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breakfast. Remembering the secret room, she stopped outside the studio door. She wished she still didn’t know it was there. Pitch black and unnaturally cold, the place gave her the creeps. She didn’t like that her house had kept a secret from her all these years--more than one secret, actually. That letter stuck in the parlor window had made her feel funny, too.
    Nevertheless, she wasn’t about to let irrational fears keep her from getting any work done. If she wanted to be independent she couldn’t very well cower in her own house.
    Swallowing her fear, she stepped inside the studio. Her gaze automatically shot to the secret entrance. After Mark had left she’d been too uncomfortable to go near the bookcase and try to move it back into place.
    She drifted slowly toward the rear of the room, trying not to let her gaze stray to the opening. Unfortunately that didn’t stop her from feeling the chilly draft seeping out again.
    Backtracking a few feet, she stared at the black gap and bit her lip. Despite herself she couldn’t help believing that something scary lurked in there.
    She took a deep breath and crept closer to the entrance. Instead of looking inside, she gave the bookcase the hardest shove she could and reduced the opening by about half. After a few seconds of recovery she pushed again, this time closing up most of the hole.
    On her third try, the case caught on the jamb. Though she struggled to force it completely shut, her feet slid out from under her. The heavy door wouldn’t budge.
    Breathing hard with the effort, she took a step backward and rubbed her arms. “Damn, it’s cold in there. I don’t like that.”
    A sudden pounding noise made her jump.
    She clapped one hand over her heart and closed her eyes. Someone was at the front door again.
    Letting out her breath, she hurried through to the parlor, more eager than usual to receive company. Today she would gladly do without the seclusion she normally enjoyed.
    When she opened the door she found herself face-to-face with Mark Vereker. Dressed in casual pants and a polo shirt, he looked more at ease than he had the day before--and even more handsome, too.
    “Hello, Lara.” He gave her one of his halfhearted smiles.
    For a split second she wondered if he was here to tell her he’d changed his mind about the studio wall. Then she remembered how arrogant he’d been about his views, and she came back to her senses.
    She leaned against the door and crossed her arms over her chest. “Forget something yesterday?”
    “I deserve that cool greeting,” he said without missing a beat. Despite her annoyance with him, his chocolate-drop eyes appealed to her. The steadiness of his gaze made him look the picture of sincerity.
    “As a matter of fact, I did forget something.” He kept his focus glued on her. “Diplomacy. I came by to apologize.”
    A softness in his tone made her think he meant what he said, but she didn’t quite trust her judgment. As much as she’d tried to build independence in the last six months, part of her still longed for attention from a man. Her ex-husband had rarely given her much. On top of that, she couldn’t deny she was attracted to Mark, despite his lack of “diplomacy.” If she didn’t watch herself, she might find herself forgiving him.
    She frowned. “I hope you haven’t come to try to tell me again what I can and can’t do with my house.”
    He shook his head. “Not at all. What I want is to try to undo the damage I did yesterday. I can’t pretend that you and I are in agreement, Lara, but I don’t want you to think I’m a complete jerk.”
    “And why should you care what I think?”
    “For one thing, I’m a history buff, and you have a fascinating old house. I’m especially intrigued by that secret room of yours.” A hint of a grin tweaked his face, slight but with an amazing effect. All at once he looked impish and overwhelmingly appealing, like the type of guy she would have fallen for in high