Hidden Gabriel

Victoria Pinder

Winter Peril now Hidden Gabriel

Copyright©2015

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

Published in the United States of America.

Copyright © 2015 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book

All rights reserved.

This book is dedicated to my husband who tells me to believe in myself and my work and to always stay in control of my career. This would not exist without your believing in this story and me. Thank you.

Contents

Series information

Join Victoria Pinder

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Hidden Raphael Preview

Also by Victoria Pinder

About the Author

Please check out the entire Hidden Alphas Series

A Frosted Game of Hearts

Hidden Gabriel

Hidden Raphael

Hidden Michael

Hidden Dane

Hidden Rocco

Hidden Alphas Boxed Set

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1

Erica Mira’s shoulders tightened. The tree branch spun on the road. She blinked. That wasn’t natural. The word mom brought her back. The snowstorm outside matched Erica’s heartbeat. “What happened?” she said into the phone.

“The stem cell therapy began today, and your mother is feeling weak from her chemotherapy.”

Erica’s car took far too long to trudge ahead, and the steering wheel locked a bit. Her mother wouldn’t want her to get stuck in middle-of-nowhere, Maine. However, Erica needed money to pay for her mother’s medical bills. Cancer sucked. “I should go. I’ll call her the second I find a hotel.”

“Excellent. Are you on time for your meeting?”

The car skidded. Her heart raced, and she clutched the wheel.

“Ms. Mira?”

Erica steadied the car but held her breath.

“Is everything okay, boss?”

Erica’s shoulders tightened. “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t be driving in this storm.”

Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She increased the speed of her wipers and hoped that her vision would somehow improve. It didn’t. Then she opened the window to help visibility. The wind bit at her nose, and she rolled it up fast.

She shook her head and yawned. The road visibility grew worse every time she blinked. She couldn’t see beyond her headlights. She gripped the wheel tighter. “Where were we?”

“Ms. Mira, you’re breaking up. Are you okay?”

“I have to be.” Erica’s heart beat wildly, but she stayed on the road. “The investors wouldn’t have called me up to the backwoods of Maine to sign papers in the middle of winter if they weren’t going to support my bid for the factory.”

Her secretary shouted, “Hello?”

The wind hissed, and thunder cracked in the air. Goose bumps erupted on Erica’s skin. She had no choice but to keep going. “What did Mom’s doctor say to you?” Her knuckles turned white.

“I’ll call tomorrow morning. I can’t hear anything.”

Erica clicked the phone off. The bleakness of the snow-covered mountains was bad. Where was this hotel? Had the GPS lied? The empty, dark road held no solutions. Her heart raced. She tried to use reason to calm herself down. All she had in this world was her mother. Cancer could not break up her family, and neither would a winter storm. “I love you, Mom.”

The wind howled, and the traction of the car became lighter. Erica bit her lip; then the car spun.

She screamed and stepped on the gas.

The wheels squealed. The high pitch pierced her eardrums. Without another thought, she stepped on the brake.

Boom.

An airbag knocked her back. The car continued to spin. Her head hurt, but she clutched the steering wheel.

Tears formed in her eyes. I’m going to die.

The wind howled, but everything else was eerily calm.

She blinked. The car was mangled metal, and the hiss of the engine roared in her ears. She sucked in a breath. Would there be a fire? She screamed. Smoke came from the engine. She had to get out. Now. No, wait.

Irrational reaction never solved a problem. She should back up the car. Her heartbeat thumped.

Mom, I will be there. Erica switched to reverse and tried to turn. The car hissed and smoke fed into the air.

Whoosh.

She needed to get out. Smoke forced her eyes to tear up. Erica struggled to get her seat belt off. The door handle fought back and didn’t work.

Her teeth chattered.

A tree had sheared the hood of her car, and the engine steamed.

She refused to die in an inferno as she pictured in her mind. She had only seconds to escape. Her hands shook, and she tried to push at the door to stand.

Every breath came choppy and harder. Was smoke now inside?

Her eyes misted. She shoved at the door. It didn’t budge.

Her hands trembled, and she closed her eyes. How would her sister, Kimberly, know to help Mom? Erica opened her eyes and tried the handle again. This time the door opened, and she took a deep breath.

Hiss.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she jumped out of the car.

The wind had tentacles of ice. Erica’s thin gloves weren’t much help. She gasped and ran her hands through her dark hair.

The storm howled so loudly in her ears.

She lifted her chin. Panic never helped anyone, and in this storm she’d need her wits.

Nine-one-one worked out here. The police or fire department would find her.

She grabbed her phone. No signal. Had she ruined it in the crash? She powered down the phone to give it a moment.

Alone, as usual. Erica put her hand over her heart, and she took a few deep breaths, peering through the gray, dark fog that had settled on the dead forest.

The storm would get far worse, and fast.

She zipped her thin plastic coat all the way. Erica refused to give in to dark thoughts, and concentrated instead on one good thing. She snapped her fingers. Her driving gloves weren’t that thick. At least she’d worn her jeans to drive. The people at the car rental place in Boston had warned her of a blizzard. She bit her lip.

Her ears went numb.

Above the trees, the storm clouds shifted and allowed her to gaze halfway up a mountain. She did a double take and rubbed the back of her neck. A huge mansion, or hotel, or some large, all-white building became visible. Was it the hotel on the GPS? She rubbed her eyes. The huge house was the answer, though every window was dark. Was this a trick of her mind, or did visions happen only in deserts?

This drive up to Maine in a storm had been desperate and stupid. She had no idea what to do now. She swallowed, and ice rushed into her lungs. The wind howled, and she shivered. She should have bought a ski jacket. Winter sucked. She’d never seen snow until this trip, and now she wanted the warm beaches of Miami back.

The cold seeped into her skin. Her fingers shook as she took the keys out of the hissing car. She reached for her pocketbook. Would the car blow up? She took a step back, and the car went quiet.

Then she turned on her phone and tried again. No service. She bit her lower lip and stared up the mountain. The night was black, as the snow-laden clouds hid the moon completely from sight. She racked her brain. The mansion was halfway up on some sort of ledge.

Then the wind and the fog blocked everything, and the house was no longer visible.

She turned back to her car. Should she wait? She doubted anyone drove on this road. She’d be found frozen in the spring.

No. Her mother needed her. She’d not seen any other cars in the past few hours, and no one would come to help her. An abandoned house or hotel still would have supplies to survive this.

Something wet brushed her face. She blinked, and it happened again. It was too cold to be rain. Then she saw her breath in a cloud. The snowflakes now seemed heavier.

If she waited, she’d die.

Her gaze took in everything. The darkness made the white snow appear worse than a gun in her face. The dead trees closer to the road gave no signs of shelter. The winds howled through the evergreen forest and caused another shiver down through her sneakers. Her limbs were nearly frozen already. She took a step and almost fell. Her toes were numb.

She swallowed hard. She grabbed her pocketbook and began hiking up the road. Her feet became so cold that the mechanics of every step took all her strength.

Her fingers iced inside her gloves. She closed her eyes and imagined a fire. Someone had to live in that huge place. To warm herself, she blew on her gloves, not that it helped. The ground underneath her feet became more jagged. She must have made her way up past the embankment of the paved road.

She almost turned back to stare at how far she’d gone, but the cold, wet snow melted on her neck to remind her she needed shelter fast.

The fog almost tricked her senses into believing that the storm wasn’t that bad. Her teeth chattered. Ice settled on her eyelashes as she reached the top of the road.

Erica shivered and hugged herself. She narrowed her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. Then her heart lifted out of her chest. Halfway up the mountain and to her right sat the huge chateau. Climbing up the small mountain was her only solution.

She’d been right.

A place like that would have a working phone or computer.

She’d have to climb through half the dead trees and through the evergreen forest to get there, but hiking the mountain couldn’t be that bad. She swore her legs were still attached to her body. In pictures, people made mountains look beautiful.

She stared down the road. The thick fog made the bottom of the hill disappear. Erica rolled her shoulders. She had no other option.

Her icy hands reminded her she didn’t have much time. She turned to start up the mountain as fast as she could. She was wearing running shoes, not boots made for ice, and every step became more slippery while the wind pelted her.

She slipped again and fell to her knees. The water on her limbs made her feel everything, but she kept up her march. The snowy bottom cushioned her falls, but she had to climb.

The mansion didn’t have any lights on.

Erica willed her legs to continue and took another step. Then another. Even if the darkness inside the building remained, she’d have a better chance inside than out.

A smile grew on her face. In the warmth of Miami, she’d never wish for snow again.

She lost the sensation in her fingers. The wind lashed her skin. To find a second of warmth, she rubbed her hands on her legs, but she kept on her forward trek. The snow hit hard, more like ice. It was worse than snow. Did snow freeze too?

With her gaze on the ground, she stumbled a few times but dragged herself up, determined to keep going. She refused to succumb to the dense fog that became so thick she couldn’t see her hands. Erica Mira would not die in the middle of nowhere without leaving her mark on this world. She’d not leave her mother alone in this world. She had to keep trudging through this mess. Her sister had already abandoned both of them.

The massive building sat in the field across from her. The white walls reflected off the moon that peaked through the storm. The mansion was at least three floors, with big windows and no lights on inside.

A howl came from behind her.

Wolves? Her legs wanted to run, but she couldn’t lift them. She ran her hands down her body, which was now just as numb as her feet. She rubbed her thighs to keep her circulation flowing. Salvation wasn’t far now.

At the massive wooden door, she touched the doorbell, but it was frozen. The metal iced through her numbed fingers.

No noise greeted her ears. Had the bell rung?

Her heart raced again.

She banged, but she couldn’t make much noise.

The wind chilled her blood even more.

Desperate, she turned the handle; the door opened. She stepped inside the black-as-night room. “Hello?”

Her voice echoed through the darkened hall. The walls kept the wind outside, but Erica’s body trembled.

She stared above her and toward the walls and slowly her gaze adjusted. Dust rested on everything from the abandoned front desk to the picture frames. She stepped back, and her hand caught in cobwebs in the corner as she reached for electricity. She flipped the switch, but no light came on. She jumped, but her limbs were numb. The white marble floor appeared dull beneath its layer of dust. Marble wasn’t good for her right now. Erica marched in place to stay warm.

A cold wind inched up her back from some unseen force. A dull light helped her see in the room. Beyond the lobby desk of the forgotten hotel was a grand room littered with linen-draped furniture, but it was the portrait of a beautiful blonde woman that captured her. The dust didn’t dull the vividness in the portrait. The coldness in the blue eyes that stared at Erica sent chills through her body.

She wanted to run back outside, but she refused to die out there. She had to live. She breathed harder. With a gulp of air, she wished she had traveled with someone. Her chest was so heavy now, and every breath she took was a struggle. If she’d brought a friend or even her wayward sister, it would have made the dark, black, dirty windows less menacing.

There had to be a warmer room inside the house.

Clack.

She froze near the door, then jerked around. What was that? She ran her hands over her heart and tried to stop the panic in her chest. The wind or branches scraped the windows.

A shadow came closer. She pressed her lips together. “Hello?”

The noise had come from the back of the house. She withheld a scream and went toward the noise. She needed to find something warmer to stop the cold, but she had nowhere to go. The sound called to her soul.

Nothing stirred.

She blinked.

Her mind fogged up. Outside sent her brain into a tailspin. She needed warmth.

Boom.

Her ears buzzed and registered the sound, and she clutched the doorknob.

Crackle.

Fire. She let the handle go. Someone had started a fire. Her chest craved warmth. She’d live through this. She imagined a fireplace and headed toward the sound in the other room.

Pictures stared at her as she walked down the dark hall, so she bowed her head. She’d find the fireplace. She had to. She walked unsteadily until she reached double sliding doors. She pressed her trembling hands onto the wood and realized she walked on hardwood floors now. She slid open the doors and her chin jerked up. She stepped into a cozy room and smiled at the fire in the huge fireplace, with bookshelves all around. This place was her dream, and she fell to her knees.

The fire hypnotized her.

“Who the hell are you?” a male voice demanded from behind her.

She shivered, then turned to see. Who was this dark-haired man?

Her vision blurred. She narrowed her eyes and pushed past the black spots that swam in her vision. A well-built, muscular man with flannel pajama bottoms and dark, unkempt hair stood at a side door.

She rubbed her forehead. Her jaw chattered. “E . . . ri . . . ca.”

“Who are you? Why are you in my house?”

“C . . . ol . . . d.”

He tilted his head and stared hard at her with his almost black eyes. “Your clothes are soaking wet. How are you not dead?”

Her lips parted. She guessed he wouldn’t throw her out to die. Her gaze went to the ceiling, then back to him. The man had the bone structure of an avenging angel statue seen in churches across the globe. She bowed her head. She blinked and stared at his big, full lips and square jaw. Angels were warm.

He stepped back. “I’ll be right back.”

She pressed her lips together and tried to tell him to stay. No words formed. He walked out another door at the other end of the room. She chewed her lip and collapsed fully on the floor. Her teeth chattered, and she shook her head. She wouldn’t die, not now.

He’d left a mug of something hot on a nearby table. Her lips parted and she dragged herself to the table. Finally, she sniffed the drink. The smell seemed familiar, but her nose didn’t seem to work. Who was he? What was he? She’d never seen such broad shoulders.

Another shiver escaped her. He could be a murderer. He could be on the phone with the police. Whoever he was, the thought of his brown eyes sent a thrill down her body. She sounded stupid to herself right now, and she ought to go, but that was not a choice given her situation.

She tried to stand and head toward the door, but she stumbled. Her feet were like lead. Instead, she dragged herself back to the drink, and the aroma of creamy hot chocolate filled her nostrils. Her fingers reached out for the cup.

Her hands trembled, but the warmth of the mug steadied her fingers. Finally, she lifted the glass and gulped some of the hot liquid.

She’d pay him back.

Then another shiver coursed through her body and she lost the ability to think again.

She struggled but managed to put the cup back on the table.

The unpaid bills on her coffee table at home floated through her mind.

Then she shook so badly that she fell backward, and her backside hit the floor. Her jeans were soaked. The ice inside her bones was so intensely cold.

The button of her jeans didn’t want to release. She’d not dry if she was soaked. With a sigh, she managed to pull off her gloves and warm her hands by the fire.

He returned with a blanket and clothes. As he threw the blanket over her shoulders, a hint of pine and sandalwood tickled her nose, and he pulled her back to the couch. His tempting scent dissipated while she shook violently.

“Hold on, ma’am. You’re not going to die on me. I’ve nowhere to bury you.”

Bury her? Those words blasted in her ears while he took off her shoes. Her body continued to shake. She didn’t stop him. Her body wasn’t hers. Her vision dissipated into floating black circles. She blinked and even her eyelashes bore icicles. Her head was light.

He pulled off her wet sneakers.

Her heart beat faster.

He reached up to strip off her jacket, and again, she let him. It wasn’t like she could struggle. He wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders, then went to her shirt buttons. She tried to nod, but she couldn’t do more than stare at the ground.

Would he rape her in a minute? Her breaths were heavier and took a harder toll on her, but even in a weakened state, she realized no. The dark-haired angel had helped her.

“Keep the blanket on, ma’am, or I can leave if you’re able to dress yourself. But we need to get you out of your wet clothes before hypothermia kills you.”

Her jaw chattered, and every moment grew worse. Her hands shook uncontrollably. “I c-c-can-n’t.”

He nodded. “I’ll keep my eyes off you.”

When he reached for her blouse to strip if off her shoulders, she frowned. Her gaze stayed cloudy. Naked near a stranger sounded like a bad idea, even if the man had those big, smoldering eyes. But her shoulders twitched the moment they were free from her wet clothes.

He dropped the shirt and jacket on her shoes and fixed the blanket tighter around her waist. “We have to get you dry and warm. You’re not helping yourself. Just relax. I won’t hurt you. But we need to get your jeans off next.”

She shook her head, but her chest seemed warmer. Her teeth still chattered, though.

“Look to the couch. I brought you dry clothes and another blanket. You’ll be warm.”

