He gave her a slow, sexy, intimate smile that raised the hairs on the back of her neck in an exciting way.

“Any time,” he said.

She flushed and looked toward the dresser, searching for a distraction. The old herbal was gone. Suspicion slashed through her. She whirled around.

“Where’s the book?” she asked.

“In my duffel bag. Figured it would be safer there.”

“What, exactly, do you mean by ‘safer’?”

“By ‘safer,’ I meant a little more secure than it was lying on top of your dresser.” Sam’s voice hardened. So did his eyes. “I’m not planning to steal the damn thing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She reddened. “I didn’t mean to imply that you would do that.”

“Sure you did. It was the first thing that popped into your mind when you noticed that the book was missing.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “That was rude.” She sipped some coffee.

“Do you always wake up this suspicious after a date?”

Shocked, she choked on the coffee and sputtered for a few embarrassing seconds. Eventually, she managed to compose herself.

“That wasn’t a date,” she managed weakly. “Not exactly.” She fumbled to a halt.

“Let’s see, there was tea and conversation, a kiss in a garden, and there was sex. Really great sex, I might add. I admit that the late-night prowler in your living room, the burning herbal and taking the dog out for a walk at two in the morning were a little unusual, but aside from that, I’d say we met most of the requirements for a date.”

“Or a one-night stand,” she said.

“Or that,” he agreed, a little too readily.

She was feeling cornered, and she knew she sounded surly. She did not dare look in a mirror. Her face was probably scarlet. She drew herself up and squared her shoulders.

“Excuse me. I need to get into the shower and get dressed,” she said.

She fled toward the bathroom.

“Coward,” Sam said behind her. He sounded amused.

She closed the door very firmly.

15

SAM DID A QUICK SURVEY OF THE FREEZER, CUPBOARDS AND refrigerator. The refrigerator was mostly empty, but he located half a loaf of bread and some eggs. He unearthed a package of frozen soy sausages in the freezer and scored a jar of peanut butter in a cupboard.

Newton sat alertly in the middle of the kitchen, watching each step of the breakfast preparation process with rapt attention. Sam tossed him half a slice of toast slathered with peanut butter. Newton snagged it neatly out of the air and wolfed it down.

Abby finally emerged from the bedroom. Sam punched the button on the microwave to nuke the pale gray sausages. He glanced at the clock.

“We’ve still got a few minutes before your brother arrives,” he said.

“My stepbrother,” she corrected. She walked into the kitchen and picked up the coffeepot. “And I’m glad we’ve got some time, because I think I need another cup of coffee before I deal with him. I can’t imagine why he wants to see me. Something bad must have happened. Maybe someone fell ill or is in the hospital. But I would have expected a phone call if that was the case.”

He watched her carry the mug around to the other side of the counter and perch on one of the stools. She was wearing a pair of snug-fitting brown trousers and an amber sweater that was about the same color as her hair. Her eyes were shadowed with anxiety.

The microwave pinged. He opened the door and took out the fake sausages.

“You’re sure you don’t have any idea of why your stepbrother is here today?” he asked.

“Nope.” She watched him place the sausages on the two plates that held the fried eggs and slices of toast smeared with peanut butter. “That looks good. I think I’m hungry.”

He set the plates on the counter and walked around the corner to sit down beside Abby. He eyed the soy sausages and reminded himself to keep an open mind. “I take it you’re a vegetarian?”

“Not entirely.” She took a bite out of a slice of the toast. “I eat fish.”

He picked up a fork. “When was the last time you saw Dawson?”

“A couple of months ago. He’s got a house on Queen Anne. We ran into each other by chance in a restaurant here in Belltown. I was with Gwen and Nick. Dawson was having dinner with his fiancée. We said hello. Introductions were made, and that was about it.”

“You meant it when you said that you aren’t close, didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “We have nothing in common, certainly not a bloodline. I was twelve and he was thirteen when I went to live with my father and his new family. That happened because my mother died. Dad didn’t have much choice except to take me in. Dawson and I both developed immediate resentment issues. I didn’t like his mother, Diana, trying to parent me. Dawson didn’t like my father trying to parent him. Things got even more complicated when the twins were born later that year.”

“Okay, I think I’m seeing the dynamics here.”

“And then there was the inheritance issue. Dawson’s grandmother did not approve of her daughter marrying my father. She insisted on a prenuptial agreement and made it clear that when it came to the Strickland money, I was not considered family. Not that I gave a damn about the financial aspects of the situation. I was just a kid, but by then I already understood that money follows blood. I didn’t have a problem with that fact of life. The little lecture that Orinda Dawson gave me when I turned thirteen was entirely unnecessary, however.”

Sam winced. “She gave you the talk about inheritance issues when you were just a kid?”

“The financial stuff wasn’t a big deal. Like I said, I already understood how that worked. But Dawson’s grandmother is one scary lady. She certainly scared the daylights out of me, at any rate. But in hindsight, I think it’s only fair to say that she was horrified by me. Actually, everyone was.”

“Because of your talent?”

“I was just coming into it when I moved in. But within the year, it was obvious that I was going to be a little different. Orinda did not want anyone to think that the family bloodline was tainted by weirdness.”

“She didn’t understand what was going on with you?”

“No, and neither did the others. I made them all very nervous. I saw a series of counselors and shrinks, and made the fatal mistake of trying to convince each of them that I really did sense paranormal energy in some books. And then there were the incidents I mentioned.”

“The fire-setting stuff ?”

“You wouldn’t believe how that kind of thing upsets folks. Eventually, the decision was made to send me to the Summerlight Academy. That’s where I learned to pass for normal. Mostly.”

The doorbell chimed. Newton growled softly and glared down the length of the front hall.

Abby sighed and set down her cup. “That will be Dawson.”

She slipped off the stool and went down the hall. Newton followed, hovering near her in a protective manner. Maybe Abby was right, Sam thought, maybe the dog was a little bit psychic.

A moment later, he heard the front door open. Polite greetings were exchanged, not the relaxed, familiar sort that friends and colleagues employed, and not the more intimate kind typical of family members. The relationship between Abby and Dawson fell into another category altogether, he decided, one that was not easy to identify.

Abby reappeared. Newton was still at her heels.

“Sam, this is Dawson Strickland. Dawson, Sam Coppersmith.”

Dawson looked exactly as he did on the back cover of Families by Choice. Medium height, brown-haired and endowed with what, in another era, would have been labeled patrician features. He had the toned-and-tanned look that spelled expensive athletic clubs and a lot of time on ski slopes, golf courses and private yachts. His shirt and trousers bore all the hallmarks of hand-tailoring. His watch had cost as much as a European sports car. He carried an Italian leather briefcase in one well-groomed hand.