asked.
âNo,â he admitted.
âI see.â
âNo, you donât. Katie did see him here, on a trip. And now Iâm afraid heâs after youâjust as he was after her.â
She sighed, looking down.
He was just as attractive and possessed of all the raw sex appeal as she had thought from the beginningâand he was completely crazy. Maybe even a murderer himself.
He could be stalking her, for all she knew.
She was finally about to get up when he asked, âDid you all stay in your cottage last night, locked in, once you got home?â
âI saw you out on the street, watching us,â she accused him, instead of answering.
âDid you stay in?â he repeated.
âYes, which is none of your business,â she lied.
He still seemed concerned. âI only asked because itâs important,â he told her quietly.
She felt oddly uncertain and was angry with herself, but for some reason she couldnât seem to walk away with things hanging between them.
And Deanna had been outside, sleepwalking, something sheâd never done before in her life, and Lauren had been out there with her. Not only that, sheâd felt as if someone else had been out there, too, and that somehow this man knew about it.
And at the edge of her consciousness was the memory of how she had dreamed about him, and the ridiculous longing somewhere inside that, against all the evidence, he would turn out not to be crazy.
She forced a casual smile onto her face. âOkay, Iâll bite. Why is so important?â
Instead of answering, he reached into his shirt pocket. âIâd like to give you something.â
âPlease, I canât accept anything from you.â
He smiled then, a charming smile that also managed to convey amusement. âNo strings attached,â he assured her.
She was almost bowled over by the unconscious sensuality of his appeal. God, how she wished he were normal. She had never met anyone like him, hadnât even dreamed that she could meet anyone like him, since she had lost Ken. The sound of his voice was alluring, his body language subtly provocative. If sheâd met him anywhere else under any other circumstancesâ¦
âThis was Katieâs,â he said.
She looked down at the item heâd produced from his pocket. It was a silver cross, beautifully designed and obviously antique.
âI definitely canât take that,â she told him, staring across the table at him.
âPlease.â
âItâs valuable.â
âI would never sell it in a thousand years,â he said.
She shook her head. âI canât take it.â
He grinned at her suddenly. âIf you were to take it and wear it, Iâd feel better about you being out on the streets of New Orleans. I might even quit being such a pest.â
âI think you really are crazy,â she told him frankly.
âIâm not. Honestly.â
She picked up her tea and took a long sip, suddenly aware that she had both elbows on the table now and was leaning closer to him. âOkay, look at all this from my point of view. First I run into you in a bar. Then I see you standing out on my street.â
âMy street, too.â
âCoincidence, huh?â
He shrugged.
âOkay. Then Iâm sitting here drinking tea, and suddenly there you are, too, with a crazy tale about trailing a killer. Donât you think you should go to the police if you know who the killer is?â
âProbably. Iâm just not sure yet how to explain what I know.â
âBecause itâs crazy,â she suggested softly.
âI swear to you, I only want you to be safe,â he said.
She groaned, looking down at her hands. âIâve heard a piece of your story, and Iâm not at all sure I want to hear the rest. Pleaseâ¦youâre very attractive. But Iâ¦I really have to ask you to stay away from me.â
There. She had managed it; she
J. S. Cooper, Helen Cooper