Ben put another log on the fire, then sat down on the sofa a couple of feet away from her and gazed at her steadily. "I'd rather just talk. Unless you're too tired."

"Talk about what?"

"You."

She smiled. "You know all about me. You had your secretary research me, remember?"

"Tell me what she didn't find out," he invited, refusing to be discouraged.

"There's nothing to tell." Cassie looked back at the fireplace.

Ben tried to keep it casual. "I don't even know what your major was in college, or how you supported yourself in the years since."

"Double major, psychology and English lit. I had some income from Mother's estate, I told you that. It was enough to live on." She was matter-of-fact, almost indifferent. "To supplement that, I read scripts. Easy work that let me stay home and avoid people." "Except when you helped the police." "Except then." A slight frown disturbed her face. "I was never career minded. I just wanted to be left alone." "And now?"

"And now I have this." She gestured at the room around them. "Thanks to Aunt Alex. And she left me lots of books and tapes and craft kits to occupy my time. If I'm very lucky, when this killer is caught there won't be another murder in these parts for years and years."

"So you'll be left in peace."

"Is that too much to ask?"

"What about a family, Cassie? What about that psychic daughter you could have one day?"

"No. No family. No daughter. Pass this curse on?" Her smile was twisted, more with regret than with conviction, Ben thought. "I don't think so."

"Maybe she wouldn't consider it a curse."

Cassie shrugged. "Maybe. And maybe the world would be different. Maybe people wouldn't be driven to hurt each other. Maybe a cure would be found for insanity, and there'd be no more monsters cutting up teenagers. And maybe the sun would rise in the west."

"You said you couldn't see the future."

"I can't."

"Then how can you be so cynical about it?"

"Experience with the past."

Ben went back to the fireplace, to replace a log that had fallen out onto the hearth. But he remained there, gazing down into the flames.

Cassie didn't have to be psychic to read his thoughts. "I know," she said softly. "I'm such a downer. It's hard to be an optimist when you live your life with monsters."

"Trying to scare me off?" Ben asked without taking his eyes from the fire.

"Just… telling it like it is." Cassie leaned her head back against the chair and watched him. There was a dull ache deep inside her, as if her very bones hurt, and staring at him did nothing to ease the pain.

He'll destroy you.

Would he? And would she care very much if he did?

Cassie knew she was a fatalist. She had good reason to be. For all her efforts over the years, all the horrendous, exhausting hours spent stealing into the minds of madmen and watching through their eyes acts of unbelievable evil, nothing much had changed.

Evil killed. Innocents died.

And she told the police where to find the bodies.

So, yes, she understood fate. She believed in fate. She had discovered the futility of trying to fight fate.

"Cassie?"

She wondered what her own expression was like to make his so disturbed. And she wondered why she was even struggling against something that had to be.

"Telling it like it is," she repeated slowly.

Ben came to sit down on the coffee table directly in front of her, leaning forward so that almost no space separated them. And even that vanished when he reached out to put a hand on her knee. "Cassie, I don't have to be psychic to see that you're in pain. What is it? Is it me? Am I causing this?"

For a fleeting instant Cassie remembered another hand clutching her desperately, but the image faded as she looked into Ben's hazel eyes and felt the warmth of his hand even through the heavy denim of her jeans. His hands were always so warm.

So warm.

"Of course it's you," she murmured, smiling.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, not reassured by the smile.

"Then kiss me."

Ben got to his feet, caught her hands, and pulled her up. "It's not that I want to refuse," he said in the tone of a man who wanted to be completely understood, "but what just happened here? Because I could have sworn you thought this was a bad idea."

"A woman's allowed to change her mind. It says so in the rule book."

"Ah." Ben's arms went around her, and he was smiling but his eyes were grave. "So now you think this is a good idea."

Cassie wasn't about to lie to him. "I think… I never really had a choice." She looked at her hands resting on his chest, felt the warmth and strength of him, and let her body lean into his because it needed to.

"Cassie – "

"I trust you," she said, because it was true. "And I… need you." She needed his warmth, his caring. Most of all, she needed to know, just once in her life, what it felt like to be a woman a man desired. She reached up, her fingers touching his mouth, her gaze searching his face intently. "I need you, Ben."

Ben had the uneasy idea that he was seeing Cassie's fatalism at work once more, but it would have taken a stronger man than he was to draw away from her because of that. He had wanted her since the day she had first walked into his office, wary and withdrawn and tormented, her haunted eyes tugging at something deep inside him, and even if she had doubts he had none – not about this.

His head bent and his mouth covered hers hungrily. There was nothing gentle in the kiss, nothing hesitant, and Cassie responded instantly, rising on her toes to fit herself more intimately against him, her mouth opening eagerly beneath his. She felt so fragile in his arms, yet there was a steely strength as well, and unquestionably the desire of a woman. It was an enormously seductive combination.

Entirely willing to be seduced, Ben nevertheless managed to ask hoarsely, "Are you sure?"

There was a restless urgency in her voice when she answered, "I've never been so sure about anything in my life."

It was more than enough. Ben kissed her again, then lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs.

"To be honest, I was almost relieved," Abby told Matt, sincere but also trying to keep him calm. "The fact that Gary called instead of storming over here I take as a good sign."

"How the hell do you figure that?" Matt had finally stopped pacing the kitchen and swearing under his breath, but it was clear he wanted nothing better than to break something Gary-shaped with his bare hands.

"I think if he'd found out I was seeing anybody but you, he would have come after me. But you give him pause. You're bigger than he is, younger, in much better shape – and you wear a gun. I don't think he wants to take you on, Matt."

Matt pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. "That doesn't mean he won't try something a lot nastier than phone calls when he's sure I won't be around. Goddammit, Abby, this time I won't take no for an answer. Either I stay here or you move in with me."

She couldn't help but laugh, albeit shakily. "You won't get no for an answer. Now that Gary knows, I don't care who else finds out."

"Good." He kissed her, taking his time about it. When she could speak a few words coherently, Abby said, "You must be tired. Aren't you tired?"

"Not that tired." He nuzzled his face against her neck, inhaling her scent because he loved it, then forced himself to raise his head. "But I am starving. Until I smelled that stew, I hadn't realized how long it's been since breakfast."

"Breakfast? Honestly, Matt – " She eased from his embrace and got busy putting supper on the table.

Neither of them brought up the reason his appetite had been gone for the entire day; it wasn't until the meal was finished and the dishes cleared away that Abby brought up the subject.