The Haunting of Josie by Kay Hooper Page B

died.”
    “I’d like to borrow it when you’ve finished,” Josie said.
    “Sure.” In a rather careful tone, Marc said, “Look, if my ancestor is lurking about the place, I’d sort of like to see him. Do you suppose I could come over tonight? Say, a little before ten? We could always roast marshmallows, or pop popcorn. And I can bring the bio; I should be finished with it.”
    “What if he doesn’t appear tonight?”
    “Nothing ventured. And there’s always tomorrow.”
    Having more or less decided to do everything in her power to discourage Marc from spending time with her, Josie should have either come up with some excuse or simply refused outright. That was what she should have done. What she planned to do.
    But that wasn’t what came out of her mouth.
    “Sure, why not. I’ll even supply the popcorn and marshmallows.”
    “Terrific.” Marc handed over his empty cup. “Thanks for the coffee. I’m going to go away now and let you get to work.”
    “Work?”
    “Your writing. Remember?”
    Josie felt her face getting hot. “Oh, right. Luke’s visit sort of pushed everything else out of my head.”
    “Understandable.” Marc’s voice was grave.
    She had a feeling he knew very well that it hadn’t been Luke but his descendant who had pushed work out of her mind. She found herself looking at him and feeling peculiarly exposed for an instant, almost frighteningly vulnerable, as if something, some curtain, that had been hanging between them was suddenly stripped away.
    There was too much of him. It wasn’t just that he was tall and powerful and so impressively handsome; it wasn’t only the intelligence and humor in his tarnished-silver eyes or the charm of his smile; it wasn’t even the deep and beautifully liquid voice that surely must have swayed more than one jury. No, what overwhelmed her most of all was something far more elusive in him, something she could only sense.
    He was…
    Whatever he was, whatever she felt about him was thrust away violently as Josie looked away from him. She wondered if she was breathing, and her voice sounded shockingly normal when she said, “See you tonight, then.”
    Marc didn’t appear to notice anything peculiar, or at least didn’t comment if he did. He merely said, “I’ll be here,” and then headed back toward the cottage.
    Far more unnerved than she had been by the appearance of a ghost, she nevertheless couldn’t help watching him as he crossed the garden. Maybe that was the worst of it. That she couldn’t fight the urge to watch him.
    If she hadn’t known he had injured his leg, she wouldn’t have suspected anything; his stride was steady and even, she thought absently. And convalescence certainly hadn’t robbed him of his athletic build, that was for sure. He was definitely a man people—especially women—would always notice. Powerful shoulders, a narrow waist, obvious strength. Despite forced inactivity, he still looked as if he was physically capable of doing just about anything he wanted to do….
    Josie felt her face get hot as, totally unbidden, sensual images filled her mind. It was something that she could not remember ever happening to her before, and she was even more unsettled when pushing them out of her head proved difficult. Very difficult.
    Pendragon jumped up onto the railing just then, balancing easily, and sat down to regard her with feline inscrutability.
    “What’s wrong with me?” she demanded of the cat with more than a trace of panic.
    For once, however, the very responsive Pendragon had nothing to say. He just sat there, tail curled neatly around forepaws, and looked at her. And surely it was her imagination that his permanent cat-smile curled at the corners even more than usual and his china-blue eyes gleamed with an almost human amusement.
    Surely.
             
    By the time Marc came over at slightly before nine-thirty that evening, Josie had all her walls up. She’d spent most of the day in the front parlor