Witchcraft

Cavenaugh was almost afraid to touch her, fearing that once he did he would do something drastic. But he had to stop her. He knew his fingers closed much too tightly around her fragile wrist but she disdained any protest.
    "I'm going to find a place to spend the night," Kimberly told him simply. "Alone."
    "You're spending the night here. With me." He grappled with that single word. It would have been easier if she'd yelled something along the lines of "not if you were the last man on earth." He could have dealt with that kind of outrage. But Cavenaugh freely admitted to himself that he wasn't at all sure how to handle Kim in her present mood. He released her wrist as he realized that his hand was beginning to shake with the force of his barely restrained emotions.
    As soon as he freed her she turned and started toward the door. "That's far enough, Kim. You're not leaving this hotel. For both our sakes, don't push me." He heard the lethal threat in his own voice and knew she understood it, because at the door she stopped and turned around to face him. Her head was still held with dignity but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. Nice going, Cavenaugh . Now you've managed to frighten her. You've really handling this whole thing with finesse. "If you're going to threaten me, Cavenaugh , be up front about it. What exactly are you going to do if I exercise my right to leave this room?"
    He closed his eyes in exasperation and then glared at her through narrowed lids. Back off, Cavenaugh , or you're going to blow this completely. Give her time. She needs a little time. He forced himself to speak calmly. "If you're absolutely determined to run instead of staying with me tonight, I'll call the front desk and get you another room in this hotel." Without waiting for her response he picked up the phone on the nearby end table. Kimberly watched him in utter silence.
    In fact, Cavenaugh reflected a few minutes later as he escorted her down the hall to another room on the same floor, he got the distinct impression she didn't quite know what to make of his actions. Obviously getting her a room of her own without further protest was not what she had expected him to do. As he opened the door of her new room, he looked down at her. "This isn't how I wanted it to be between us tonight, Kim. You know that, don't you?"
    "It isn't how I wanted it to be, either, Cavenaugh . As you've already taken pains to point out, I live in something of a fantasy world. But the fantasy I was living in was taking place in real life, not in one of my books."
    "Damn you," he gritted and reached for her. He pulled her into his arms, deliberately giving her no opportunity to resist. Frustrated hunger and a large dose of his seething fury combined in the kiss. His mouth closed over hers with a possessiveness he made no attempt to hide. She might choose to sleep alone tonight but she would go to bed with the taste of him on her lips. Kimberly didn't fight him but that was probably because he didn't allow her to do so. Cavenaugh wasn't interested in a response tonight.
    He only wanted to imprint himself on her in a way that would last until morning. He wanted her to lie awake thinking of him all night, he realized. The same way he was going to lie awake thinking of her. When he finally released her she stumbled back a step, her fingers lifting to touch her sensually bruised mouth. It seemed to Cavenaugh that he had never seen her golden eyes so wide or so unreadable. For a long moment they looked at each other and then Cavenaugh shook off the spell. "Good night, witch. Go to sleep. If you can." Two hours later the uneasiness became so intense that Cavenaugh knew he had to act. He hadn't slept at all but this restless feeling wasn't from lack of sleep. Something was very, very wrong. Unable to stand it any longer he climbed out of bed, pulled on his slacks and his shoes and went out into the hall. He was too late. Kimberly had left the hotel.

CHAPTER NINE.
    She had been a fool, Kimberly told herself. A fool to think that she had achieved some kind of rare, magical intimacy with Darius Cavenaugh . A fool to let him trick her into that confrontation in San Francisco. A fool to let herself believe that Cavenaugh was somehow different from other men in his position. Most of all, she decided ruefully as she gripped the wheel of the rental car, she was a fool for making the long drive up the coast at one o'clock in the morning. But when you were running from your