coincidence," she admitted. "I did think about you several times today and you're right. It was me on the phone. I suppose I had Cavenaugh on the brain, and when I chose a wine tonight it was automatic to reach for the name."
    "Automatic," he agreed blandly. "Subliminal advertising. I'll have to talk to my public relations consulting firm about the technique."
    "That doesn't explain why you didn't try to phone me back to find out whether or not I was the mysterious caller," she pointed out. Kimberly reached for her plate. "And did you get any dinner?"
    "No, I didn't get any dinner. I drove straight through."
    "Want to split a baked potato and salad?"
    "Is that what that is?,' He eyed the heavily decorated baked potato as if it were some alien life form. "Well, I'm hungry enough to risk it." She got up again to find another plate and then she carefully divided the still hot potato. "So?"
    "So what?" He took the plate and fork from her and then watched, fascinated as Kimberly sprinkled hot sauce liberally over her own share of the food. "Why didn't you call to find out if it had been me on the phone?"
    "Because I'd been planning to drive over here for a week. Deciding it had probably been you on the phone just pushed me into making the trip tonight instead of this coming weekend." He forked up a chunk of potato warily. "What all have you got on this thing?"
    "Everything I could think of."
    "Well, it's interesting."
    "A highly personalized baked potato," she said with a grin. "One of the many advantages of living alone. You can eat anything you want and have it fixed any way you like. Want some hot sauce?" He considered the matter for a few seconds and then accepted the bottle. "Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound." Cavenaugh gave her an assessing glance. "You're very content living by yourself, aren't you? I realized that when I met you two months ago. You're quite self-contained. Have you always been alone?"
    Kimberly shook her head with a small smile of amusement. "I don't really think of myself as being isolated. I'm just independent and used to doing things exactly as I like to do them; that's the way I was raised. When I was growing up there were only my mother and me. It must seem strange to you because you're always surrounded by family and all those people who work at the winery. From my point of view that kind of constant pressure would drive me crazy!"
    "Pressure?" She nodded.
    "Where there is a lot of family, there are a lot of demands. And in your case, you have the additional pressure and responsibility of supervising the winery staff. Many of them must be almost like