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truth. She glanced out the window and saw how the land fell sharply away from the road, cutting into a chasm of sky that seemed endless. They were so high that a cloud of fog shielded the bottom until they came to a spot where the valley below spread out below like an orange-and-yellow Chinese silk fan.
    “It’s beautiful here,” she whispered.
    “Yes.”
    But Rasch’s words were not in response to the panorama of the valley below, but the raw beauty of the woman who shared his vision.
    Once again he wondered who she was, and what she planned to do. That she’d stalked him was obvious. She’d gone to some trouble to appear on hisbalcony. Next she’d beckoned to him in the smoky street only to disappear before he could reach her. Then she’d resurfaced in the lights of his truck on a deserted road, miles away from Atlanta.
    Rasch was a keen observer of people; he’d had years of experience as a judge to hone his powers of perception. She was definitely stalking him, and he couldn’t recall when he’d been more fascinated. He wanted very much to know what Savannah really wanted from him.
    He’d accepted her ploy that she needed a ride. He’d known that she was manipulating him when he bought the boots and clothing. She obviously knew nothing about hiking, and he’d long since decided that she was alone. There would be no friends waiting at the park, just as there was probably no friend being sent for help for the disabled truck, if indeed it was disabled.
    A judge was always on the alert for malcontents, for the disgruntled victims of the legal system intent on getting even, but after a quick search of her gear when he was stowing their goods, he hadn’t found any weapons. She was up to something; he just didn’t know what. He surprised even himself by his decision to play along. Sooner or later he’d learn what she wanted, then he’d decide what action to take.
    For now he allowed himself to be caught up in her spell. She’d come to him out of the mists with nothing except a meager backpack. Surely all of this couldn’t be an attempt to seduce him. He was no stranger to women. He could be enticed into bed without any elaborate charade so long as the woman understood the ground rules of his life: no promises, no involvement, no future.
    Rasch Webber had set a course for his life that didn’t include the distraction of marriage and a family. A man had to channel all his energies toward his goals, and Rasch had found in the law an all-consuming career. Nor did he seek to unburden his innermost secrets to a wife. Rasch alone knew that he’d survived a dreadful childhood by reading about Superman and other action heroes who believed in justice and truth. As a small boy, viewing the world from the section of town where pimps and drug dealers were the role models, he’d made up his mind that one day he’d be one of the good guys he read about. And Gypsy? What was she?
    A voyager, that was the name Savannah had given herself, a woman on a quest. He could believe that even if he didn’t know what she was seeking, or understand her ability to communicate with animals. He didn’t know much about the so-called new-age beliefs. He only knew there was something mysteriously Old World about his passenger.
    Yes, the name Gypsy suited her better than Savannah.
    Still, Rasch would bet his last dollar that she was more in touch with the present than with the future, or the past. There was a shimmering vibrancy about her that was almost tangible. Her lithe body, with firm, full breasts and slim but curvaceous hips caused a stirring deep in his loins, and her stunning face, with its sultry beauty, mesmerized his attention.
    Catching her full lower lip between perfect white teeth, she glanced over the incline. “Are we going higher, Crusader?”
    “Oh, yes. The park and the start of the trail are just ahead. Once we check in and register our destination,it will be midday. I plan to move on to the top of the ridge before