Eden's Spell by Heather Graham Page A

was that she was aching tonight. She was alone, afraid, and confused and she was amazed and incredulous at the strange twists and pleas of her mind.
    He was there. In her house. In the very next room. In a fantasy she could see herself rising, drifting to that room. Entering silently, standing above him until he opened his eyes.
    Once in his arms, she wouldn’t have to explain that she was rusty, that she was afraid that she couldn’t possibly please him, that it was totally ludicrous and not in the least moral for her to be there, but …
    She wanted him. To be held by him. Loved by him. Even if it was in a dream.
    He was like James: tall, ready to laugh, eager to tease, the hint of a devil about him.
    Yet he was nothing like James at all. He was much older, a little tougher, a little harder, a little more cynical. His was a handsome face, etched with the character of time, rugged from the sun and wind and the secrets in the heart. She wanted to know him.
    Disloyal! What had her love for James been—that love she had clung to so desperately!—if she was ready to crawl to a stranger?
    She would never do it. Never in a thousand years. She would twist and toss with the wind, but she would never leave the security of her walls.
    She didn’t know that it was dawn before she fell asleep. She had no way of knowing, because the island remained under a dark pall.
    â€œBoardwalk! Oh, no! You can’t buy Boardwalk!” Jason was protesting dramatically when Katrina left her room the next morning.
    Except that it wasn’t morning, she noted distractedly, glancing at her watch. It was well after noon.
    Jason and Mike were stretched out on the living room floor, playing Monopoly. Mike must have set his clothes to dry overnight, or at least his pants. He was bare chested and barefooted, but his own white trousers stretched over the length of his legs. Her heart began to beat a little erratically at the sight of his naked, hair-roughened chest. This irritated her. After all, she saw naked chests all the time. They were a dime a dozen in this water sport haven, where men seldom went swimming, fishing, or snorkeling in more than shorts.
    But they did not have chests like his….
    He was propped up on one elbow. He turned to her, as if sensing she was standing there.
    â€œHey. Want to play? I don’t think that Jason would mind starting over.”
    Katrina hooked her thumbs into her jeans pockets and shook her head. She averted her eyes from Mike’s and looked at her pleasantly smiling son.
    â€œDid you find something to eat?”
    â€œMike made pancakes.”
    She looked back to her uninvited guest. His eyes were enigmatic as he shrugged.
    â€œWe left you some.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Stiffly, she walked on past them. They barely seemed to notice; she had hardly been an intrusion on their game.
    The thought that Mike had gotten up in time to make breakfast for her son rankled her, especially since it had been his fault she had awakened so late. He’d confused her, he’d made her think all night long, think about things that she had put behind herself….
    He’d left more than pancakes. There was coffee, hot and steaming on the Sterno stove, and there was also a plate of crispy, delicious bacon.
    What was she going to do with the day? she asked herself dryly as she munched on the bacon. Try to avoid both her son and Mike? Not a good plan. It was a large house, but it seemed very small, now that they were all confined in it.
    She stopped chewing suddenly, aware that something was different, not at all sure of what it was.
    And then she knew. The wind had stopped.
    Katrina gulped down the rest of her coffee and hurried out to the living room. The front door was open. Mike was standing just outside of it; Jason was right behind him.
    â€œHey!” she called a little anxiously, running up behind her son, then passing him to give Mike a firm tap on the back. “What are