Doesn’t mean you won’t hurt me. Her mind screamed out crazy thoughts. She had to trust him. She’d broken into his house. Her hand went to his arm, and the warmth burned into her. She nodded and swallowed.

He adjusted the blanket, then lifted her body up to yank off her jeans. Her body was limp and numb. If he raped her, she wouldn’t feel anything.

He threw the jeans onto the heap and readjusted the blanket around her. She sighed as his skin brushed hers, and he shook his head. “You’re soaked right through. It’s time to get you dressed.”

He reached for the red plaid clothes behind him. Whoever he was, he was her dark savior. Her body heat rose from his hands on her waist, and he picked her up to stand. She stumbled and had no balance. He kept her steady and struggled to unfold the red flannel plaid. The heat went through her, but she stared at him.

She burned when he slid his hands down her body to keep her on her feet.

In his arms, she became warmer than the fire, but her entire body was numb. He shook his head and stared at her forehead. A moment later, he picked her up to deposit her on the couch, next to the clothes.

“Your underwear and bra are soaked through. Are you able to finish this yourself?” He reached next to him to pick up the red warm flannel. Her eyes didn’t quite take it in. “If you drop the blanket and reach up, we’ll get this on you fast.”

She struggled in her blanket and instead reached for her bra, but her fingers shook uncontrollably.

“Erica, whoever you are, put your hands up and get on this nightgown first. It will help you.”

She heard her heavy breaths, but her body shook violently. Then she closed her eyes and dropped the blanket. Her breasts brushed against his chest for an instant, and then he took her hands in his to hold. Her eyes opened as he struggled to get her wrists inside the sleeves. She let out a snort and realized she needed to trust him the second the nightgown covered her.

“Can you get to your bra and underwear?”

She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t make a sound.

He nodded, then reached behind her nightgown to unsnap her bra. “My wife used to wiggle her bra off and stay dressed.”

Used to. Past tense. Her lips ached to kiss him, but Erica shook her head. She wasn’t herself.

He gulped, reached inside the nightgown, and traced her legs to her underwear. If he had wanted to rape her, it would have been easier without the nightgown. Now, though, her legs had sparks of life from where he brushed her raw skin. A moment later, he tugged her cotton underwear down, and the cold wetness of the material chilled the sparks.

Freed from the cold, she pushed herself into his massive chest and broad shoulders and brushed her hands on his back.

“Hell. What are you doing?”

She licked her chapped lips. “W-warm . . . Y-y-you . . . you’re h-ot,” she managed.

As he hugged her for a moment, he closed his eyes. “Body heat will help you, I suppose.”

He tucked her closer in his arms, and she breathed better. The man had an olive tone to his skin, and the smell of pine and sandalwood left her unable to think of anything else. His warmth stopped the insistent shivers that raced through her. The heat inside her grew warmer, but not entirely. She’d not lose him. Her brown-eyed angel made her body tingle. She jostled her hips and scooted right into his manhood. A lightness went through her and made her giddy. She traced his body with her fingers while he whispered in her ear, “Stop. Don’t do that, sweetheart. I’m helping you.”

Her muscles were awakened. Would sex warm her? She scooted backward. The question made no sense. The heat she had inside exploded every time she stared into his tantalizing brown eyes, and right now joining with him was all she could imagine. She rubbed her forehead. This was crazy. She made no sense to herself right now. Sex was not the answer.

Her hands trailed down his strong thigh. Unlike the rest of her family, Erica Mira never took chances. She never threw caution to the wind. Perhaps her near-death moment or how her knees buckled near this stranger drove her. She licked her parched lips and then decided to follow her instincts.

She pushed herself up to kiss this beautiful, dark stranger. His skin smelled of oak, and her body loosened to wrap herself closer to him while her lips found his. She sighed and pressed herself into him, and his mouth ravaged hers for a split second.

He stood up and wiped his lips. “You’re delirious.”

The fire inside her grew, though she couldn’t speak. The desire in his eyes melted some of the ice.

“I’ve not been near a woman since my wife died.” He turned away from her and stared into the fire. “And I don’t take advantage of people.”

Shivers ran through her without him next to her. She didn’t even know the man’s name, yet she had visions of his naked body in hers. She stared at his back and tried to take stock. She needed to survive. “Th-ank . . . y-you.”

She sighed and waited for him to turn back around. Finally, he stared back at her, and it looked like he intended to say something. She opened her mouth and stared into his eyes. “I . . . I don’t . . . kn-know y-our . . . n-name.”

Her lips ached for another kiss. She shouldn’t have pressed herself on him. He had been her angel. She closed her eyes and inhaled the wild, untamed forest on his skin as he sat down beside her.

He ran his hand down her arm and offered her a tender smile. “You can speak. That’s good. I’m keeping you warm. No more deaths in this house.”

Deaths? Her skin grew goose bumps. Her skin warmed from his hand on her arm. She sighed and knew her reaction to him made no sense. Her entire body shook, and coldness enveloped her again. But the warmth of him made her body relax. And she spoke without the chatter. “What’s your name?”

“Gabriel.”

A sigh escaped her lips, and she smiled. He was an angel. He sat them down on a small beige sofa.

She thought she heard a moan in the distance.

She swallowed and realized that tonight she wasn’t herself. Outside, ice pelted the ground, and on her skin it had been heavier than rain. Now his fire kept her alive. She inhaled and again let the smell of sandalwood relax her. The outside forest had seeped into his skin, and she couldn’t stop herself from the need to touch him.

He stepped back suddenly and without warning. Her hands shook, but he pulled away.

Her head ached. He stormed out of the room. Where was he going? What had she done?

A second later, he came back with a Santa hat.

He tugged it on her head and cracked a smile.

Her eyebrows rose, or at least she thought so. “Wh . . . y?”

With his eyes narrowed, he checked her temperature. “My mother would answer that eighty percent of all body heat escapes from the head. I’ve never looked that up, but it’s why we wear hats when we go outside and to sleep in. This was the best I could think of.”

Her angel took care of her.

When she could talk more, she’d thank him. For now, she closed her eyes and snuggled into his warm chest until she fell asleep.

Tomorrow, her problems would return, but tonight, she had a protector.

2

In the darkness, something banged. Erica ran her hand through her hair and adrenaline rushed through her body. Something brushed against her pillow. She opened her eyes and stared around the blue room. A Santa hat lay next to her head. Erica rubbed her arms. This was not the room with the books she’d stumbled into last night. A fire crackled, but nothing stirred near the door. Was there something in the wall? She sighed. The fire probably made the sound. Then she tugged her blanket up to her chin. Her neck was stiff and sore. Her mind pushed past the pain. Where was she?

Her hair itched. She put her hand up to her head. What was that? She shook it off and saw white strands of lace on her almost white fingers. The Santa hat must have shed. The angel had put that on her last night. She ran her fingers through her matted, tangled hair.

Who was the dark-haired man? And what was his name? He’d said it, but she couldn’t remember much except his sandalwood scent.

She stared around her dark room at the pale blue walls. She blinked and leaned closer to the wall nearest her bed. The pale blue let the whiteness of the bedspread almost glisten, and the curved edges of the dresser shone to match the walls. Erica shrugged. It reminded her of a designer bedroom from a magazine. Her angel was all man, and unless he was gay, he had not decorated this room.

She closed her eyes and remembered his largeness, which had brushed against her. She smiled. He was definitely not gay.

She gazed around once more and decided she was in a woman’s room. The angel’s wife?

Did the handsome angel have people who lived here? A family? Children? And who lived in a desolate chateau, in the middle of winter in Maine, which might have been a hotel or ski resort? What sort of wife let her husband isolate her?

She sighed. She might remember wrong, and she shouldn’t ask questions without facts.

And did he have a phone? She needed her mother.

Arggh.

She blinked and sensed someone staring at her—from where? “Hello?”

Awareness grew in every fiber of her body. No answer came, and Erica tilted her head and stared at the wall. Why?

When she forced herself to sit up, the winds howled and pummeled the windows on the other side of the small room. She swallowed. The storm still blew. The walls likely echoed the winds. She scanned the room and tried to find the face of the man from her dreams. Had it been real? A deep voice that said “dead wife” replayed in her ears, while his big, brown, smoldering eyes held a flame of desire. The second he had stared as she was naked and vulnerable in front of him, she grew warmer.

Last night, she’d been half-crazy. Good girls never stood around for a man to gaze at, but then, Erica had never had time to be anything other than a good girl. Who had she been last night? The hysterics over body heat sounded like another woman. Her sister was her opposite, but Erica’d never disappear into thin air like Kimberly had. Erica threw the spread off her feet and squared her shoulders. Her mother depended on her.

The issues of life weighed down on her. She rocked on the soft daybed and took in her surroundings. Yep, this room was like in a magazine.

She shivered and grabbed the blanket to wrap around her body.

Heat had saved her.

Heat and the man.

Her limbs trembled at the memory. His well-formed body and callused hands had sent warmth through her when she’d been so cold. She closed her eyes and rubbed her throat. Dizziness overtook her thoughts. Had she fallen asleep in a stranger’s arms? With a slight tremble, she steadied her nerves. Last night had been a strange, out-of-body experience.

Her muscles tensed. Where were her clothes? She rubbed her neck. Her cell phone? Her throat went dry. Could she make a call? Her mother’s health was important. The doctors would give her an update. She caught sight of it on the dresser on the other side of the room.

She swallowed and stood, and the frozen floor sent a chill right up her legs.

Hardwood floors were warmer than the marble in the lobby, but the cold raced further up her legs. She glanced around and jogged in place. Her gaze narrowed in on a pair of slippers. They’d have to do. She jumped until she had her feet inside. Though her heels didn’t fit into the cushioned leather, at least the slippers stopped the cold. She wore a warm flannel nightgown, a little too tight in her chest area, and it wasn’t as long as needed. Her lower legs showed, but the nightgown covered more of her than a few of her outfits. Who had owned this? His dead wife? Why did she keep thinking about that?

If this was hers, the woman must have been small. The blonde in the portrait with the stormy blue eyes?

Whish.

She jumped back.

With her palm pressed over her lips, she laughed off the wince. Had she become hypersensitive to the wind’s howl outside?

Her stomach growled. Food always kept negative thoughts at bay. When was the last time she had eaten? On the plane yesterday morning? She took a deep breath. She could hold off. Right now, she ought to find out where she was and call home.

At the dresser, she checked her phone and turned it on. Her battery was low, and she had no service. She dialed her mother anyhow with a small hope. The phone never connected. She choked back her fears. To save what was left of the charge, she turned it off.

She kept the blanket wrapped around her as she opened the door to a large, drafty hallway. She made her way back towards what she hoped was the library. She needed to figure out where she was, and maybe the dark angel who had saved her had answers. If he had a family here, though, she needed to run away and never face that man ever again.

She never had thoughts about sex.

Romantic thoughts had no place in her sterile life. She was much too busy.

The silence in the room had held echoes of something else. Erica crossed her arms. The small living quarters held no pictures. Her mind took her dare and replayed the past. She closed her eyes and recalled strong shoulders, a muscular body, and dark, tortured eyes.

No. She’d not turn into that woman. She opened her eyes, racing down the hall. She passed another door, then a set of sliding doors. She shook her head and walked farther down the hall. She found the library and smiled.

The room was lined with portraits. The people wore mid–twentieth century clothing. The angel’s parents? She blinked. The man in the frame had similar eyes, but they followed her around the room. Erica hugged herself. The fireplace still had embers. She hesitated. How far had she come last night? She walked through where? She slid the double doors open to check out the lobby. Frigid air rushed through her body. The lobby smelled of dust. She forced herself to ignore her itchy nose and continue towards the middle. Dusty portraits of Scottish lords and ladies littered the walls. In the main, cold front room, the marble mausoleum’s ceiling went at least three stories, and the airy design made the house seem more like a palace. This place had to have been a hotel. The staircase was too grand for a house, and Maine had ski resorts. The hall had a long, dull-red carpet that clung to the floor. Her feet itched a bit, and she realized the red rug was hard to see through the dirt. Her throat was parched, and she could see her breath.

Her toes became numb again, but she opened the front door.

Crash.

What was that behind her? She hadn’t touched anything. She bit her lip and slammed the door closed a moment later, but she was too slow. Snow had fallen on her feet and into the house. She yelped, and her voice echoed. The snow brushed against her chafed skin, and she froze.

Had that sound been the snow bank outside that tipped? Erica shook her head.

Then she ran back to the library. On her way, the blonde woman’s eyes in the portrait followed her. Erica sped up. The fire would warm her. Once inside the double doors and the living quarters, she made her way to the fire. Her heart raced.

A bubble of laughter escaped from her lips. Why? She never laughed. She covered her mouth with her hands to make the sound stop.

Seconds later, she turned around to see the man from her tortured dreams of last night. He charged toward her from the other hallway, which led to their rooms from the library. A living room did not house this many books.

The deepness of his eyes suggested concern. Had he heard her yell? She gazed at the dark-haired man as he ran toward her. His muscles were now hidden under a deep blue shirt, jeans, and heavy snow boots.

She nodded. “I’m okay. You don’t have to watch out for me.”

“You yelled.”

Warmth crept into her cheeks, and she couldn’t meet his gaze. He let out a huff, walked past her, and then locked the double doors.

She flinched and tried to step away. “I am sorry.”

He kept his distance and stood with his feet apart. “For what?”

Her face must be in flames. She nodded, though she had no answer that made sense. “I . . . don’t . . . know.”

He dropped his arms to his side, and she stared up at him. “Where were you going? Are you cold?”

Her legs wobbled. “No.”

He took a step back toward the door. “Erica, there’s nowhere to go.”

“How do you know my name?” She took a step back. What was his name? How did she remember so much detail about last night but his name escaped her? She swallowed and tried to turn away, but her back hit the door.

She flinched. He backed up a bit and tilted his head. “We met last night. I’m Gabriel Murphy.”

Gabriel was one of the four archangels. She laughed, but caught the sound in the back of her throat to stop it.

He shook his head, then stepped closer. She turned into the room to keep her distance. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“No, but you’ll hurt yourself if you run around and freeze to death.”

She was a capable woman. She always took care of herself. “I’ll be fine.”

He pointed to the doors. “Did you see anything?”

“No.” What was she to see? She shook her head. “I’m cold.”

He nodded. “It won’t take a minute to grow back the flames.”

“Thank you.” Except near this man, she’d always been able to analyze and get her way. This shyness was new. Her mind swirled, unable to focus.

At the fireplace, he fanned the embers. “You barely escaped hypothermia a few hours ago, and I’m not equipped for more deaths.”

She swallowed. “What deaths?”

“Let’s not talk about that.” Gabriel; his name rang in her ears. He offered her his hand, but she recoiled. He turned his head and directed them closer to the fire. He motioned for her to sit, and he knelt to stoke the flames.

She ought to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d helped her. She licked her lips, knelt down, and brushed against him. The questions still frightened her, though.

Sparks ignited under her skin, and she hugged her thighs to her body.

She kept her gaze on the floor. “Do you have a phone?”

“No.” He used a bellows to breathe air into the fire and make the flames grow.

Her body rocked. “Why not?”

At the fireplace, he turned to face her. “The landline is cut, and the cell towers don’t reach this far up the mountain.”

“My mother needs me.” She gazed at him, and their stares were so direct that the eye contact seemed to dance. “Do you have a car?”

“Not one that works in this weather.”

She gulped. She inched backward and sat on the couch. Did she trust him?

He took a seat at the other end of the couch. “I don’t like people, generally.”

She stared at the second door he had come through earlier and had disappeared into last night. She had skipped the big room in her quest to run. Where was her stuff? She drew her knees up to her chest, then remembered how short her nightgown was. She lowered her legs to sit like a normal person.

“Don’t be afraid, Erica.” He shook his head and broke their gaze. “The car’s buried under two feet of snow that’s likely to grow while the storm progresses.”

