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said in the iciest tone I could muster.
    He flashed a 14-carat smile. “Would it have mattered, Miss Sugarbaker? I don’t think you would have remembered my name in the state you were in.” He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “In fact, I’m surprised you can even remember you were in that bar last night.”
    The cad.
    I gasped and snapped, “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
    “I didn’t say it with the intent of hurting your feelings, Miss Sugarbaker. I was merely stating a fact.” With that said, he flashed a saucy wink and walked around me into the living room where he proceeded to make himself at home.
    I watched as he sat on my pastel green and pink paisley sofa and spread his briefcase open on my grandmother’s antique oak coffee table. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he made himself at home without being invited. It was apparent that Mister Valentine was used to taking what he wanted, when he wanted.
    Not that I could remember.
    “Perhaps we can focus on the real reason I’m here?” he said in an honest, even tone.
    Presumptuous, that’s what he was. And hot. One hundred percent hot.
    I sank into the pale green wing chair opposite him, tucking my legs beneath me and glared at him. “You don’t have to be rude about it, Mister Valentine.”
    He regarded me for several moments.
    “Can we start over, Miss Sugarbaker?” The rich baritone of his voice was smooth as butter melting on a hot baking powder biscuit at one of Grandma’s Sunday dinners.
    “Start over?”
    “Yes, just like we’ve never met before. In fact, I could even go outside on the porch and knock at the door if it will help.”
    Oh, he was a charming one all right. I’d do best to keep my wits about me around him. I sensed he was more dangerous than my ghost. My gaze followed his movements as he stood and walked to the front door, closing it gently behind him. A second later, there was a knock at the door.
    I waited for him to come back into the room.
    “Yoo-hoo. Anybody home?” he called though the closed door, knocking again.
    “Dang it all.” Of all the times to get an attack of the grins, it would have to be now. That just figured. I attempted to force the smile off my face as I strode to the hallway and opened the ancient wooden door. A poor attempt, I’m afraid.
    “Hello, I’m Sam Valentine. How nice to meet you at last, Miss Sugarbaker,” he said, his hand extended once again. He was humoring me. That much was clear from his tone.
    Oh, what the hell.
    Despite my best efforts, my lips parted in a wide smile. Damn that man. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mister Valentine. Please come in.”
    He bent at the waist, bowing to me. “Why thank you, Miss Sugarbaker. That’s mighty hospitable of you.” He took a seat on the pink and green sofa again.
    I sat down on the wing chair and waited to see how he was going to play this.
    He pulled a folder out of the worn brown leather case laid across the coffee table. I could see my name on the tab of the folder. Humor aside, now he was all business.
    “I’ve read through your file, Miss Sugarbaker. Can you tell me, have you always felt there was a presence in your home?” He looked at me, his long lashed eyes boring into mine.
    “No, not at all. This was always such a quiet and peaceful house,” I said, shaking my head with dismay. Tears burned at the back of my eyes as I thought of how swiftly things had changed in the past several months.
    Sam looked at me with an expression of genuine concern on  his face. “When did all that change?” He scooted to the edge of the sofa and grabbed my hand, rubbing it between his own in an attempt to comfort me. It worked. Boy howdy, did it work.
    “You are going to think this is crazy and I’m imagining things.”
    “No, no I won’t,” he insisted with earnest.
    I took a deep breath, slowly exhaling before I spoke. “It all changed when we had the earthquake.”
    I was surprised when I saw his brow rise. Amanda