Free Nightfall by Anne Stuart Page A

say something, anything, that would clarify what in hell's name was going on. Why had Sean brought her here? For Richard Tiernan?
    Finally he spoke, and Cass could have punched the wall in frustration. "You ought to go to bed, Sean. Your daughter's an early riser, and I expect she's going to want us hard at work by nine o'clock."
    "Cassie has a singular disregard for the realities of life, such as insomnia, hangovers, and the artistic muse. These things come on their own schedule."
    "I don't think I have a hell of a lot of time to waste," Tiernan said.
    "Then the two of you can start without me," Sean said brightly.
    Another silence. "Make up your mind, Sean."
    "I already have. Mabry blames me, you know. For some reason she's very fond of you. You have that effect on women, don't you? The ability to charm them."
    "I don't charm your daughter."
    "The hell you don't. I've known her all her life. She's a stubborn creature, and she's fighting it like mad. But I've never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at you."
    It was all Cass could do to keep from screeching a protest. She stayed silent, eavesdropping, riveted to the spot.
    "And how does she look at me?" He sounded cool, only vaguely interested, and Cass could feel her shame and embarrassment rise.
    "I've been trying to define it to my own satisfaction. Partly like a child looking at a train set, one he wants desperately but knows he can't have."
    "Why can't he have it?"
    "The price is too high." Another noisy sip of whiskey, as Sean's voice grew even more maudlin, as his insights drew dangerously sharper. "For the rest, it reminds me of the way people watch the polar bears in the Central Park Zoo. As far as I know, they've never hurt anyone, but people watch them and they remember the one in the Brooklyn Zoo who ate the kids."
    Cass listened to his faintly slurred words with a sense of outrage that only increased with the amusement in Tiernan's voice. "So I'm a toy she wants but can't afford, one that will turn around and eat her. Is that it?"
    "What do you think?"
    "I think it's time you went to bed."
    "You're right. Mabry will be wondering what happened to me."
    "I doubt it," Tiernan said. "She must be used to you by now."
    Cassidy moved quickly, ducking into the nearest doorway. The kitchen was shrouded in darkness. She waited there, scarcely breathing, as Sean emerged into the hallway.
    His grizzled gray hair stood up wildly around his ruddy face, and his raisin dark eyes looked oddly sunken. For the first time he looked old, and Cassie stared at him, unseen, as the mortality that had been looming over her settled on her shoulders.
    She didn't dare go back into the hallway and risk running into Richard Tiernan. The layout of the old apartment was circular—she could head through the kitchen and breakfast nook, back out into the front hall and make it safely into her bedroom without anyone being the wiser.
    She moved silently, resisting the impulse to open the refrigerator. After a day of picking at her food she was suddenly famished, but she didn't dare risk spending a moment longer in the kitchen. Her nemesis seemed to have a talent for finding her there.
    The hall was dark, only the streetlights from the living room windows behind penetrating. She started toward her room, tiptoeing, and then stifled her sudden scream.
    "Cassidy," Tiernan said, and his hand clamped around her wrist, stopping her flight. He'd loomed out of the darkness, more silently than she, and in the shadows she could barely see him. For some reason that was no comfort. "Did you hear anything interesting in your eavesdropping?"
    She yanked her hand free. "What do you mean?"
    "Don't play childish games, Cassidy. I'd thought better of you. You were standing outside the study, listening to your father's drunken fantasies. What did you make of it?"
    She wrapped her arms around her body, feeling hot and cold at the same time. "I don't know what to think," she said with perfect frankness. "Exactly