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did you know lightning was about to strike?”
    “Soon as you see the glow and hear the electrical field hiss, it’s time to get the hell out of Dodge. But it also means the storm’s about to pass. That’s why sailors thought St. Elmo’s fire was a good omen when they saw one at sea.”
    A good omen. She could use one after last night’s drama.
    They started walking again, and she was surprised when they reached the edge of the woods in minutes. How did they get down the mountain so quick? She must have kept her face hidden in his coat longer than she thought.
    She led James to the small path toward home. Some inexplicable compulsion slowed her steps, and she turned to face him, reluctant to leave him and the magic of the woods. He stood less than a foot away and smelled of earth, rain, musk and leather, an intoxicating brew.
    She studied his face with its stern jaw and perfectly sculpted, high cheekbones. He looked as if he might have some Cherokee blood. Smokey, dark eyes blazed against his light olive complexion.
    Unbidden, her hand rose to touch his cheek. She was being bold, but she had to touch him, had to feel that olive skin beneath her pale hands. “James.” Her voice was soft and breathless. In the midst of a winter thunderstorm, she had found a haven of warmth and wonder.
    He drew back abruptly and held her at arm’s length, studying her in turn. “What are you? A witch or something?”
    Callie jumped and blinked in disbelief. How could he have possibly guessed? He grinned, and she realized he was joking.
    “You could say that.” She resisted a childish urge to cross her fingers behind her back.
    “So that’s your home?” He nodded in the direction of the house.
    “Yeah, home sweet home.” In the gray wetness, lamplight shone through several windows, warm and inviting. But to get there, they would have to make a dash for it in the lingering rain over a large expanse of open yard.
    “Ready to run?” he asked.
    No. No, she wanted to stay right where they were forever. No way could she admit it though. “Okay,” she agreed.
    Together they emerged from the woods, running fast to reach the shelter of the back porch. Sin got there first and barked in excitement. Callie reached down to stroke his wet fur. “C’mon in, but we better leave Sin out here. I’m afraid our cats wouldn’t give him a warm welcome.”
    “No problem. Stay here a minute, boy.”
    Callie felt self-conscious as they entered the den. Mom sat in a recliner by the fire reading, and Grandma Jo was on the floor in some kind of yoga pretzel pose. Willow stretched out on the fireplace rug, sleeping.
    She cleared her throat. “Hi, everyone. This is James. I met him out hiking, and we got caught in the storm.”
    Mom put down her book and surveyed the newcomer warily. Grandma Jo looked up, startled. Callie suppressed the urge to giggle as her normally composed grandmother blushed at being caught in such an undignified position.
    “Oh . . . what a surprise.” She scrambled to her feet and put a hand to her spiked hair. “Look at you both soaking wet. Can I get you some tea or hot chocolate?”
    James smiled. “Hot chocolate would be awesome.”
    “Just the regular hot chocolate,” Callie said, arching an eyebrow. She motioned James to the hallway. “Let’s go put our stuff up.” She shook off the wet blanket wrapped around her shoulders then reached for his coat.
    The hall seemed tiny; James’s presence filled the small space. The enclosed nook, with the sound of the rain beating down on the roof, created a feeling of intimacy. She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or scared of getting caught as his eyes shifted to her lips.
    The sound of banging pots and pans brought them to their senses.
    Callie smiled sheepishly and nodded her head toward the den. “Why don’t we go sit by the fire?”
    In the den, Mom stared at the flames. She looked up, and Callie was surprised to see an uncharacteristically guarded expression on