She needed him to understand. She reached out and took his hand in hers. “My mother has cancer. I need to check in at the hospital. Please, do you have a computer?”

Warmth raced up her arm as he squeezed her hand. “I don’t. I can’t help. I’m sorry about your mother. I came here this winter to be alone.”

Her mouth went dry. He was far too handsome to be so far removed. “Is there any way out?”

He tilted his head to the side. “No. Erica, I never planned for guests.”

She rocked her body back and forth, and her eyes were a little wet. “I’m trapped.”

He chewed on his lip and nodded. “You can stay here.”

With her palms outward, she told him to stay back. He sat back to keep his distance.

She scoffed to hide how she shook on the inside. “You might kill me.”

His hand went to his hip. “I don’t kill innocent women.”

She shrugged. “You talked about deaths, more than once.”

“You remember last night.” He took a deep breath then stared at her again. She fidgeted with her clothes. Finally, he tucked his hand in his pocket, and she met his gaze. “Last night, I fixed up a bedroom for you. I can add a lock if you want. Last night’s blizzard and today’s nor’easter won’t get you home.”

If he added a lock, he’d still have a key. Her skin was raw and she rubbed her arms. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Sexy brown eyes stared at her, and she couldn’t avert her gaze. “You’re cold.”

“Sad. My mom needs me.” She shook her head. Her heart told her he’d not kill her, but she came from a long line of women who believed men’s lies. What could he do right now with the snow piled high? Patience was never her strong suit, but she had to try. She offered him a small smile. “And embarrassed. I don’t normally barge into houses or drink hot chocolate from strangers.”

“You needed it.” With a sideways smile, he nodded. “This house drives people crazy.”

What? Crazy? Had he meant himself or someone else? They hadn’t talked much at all, and he confused her. He hadn’t asked what happened to her out there or what happened to her car. He barely spoke beyond a few sentences. That wasn’t a good sign. She glanced up. His cheeks were red, and her body relaxed. “You scare me, Gabriel.”

“No.” His features darkened. “The walls here hold secrets, and we can’t get you home until the storm abates.”

Secrets. Walls didn’t hold secrets. Why would he intentionally be alone? She shook her head and rationalized that he was handsome, dark, and intense, but he discussed living walls. He had lost a few brain cells. Too bad, though. She put her hand on his face. The stubble of afternoon shadow prickled her hands, which still trembled, but the touch sent a shiver of excitement through her. She smiled.

He must have heard her car accident yesterday. Something prickled her spine that she had misjudged him somehow, but she had no other explanation. Discussion would make this worse. He was beautiful despite his lack of wits. She sighed. “I won’t cause you any trouble, Gabriel. I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Good. We’ll spend our days apart, then.” He nodded. “What brought you here, Erica?”

And the nights? Where would he spend his nights? They were all alone here. She tugged her ear, stepped back, and laughed at herself. “I thought I could beat the storm, hole up in a hotel, then make my way back to Boston.” She met his gaze. She dropped her hands to her sides, but they ached to touch him again. She didn’t dare. “Turns out I was wrong. Miami people should not drive in Maine.”

“Where were you going?” He checked her out, and she smiled. Today something in her life made sense. It was the first time Gabriel had acted human.

She swallowed and hoped he liked what he saw. Unlike the previous woman in this house, she’d never been petite a day in her life. Her frame wasn’t made that way.

“To buy a factory. For my stores.”

He glanced at the door and shifted his gaze to the storm outside. “Not this morning.”

She reached out to his shoulder. “This morning.”

He stared at her without a word.

“I clearly am missing the meeting.” She swallowed, then finished, “I’m still a little dazed. I was hoping someone drove by my car and called the sheriff.”

His stare darted back to her face. “Police. We’re not in the South. No one will see it. Your car is buried in snow.”

“Miami sheriffs stop working only right before the brunt of a hurricane. In New York, the cops run into burning buildings. Emergencies are their specialty.” She nodded. “I hope help arrives soon.”

“You’re in the country now, Erica.” His grim face told her plenty. “It’s a miracle, or a testament to your willpower, that you made it here. The road is miles away.”

“Miles?”

He kept his hands on his hips. She trembled a bit and reached out to touch him. He didn’t shake off her hand. He met her gaze. “Erica, don’t run outside to your death.”

She took a small breath and knew she’d sounded childish. She darted her gaze away, “This year has been bad. I need my mom.”

He stiffened as he sat beside her. “I don’t have a phone.”

Erica refused to become a whiner, and that edge to her voice hadn’t been natural. She was the one who made the decisions. She smiled to keep him calm. His jumpiness echoed hers from earlier. “It’s okay. Thank you for saving my life. I know you don’t have a computer, but how about an Internet connection or Wi-Fi? I’d like to—”

“Again, no. I get you don’t like the answer.” He stepped into the shadows of the room. “But I live off the grid.”

She narrowed her eyes and tried to understand her dark angel. “Why?”

He stepped away from her. “I don’t need society or anyone. I’d rather be left alone.”

“Why did you help me?”

“I don’t like to be near death.”

Again with the “death” talk. Her hand traced her neck to rub it again. She had kissed this man last night, but now he half scared her to death. She pressed her lips together. What would drive a handsome man to hide? In Miami, all the women would chase him. “Yet you’re in a chateau that’s large enough to be a hotel.”

He shook his head. “Ski lodge.”

She’d been right. With her eyebrows raised, she stared at him.

He lowered his gaze. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

Her arm extended to call him back, but she stopped. Irrational questions about death floated in her mind. Perhaps if she befriended him, she would help in her own demise, but if she stayed quiet, then she’d grow more afraid in time. Instead she lowered her hand to her heart and nodded. The man clearly didn’t talk about himself. “Okay. You made delicious hot chocolate last night. May I have some now? I’m much stronger, thanks to you.”

He openly stared at her for a minute. “Yeah, okay. Stay here.”

A moment later, he went through the door that led back to the apartments. She relaxed and took a long, deep breath. How had people escaped winter storms before the Internet and phones? She scanned the room, and her gaze locked on a massive amount of books. She smiled. Last night, she’d slept in the man’s library until he moved her to a bed. She’d read countless books at her mother’s bedside for the past year.

Before she came in, he must have intended to read a book. Why else had he been in the library? This made him almost normal. She dropped the blanket back on the daybed and scanned the titles. Classics. A few mysteries. And fantasy books. No romances, though.

A book wouldn’t be her chance at escape, but then, nothing would get her out of this place.

Erica picked up one well-read paperback. A piece of paper fell out. After she slid the book back, she picked up the note. She hadn’t intended to read it, but her mouth fell open.

I’m going to die here.

Her heart contracted and jumped. Noises came from the next room. She crumpled the paper into her fist and pasted on a smile when he came in.

The pretty handwriting appeared bubbly and feminine. Gabriel’s presence in the room was a force of nature to be reckoned with. It wouldn’t be his note.

Her gaze lowered, and she stared at the huge mug in his hands. She swallowed and met his eyes.

She hugged herself again. “You said your wife died?”

She cringed the second the words flew out of her mouth. This was almost as bad as the time she went to a funeral and asked the grieving widow if she was having a good day. Once again, she was insensitive in her words, but not in her heart.

He stiffened. “Yes.”

She tilted her head. “How?”

He averted his gaze, not that she blamed him. “I don’t want to talk about her—ever.”

“Was it cancer?” Her voice cracked. Perhaps it was wrong to press the issue, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her mouth had a mind of its own.

“No.”

She pressed her lips together, and then she nodded. He braced as if she’d struck him. The portrait of the blonde played in Erica’s head. Was that his wife? Something in her heart led her to think so, but she was unsure. She had to trust Gabriel. She had to have faith. She stepped closer and handed him the crumpled slip of paper.

“You read this?”

“It’s not long, yeah.”

He read the sentence again then ripped it up. “I have to go.”

“Wait.” She brushed his arm. Was the portrait his wife? She kept that question to herself. “Did she know she was going to die?”

He became a soldier in that moment, with his head high and an unreadable expression. “I’m not discussing her. Forget this drivel.”

No one commanded her. She stood straighter. As he turned to leave, she called out, “Look, we’re stuck together for who knows how long. I need to know if I can trust you—”

He stopped, but kept his back to her. “This storm can last days and will be followed with quite a few more. It’s winter.”

No. She gulped. “I have people who depend on me and my business.”

He stood silent.

For such a big man, she had no more strength. She crumpled. “I don’t understand this house. I feel like I’m possessed, and that’s absurd. There is no such thing. I’m scared, and I need to trust you. So I need to know. Did she know she was going to die?”

He lifted his head, but kept his back to her. “She always claimed to. I have work to do.”

What did that mean? Goose bumps grew on her body. She’d been unforgivably rude, and she had no reason. He had saved her. Doubts weren’t her friend, but he hadn’t assured her. Was the portrait that haunted her thoughts someone who’d died years ago? Or was the blonde his wife? Her breath caught in her throat the second he left. The hair on the back of her neck stood. The sky rumbled. Another storm would hit soon. Who was Gabriel, and why was she stuck here with him?

Cold trailed down her back, though her question hit her fast. Could he be a murderer?

She ran her hands through her hair to stop the thought that circled her mind. She fidgeted with her nightgown. The man had helped her last night. He’d saved her, and her body acted out of character near him. She was shy, then rude, and every cell in her body became aware of him every time they touched.

The loneliness of this place grew worse the second he left.

Crazy thoughts came from desperation, and she ached to help her mom. She’d find her way out.

She paced. She’d find service somewhere for her phone and check in with the hospital. Her sister had disappeared, and her mom couldn’t handle more drama. Erica needed to reassure her.

A moan hung in the air.

The hair on her neck stood again, and she twirled around in the empty room. Was someone there? Gabriel was in the next room. She called out, “Hello?”

Gabriel answered from behind the door, “Wait.”

“I can’t. What’s that sound? Who’s moaning?”

He opened the door. His eyes were large, but if any stare might freeze her in one spot, his would at the moment. “Old houses make noises.”

She stared ahead of her. A heaviness lodged in her chest, but her gaze darted around. She’d swear she was in danger and ought to run. Yet she saw no one.

What was wrong with her and this house?

3

Erica pressed her lips to get the last bit of her hot chocolate, then she stretched. Tremors of heat coursed through her body. Thoughts of Gabriel’s intense eyes mixed in with the euphoric mood that chocolate sent her on. Gabriel hadn’t stormed out, offended, after she’d been rude. He’d made this drink then excused himself. She was in his house, and her fears would be her own undoing. If he intended her harm, he’d had ample opportunity. He was strange but kind. At least she had stopped her constant worry about her mom’s health for the moment. Gabriel took center stage in an amorous fantasy of their kiss. Had she honestly done that? She rolled her shoulders backward. She knew nothing about him.

She stared down at her short flannel nightgown and sighed. She needed to figure out where he’d taken her clothes. The living quarters were set up like a cozy apartment within the ski chalet. Last night replayed in her head, but she stopped the fantasy. Instead, she crossed her fingers and stood. She left the room and passed another door on her way. He had to have a laundry room and her clothes would be in a bucket. She’d go and check her assumptions.

Her feet scraped against the floor, and she stared around. The note she found came back in her mind. Before she left the library, she wandered over to the desk. Was the woman in the portrait outside his wife? Were there clues here on how she died? He had no pictures on his desk. She chewed on her lips. And why couldn’t she let go of her incessant thoughts about the woman?

A clue to find out what happened might be hidden in a book. The note had been there. She thumbed through papers but saw nothing else mysterious.

She clicked her tongue in her mouth. The note had to be from his wife before she died. Erica’s fingers curled into a fist. Why, she didn’t know. But she knew there was a connection. Coldness seeped into her body. Something had happened here. The walls held secrets that warned of danger.

The howl of the wind echoed in the lobby. The storm must have grown stronger.

Her skin twitched. The last time she’d twitched about anything had been in high school. Her former anxiety had long ago been conquered. Nothing here would harm her. Gabriel was her host. Her chest grew warmer. Thoughts of a man shouldn’t affect her day. She took a deep breath and refused to dwell on ancient history.

Besides, she might have made up some huge story in her head with no basis in reality. Work usually kept her mind busy. Without something to do, she couldn’t enjoy herself and let her imagination soar.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten. At least the sugar reinforced the energy she had, and she would find something to do here. Perhaps cook for Gabriel? Erica licked her lips. Her love of cooking was how she’d managed to successfully own restaurants, and she intended to trademark her cupcakes. Whatever tragedy he’d lived through shouldn’t affect them now, and if she offered him treats, it might help him to trust her.

Peace ran though her now. Even before the snow, every day she marched in heels like she ran for her life. Here it was quiet. She gazed at the back door again. What was back there? What did the rest of this place look like? The front room was huge, with a high ceiling that indicated multiple floors that opened to the abandoned lobby.

Outside the sliding doors, the rest of the house waited beyond his library. Coldness enveloped the place. In here, electricity and heat kept them alive.

How did Gabriel intend to live alone all winter? What man lived like this? A criminal? She opened her eyes. No, she’d bet money on her instincts. He wasn’t that. His life remained a mystery, and he deserved her kindness.

Through the rest of the house, she’d see into his world. She rubbed her chin. What happened here? Who was Gabriel? Was he the dark angel she’d first seen? No man was a true angel, though, and she shouldn’t believe in anything but what was in front of her face.

Goose bumps formed on her arm. Was someone watching her from the mirror? She stared at it then shook her head. Paranoia wouldn’t help her.

Somewhere in this house, she’d get signal on her cell phone. She turned on the power button and saw Unavailable.

With a heavy swallow for courage, she brushed her raw skin to calm down. She’d find service today. Then she opened the door into a small hallway. The icy floor brushed against her big feet in too-small slippers. She sucked in her breath and ran. The wooden floor soon became marble, and the ice against her heels worsened. The cold on her feet sent pain through her limbs and numbed her. She’d ask for her closed-toe shoes back.

At the end of the hall, she stepped back into the library and wiggled her toes to warm up. The fire helped. A moment later she had a tickling sensation in her nose. The cold dissipated. The kitchen was likely the big room she passed earlier. She went out the side door and stepped onto some square-patterned tiles where her feet didn’t freeze, and she glanced into a modern kitchen. She slid off one of her too-small slippers to lift her leg and massage her toes for warmth.

Tonight, they’d eat well. She could make a dinner out of almost any ingredients.

A minute later, she took a deep breath. The cold that gnawed at her stopped its climb up her leg, and she slid her slipper back on.

She took a step then stopped to check her phone. Still no service.

Food was a staple of life, though, and she opened the refrigerator to see it was well stocked. Good. The man must have shopped. She opened the cabinets. There were multiple cans as well. Another cabinet held utensils and cookware. She shrugged, then closed the drawer and told herself, “Gabriel must cook a lot.”

“I do.”

Her heart almost fell out of her chest. She twirled around. He leaned against the wall in the hallway that led back to their bedrooms. His black T-shirt clung to his muscles and left little to the imagination. Her mouth watered. With a gulp, she stared at his black, filthy, scratched hands—what was he up to? The coldness enveloped her heart, but she held together. “What happened to your hands?”

She pocketed her cell phone then glanced up to see his eyes.

“Nothing. I came to wash off.”

He pointed to the sink, with one plate in it and a glass cup. She shook her head. “Where are your bandages? I want to check those cuts on your hands.”

Silence greeted her ears.

To help, she turned the water on, but she gave him her back. “I’ll wash the dishes in the sink and help out while I’m here.”

He pressed his shoulder on her back to stop her, and she turned her torso to shield herself. Excitement coursed through her, but now was not the time. His deep voice was almost hypnotic. “You’re more lucid now. Let me wash up, and then I’ll show you the place. Give me a minute.”

She glanced around and stared at his strong backside. She craned her neck to follow his movements until he went into another room. Intense heat coursed up her body and stole her breath. Her nerve endings fired up, and she needed her control.

She smiled. Her muscles had stopped being so tense next to him. Doubts weren’t healthy, and he’d been hospitable.

