Page 92 of Eclipse Bay

She felt the world drop away from beneath her feet. “Are you saying that you think someone actually tried to kill me last night?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he just hoped there would be a convenient accident. All I know for sure is that I don’t think we should take any chances.”

She chilled. “You’re leaping to a very wild conclusion, Rafe.”

He straightened away from the railing and crossed the porch to stand in front of her. He gripped her shoulders with both hands. “Listen, I didn’t want to scare you like this, but I couldn’t come up with any other way to convince you.”

“Convince me of what?”

“That you can’t stay alone in your folks’ house any longer.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

“I’m trying to be real rational and logical here. The way I see it, we’ve got two options. You and Winston can move in with me here or else I can pack a bag and settle in at your place. Take your pick. Either one is fine by me, but I think you’d be more comfortable here. There’s more space. Hell, you can have the entire third floor to yourself if that’s what you want.”

For a split second she was on the verge of a very primitive sense of panic. It was one thing to spend the occasional night together while they charted their way through uncertain waters in a relationship that might easily founder. It was something else again to actually pack up and move in here with him. She wasn’t sure just what the nature of that difference was, but she knew that it was important. She tried to stall while she sorted out the implications.

“People will talk,” she said. It was weak. She knew it was weak even before she saw his brows lift.

“People are already talking,” he said dryly. “I doubt if the gossip will get any more exciting if you move in here. You can always say that you’re just trying to stake your claim to your half of Dreamscape.”

It was a perfectly reasonable, eminently pragmatic suggestion she told herself. And there were more bathrooms and more space here. What if someone really had intended for her to drown last night? And she did own half of this place.

“Okay,” she said, trying to sound very cool. “I’ll go back to the house and pack my things. But I think we need some ground rules here.”

“I was afraid you’d say something like that. Let me guess what you mean by ground rules. Separate bedrooms, right?”

“I think it would be best,” she said very primly. “This thing is getting very complicated.”

“And sharing a bedroom with me on a routine basis makes it even more complicated?”

She narrowed her eyes. “An occasional night of…of—”

“Wild passion?” he offered helpfully.

She stiffened. “As I was saying, an occasional night together is one thing. But sharing a bedroom feels more like…like—”

“Like a commitment?” he supplied with an air of amusement.

“Yes,” she shot back, goaded. “Like a commitment. Which, I might add, neither of us has made.”

“The subject has not arisen.”

“That’s not the point.” She could hear the waspish edge in her own voice. “If I’m going to stay here, it will be on my terms, and that means separate bedrooms.”

He moved his hand in a suspiciously careless manner. “Whatever you say. I’ll drive you back to your place and give you a hand with the packing.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It’s the least I can do if you’re going to help me with the dishes.”

Suspicion flickered briefly. He was being entirely too cooperative, she thought. But when she searched his gaze she saw nothing but mocking amusement.

Much later that night she awoke quite suddenly, aware that something was wrong. She stared at the ceiling for a while before she realized that she could not feel Winston’s familiar warmth at her feet.

There was a soft whine in the darkness. Alarm zapped through her. She sat straight up in bed and switched on the light.

Winston was sitting in front of the bedroom door. He looked impatient to get out.

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