Free The Haunting of Josie by Kay Hooper Page A

was a biography of Luke Westbrook, the only one in existence that had been written by someone who had actually known the mystery writer; Marc knew of the book, even though he’d never read it.
    It also happened to be the only book about Luke Westbrook on the shelf—and in the cottage.
    “Coincidence,” Marc heard himself say in a rather peculiar tone. “Pure coincidence.” He looked at the cat, who uttered another of those throaty murmurs of his and then went placidly back to his favorite chair.
    Marc returned to his own place on the couch, holding the book and gazing between it and Pendragon. It had to be a coincidence, of course. As much as he loved and appreciated cats, and as much as he would have liked to believe they were unusually intelligent creatures, he didn’t think they could read
or
suggest solutions to human problems—even if they understood said problems, which was doubtful.
    Still…He looked at the book, shrugged, and opened it. God knew he had time on his hands. And maybe he’d find something useful. Maybe. At the very least he owed it to his ancestor to know all the facts….
    It was quite some time later when Marc was roused by an imperative demand from Pendragon. The cat waited until his human companion marked his place and laid the book aside, then repeated his demand and went briskly to the door. Obediently, Marc followed him and opened the door for him.
    The crunch of tires on gravel reached his ears as Marc stepped out onto the porch, and he looked down at the cat thoughtfully. “So that’s why you wanted out, because she’s home.”
    “Yaaah.” Pendragon stood looking up at him, waiting so obviously that he might as well have been tapping an impatient paw.
    “She doesn’t want to see me,” he told the cat.
    “Yaaah,” Pendragon repeated in the same commanding tone.
    “I should help with the groceries, I know, and there’s my stuff to bring over, but…” He frowned down at the cat. “Why am I discussing this with you?”
    “Ppprupt.”
    “No doubt.” Marc looked across the garden toward the house. His aching bones hadn’t been wrong; the afternoon had turned gray and very damp, with the smell of rain in the air. He hesitated a moment longer, then shrugged and headed across the garden, following behind Pendragon as the cat led the way. All he could do, he decided, was gauge Josie’s mood and behave accordingly; if she had thawed or had second thoughts during the shopping trip, great, and if she was still freezing him, he’d do his best to chip away at the ice without pressing too hard.
    As easy as walking a highwire. Without a net.
    For just an instant, as he considered the task ahead of him, Marc thought there was actually a lot to be said for the peace and quiet and lack of undue complications of being completely alone out here—but then he caught sight of Josie. And seeing her, he suddenly felt a jolt of all his senses that was becoming a familiar sensation.
    He had felt it the first time he had seen her, the sensations so strong and unexpected that he had been instantly wary of them. His imagination, surely; it had to be. He told himself each time that he wouldn’t feel it again, not again, but each time he saw her he felt it. Like an electric shock that left him acutely alive and aware, his heart beating faster and his breathing somehow more difficult than it had been.
    There was a part of him that didn’t want to be wary of it, a part already fascinated by and absorbed in her.
Do you feel this too? Have you ever felt it before? Please say you feel it too. Because it would be the most painful thing in the world to feel this alone, I think….
    But he couldn’t say that to Josie, of course. She’d think he was crazy, or else handing her a line—and either way her likely response would be a hasty retreat, possibly faster and farther than he could go in pursuit.
    So he hid what he felt under a calm surface. His courtroom experience had taught him to master whatever