Her hands went to her back pocket, and she slipped her phone out. Battery low flashed in the upper corner of the screen. She gulped then powered it down.

Footsteps echoed behind her in the hallway. She tilted her neck and strained to ignore his handsome face and stare at his hands. He had cut himself, and that new scar on his hand must be painful. “Ouch.”

He gazed into her eyes, and her cheeks heated. How was a stare chocolate-succulent? “I’m fine. Don’t worry about this.”

He made no sense. She sucked in her breath and planted her legs wider. “I want to help.”

“I don’t need help.” His tone echoed another statement of “leave me alone.” He avoided her and went back to the sink. With his back turned, he never saw her chest cave in a little.

As she inhaled, she tried again to take charge, though the hairs on the back of her neck rose again. Someone near hated her. Erica twirled around then stopped herself. She stared at a wall and swore there was someone else there. Nothing stirred.

There’s no such thing as ghosts. She stood next to Gabriel and picked up his hand to stare at the cut. “That needs to be bandaged.”

He withdrew his hand but a spark coursed through her.

Her neck still prickled. Was someone else here? Her chest tingled, but then she stared into his sexy brown eyes. Warmth returned. He grumbled next to her, “I was in the Marines. I know how to take care of myself.”

She put her hand on her hip. “Men never know how to take care of themselves.”

He shook his head, and she swore he rolled his eyes at her. “You must have known a lot of boys, not men.”

Scratch.

Erica flinched. Had she heard fingernails or were her ears playing some tricks on her? She stared around the room at the empty walls, and didn’t see anyone. Distracted, she dropped her hands and inhaled. “Did you hear something?”

He ran his hands through his hair and stared at her, unsure. She bit her lip and rocked on her feet a bit. The nearness of him kept her warm, and she shrugged. “Okay. I don’t talk to many men unless it’s about work.”

He stared at her with those eyes that made her knees weak then smiled. “The boys near your house are obviously blind. Where are you from?”

She smiled, and the weight on her chest dissipated. “I grew up in Miami.”

He turned off the water and dried his hands. “That place breeds plastic.”

Despite his protest, she checked out his hand and took it closer to her face for inspection. Her heart raced now, but it was the opposite of her heavy heart a moment ago. Gabriel was sweet, and she bounced a bit on her toes. “I dated a few men who needed me to make more money because they didn’t have motivation beyond appearing good.”

He shook his head. “Physically, I’m a mess.”

“That’s a lie.” Her eyes widened then she licked her lips. “You’ve the body gym rats envy.”

With a shrug, he hung the towel on a shelf. “I work with my hands.”

To stay busy, she decided to quickly wash what was in the sink. Her paranoia stayed in the back of her head. This house was creepy, and perhaps her foolishness was from being near a sexy man. Perhaps she had misunderstood him. She had no idea how to act in front of a man with Gabriel’s physical blessings. His hand brushed her back. She jumped at the sink and almost dropped the cup in her hand. Instead she caught herself, then relaxed. “I’m nervous around you.”

“Why?”

She turned toward him and took his hand in hers. “Because in the darkness and cold, I couldn’t take care of myself, and I owe you.”

He clenched his jaw. “Anyone would do the same, ma’am. I don’t like the smell of death in this house. There is too much of it already.”

“Death?” She leaned back a bit.

He stared at the ground and shook his head. Then he blushed. “I’m not good with conversations. I misspoke.”

She kept her hand on top of his. “Don’t. You can’t say keep saying ‘death’ and not explain.”

He shook his head, but answered, “My wife died here.”

The note. She chewed her lip. “Was she the blonde in the lobby portrait?”

“She always had a high opinion of herself.” He stared at the ground. “Yes, that was her.”

Erica’s instincts had been spot on. Her gut also said he had nothing to do with her death. Finished with the dishes, she turned the water off. Besides, if she didn’t trust him, things would end up bad. She leaned up to whisper in his ear. “We shouldn’t have secrets. You saw my naughty bits. Relax.”

His cheeks turned red. “I tried not to stare at all.”

Her heartbeat thumped in her chest. She mirrored how he stood, stared at the ground, and held her left arm with her right hand, as she admitted, “I’d be more embarrassed after that moment if you walked away without a peek.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You were lucky that you made it here.”

“I’m a survivor.” She shrugged. “Most men never notice me no matter what I wear or don’t wear.”

His eyes widened, and he gazed at her. “Are you joking, woman? You’re beautiful.”

Her genuine smile appeared until something flew past the window outside. She jumped then laughed at herself. The storm seemed never ending, but her internal fire burned on. “I don’t know if it’s morning or night with the storm outside.”

“It’s early evening.”

The flutters in her stomach grew from the nearness of him. She stared at the floor. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I already said this: Any man would do the same.” He turned to leave.

“Not the men I know.” She shrugged and dropped her hands. “I tend to date self-centered men who wouldn’t.”

His eyebrow went up, but he kept his gaze off her. “Go. Relax in my den if you can. Give me a few hours to get a few more things for the bedroom I prepared for you. Last night I rushed, and I still have the bureau to get back in there. That storm out there could leave us stranded for a month or more, and you’ll need supplies.”

Her throat constricted. A month? She couldn’t speak for a minute. She flinched at a flash of light outside. The window rattled in the wind. Her heart beat rapidly.

Gabriel turned to leave again. She touched his back, but that sent sparks through her. “Wait. You promised me a tour.”

His muscles tightened. Then he turned to stare at her for a long while, and somehow, she calmed down. His grim face showed how unhappy he was. “It’s better we don’t talk. I’ll show you the room I’m preparing for you.”

“Why not? We’re stuck together.”

He said nothing. Her body shook from a chill every time he walked away. Her mind raced. “We need to talk. How much food do you have?”

A sigh escaped his lips and he stepped farther away. “I’ve enough for me for a year. There is enough to survive if we’re stranded for winter.”

Why did a man need that much food? Grocery stores were everywhere. Even Maine had one every few miles. “It snows that much?”

At the door, he answered her, “Not always, but this year it might.”

It might not. She kept the thought to herself.

She followed him down the hall and paid more attention. They passed three doors—two on the left, one on the right. At the next one on the right, he pushed the knob and she stared at his unusually muscular arms and callused hands. The men she knew in Miami had soft hands. Gabriel’s rough hands had brushed against her naked skin, and it was the most erotic moment she had experienced in her life.

With a gulp, she stepped into the cold room. He went to start a fire. The warmth in her kept the chill at bay. She stared around Gabriel and into the room. The bed she’d slept on had been newly made. The window looked sturdy, with a good view of the bleak sky.

She went farther in. Female clothes hung in the closet. “Did you put these here for me?”

“No. I unlocked the door.” He grimaced then nodded. “Clothes are a normal want, and if you’re stuck you’ll need a few. Yours are in the laundry. This is what I have here. Please make a pile in the coming days of ones that won’t fit your more ample form.”

A gasp escaped her lips. She stepped into the closet and noticed the size labels. “I’ve never been petite a day in my life, but I will figure out something. The women in my family all get breasts and hips.”

He tilted his head. “I wasn’t complaining, Erica. I like looking at you.”

“Thank you. I like looking at you too.”

Had she just said that out loud?

He crossed his arms and his lips were sealed, like he had slipped.

She straightened her long nightgown and pressed her palm to the material. “I’ll figure out what I can wear of these. It’s not like I have anything of my own.”

With his hands clenched, he stepped backward into the darkness. “Take whatever you need in here. I’m glad I didn’t bother to burn this stuff, as I had planned.”

A bonfire of clothes sounded drastic. She scratched her head and left the closet. Then she went back into the room and caught his stare. “That’s an intense thought.”

He backed up to the door, though he unclenched his fists. “I should go.”

She couldn’t let him disappear. Not yet. Her body stayed attuned to the fact that he fought memories. She wanted to help. Her voice went higher. “Wait. What are the other rooms?”

He stood still and didn’t walk away, though his face had edges of pain. He answered with a clenched jaw, “Bathroom is across the hall. Next door is the laundry room. First door is the living room, not that much is there. You know the library already. Feel free to roam those rooms. My bedroom is farther down the hall. Stay out of there.”

She reached up to touch him, and he flinched. Was he repulsed? Her chin trembled. “Gabriel, don’t . . . thank you. I’d be dead without you.”

“You fought to stay alive.” Gabriel winced and shook his head. “Just stay out of my way. Now leave, go back to the den, and let me finish fixing the room and start a fire here for you.”

One minute he’s super nice, and now he’s standoffish again. Her eyes darted to the fireplace. She wished she had her mother to talk to. Gabriel made no sense. “Thank you.”

She intended to walk past him and go to the den/library—whatever he wanted to call the room. Then she brushed against his hand, and electricity coursed through her body. Strange. The man made no sense, and she let the impulse go.

In a flash, she focused on the walls. Something else was here, and the ache in the back of her throat wasn’t the start of a cold.

Gabriel stepped back, and she couldn’t let him go. The small apartment in the huge chateau would be enough for now, if Gabriel was who she yearned for.

He took another step, and she couldn’t walk away without a touch. Instinctually, she reached out and stroked his arm to offer comfort.

Then her mouth found his again.

He kissed her as if a dam had burst inside of him. His kiss burned into her, and she knew she hadn’t imagined anything. His lips tasted salty and sweet and intoxicated her senses. With a contented groan, she leaned into him, held him close, and raked her hands down his back.

His kiss sent a risqué hum down her, and she lost control.

When he suddenly yanked her off him, he made a gruff noise that said he had reacted the same way. For a moment they did nothing but stare at each other. Finally, he leaned over to pick her up. Her body jostled in his embrace. “Not here. I haven’t built the fire yet. It’s too cold for you.”

As he carried her against his well-formed chest back toward the den, he held her snugly and she listened to his heartbeat. Like hers, his raced. This invisible web of attraction to Gabriel had her acting all out of character. The businesswoman had disappeared here, and she now was acting more like her sister. Erica had never been free-spirited until now. The tired woman upset that hospitals didn’t work miracles dissipated. Something primal tore through her.

Perhaps she hoped to celebrate every second now. She was alive. Gabriel’s strong lips left her mouth with a constant ache for his kiss. She’d heard about good sex all her life, and her mind earlier had been cloudy. Unlike most women, it seemed, she’d never had good sex. Sex had always been over fast so that she could get back to work. She wet her lips with her tongue and imagined she’d experience what women whispered about as a “release,” if Gabriel took her.

He put her down, and she flung herself into him. His lips shattered any doubts she had, and he left her mouth with a tingle of excitement that burned for more.

She stood on her tiptoes, buried her face in his neck, and left a small kiss there.

With a tortured grunt, he tore himself away. Her head spun out of control. He had kissed her back. “Erica, I . . . shouldn’t.”

“Don’t think.” She stood up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’m here. We’re alive.”

Something dark stormed through his body, and he stepped back. He ran his hands down his hair again and spun away. “No, I was wrong. This cannot happen between us. You deserve better.”

Her throat constricted, and he ran out of the room.

Out of breath, she tried to stop her heart racing. She held her hands close to her chest. Gabriel set off a strange desire in her that she’d never experienced in her life. Until him, she steered clear of attractive men, and never had these sparks of awareness. She knew with certainty she’d acted way out of character, and it didn’t matter here.

She’d not be here forever.

No one would believe Erica Mira—the cook and baker with big dreams to take over an abandoned cake factory to market her own brand of tasty treats nationwide—ever entertained erotic thoughts about men. She’d been called cold, logical, and boring. She licked her lips and listened to her heartbeat. She’d never been that fulfilled from sex to care.

The fever he awoke in a kiss was new. Until him, despite the science classes she’d taken, she wondered if the stories women told one another about orgasms were just that. She had questioned if the entire response was made up for Internet junkies and romance readers. Now the pulse of desire stayed strong. In the past, she’d always cooled fast after a man’s kiss. Perhaps with Gabriel it was real.

She told the empty room, “Whatever his past was, I have to find out. A man like Gabriel should not be locked up here on a mountain. We’re far from done.”

4

Mom, don’t die. I’ll come home.

Erica’s eyes opened. The images and the voice must have been a dream. Her mom had to be fine. Erica clenched her hands. Like her, Mom fought tooth and nail. Kimberly had no idea that Mom was sick.

Erica’s heart raced. She’d not fall asleep again. She wished her phone had service. As she stretched her back to get up, she turned on her bed toward the window. The sun burned her eyes. With a moan, she threw her pillow over her head, hoping it would block out the light.

There was nothing she could do. She tried to calm down and think of anything other than her nightmare. Visions of her mother, alone in her hospital bed, swirled in her head.

Erica gulped, and every breath was heavy. She had to think of something else. Her lips puckered. Gabriel’s kiss had warmed her. The sparks reverberated down her body. Last night, she had hoped to end her celibacy vow, even though she’d found that note about a woman’s death. She hugged herself and opened her eyes. Too many deaths in the house already? Seriously? His voice in her dream replayed that part all night. She couldn’t understand herself.

A quiver in her stomach helped her sit up, though she shook it off.

Crash.

Something cracked in the air, like a glass had shattered.

She glanced around the room in search for a broken item, but she didn’t see any shards. She chalked it up to her half-awake state. There was nothing wrong. She tilted her head for one more scan around the room, then frowned and fixated on the white world outside the window. The snow almost amplified the sunshine.

Snow mounted higher, but the glass was intact. Maine was so different from flat Miami. The green trees poked out of the white-capped mountains, and the valley near the house was so white. Not one scrap of dirt or rock could be seen for miles.

She sniffed the clean, fresh air and rolled her shoulders. She almost relaxed, but she swore she saw a shadow on the wall. The sound of something breaking had been close. A shiver crept up her spine, and her skin tingled. Was she being watched, even now?

Erica traced the wall but nothing was there. She turned back toward the window and the sunlight dimmed.

She glanced out and saw dark gray clouds in the distance. A wind held that incessant howl and raced past the glass pane. She licked her lips and stood to get a better look outside. The window panel had no cracks, and stayed sturdy, but the white snow glistened pure and clean up to the windowsill. The clouds meant another storm. A sigh escaped her throat. How much more could it snow?

She coughed, then cleared her throat, but she stayed quiet. What could she say? Gabriel was somewhere else, and she’d spent the night on her own.

Her shoulders were tight, and her fingers shook. Coldness overtook her, and she fought against a shiver. She rubbed and twisted her neck, but she was still tense. A shadow grew against the wall again, and the hair on the back of her head lifted. Was someone else with her?

To stop the scream in her throat, Erica called out, “Gabriel?”

No one answered, but she swore she heard the pitter-patter of an animal nearby. He didn’t have a dog, did he?

The shadow seemed more like a person. Relax. Everything about this was wrong. She combed her hair with her fingers and focused her gaze. She was in the bedroom Gabriel had pointed out last night. She tugged at her flannel pajamas and shifted on her feet.

A loud bang roared in the air. She winced, though that noise sounded far off inside the house. She tried to make out what that noise was, but she couldn’t be sure. After she pressed her ear to the wall, all she heard was her fast heartbeat. Imagination had never been something Erica had time for. She bit her bottom lip, then went to her closet to pull out some clothes and a pair of slippers.

A working phone would be her salvation. She massaged the bridge of her nose. Why had she abandoned her charger in the car?

Something caught her eye in the back of the closet. She peered closer and gazed at a book. Yesterday she’d ransacked the clothes and shoes and hadn’t seen this. Though she stretched, she reached backward, and almost stumbled the second she heard that bang again.

She coughed. “Is someone here?”

No answer came. She rubbed her neck. Her limbs shook, though she tried to rub her skin to stop the reaction.

Her hands twisted into fists for a split second before she relaxed. Again, she reached and clutched at black plastic material and grabbed the book from the closet. She caught her breath and found a seat at the vanity. Then she opened the front page to see she had a diary. Property of Tiffany Murphy. Murphy was Gabriel’s last name. She scratched her head and tried to figure out who Tiffany was. She flipped to the first page and read: Today is the day I marry Gabriel. I loved him the moment I saw him. Gabriel would be the perfect groom, on a perfect day, and no clouds of disillusionment would ever change this moment. Gabriel was so tense, though. I look at him, and I am not certain I truly have him. Will we be happy?

