Free Truth Or Dare by Jayne Ann Krentz Page B

down the cup and looked at Arcadia. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
    “Nothing’s wrong.”
    “Arcadia, this is me, Zoe, remember? I’m the one who busted out of Xanadu with you.” Xanadu was the private code word they shared for Candle Lake Manor. Somehow the name seemed to describe the bizarre reality of the place.
    “It’s okay, Zoe, really.”
    Zoe put up a hand. “Stop right there. I’m your best friend, with the possible exception of Harry, and he’s not here right now. I’m telling you that I know there’s something wrong.”
    Arcadia did a delicate grimace. “I was having a little trouble sleeping earlier this week. I felt sort of edgy and restless. But I’m all right now.”
    What was it about November this year? Zoe wondered. It seemed like most of the gang were having problems this month. Bonnie and the boys and Ethan were dealing with the anniversary of Drew Truax’s death, she was brooding about the future of her marriage and worrying about Ethan’s mood swings and Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    now her best friend was on edge for some reason.
    Arcadia picked up her tiny espresso cup with both hands. Her long nails, tinted to match her short, platinum hair, glinted a little in the light. Only someone who had known her for a while would have detected the signs of strain, Zoe thought. Arcadia was very good at concealing her emotions.
    Zoe assumed that Arcadia was in her early forties, but she possessed the timeless elegance of a 1930s film star. What’s more, she radiated the air of aloof, world-weary sophistication that went with the image.
    Today she was dressed in her signature icy pastels. Tall and willowy, she wore aqua silk trousers and a white silk tunic with languid, Greta Garbo–style grace.
    Zoe had a napkin on her lap but Arcadia had not bothered with one. She drank her espresso and nibbled on a croissant with a breathtaking lack of concern for drips or crumbs. Food did not accidentally spill or splash onto Arcadia’s expensive clothes.
    “Do you want to tell me what’s keeping you awake?” Zoe said. “I know it isn’t because you’re having great sex. Harry is still out of town.”
    “I’m starting to think that may be the problem,” Arcadia said very seriously.
    “Lack of hot sex?”
    “No, Harry being out of town.”
    Zoe tore off a bit of croissant and slathered some butter on it. “I’m not following you.”
    “I think I’m getting used to having him around.”
    “So? He seems to like being around you. I don’t see a problem here.”
    Arcadia’s fingers tightened around the small cup. “The problem is that I may be developing a certain . . .
    dependency on him.”
    Zoe swallowed the bite of croissant. “You want to run that by me again?”
    “I started having trouble sleeping shortly after he left on this latest job.” Arcadia’s silvery-blue eyes narrowed. “It was as if I’d become afraid of the dark. Three nights ago it was really bad.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    “I had been a little jumpy all day. It took me a long time to get to sleep. And then I woke up very suddenly. For a few seconds I was disoriented. I thought I was back in Xanadu.”
    “Your reaction was perfectly understandable, if you ask me,” Zoe said briskly. “Whenever I dream of that place I wake up in a cold sweat.”
    Arcadia shook her head. “That’s just it, I don’t think that I was dreaming about it. I just woke up abruptly and felt afraid. As if someone had gotten through the locks on my front door.”
    Zoe went still. “But there was no sign of a break-in, right?”

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    “Of course not. I’d have yelled for Ethan if there was even a hint that someone had tripped Harry’s new security system. But I felt very strange until . . .”
    “Until what?”
    Arcadia’s mouth curved wryly. “Until Harry called.”
    Zoe relaxed a little. “And