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somewhat desperately that she sounded more certain of that. Before Marc could pounce on her hesitancy, she drew away from the fingers lightly stroking her cheek and got up off the couch. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve had a long day and I think I’ll go home. Thank you for dinner, it was lovely.”
    He followed her into the kitchen as she headed for the back door and her path across the garden. “I’ll walk you to the house,” he offered.
    “That isn’t necessary,” she told him as she opened the door. She had the unnerving feeling that he knew very well she was more or less bolting in panic.
    “I insist,” he said, following her out onto the porch.
    “No, Marc, I’ll be fine.” She went down the steps, relieved when he didn’t follow.
    Sounding amused, he said, “Well, all right. But you didn’t answer my first question.”
    Josie paused before taking the narrow path that would lead her home, and looked back at him. It was too dark to see him, especially with the light from the kitchen behind him, and his silhouette was so starkly masculine that her throat tightened up in response.
    What had he asked? Oh, yes, of course—how he compared to her “previous boyfriends” as a kisser.
    She wanted to lie about it, but although she could evade the truth when necessary, an outright lie was beyond her. Drawing a deep breath, she said, “A-plus. Dammit.”
    He had a nice laugh. But it didn’t do much for her peace of mind to have it echo after her as she bolted home.
             
    Pendragon had apparently found a way into the house, because he was waiting for her inside. Josie didn’t know how he’d managed it, but made a mental note to herself to find out in the morning. At the moment she was tired and upset, and the idea of a nice long bath and an early night sounded terrific.
    She made sure everything was locked up downstairs, then went up to the bathroom across the hall from her bedroom and began running water into the wonderfully deep claw-footed tub. The cat perched on the rim and watched the scented water rising, intent, and she wondered vaguely if he was the kind of cat who actually liked water.
    That idle thought followed her back into her bedroom. She went to the dresser to find a fresh nightgown, and frowned when she saw the key lying there. Marc must have gotten her more rattled than she thought, she decided, because she could have sworn she’d left the key hanging on a hook in the kitchen, well out of Pendragon’s reach.
    Carrying her nightgown, she started to leave the bedroom—and stopped dead in the doorway. The upstairs hall was fairly dim with only the light from the bathroom and her nightstand lamp illuminating it, but she saw him clearly as he stood at the head of the stairs.
    For an instant she thought it was Marc, but then she realized that this man’s face was harsher, his eyes lighter. He had the same raven hair, widow’s peak, and flying brows, though, and the same tall, powerful build.
    And he was looking at her.
    Josie couldn’t move. She wanted to cry out, but couldn’t make a sound. All she could do was stand there, frozen, and wonder wildly how he’d managed to get into the house.
    Then she felt a cold, cold finger glide up her spine, when the man held out a hand to her as if pleading for something…and Josie realized that he wasn’t really there. He couldn’t be, because the hand he held out was insubstantial and she could almost see through it.
    “Yahhh?”
    She jumped almost out of her skin, her eyes skittering from the visitor to where Pendragon stood in the doorway of the bathroom. The big cat wasn’t looking at her, he was gazing at the head of the stairs, obviously greeting someone because he was a friendly, responsive cat.
    Josie followed his gaze, afraid to see the man there, and more afraid not to.
    He was gone.
    It took her several minutes to get up the courage, but she finally went through the house from room to room, turning on lights and checking