Erica’s heart beat and she settled into the back of the chair. The dead wife’s diary could give her some insights into Gabriel. She gulped. The handwriting matched the note in her mind, but she might be wrong. She had to be. She’d had only a momentary glance. But the same curves on the letter ‘e’ flashed in her memory.

The man had ripped the note out of her hand last night, had told her to forget it, and the memory flashed in her mind. But what if the note was a warning? Her breath caught in her throat. She forced herself to take a deep breath and decided, for now, to keep the discovery of the diary to herself. She’d read this first.

Hopefully, first, she’d find the spot to make that call and be able to forget this house.

She went over and made her bed, then slid the book under the covers.

“Are you hungry?” Gabriel leaned on the door frame as he knocked. “I’m making breakfast.”

Gabriel’s brawny muscles stood out. His body flexed on its own, and she’d never seen a more perfect man. She opened her mouth but said nothing. No lock would keep a man out of his own house, and the thought chilled her till she met his gaze. Broad shoulders and intense eyes beckoned her to him. She was like a ship that neared a lighthouse.

“Are you okay?” He stared at her with his eyebrows raised.

She rolled her shoulders, then nodded. “I was going to cook breakfast.”

The wind howled and rattled the window. Her eyes flew to the side. Was that the noise? She stared at the wall and wondered if she saw a shadow of someone else. Her mind raced. Without a thought, she took a step back. Then she flinched again. She cringed, then gazed at him. She pasted a smile on her face. “Oh, okay. I’ll cook dinner for us.”

He shrugged and walked away.

She rubbed her forehead. With a nod, she let her heart slow its fast pace and calm down. To help, she fingered her phone in her back pocket again. At least she had a plan.

Stillness entered her mind for the moment, and she put on the slippers. Though her feet were too big for them, she made her way down the hall. Food nourished the soul and the family. Her father had died when she was young, and Mom had raised the two of them on her own. Her sister had walked away years ago. Erica shook her head and wiped away stray tears. She’d cook today. The emotional release when she cooked entered her every meal. In the kitchen, she was at peace. She could do something to bring people back together, and in her restaurant, families ate together. After she lost her dad, she had fed her family. Now, every day, until the storm, she fed other people’s families. One day, her missing sister would come home for good. A hot meal and her mom would be waiting for Kimberly. For now, Gabriel was all Erica had. He tried to be nice. Good food might steady Gabriel too, and make her less jumpy near him.

In the kitchen, she heard a cabinet slam shut. Every spice should be treated as important. A huge shadow much larger than anything on the walls in her bedroom darkened the halls. She clutched her stomach and followed Gabriel into the light. She stepped into the kitchen. His broadness dissipated the tension inside her. With jeans that clung to his hard body, every cell inside her became electrified.

“Morning.” He held the frying pan in his hands and showed her. The man had made her eggs and sausages.

With her mouth open slightly, she raked her eyes over him, stopping to gaze at his strong, manly shoulders before nodding at him. With a smile, she stared at his muscular arm. “Ordinarily, no one cooks for me.”

Without one word uttered, he placed a plate of food in front of her. Her proffered smile did not change his grim look.

She pushed the chair out next to him. “Please sit. Eat with me.”

“It’s better if I stay away from you.” He stared at the coffeemaker, not at her.

The lights flickered and she gasped.

He put his hand on her shoulder, then told her, “If the power goes out, I have a generator.”

His touch warmed her. “And the sounds in the walls?”

He massaged her muscles for a moment. “Old houses make noises.”

“Gabriel . . .” She needed to form her words. He stole her breath away. To calm her internal cravings, she bit her lip and met his gaze. “You’ve taken care of my every need since I arrived, except spending time talking. Can we try to be friends?”

Every muscle in his body stiffened, and he kept his hands on his sides. “It’s not a good idea.”

“You enjoyed kissing me, just as I enjoyed you. But I don’t chase after men who don’t want me.” She stared at her plate of food for a minute to catch her breath for strength before she steered her gaze to meet his eyes. “It will be easier for me if I understand why you don’t wish for us to even be friends.”

Darkness surrounded him. She stared at his huge hands; he refused to meet her gaze. At least he didn’t move. Slowly, with a strained voice, he told her, “I’ve been away from decent women like yourself for too long. In the Marines, I learned to kill, and I don’t trust myself near you.”

Something haunted him. It was in his stare, but whatever it was, she wasn’t frightened. His stiffness almost reminded her of someone at attention. Hmm.

“How long have you been out?” She offered him a tentative smile.

“Two years officially, but the year before it was on and off.” With an empty stare at the door, he told her, “My wife died two winters ago.”

She stood and took a step toward him to squeeze his hand if he’d let her. When she reached out, he shook his head, backed out of his chair, and walked out of the room. A primal need for attention, which had been denied, rose through her, but she let it go.

He kept his distance, and she should do the same. She reached behind her back to find her phone, and he raked his hands through his hair.

Her neck twisted so she could watch where he went, but he disappeared into the gloomy hall. A moment later, a door slammed. She flinched, then crossed her arms to stop the coldness that seeped into her spine.

In Miami, no one wore his heart on his sleeve, and that difference drew her to Gabriel.

She sat back down and stared at her full breakfast he had made her. She ate a little, but wasn’t hungry. Not for this. Her lips had tingled the other night from that kiss. Perhaps she lied to both of them that they could be friends. She bit her bottom lip and stared down the empty hallway full of shadows. Who was Gabriel?

While she placed her plate into the sink, she gazed out the window at the dreary day. The dark clouds were impossible to see, and whiteness flew everywhere. The window kept her inside, but fierce winds mixed with new snow made visibility impossible. She’d check the door again later. From the window it seemed hopeless to leave. Perhaps she could find a signal if she climbed higher in the house. The howl of the wind meant she was stuck here for who knew how long.

Fatigue hit her. When she closed her eyes, she prayed she could get back on the road. The whiteness would make it impossible, but she’d check in with her mother if she could. She stilled her mind, then she opened her eyes and didn’t blink once. She stared out, mesmerized at the rustle of pine trees in the snow.

Hopeless. There was no escape from this place. Not unless the police came on skis.

A jiggle of keys in the distance startled her. She jumped backward, and her heart raced. She needed to relax.

The lights flickered again, and her breath lodged in her throat.

A moment later the lights went out. She turned to stare at the hallway again. She’d go to her room, clean up, then figure out how bad this snow was.

It was a good idea to find a flashlight.

She muttered to herself, “I probably lost my bid for the bakery.”

In the end, she’d find another way to pay off the bills. She had no choice. With clenched hands, she walked down the hall and figured out her next move. Somewhere in the darkness, there was an end to this nightmare. An antenna to phone service existed somewhere.

* * *

In her warm room, with the fire, her body heated. Even after she stepped out of the shower, she gulped as she dried herself.

What if Gabriel killed his wife because of posttraumatic stress?

Her muscles jumped. Only crazy people gave in to every thought. The eerie quiet of the place must have messed with her mind, though she backed up a few inches and stubbed her heel on the bathtub.

Ouch. She picked up her leg and brushed it to shake off the pain. Slowly she moved the muscle.

In her room, she threw the clothes on, and she thankfully hadn’t wet her hair.

Crash.

What was that? Her memories never had a soundtrack before. Who or what was here? She stared around but nothing stirred.

Her feet itched to run out the door, and her heart raced in her chest. The ill-fitting shirt didn’t cover her midriff and pinched at her chest, but she threw a sweater over it, then a sweatshirt.

She had no boots, though. Her feet would not squeeze into another’s woman’s four-sizes-too-small shoes. Without another thought, she ran out and checked her sneakers on the floor. They were still wet. The slippers would have to suffice.

A loud scratch echoed in her ear, like something clawing at the wall, and she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her belly. When it stopped, her nostrils flared.

She’d swear she had seen the shadow of a small woman, but that was impossible.

In a heartbeat, she slipped on the slippers and made a run for it. She could make it to the door. In the now dimly lit hall, she swept her hand across her forehead while she told herself not to be irrational, or let that tension in the air spook her.

The wind thundered past the nearest window, and Erica couldn’t see beyond the white snow that blanketed the entire glass.

Everything had to be fine. She stilled. Gabriel had been nothing but good to her. She clenched and unclenched her hand. Then she relaxed and entered the kitchen. Finally, her breaths stopped the burst and contract hard cycle of in and out. She could inhale a deep breath, and she stared at the stove and let the crazy fear subside.

Old houses made noises. Today she’d find a signal and call the hospital. She repeated to herself, “Everything will be fine.”

In Miami, all houses were new and didn’t need to settle. Her friends from up north always mentioned the difference. Calmly she made her way out of the kitchen to check out the library.

She turned on the phone and stared at the bright colors on the screen. The batter was still low and she had no service.

Without the storm, she could check out the chateau. Somewhere there could be a signal. Outside the place had looked huge, her beacon to salvation in the dark storm. The place was much bigger than the small, cozy apartment inside.

After her hands shook from the frigid air, she proceeded through the drafty lobby, and noticed a huge grand staircase and a rotted baby grand piano. The darkness of the place sent a chill down her spine. No service. She peered up the stairs.

Her ears picked up strange noises that whooshed in the air. Her feet rattled and legs wobbled. Her pace stopped short, and her breath caught in her throat.

No. She refused to be stupid. She’d get used to the noise.

Besides, she needed her phone.

She gulped. Then she continued and made her way to the front door. Before she opened it, she crossed her fingers, and hoped she was wrong. She flung open the door, only to see the snow piled all the way to the top of the door.

No escape. The snow cracked from the top, and she flung the door closed before the avalanche buried her. With all her strength, she pushed up against the closed door, though she shrieked as she heard the bang of snow behind her.

When nothing moved, she jumped away and ran to the huge bay windows. The snow reached the panel there.

What if she never escaped from here?

Erica turned around. She swore someone stared at her from the darkness. “Gabriel?”

But no one answered.

With her elbows pressed to her side, she made it to the lobby again. The front desk would be where guests checked in. Her chest tightened while she went behind the counter.

Still no signal.

A clink, then a clatter buzzed in her ears. What was that sound?

She gripped the counter. Soon her fingers ached and she let go.

She spotted an older computer and hit the “On” button. Nothing powered on, but then, this part of the place had no lights. Her leg muscles tightened, though she decided to explore the stairwell.

She peered up and heard more of that clamor. The hair on the nape of her neck lifted, and she covered her mouth to stifle another scream. Erica Mira was not this wimpy, and never this scared all the time.

The second step creaked, and she stepped back.

No.

A flashlight would make this easier. She bit the side of her mouth and stepped back. She’d try again later.

Then she ran back into the library. Inside, she leaned on the door to get her heart to stop its fast pace. She had to stop these imaginary and crazy thoughts in her head.

“I’ve never been alone before, not like this. Calm down.”

She tried to call despite the lack of service. She stood still and hoped to get a connection.

Nothing greeted her, and she finally ended the call.

Perhaps after she ate, she’d have more strength. Then she’d search with more clarity.

Her plans helped soothe her hard stomach, but her hands stayed jumpy with adrenaline. Before she went dizzy, her fingers ached for activity. She’d cook up a meal for tonight. Food calmed the spirit. If dinner was yummy and warm, she’d get Gabriel to talk to her for more than a minute.

He said she’d be fine, and she hoped to believe him. Conversation would wipe away her crazy fears.

And her mother always told her that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. For the first time in her life, Erica hoped that to be true.

5

Erica diced the tomatoes for the sauce. The knife cut fast, and suddenly, she nicked herself. The straight line was a bleeder, and Erica ran her hand under the sink to clean up the blood. Then her skin prickled and her muscles tightened. Every nerve ending stood up, but she refused to flinch. Kitchen accidents were rare for her, and she shook off the sensation that someone watched her again. She straightened her clothes, but she tugged at illusive strings a little longer than necessary before she went back to work.

Maybe if she befriended Gabriel, her nerves would go back to normal without the electricity that coursed through her. Lust didn’t fit in the plans right now anyhow.

Her mind wandered. The man’s height and muscle mass would protect her in any fight. In bed, his power would be more attractive than any other man she ever dated. In bed? She shook her head. That thought sounded like it belonged to someone else, and she laughed at herself. This was silly. Usually she scared off the big, strong hero types when she didn’t play demure and shy. And lies never worked out well for her.

She closed her eyes and envisioned his lips brushing against hers. She sighed. Without a doubt, he knew how to kiss.

She giggled to herself, and then she opened her eyes and finished dicing. Lust was easier to handle than paranoia at the walls. She scratched her neck. She hoped too much for Gabriel to notice her. She smiled. Then maybe he’d forget his reservations. She shook her head. Her message to him was they should be friends. At least she could admit it. The tang of his mouth on her sent a tingle throughout her body. She smiled to herself and stirred the vegetables in the pan. His kiss had burned into her soul, and she couldn’t forget how he tasted.

The vegetables wouldn’t take long on the stove, and peace came back to her. She stared at the kitchen. The stove, refrigerator, and work area were perfect for a small family. Food sustained every man and woman, especially if served with dessert. She nodded. Her cupcakes would help her cause.

And her too. What if she could never make that call?

She washed her hands and went to work. The dough of her creation soothed her as she mixed the ingredients together. With every stir, she became more like her old self.

Soon, the appetizing smell of her baked creations went up her nostrils and fueled her hunger. She stroked her throat, then changed the pan and placed the chicken in the oven.

She inhaled the succulent scent of the cupcakes. She whipped together the buttercream frosting and would add it once the cupcakes cooled. She hoped he’d eat them. She would later. Either way, food was always a good way to offer friendship, and her heart would not continue its pitter-patter.

When done, she set dessert aside and moved down the counter to stir the sauce. With more confidence, she thrust out her chest higher and smiled. Heavenly tastes fixed a lot of issues in her life, and with food preparation, she had that one moment of bliss where she gave back something bigger than herself. If she could, she’d feed the world.

She gazed out the window. An animal, probably a wolf, cried out in the forest. Erica sucked in her breath, but stared out. Gray skies darkened the horizon. Then the lights flickered. She flinched and ducked for cover.

Her heart raced again, and the hair on her head stood. The lights blinked again. She scanned around her to find someone, but no one was here with her.

Were generators as steady as electricity? The last time a hurricane hit the house, they used the generators only for the airconditioning. The Sunshine State tended to always have light, but perhaps the generator needed gas or something. With a sigh, she reached for plates, and the room went completely black.

A hand went to her back, which caused her to shake, and she dropped the plate.

The crash sent a tremor up her entire body.

“You keep breaking the dishes and we’ll be eating off the floor. Relax. I’ll be right back to start the generator.”

“No.” She reached to stop Gabriel, but his touch blocked out the coldness on her spine. The unnatural panic fought with her internal logic. She fixed her hair back and tried not to shake. “Will the generator have enough power until the power company restarts?”

“Don’t worry, Erica.” His hand went on top of hers. “The line might be broken down the mountain. It could be all we have for months.”

No power and no phone? To stop the panic, she bit her lip, then nodded. At the same time, she never looked away from the fire in his eyes. “Then we need to conserve for cooking and the essentials.”

His tentative smile warmed her, but she swore someone hated her nearby. She ignored the sense and stepped closer to him. He gently massaged her neck. “Ma’am, I have enough for a few months before we get to that. Not my first winter up here. I won’t let you get cold.”

Heat went through her now, and her mouth dropped open. Gabriel was her knight in shining armor. She continued to stare into his dark chocolate eyes. The succulence of his stare was more palatable than food. Her mouth trembled a bit. “Hurry, then. I made us a wholesome dinner.”

“Don’t fall over.” His hand reached for hers. “Relax and stay calm. I’ll be right back.”

He let her hand go, and she ached to have him back. He stepped back into the darkness. She stroked her arm. Her skin had stayed warm where he had touched her. Her eyes stayed on his back until he disappeared into the hallway. Now, her heartbeat raced.

