Eyes of Fire by Heather Graham

then leaned against it.
    She walked through the living room, the kitchen, growing more nervous as she did so. She needed a weapon, she told herself. Just in case Ski Mask came back.
    She opened the huge old secretary that stood beneath her father’s treasure map. The secretary had once graced a captain’s cabin on a ship; it had been one of her father’s favorite pieces of furniture.
    She found his Revolutionary War flintlock musket. No ammunition, of course—should she know how to manage the antique flintlock to begin with. Still, she could use it as a bludgeon to protect herself if necessary.
    It would be better than nothing.
    She opened closet doors. She went into her bedroom—then her bath.
    Every window was still closed and locked. Her cottage, she was convinced, was empty.
    She started turning off lights, then froze as she began to close the living room shutters.
    There was a figure standing on the path that led to her cottage. Tall and dark. Watching her cottage.
    Watching her.
    She inhaled, exhaled. Then she lightly bit her lower lip. The figure was walking calmly down the path, making no secret of the fact that he was coming to the cottage.
    Adam, she thought.
    She half-smiled, leaning against the wall. She’d been right—he’d had to come back.
    He had to protect her. He had come to her island. After someone or something, true, but he had managed to come into her cottage at just the right time.
    And now he was coming back.
    To protect her. He would insist, of course, that he couldn’t leave her alone. That she had to be protected, and that there was no one who could protect her the way he could.
    He would want to move in.
    Well, she would tell him what was what. She would get him this time. He wasn’t coming anywhere near her.
    The knock she’d expected sounded on her door.
    She threw it open.
    And gaped.
    It was Jem.
    Tall, dark and handsome, all right.
    â€œJem!”
    â€œWho were you expecting?”
    â€œI, uh…”
    â€œAdam, right?”
    â€œAre you coming in or not?” she snapped. Adam, it seemed, was apparently spending the night with Sukee.
    He smiled. “You bet I’m coming in. I’m sleeping on the sofa.”
    â€œOh, Jem, that’s not necessary.”
    â€œIt sure as hell is. You were attacked right here, and I didn’t have the least idea.”
    â€œHow could you have? Don’t be silly.”
    â€œAdam suggested that you shouldn’t be left alone. I agree.”
    â€œBut, Jem…”
    â€œI’ll be on the sofa, Sam.”
    â€œGreat. Make me feel guilty about you getting a sore back sleeping on my sofa.”
    â€œI can’t sleep in the bedroom, Sam. Too kinky. It would be like sleeping with my own sister.”
    â€œCute.”
    Jem grinned. “Go to bed, Sam. You have the opportunity to sleep in, thanks to the weatherman.”
    â€œThat much will be nice. If I can get to sleep at all.”
    â€œYou’ll sleep. Go to bed.”
    She wouldn’t sleep, though. She would lie there, wondering.
    She smiled suddenly, ready to laugh at herself. Okay, so she’d wanted the chance to turn down Adam O’Connor and she hadn’t gotten it. So what? Jem was just as good as a brother, and it was wonderful to have a friend who cared so much.
    She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll get you a couple of pillows and some blankets.”
    She did so, then retired to bed herself, where she tried to sleep.
    She kept tossing and turning, tossing and turning.
    Adam was back in her life.
    Back in her life….
    And it felt as if he’d never left. As if she knew him still.
    She didn’t know him at all! she reminded herself.
    She jumped at a sudden shrill ringing, then realized stupidly that it was the telephone by her bedside. She lifted the receiver.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œYou’re all right?”
    Adam.
    She was annoyed to feel a subtle warmth rise to her cheeks.