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it’s at the end of nowhere, Kee.” Her voice dripped with distaste. “Maine! What in hell is there to do in Maine! It’s a two-hour drive to the nearest airport. And this place is filthy. You should have hired someone to come open the house first, and that way we could have arrived after the Renoir party.”
    Rachel pictured the woman waving her hands about the giant library at the dark honey oak bookcases that reached twelve feet high, the heavy, oversized furniture covered with sheets, and the dusty tomes lining three of the walls.
    Keenan Oakes still had nothing to say. Rachel decided he either had the patience of a saint or was deaf.
    Rachel closed her eyes and covered her ears. A lover’s quarrel was not supposed to be a spectator sport.
    The woman suddenly snorted. “But this cold, moldering pile of rocks suits your Neanderthal brain perfectly, doesn’t it?”
    Rachel tried to decide whether the lady was brave or stupid. She wasn’t sure she could take much more of this waiting. She was cramped, uncomfortable, and she agreed with the woman—the house was cold. Her right knee throbbed and she ached all over. And she was using every bit of willpower she possessed to keep from sneezing out the dust collecting in her nose.
    With the abruptness of a runaway train hitting a mountain, the woman suddenly stopped shouting. “What did you say?” she shrilled.
    â€œI said that was enough, Joan. I told you to wait and come later with Mikaela.”
    â€œBut I’ve been planning for us to attend this party for weeks. You said we would go.”
    â€œThen go.”
    â€œBut you’re supposed to go with me. All my friends are expecting the two of us.”
    Joan’s voice had lowered to a simper now. Rachel pictured her pouting at Keenan, who stood as tall as a giant and had shoulders as wide as a doorway. Keenan Oakes now had more money than God and looks the devil would envy, if his picture in the newspaper could be believed.
    He also had a very stupid girlfriend.
    â€œI said that was enough, Joan. You’ll have to go to Monte Carlo alone. Mikaela’s due to arrive in a few days, and I intend to be here to meet her.”
    â€œMikaela. It’s always Mikaela. Your boat’s got a whole crew of babysitters, Kee. She won’t miss you for the time it will take to fly to Monte Carlo and back. What’s one more week?”
    Silence was all Rachel heard for an answer.
    â€œKee!”
    â€œI asked the driver who brought us here to wait. He’ll take you back to the airport,” came his softly spoken words through the closet door. “And Joan?”
    â€œYes?” she asked, her voice suddenly sounding hesitant for the first time.
    â€œDon’t bother coming back.”
    Just for a minute, Rachel almost felt sorry for Joan. But only a minute. Any woman who couldn’t handle a demigod didn’t deserve one. Rachel thought Keenan Oakes was letting the shrew off lightly. Most men wouldn’t be so kind for the assault his ego had just received.
    The Neanderthal’s manhood, apparently, was quite secure.
    The light showing through the crack under the closet door suddenly went out, and the large office door slammed shut with a shuddering bang. Rachel released a breath and listened to the tap of Joan’s heels on the hall floor. Keenan was probably walking the banished Joan out to the car on this chilly June night. After all, demigods always had the best of manners—even if that concession to civilization was only a veneer.
    Quietly, still a little rattled at nearly being caught, Rachel stiffly got up and opened the closet door. She picked up her cane, then pulled her cap more firmly down on her head while she tested her right knee, stifling a groan as pain shot all the way up her leg to her teeth.
    Damn, this breaking and entering was hard on a body.
    The big library was once again completely dark, the storm shutters that