The wind howled outside, and she clenched her fists. There had to be a solution. Then she closed her eyes and remembered that she had seen a candle somewhere on the table, and matches in the drawer with the silverware. She opened her eyes, took two steps to her right, and opened the drawer. Success. Her grin grew. And she fumbled to pick up the matches unseen. After her fingers clutched the paper container, she held the package until she ripped one out to light. The match didn’t stay for long, but she refused to walk in blackness. Even at home, safe in her bed, night never went well for her. The wind rattled the window behind her. The moment she neared the table, she shook her hands to rid herself of her nerves.

Her skin crawled like someone stood near her, and it wasn’t Gabriel. His body near hers never chilled her. She’d swear it was a hateful child and not a large man.

She thrust out her chest and took the last few steps to the table. Then she latched her hand on the table and chairs that brushed her hip. With a sigh, she stuck out with her hands and almost knocked over the candle. Before it fell, she caught the stem, righted it, and lit the match. Finally, the wick burned.

Candlelight went further to brighten a room than she had imagined. She glanced around and relaxed her shoulders. No one was here.

She set the table. The food was ready.

When she placed the candle back into its holder, the lights flickered on. Her shoulders relaxed. He took care of her, and no one else was here. She stared at the wall and her heart raced a bit. Then she shook her head at her imagination. With her head cocked, she stared at the liquor cabinet. Wine would help them relax.

Today she’d make friends with him.

His big footsteps echoed from the halls. She rolled her shoulders back and smiled at the door as the noise grew closer.

He stepped inside, and she stared into his smoldering eyes. He leaned against the door. “We should be good for a few hours. I put it on, hoping the power comes back on. Be sure to bundle up before bed, Erica.”

“Do we have flashlights in this place?”

“I’ll put one in the library for you in the morning. Keep it wherever you want.”

She pushed the seat back, and her heart hammered in her chest. “Sit. I cooked us dinner.”

He stared into her eyes, and she stilled. His gaze drifted toward the chair. “I shouldn’t stay.”

“Gabriel, pour me a glass of wine and sit.” She raised her eyebrows. Then she swallowed and stood up a bit. “That’s an order, Marine.”

A smile grew on his face. “Captain.”

Her eyebrows lifted and her pulse grew with electricity. “Excuse me?”

He walked into the room. “If you are going to order me around, ma’am, use the title I retired with.”

With a smile, she nodded. Fire grew in her belly, but she ignored her temperature. “Captain, the wine. Two glasses. I’ve been looking forward to talking about nothing important.”

He stepped toward the cabinets, pulled down the glasses, and opened the bottle. As he poured, his gaze met hers again. “What topic are we discussing?”

Erica weighed her options. “No phones” would be whiny. And he’d not be ready to discuss his dead wife. Besides, she’d ignore the wet-blanket topics if he smiled at her every second of the day. She bit her lower lip, then decided fast. “Book recommendations.” She leaned in her chair and whispered into his ear, “Is that safe enough for you?”

“Okay.” He tentatively sat, and she held her legs down, else she might kick into a jig. At least he hadn’t run off. The smell of pine and deep wood that was in his cells washed through her, and she licked her lips. Then she sat opposite him at the table.

With a smile, she picked up her fork and took a bite. He gazed at her mouth, and her lips tingled from excitement. She chewed her food and swallowed. “What do you think of the dinner?”

He picked up his fork, took a bite, and then shrugged. “It’s okay.”

What? She crossed her arms and shook her head. “Just okay? I was on my way meet an investor who was going to help me buy the closed-down cupcake factory on the coast and reopen it under my own brand. Most people think my cooking is divine.”

He smirked, then smelled his food. “It’s okay.”

She smiled, but kept her hands wrapped around her chest. “Try another bite, unless that’s a hint for the cupcakes.”

Finally, he smiled at her and ate a little slower. She stared as his big, sensuous lips chewed. Then he swallowed and nodded at her. “Ma’am—”

Without a thought, she uncrossed her arms and reached out to put her hand on his arm. “Erica. My name is Erica, and we’re not strangers, Gabriel.”

Without one muscle that moved, he lowered his gaze. “Why are you doing this, Erica?”

“I’m trying to get you to talk to me, Gabriel. Now eat.” She pushed a spoonful of chicken in his mouth.

His eyes sparkled at her. He stuck out his chin. “What if I don’t want to?”

With a schooled smile, she dragged her chair closer to him, as she met his gaze. She lifted her chin. “Then I’ll order you, Captain.”

He shook his head and grinned at her. “You play with fire.”

She met his grin, and the sparks inside her every cell fired. “Did you doubt that?”

He patted her knee that was close to his leg. Her skin burned from his closeness, but she stayed still. He leaned closer. “It’s dangerous.”

The fire inside her would consume her soon. Without missing a beat, she shrugged. “So is being buried alive in an abandoned chateau without an avenue of escape. I figure we have to learn to get along, and you do have some good qualities.”

“Untrue.” He shook his head, leaned back, and told her, “We don’t have to get along. I don’t have a future goal, not like you. I’ll get you back to your life when possible, then we’ll never see each other again. It’s best if I leave you alone.”

The chill in the space between them pricked at her skin, so she scooted closer to him. She preferred the blaze.

“Best for you, maybe.” Whatever haunted him might be what scared her about this house. She tapped his thigh and kept his rapt attention on her eyes. She wasn’t the only one who burned. “You’ll miss me.”

His features darkened, and his breath hitched. “I don’t care about anything.”

“I don’t have that luxury.” She watched him eat his dinner. And right now she fanned a flame that would consume them both. She knew it and refused to stop. On a hunch, she whispered, “For what it’s worth, I like how you look out for me, care for me, and make me feel. It doesn’t normally happen out there, in the big, wide world. And besides, you are far too young to lock yourself away.”

Instead of an answer, he stared at his plate of food. She swallowed hard, but kept silent.

Something snapped in him, because he stared into her eyes and she glimpsed his internal conflict. Her heart beat for him, and she hoped to hold him. He took a breath. “I fought in more battles than you can count, refusing to leave a man behind. I am tired of war and battles.”

She brushed her hair behind her ear. Was it the military experiences that held him back? Then she reached out and stroked the back of his hand. “If you need to talk, I have ears.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

His words built a fire inside of her. She gazed into his haunted eyes. She could help him. Something inside her had to try. She winked. “We’re stuck together. What do you want to do with me, then?”

His dark eyes lightened with intensity. Her skin flushed, then he reached over to help her out of her chair and onto his lap. His fingers brushed against her arm, and she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. She gazed on his full lips. He leaned closer, millimeters from her mouth. A thrill raced through her. He whispered, “I might have been wrong saying nothing can happen between us.”

Yes. She suppressed a moan. “What do you think—”

But he stopped her question with a mind-numbing kiss. She sighed into him and hugged him closer. She didn’t want to stop.

Her body moistened. Slowly his hands slid down her jeans, and he picked her up. She lifted her chin and kissed his neck and the bottom of his chin as he carried her to her bedroom.

She heard the crackle of firewood that burned in her fireplace the moment he opened the door. “Did you do that?”

“I promised to keep you warm.” He laughed and kissed her forehead. With a shy smile toward him, she gazed at her bed.

His appeal ripped through her heart, but she held back. She tilted her chin up for a kiss and blinked.

They had to stop. Her mind raced. His dead wife’s diary was under her covers. Erica bit her lower lip. She had to get rid of it somehow. She’d throw it under the bed.

Involuntarily, her passions took over, and she ran her hand up his arms to his shoulders as she held him closer. She needed him.

Then he kissed her proffered neck, and she thrust her chest up and squirmed to let him brush against her hardening nipples through her lacy top.

Slowly, her hands went above her head, and she lifted off her shirt to give him all of her.

As he suckled, a soft sigh escaped her lips. She unzipped her pants and wiggled them free. He did the same.

He knew what he was doing, and her skin craved more. No man had ever caused her to lose control this fast.

Before she became adrift without her ability to think, she pushed the diary from under her covers to behind the bedpost. She stifled a moan of pleasure and adjusted the pillow higher. A small cry came out of her mouth and covered the small thump that ensued.

“What was that?”

With a shrug, she sat up and captured his lips in a kiss. A moment later, he held her waist firmer, and she relaxed.

Nothing stood in their way. His fingers trailed lower on her body, near her moist center. She whispered in his ear, “This is better than my dreams of you.”

“Dreams?” He picked up her hips to bring her closer to his warm body. “I like that.”

“You’re the only thing in my life that’s not a nightmare.” She ran her hands ran through his hair. Her lips took in the salty taste of his skin.

The hardness of him excited her, and her fingers ached to touch him everywhere. There was something dark and magical in him that her body responded to. No man built up this much need, and she never let go, not like this. A delightful shiver coursed through her.

Hungry for him, she trailed her mouth down his neck, and his hands found her inner channel, swollen and ready for him.

Her cheek brushed against his smirk. “You’re ready for me.”

In a dare, she brushed her hips on his enlarged erection, then told him, “So are you.”

With his eyebrows arched, he shifted to rub his manhood on her clit.

She dropped her head back and moaned. His fingers circled her entrance and sent molten-hot flames with every move.

Her eyes rolled back. He continued to toy with her body. He kissed her neck, which sent thrills of desire to the inner part of her soul.

Slowly, she lost all sense of control. To bring that moment to life, she took charge and pushed herself onto him.

There was no return now.

He pulled back, then kissed her forehead. He rolled on a condom.

Wow, she’d been so lost that she’d forgotten that. She’d never forgotten safety before. But then, she’d forgotten to enjoy any moments of life for a long time.

The second he returned, she kissed him on the lips.

Finally, he entered her, and she lost the ability to speak. She could only moan.

He set a torturously slow, then suddenly fast pace. Her body and his pulsed in rhythm. And all she could do was respond. She called out his name before she lost all sense of anything but the waves of pleasure coursing through her.

6

A huge boom echoed in Erica’s bedroom.

As she sat up in bed, she flinched at the loud noise.

She glanced around her bedroom and squeezed her knees to her chest. Pine and cedar clung to the pillow next to other. She was alone. She inhaled Gabriel’s manly scent, then swallowed and stared out the window. A huge breath relaxed her. The noise must have been a tree falling outside. As she tugged the blanket up to cover her nakedness, she trekked over to her window. White snow, and only white snow, all the way up beyond the last pane.

The tree lay in the snow-covered distance. Last night’s whiteout revealed the brightness of pure, fresh powder snow. Mystery solved. Dizzy, she rubbed her hand on her head as she rolled back into bed. She didn’t need to face today.

Ice crept up her back anyhow. They were truly trapped now. Alone.

Her insides quivered from earlier activity, and she wasn’t tired. Not really. If Gabriel were in the room, she’d have curled into him. But he wasn’t here, and she needed to peak out the door to know how bad it was outside.

She stared at her cell phone. Her mother never slept much, and Erica needed her sage advice now more than ever. She sighed. Mom had experience with men. She had to find a signal today. Her mother needed her, and she needed her mom.

To build her courage, Erica reminisced. In Miami, hurricanes didn’t last that long. And the weather was usually sunny and warm. Pretty much the opposite of this house, all darkness and cold.

A chill raced through her spine.

The wind gushed past the window. This time she hardly blinked.

She ought to go and find Gabriel. Her mother would say that to make a life decision, it was best to really know the guy. Was he interested in a short-term nothing, or was he interested in her?

Her throat was dry. She gulped, then went to the closet to throw on clothes. Anything would be fine. She found a pair of sweats that didn’t cover her ankles, a long T-shirt, a robe, and long socks to throw on. Her phone had less than 10 percent battery life left now, and she held the small, white metallic lifeline firmly in her hand. As she stepped into the slippers, she locked her arms together and intended to take her disheveled look upstairs.

She’d never been snowed in. This only happened to people in movies—horror movies, especially. Her throat constricted. Before she freaked out, she ran her hand through her hair and straightened out a knot. Then she bundled the blanket on her shoulders. Everything would be fine.

Gabriel must be in his room with the door locked. She eyed his door first. She’d never gone in there, but first she needed to go out to see how high the snow went up the side of the house. And then she’d find a way to make that call.

In the kitchen she stopped to find a candle and extra matches. The promised flashlight wasn’t in the library yet, which was another reason to find Gabriel.

The phone in her hand heated. She’d deal with logistics later. A smile grew on her face. Perhaps another kiss too.

Either way, at the library door, she stopped, took a moment, then opened it. It would be beyond frigid out there. Was polar a temperature? She rewrapped her blanket around her shoulders, and ensured it stayed tight around her. Then she lit the candle and proceeded out into the lobby.

A draft ran through her hair, and her nose wrinkled from the cold. She took a step forward, but her body stiffened. The bay window, which gleamed white, shone back at her. Was the house strong enough if another storm hit?

Outside the window, the ground sounded like there was an army battle. A chill rocked her body; then she flinched at the noise. Did icicles make that sound as they fell off trees and houses?

She steeled her nerves and held the banister firmly, then climbed the large staircase. She needed to see out and find a signal. Her fingers froze halfway up the stairs, but she kept up her obstinate climb. Another draft of chilly air hit her, and she clutched her candle closer and refused to let the creaks of the old staircase stop her.

At the next level, she pursed her lips and read the numbers on the room doors. This had definitely been a hotel once, though she had no idea what would have closed this place down. For a ski resort, this place was perfect. They had a mountain, snow, and a well-built lodge. Something bad must have happened. Something that paralyzed Gabriel from living his life. With slow, steady steps, she tried the first door, but it didn’t budge much.

She checked her phone. No signal came here, but perhaps near a window she’d get service.

The hotel room lock still worked. Her heartbeat stayed rapid and fast.

Something wasn’t right up here. Her skin prickled.

The second door opened. She hesitated for a moment, then pushed into the room. A rush of mildew entered her nose and made her sneeze.

The battery was down to 9 percent. Soon she’d lose even this hope.

With tense muscles, she continued to walk toward the window, but the flame in her candle blew out.

Finally, she had a signal. A smile grew on her face and her heart raced a bit. The battery went lower. The lights of the phone kept her sane, and she quickly dialed her mother’s room at the hospital. On the second ring, her mom said, “Erica, is that you?”

“Mom,” she cried out. Thank goodness. She had a connection. “I’m lost.”

“Where?” He mother sounded calm and concerned. Erica almost cried.

“Maine. Mom, I miss you.”

Total blackness greeted her, and she backed up. Her phone flashed to the red battery and read 0 percent. No. She needed more time. She gulped and repeated, “Mom?”

No answer greeted her. She twisted her hand. The phone turned off and went black.

Ice went up her spine. Had her mother heard her? The blackness of the room was eerie and quiet. Goose bumps grew on her arms. She reached in her pocket and retrieved a box of matches. Her fingers froze. The fire didn’t light the first time. She breathed on her clammy hands, and fought to slow her increased heart rate. Then she tried again.

With near-frozen limbs, this time she lit it. The candle brought back light, and she rubbed her arms. To finish her search, she continued to the window. Hypnotized, she peered outside the window to the winter wonderland. Then cold, small hands pushed her. She screamed, and the candle fell to her feet.

In a heartbeat, she scrambled around, but no one was here in the room with her. She picked up the candle and lit it again. Nothing stirred. She must be crazy, but it felt like the hands on her back had been tiny.

As she rubbed her hand on her forehead, she assumed it was just her nerves, and her heartbeat slowly reduced its rapid pace.

Perhaps she ought to find Gabriel. His hands were big, manly, and warm. She tugged the blanket closer to her neck, covered her face, and blew on her hands again to heat her nose. She swallowed and tried to stop the panic, but she scouted for an exit to escape. She knew where the exit was. She knew this was the panic. She was about to hyperventilate.

Her mind numbed. Gabriel wouldn’t hear her up here. No one would, though she wondered if someone was staring at her from the blackness. The thought grew in her mind, like someone was here and wanted her dead. Her entire body shook. No. This was impossible. If someone else were here . . . but that made no sense. She retreated backward and her skin crawled. Someone must hate her.

