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turn-of-the-century brewery she’d converted into her bookstore.
    Backlit by sun slanting through the arch, wreathed with billows of smoke, he was like a rock idol taking the stage. Accepting the adulation of his screaming fans as his right and due. He smiled at her, and she crossed her arms over tingling breasts. No, not like a rock star.
    More like a fallen archangel, guarding the gates of hell.
    “What are you doing here?” she blurted. “I thought you’d left. Everyone said—” She stopped, realizing how much her words revealed.
    Bleak amusement flashed in his eyes. “My brothers and I keep Dad’s old place up behind the Bluffs for occasional weekends, but we all live in the Seattle area now.” He hesitated. “So don’t worry.”
    “Oh, I’m not worried.” Embarrassment sharpened her voice. “So did you just come to gawk? Quite a spectacle, isn’t it?”
    He looked around. “Yes, it is.”
    “Must be a real satisfaction to you.” She regretted the words instantly. Everything that came out of her put her at a disadvantage.
    His eyes flickered. “Not in the least,” he said quietly. “I never wished you anything but the best.”
    Her vertebrae stacked, clickity-click. That snotty bastard. After all the horrible things he’d said to her, he dared to get up on his high horse and make her feel in the wrong. “Isn’t that sweet,” she snapped. “I’m so touched, but that doesn’t explain what the hell you’re doing here.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest, and it took all her willpower not to stare at his ropy, powerful forearms. His long, graceful hands. The bulge of his biceps, distending his T-shirt sleeve. “I heard about the fire,” he said simply. “I wanted to make sure you were OK.”
    She swallowed back an unreasonable quivering in her thoat.
    “This place…” She gestured around with her hand. “This used to be my brand new, fabulous, beautiful bookstore. Did you know that?”
    “Yeah,” he said, his face somber. “I did know that.”
    “Some reptilian asshole burned it down,” she said. “On purpose.”
    He nodded. “That sucks. You’ve got no idea who—?”
    “None.” She struggled with the quiver in her throat. “I assume it’s T-Rex, though. The weirdo who’s been sending me the e-mails.”
    His eyes sharpened. “Who’s T-Rex? What e-mails?”
    “I’ve been getting e-mails for the past few weeks,” she explained wearily. “I call him T-Rex, just to call him something. Declarations of love, comments on what I’m wearing. He’s been watching me. Up close.”
    “You told the police about the e-mails?” he asked.
    “Of course,” she said. “What could they do? There was nothing particularly threatening in them. Just, you know, slime.”
    “Did he leave a note today?” he demanded.
    She choked off the laughter before it could become hysterical. “Oh, yes. Today he told me how I would twist and burn in the fire of his passion, and then…how did he put it? That soon we would be as one. That our union would be explosive. All written in this sticky, psuedo-poetic prose that makes my flesh crawl.”
    Sean made a sound in his throat, like a wild animal’s growl. It made her hairs prickle up. “That sick fuck needs to be disemboweled.”
    She gaped at him, then forced her mouth to close. “Ah. Thank you, Sean, for putting that lovely image in my head.”
    “Sorry,” he murmured. “You haven’t been in town very long?”
    “A few months. Ever since I bought the Old Brewery. I just opened the store about six weeks ago.” Her voice quivered again. “It was going well. It was a great location. I had the college crowd, the writing workshops at the Arts Center, and they’ve been spiffing up the historic downtown for the tourists, too. It would have paid off. I’m sure of it.”
    “So am I,” he said. “I’m sure it still will.”
    He was just humoring her, but it was all rushing out, dignity be damned. “I always wanted to do this. Always,