She had to be fine. She had to. It was not like she had another choice.

No one could be in here with her.

Her head continued to ring. This wasn’t a good sign. As she clutched her blanket onto her shoulders, she fought her fear to get back downstairs in one piece.

It was just snow and animals outside. Nothing else was here. She’d be fine.

No one else was here except for her and Gabriel.

The rapturous man who made her feel alive. She licked her lips. His kisses warmed her. The smell of pine on him had calmed her before, and she let the thought of him sustain her. She needed to stop, and shook her head. The walls had a vibe of hatred, and no matter where she turned, every cell on her body was alert to danger. She ran her hand through her hair as she ran. She wished to be in his arms while she made it to the last step down. She took a deep breath and stopped her whiny voice in her head. Panic didn’t help anything. She had never needed a hero to save her.

As she opened the library, the wind behind her blew the door shut. With a small struggle, she made her way back into the warmth.

Her legs went weak. She fell to the ground near the fireplace and let her racing thoughts still. The labor in her every inhalation wasn’t normal for her. The light from the fire kept the room warm. The doors were closed and no one was here.

Her every heartbeat was loud in her ears.

At least she was back. She sat up and tucked her knees to her chest, as her heart stopped its frantic race.

After last night, Gabriel should have gone out of his way to find her.

Perhaps it was time to find another way out of here.

Upstairs, the storm, and the past few days had built up that panic. Her mother’s voice had been the best thing she heard in days. She’d be fine. Her mother needed her. If Erica stayed focused, the hospital and her mother would sink into her brain as a weight. Everything would work out. She needed to keep the faith. She’d find a way to keep her mother alive.

Gabriel had left her alone all day. She liked him, but he should have checked on her. Perhaps she’d check on him, in the spring, away from this creepy house.

Her skin was raw as her mind raced to judge. Her car was on the road. She’d made it here. She could make it back.

She stared out the window. No sign of a storm remained. It was just the snow now. She’d need supplies if she was to make it out of this house alone through the whiteness and back to civilization.

Her breasts ached.

Perhaps this wasn’t the best plan, but she had no other. She’d not stay in this haunted, desolate place. She’d not think of the sexy man somewhere inside.

Perhaps if the snow melted, this nightmare would end. Gabriel might be normal, if not for these walls. She’d look him up.

She owed him her thanks. She was alive, and he had warmed her. Everything had to work out. The storm wouldn’t get her.

And no one was here with her—no one except the man she wanted.

7

For the next few hours, Erica could not find Gabriel.

Dusk settled in the sky.

Soon it would be night. She’d leave in the morning. And she should say good-bye.

In her room, she took a nap.

Gabriel had to come back eventually.

Eventually though, she woke up. Her stomach gnawed with heaviness. She refused to let the emptiness inside her win. Everything always worked out in the end. She’d believed that all her life, and she hadn’t changed. Erica Mira fought for herself, and everyone else she loved. The way to win so far had always been to remain assertive.

Though her muscles were weak, she fought off the fear that nothing in her life would ever be the same. She always banked on truths. Gabriel was around, somewhere, and no one wanted to kill her. The quietness of this house was too quiet for her taste. These were two truths. She let out an audible exhale and shook out her crazy fears. As she stood on her feet, she stretched, then wrapped her robe around her. Halfway done, she stopped.

No more phone calls home. Not unless Gabriel hid a phone here. She shook her head and tied her robe. Could she make it back to her car to get her charger?

The chill that someone hated her here racked her body, and her legs went weak. She rubbed her neck and hoped warmth would end these thoughts.

She stared in the mirror and forced a smile. Fake it until she made it had always worked in the past. She threw on her shirt and decided to speak more with Gabriel, and not just for more amazing sex. He couldn’t hate her, not like that emotional sickness that hit her hard in this house.

With him, she felt safe.

Had she made up the hands on her back as an excuse to go and find him? Erica froze. She had never done anything like that in her life.

She closed her eyes and let herself relax. The man had strength of character and body, which was more than any of her ex-boyfriend’s. A friend once mentioned a man good in bed had had his penis dipped in fairy dust. In the tall tale of men, he’d know where to put it to make her scream.

Erica giggled. Gabriel must be one of those men women whispered about, because his coarse fingers sent her pulse racing. Ravishing men were too hard to find, and he fit the definition.

As she ran her hand through her hair, she felt more knots.

The man would prefer a clean woman, and she’d be more comfortable that way anyhow. Cold sweats shouldn’t rack her body. She’d had a fitful nap. She’d been half-frightened of shadows.

She dropped the blanket and her nightclothes on the ground. Then she pressed her elbows into her side and stared around. In the mirror, she glanced at someone all in white. Erica rubbed her arms and twirled on her feet toward the door. No one was here. She was alone. She shook off the eeriness. She must have made up the woman as a figment of her imagination. The nightmare here never seemed to end. She rolled her shoulders, then headed into the en suite bathroom.

A loud, long screech echoed in her ears. Her heart raced.

She coughed, then grabbed the side of the door frame. “Who’s here?”

Her gaze took in the entire room again, but she didn’t see anyone near.

Gabriel wouldn’t answer.

She was alone.

She stared out the window. The wind shook the glass windows a little, but that wasn’t the same sound. Perhaps she’d heard an animal in pain? She blinked and gazed farther out into the wilderness. She saw no wolves or animals, but nothing else made sense.

With no answer, she shook it off and closed the door to the bathroom. She’d leave with sweeter memories and cherish tonight. If she seduced him with food and company, her fears would be proved pointless. But she’d not befriend him, or anyone, if she didn’t like how she appeared.

Besides, she didn’t have anything else to do.

A good hot shower cured sore muscles, and she picked out an outfit that matched and would at least flatter her figure. This included her freshly cleaned jeans. For shirts and other clothing, the selection remained slim. The petite, dead wife’s clothing wouldn’t fit her hips or breasts well. Despite that, a genuine burst of happiness grew inside her. Dressed in a blue T-shirt and jeans, she peeked in the mirror and stared at herself again. Almost normal. Even her skin had color back in it now. Good. As she sucked on her lower lip, she left her room and headed toward the kitchen to make them dinner.

The moment she saw Gabriel, everything else would be lighter around her. She should have found him today already.

Why had he disappeared?

Company would keep her heart calm. His body had been warm. At the kitchen bay window, she stared out at a wall of white outside the glass panes. A chill raced throughout her body, and with that came those crazy thoughts she continued to have.

A gaze seemed to follow her, and Erica froze.

Night was approaching fast. At least it hadn’t snowed today. She let her hands fall to her sides and relax.

If she had to leave in the morning, a night without a storm helped her cause.

In the kitchen, she turned on the oven and opened the refrigerator to prepare tonight’s feast. She became steady and sure of herself again.

* * *

Later that evening, she searched the rooms and knocked on his bedroom door. Gabriel was not in the living areas. She hadn’t seen him all day, and that was strange. Last night might have meant more to her than him. She shivered and refused to think that thought.

In the library, she wondered what part of the house he’d crept away toward. She paced the halls and continued her search.

In the hall back to the kitchen, she tilted her head to the side and searched the place. A bang pierced the air. She stilled for the moment. Then she stared at the wall. Was there someone else?

As she pressed her ear to the wall, she heard the hum of a machine that cut something. At least, that was what she’d guess it was. The sound of mechanics might scare someone else, but it meant power, electricity, and Gabriel. What would be in those machines? Suddenly, she flinched. No one can cut snow.

Gabriel must be working with machines somewhere in the bigger house. He had smelled of wood, and his hands were black the other day.

A clink of something from the other side of the empty room ran through the air.

Her hands went clammy, and she had another chest pain. Her mind raced. Someone who wished to harm her stared at her, hidden away. She took a step away from one wall and braced like someone would come out of another.

With her hand to her collar, she shook off the thought. Walls don’t hold people.

No one could climb through that mountain of snow to get to the pair of them. Her impossible thoughts didn’t add up. She rubbed her arms to chase the cold away.

Then she headed back to the kitchen and prepped their dinner. Maybe he’d come later. As she chopped, her shoulders slumped.

“Hey, how are you?” she asked herself.

Then she answered how she wished Gabriel would answer. “Fine. You look nice today.”

She hugged herself for one minute, but at least the ache that someone would attack her dissipated.

The chop of her knife with the onion echoed in the air. Done. She stared into the darkened hall, and she had a longing so intense in her stomach that it became a real pain.

Gabriel never came to dinner, though she made him a plate. Loneliness sucked. She shook her head. Had she made a huge mistake last night?

If so, it was more reason to go.

Without a smile, she wrapped him his dinner, then cleaned up her plate. She wasn’t tired, so she went to the library to find a book. He couldn’t have gone far and at some point would have to surface.

Hopefully good food would soften his heart and bring him back toward her. Last night had been intense. Today had been the opposite, and she ought to confront him once more.

If everything was horrible, perhaps she could climb down the mountain herself and go somewhere else.

As she chose from the selection of books, she hoped to find the book most read. Her heartbeat jumped. Maybe if she read it, then Gabriel would talk to her.

Wuthering Heights caught her eye. She had seen the movie. Perhaps the book was good.

She picked her book and settled on the couch, then her body numbed. What if something happened to him? It had been a long time since she’d last seen him. What if when he left her bed, he left? The questions tore through her.

Tears formed in her eyes. She’d be stuck all alone.

* * *

A few hours later, she returned to her room. The snow didn’t glisten outside her window, but a howl rattled in the air. She ransacked his house and piled supplies in her bedroom. Tomorrow, she’d have to find out how to survive snow-covered mountains and trek her way to safety. He had never found her. She found too small boots, rackets to attach to the boots, though she’d add her dried sneakers into a backpack, and a ski suit. The tight-fitting black outfit would keep her warm. Tomorrow, she’d face nature. It would be better than being ignored. She zipped the bag she’d borrowed containing her supplies and rubbed her arms together.

She needed to talk. As she changed out of her clothes and into a nightgown again, she turned and expected to see someone staring at her.

Naked, she held her nightgown to her body, and called out, “Hello?”

Her door creaked open and revealed a half-dressed Gabriel. She made the sign of the cross, then smiled at him. She let out a sigh. “I thought something happened to you.”

His dark eyes held a deep, intense fire in them as he held himself together. “You made me dinner. It was good. Thank you.”

“I forgot about that.” Warmth near him sent her heart a thrill. She had so much to say, but instead of everything else, her mouth answered of its own accord. “You’re the only one I have to talk to here. I need to see you more.”

His entire body didn’t move from the door before he averted his gaze. “It’s not a good idea. I’m not a good choice for you.”

She lifted her chin and stared. “I decide that for myself, Gabriel. I’m an adult.”

His eyes lifted and stared hard at her. She noticed the hunger in his eyes. She stopped for a moment, then added, “I missed you today.”

“You shouldn’t.” His intensity was palpable and far more intense than food. “I’m not good for anyone, especially someone good like you.”

Good was nondescriptive. Little girls were good or bad. She held back that thought and asked the question she needed an answer to. “What happened to you?”

His eyes were almost black now. “There is much you don’t know, and I can’t tell you.”

She lifted her chin. “I need a reason.”

He shook his head. “It’s better for us both if you accept that I’m not someone you can bring home or fix.”

Yes, he was. Something inside her refused to believe and leave things as they were. He had saved her, and he deserved to leave this house too. Whatever happened to him was in the past, and if he opened up, they could both have something deeper and more meaningful in their futures. She licked her lips. “Wherever you do during the day, I want to go with you.”

He shook his head again. “You’re safe here.”

In a bold move, she dropped her nightgown and inhaled a deep breath. His jaw dropped, and he stared at her. If she had to go, then she needed one more night of heaven. “I want you with me.”

“You’d tempt a saint.” His eyes grew warmer. She lifted one shoulder. He stared at her and walked across the floor. Every footstep made a small noise in the wood. Close now, he claimed her lips in a kiss.

She wrapped her hands around him and refused to let him go. The rough skin of his hands warmed her silky arms. His hands went around her back, and her entire body came alive.

The electric storm he brought out in her had to be enough to keep her safe. He picked her up and laid her on the bed without another word.

This was it.

Tomorrow, she’d leave.

8

Erica checked her bags one more time before she zipped up her ski jacket. She rubbed her chin. The rackets she found would help her keep the snow out of her boots.

Gabriel had once again disappeared all day. She poked her tongue in her cheek. She had no time to wait for him. She picked up her bag and then decided to stop in the library. There had to be paper in the desk. She’d leave him a note. The last two nights had shown her that sex could be enjoyable. He was good at it, and if he weren’t so closed off, she’d be interested. More than interested, truth be told. Erica rolled her shoulders. She never chased men who were not interested in her, and she’d not continue down this path with Gabriel.

The room grew quiet and no noise echoed.

Something about Gabriel’s pained expression tore at her resolve. Erica closed her eyes and remembered his kiss. Her lips tingled again just from the thought. She had flutters in her stomach. She opened her eyes, and with all the layers of clothes she felt more like she waddled out the door instead of walked.

Two feet into the hall, she started to sweat. The clothes were hot. She unzipped her jacket, but the ski pants stifled her. She’d have to be fast with that note. She continued her pace, stopped in his kitchen, and packed a few items to eat outside. Fresh apples, bananas, and granola bars would get her through. She placed her backpack on the table, took the items, then decided she’d leave her address in the note as well. She’d pay him back every dime and every item that she took. Constant work meant she wasn’t broke.

Once done, she picked her bag up again and headed toward the library. Her vision clouded for a moment. Then she gazed directly at the desk and stilled. She had never written a good-bye letter. She had avoided good-bye e-mails as well. With her shoulders back, she brushed past her self-doubts. She dropped the bag on the sofa and continued toward the desk. Soon enough she sat down, found paper, and wrote.

Gabriel,

She tapped the pen to her mouth. She couldn’t decide what to say. Her thoughts were frozen. She closed her eyes, took a moment to reflect, opened her eyes, and then nodded.

Finding your house saved my life. I owe you, and not just for the supplies. You are an amazing person.

She sucked her bottom lip in her mouth. Perhaps it was too much. She needed to stop. If she sat here, tore up the sheet, and started again, she’d lose her nerve. She gazed at the white walls. No, she’d not stay. Instead she finished with good-bye, call me, and my address is.

She threw the paper on the desk and sat up. She better not pour her heart out on a page. Erica Mira never needed anyone to complete her. She had always been fine on her own, and she’d not wish to be different.

Gabriel had told her to stay away, and now, she would.

Done. She stood up and went to pick up her bag. Halfway to the couch, she heard a muffled scream. Erica’s head rocked back and forth. She clenched her jaw. The sound had been so close. She gulped and realized the creepy house might have ghosts or something strange inside it. None of that mattered, because she was leaving.

She took the last few steps, retrieved her bag, and headed out of the warm apartment into the frigid portion of the house. Her skin chilled, and she zipped up her jacket and fixed the scarf around her neck.

Her car was a few miles downhill. It had to be easier to get down. The walk up had been hard. The only hills in Florida were trash heaps, and everyone avoided those.

She opened the front door. The snow was piled as high as her the top of the door. She took a deep breath, then decided to step up. Her steps were heavy. Snow fell inside the lobby, but she pressed herself farther up. She was needed elsewhere, and Gabriel preferred his own company to hers.

On the third try, it felt like small hands helped push her outside. Erica flew into the air and leaped out into the snow. What was that? Had she imagined a ghost’s help?

Her entire body shook, and she had tingles in her chest. The wind pushed her backward, and the bitterness of the wind made the cold unbearable. All she had in her favor was a bright sun and its reflection on the whiteness. She blinked to try to feel her face, but her eyes stung. Her fingers were ice cold. Perhaps this had been a mistake.

She turned around to go back to the door, but the wind slammed it shut.

Clearly the ghosts in that house wanted her to go. She swallowed. Her stomach roiled. She’d miss Gabriel’s arms around her.

Perhaps that was a sign that she wasn’t wanted there, and that she could make her way back to her car and to civilization. She turned away and headed toward the wilderness and the mountain trail. She walked with her hands on her stomach.

Every step took effort. She gazed everywhere, like something else stalked her as its prey. She had a sour taste in her mouth.

The howl in the distance was definitely an animal. She froze and hoped the animal and she both had the same “steer clear” intentions. The goose bumps on her arms had to be from the cold. She wished time would speed up, but she held herself together and pressed on.

Every step in the snow took even more tremendous effort. Less than half an hour into her trek, the chalet was still the biggest thing in sight, and her legs tingled. She was dizzy and her arms were shaky. She pressed her lips together and decided this had been a mistake.

Her ears buzzed with a motor, but she didn’t see anything. Her imagination had Gabriel following her to get her out of this bitter wind.

In Gabriel’s house he had a warm fire that invited her to sit. If he wasn’t interested in her, then he had plenty of books to entertain her until the storm broke.

The noises of the house could be lots of secret passageways, but if the animals couldn’t get to her, then she was fine.

A howl echoed in the air.

Out here, the animals might see her as dinner. She rocked on her feet.

The clouds darkened overhead, and the chill in the air grew. She turned around and stared at the house’s multiple stories. It was time to go back. She was big enough to admit she’d been wrong.

She turned around, but then she froze. Something growled behind her, and whatever animal it was, its snarl grew louder. Her muscles tensed and understood the threat.

Was it a wolf?

She whimpered. Then she licked her lips and decided to get canned food out of her bag. Would a wild animal accept the food? Panic raced through her, and she turned back around.

The yellow eyes in a white wolf stared back at her. Her hands jammed into her armpits. She stifled a scream, but the animal barked and jumped closer to her.

Her adrenaline spiked, and her stomach was rock hard. She took a step back and waved her arms at it. “I’m going. I won’t hurt you.”

The wolf growled, followed, and then pounced.

She yelled as the animal tore through her clothes. She fell backward, and the beast tried to bite her. Her feeble hands fought back, and she twisted to get away from it. The rough of its fur fueled her. She pushed at its neck and yelled, “Get off. This is not going to happen.”

“Erica.”

Gabriel’s voice echoed in her ears. Her heart raced and almost exploded in her chest. She clutched her hands to strike harder, but then something whizzed past her. She jumped in that instant, and then the animal cried.

“Don’t move,” he called out, and then her heartbeat became the only thing she could hear. She lost her ability to speak.

She gazed at the wolf, which had a huge dart in its neck.

Her shoulders were tight. More yellow eyes of animals came out from the woods. She stared at the certain danger and tried to breathe. She wanted to run toward Gabriel and hide. The wolf that just attacked her now slumped to its side. Gabriel must have tranquilized it.

She stood. The crisp smell of the air was animals and pine. Her nose was almost frozen off her face. She tried to stay still and not engage the animals, but then she jerked the wrong way and lost her balance.

She fell backward into the snow and blinked. The wolf that attacked her snarled as it laid in the snow and his legs tried to run though they weren’t pointed to the ground. She pressed her elbows to her side, but then stopped. On its back, the wolf was less scary.

In the distance, its friends chose this moment to charge toward. “What do we do?”

Gabriel revved up the engine to his snowmobile and reached out for her. “Give me your hand.”

At least he could fly. She reached behind her. Her eyes widened. Gabriel picked her up and pressed her into his back. She grabbed her backpack and tugged it on tight. His warmth near the back of her neck calmed her despite her chest, which hitched. Her entire body was stiff but she complied with his every hand move.

Then he pressed on the gas, and they flew past the wolves. She couldn’t see anything, but the wolves chased them. She yelped and gripped his chest as tightly as she could.

Gabriel sped up, even faster. The wind broke like icicles on her face. She swallowed. Did all snowmobiles go this fast? She blinked and tried to understand. Her head was light at the moment.

The blades of the machine flew through the powdered snow, and the mountain of white that grew from their race to the house hypnotized her. Gabriel’s strong, muscular arms clutched both some gear that controlled their every glide forward, and her. She was disoriented, but almost euphoric.

The scurry of animals sounded like they chased them, but Gabriel stopped the machine suddenly and turned them both around. She took a harder stare at his buttocks. What would he do now? Ice ran through her spine. The wolf had been stronger than her. Her skin tingled.

Without warning, he straightened her back on his shoulder and held something above her. She closed her eyes, and thought it was the gun. She chewed on her lip. She held still until the air popped with activity. A cartridge that read “tranquilizer” dropped next to his snowmobile.

Then he glided forward again, and she couldn’t speak. She leaned closer to him. They flew across the snow.

Then he stopped, and the wind wasn’t at her back. He helped her off the machine to stand, and she rubbed her neck. She hadn’t seen this part of the house.

She wobbled on her feet, and her head was light. He dragged the heavy machine and hooked it to a rope to bring it inside. She should help him, but her head was floating off her body. She took a step back to steady herself.

He stood up, pushed a door open, shoved her inside the darkness, and closed the door in her face. “What were you doing?”

Her lips parted. “Leaving. It was a bad idea.”

All light was gone. She opened her mouth to say something, but then he shoved himself inside with her. The bang in her ears was from his skis, which he dropped somewhere. She tried to catch her breath, but he knelt down and untied her shoes. “Why would you risk your life like that?”

She pressed her hand to her chest. Her mind cleared, and she told him, “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“You were going to get killed.” He grunted and tugged her shoe off. Her foot was padded from socks she found, but her skin reacted to him like he’d brushed against her. “We’re trapped here, Erica. If I hadn’t found you in that second, you’d be dead. You’re going to have to be patient until the snow melts.”

The image of the yellow eyes would haunt her for years. Her hand covered her mouth. Patience wasn’t a virtue she had, but she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t go and get yourself killed.” He shook his head. “I don’t want more trouble.”

“What trouble?” She helped kick her second shoe off. He stood up, took her hand, and guided her down the hall. A wide smile grew on her face.

He didn’t answer.

She followed, but asked him again, “What sort of trouble?”

He shook his head. How she saw that in the darkness made no sense, but he picked up their pace. “Women get strange up here. I wonder if it’s the thinner air.”

“I’m not like your wife.” The hallway became clear, and the smell of freshly cut wood filled her nostrils. Then she sneezed.

“No, you are not, but we’re not discussing her.” He held her hand in his grip and led her through another hall. Her head spun with how many ways they had turned, but then they were in the lobby. It was cold, and the picture of the blonde woman stared back at her. The blue eyes stared hard, and she swore they watched her every move. “This house makes me crazy.”

Erica stayed still, but Gabriel opened the library door and dragged her back into the warmth. “I don’t know which part of this house is the source, but I will find it.”

The crackle of the fire caught her stare, and she unzipped her jacket. She was back. “You will?”

He kept his lips sealed. If Gabriel refused to talk to her the entire time she was here, she’d have to find out what he meant. He was hiding something.

He took her backpack and headed out of the room.

He’d be back. Their conversation wasn’t over.

She undressed down to one layer of clothing and crawled to the rug next to the fireplace.

Heat filled her face, and for the first time all day, she breathed.

Once again, he’d saved her.

9

“Erica, get undressed. I’ll get you hot chocolate.” Gabriel’s command reverberated throughout her body, though she was already half-finished undressing.

She took off her hat and ran her hand through her matted hair. Her nose was runny and probably bright red. She was in no mood for sex at the moment. The best she could offer was to talk. Her cheeks alone felt like icicles as she brushed her static hair back behind her head. “I’ll take that hot chocolate, but I need to catch my breath.”

His voice echoed through the rooms. “I need to clean your shoulder with alcohol, so you don’t get an infection.”

Her shoulder? She glanced to her left and saw how her jacket and ski outfit were torn and she had deep scratches. The sting grew. She lowered her head. How had she missed that? Her hands clenched, and she yelled out, “Do wolves have rabies?”

He came back in the room with a hot chocolate, a cloth, bandages, and rubbing alcohol. He leaned against the door and shook his head. “Do I have to strip you again?”

“No. Do they have rabies?” She shook her head and tried to stand up a bit. Her knees were weak.

“They might, but they might not. I can give you a shot.”

The jacket slipped off without trouble, and her shoulder heated. She tried to lift her fleece, but her shoulder was hot and stiff. Her chest hitched. “Ouch. Are you a doctor?”

He walked over and stood in front of her. He stared at the redness of her shoulder and grimaced. Then he lined up everything on the table beside her. “Stand up for me, and no, I’m not a doctor. I keep supplies in case I get stuck for the winter.”

She swallowed. He intended to help her, again. She pressed a fist to her lips. She owed him too much already. “I can do this.”

He stood with his hands at his sides. “It will be faster and easier if I help. You’re bleeding on the furniture.”

She blinked, and her cheeks were wet. Then she nodded. “Okay, Captain. Do this fast and get it done. Are you sure the shot is safe?”

“You’re a trooper.” His hands went to her waist and to the fleece. “What will sting is the alcohol.”

She lifted her hands to help him, but the second the fleece tugged at her raw skin, she yelped. Then she shook her head and her chin trembled. “Will I be okay if you give that shot?”

“One more time, Erica. You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met and you will be fine.” With his hands at her waist, she twisted a bit and closed her eyes. His fingers wrapped around her sweater. Even through her T-shirt, the brush of his palms made every part of her aware of his every move. Then he lifted. She tried to help and lift her hand, but her shoulder burned.

He kissed her forehead and told her, “This last one will be easier. Your shirt is already pretty ripped.”

She choked out her words. “You . . . said . . . the . . . last . . . one was the last.”

“We need to clean the wound before everything settles. Right now your skin is half-frozen, but if we let it thaw out there will be even more pain and possible infection.”

She nodded, and again, he wrapped his hands around her. This time her skin grew goose bumps, like she hoped he’d kiss her everywhere. Her face heated as he lifted. She was so disoriented. She was sure it wasn’t because of her shoulder. He lifted her shirt, and at the sight of her shoulder, his smile faltered. She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see him give her a shot.

She felt a prick, but she stayed still. Her lungs constricted. “It burns a bit.”

“You’re okay. Open your eyes, Erica. We’re done now.” She followed his directions, but his hands were already on to the next task. He shook the alcohol bottle and poured some onto a towel.

“I thought we were done.” She held her breath.

“I cleaned your arm to give you the shot. Now I need to clean the whole wound, so you don’t get other infections.”

He screwed the cap on the bottle, and she shook her head. Had time stopped? “Can’t we skip that part? Or let me do it.”

“I want to make sure you get everything.” He stared at her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

She sucked in her lower lip a little deeper for a moment, and then realized her shoulder was pretty red. Her body collapsed inward. In the mirror, she saw a few spots in her shoulder where the animal’s teeth must have punctured her skin. She pushed her bra strap to the side. Her throat was painful and tight now. The snap in the band stung her sore skin. She chewed on her lip to stop a cry, and stared at the rubbing alcohol. Soon, the pain lessened, and she could think. Should she wash herself? She gulped.

Then he walked back in with a bandage and a washcloth. She blinked at him. The intensity in his eyes held something else, something new. Empathy. Her face flushed a bit, but she knew her grimace remained. “Thank you, Gabriel.”

“For what?” He took a seat opposite her and placed everything down except the washcloth.

He opened it and she stared at his large knuckles. He worked with his hands, and her skin burned a bit. He had worked her better than anyone else ever had. Her mouth fell open for a moment, but then he washed her shoulder.

She let out a long sigh, but the sting lessened the more he cleaned. Her skin was raw and sensitive as he removed the cloth. “There now. You can hold on to me to fight the sting.”

He picked up the rubbing alcohol and doused the cloth. She nodded. Then she closed her eyes to not see. A few seconds later, her shoulder burned from the cloth. She screamed under her breath a bit and grabbed hold of his thigh. Her eyes watered but she refused to look.

“You can open your eyes. I’m done.” His voice was gentle and sweet. She followed directions and stared into his smoldering eyes. Her heart beat a little off kilter in that second. “I just have to bandage you, but you should be fine.”

She nodded, but her voice sounded shrill to her ears. “Are you sure the rabies shot will work?”

He squeezed her hand. “Relax, Erica. I’m more worried about other infections. Are you allergic to penicillin?”

“No.” Her shoulders were less tense. “Do you have some?”

“Yeah. I want you to take a few pills, just to be safe.” He rubbed her hand. “Everything will be fine. Don’t try to run away and kill yourself.”

Her eyes were a bit misty, but she’d not cry. “Don’t disappear all day and leave me alone. Then I won’t be so frightened.”

“I’ll come and check on you more often.”

She sniffled. “Promise?”

“Yeah, don’t be scared. I’ll figure this place out.” He sat back in his chair and stared at the door, not her. “There are things I need to do, and you can’t be with me.”

“Why?” Her eyes were not misty anymore. “I can help.”

“There are things that, if you knew, would scare you even more than the animals outside.” He stared back into her eyes again, and she saw the glimmer of hopelessness. “You’re beautiful and untouched.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You’ve touched me, more than once.”

His gaze turned upward a bit, and he tugged at his collar. “I meant pure and sweet. What happened here is why I’m still here, and why you can’t help me.”

“What happened?” She held on to his massive hand with both of her smaller ones. “Nothing you say will scare me more than this house.”

He stood up and took his hand back. “I can’t talk about it. You’re safe if you stay in the apartment. Don’t go looking for my troubles.”

He stepped back. She stood up to chase him, but she saw how haunted he was. She gulped. He’d saved her life. She’d figure this out and help him too. She kept quiet, but her mind was made up. If she couldn’t leave, then she’d help him.

Gabriel turned toward the kitchen and disappeared into the shadows. The snow outside the window grew again, but she refused to let anything else get to her.

He’d not stay gone forever. Determined to stay up, she drank her hot chocolate slowly. Then she lost track of time on that couch.

Footsteps echoed in the hall, and she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. The heavy steps became louder, and for a second goose bumps grew on her arm. The shadow of a person grew larger, and she forced her neck to hold her head straight. “Hello?”

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Gabriel leaned against the door. His hands were wet, like he’d just washed them.

She gulped, then nodded. “I couldn’t go to sleep after you stormed out on me.”

“I’m exhausted.” He took a step closer to her. “You had to be wiped after what happened to you.”

He had tried to change the topic. She wouldn’t get answers from him at the moment. Finally, she sagged her shoulders and said, “I don’t want to go to sleep by myself.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” His eyes widened. “I thought after you left that I should steer clear of you.”

“No.” He stepped back. She bit her lip. “I mean, wait. I just need to know you’re here, with me. We don’t have to do anything.”

He came forward a bit again. “But you left. I thought you left because of me.”

“I don’t know who I am with you, but you don’t scare me.” If she were here with him for a while, then later, she’d enjoy all of him. She yawned and inhaled his woodsy scent. Then she licked her lip. “Tonight, can you just stay with me in case I need something? I won’t be too much trouble.”

He reached out for her hands and massaged her palms. “You’re no trouble at all.”

He took a step backward, and she followed him. The day ended the opposite of how she’d planned, but for right now, she’d take what was offered. Gabriel was captivating, and if she woke up next to him, then she’d feel safe.

His warmth was the opposite of how this house freaked her out.

With him, there were no noises.

10

The sun on her face woke her up. Erica blinked, turned away from the window, and tilted her head. What time had he left her bed? The pillow he rested on kept only a slight warmth, but she could smell the woody scent he embedded in the sheets. Perhaps he’d been gone an hour? Even now, after he had been sweet and saved her life, he disappeared.

The buzz of machinery played in the walls.

Was he the ghost? Erica closed her eyes and listened to the noise. Her question made no sense. But why did she hear machinery in the walls? Her mind spun. Was Gabriel working on something? Or was that something else? She sat up and told herself to calm down and think straight.

The other day in the kitchen, his hands were dirty. Perhaps it was dirt and wood of a hard day’s work that had scared her. He told her he would rip the house apart to find the secrets. She smiled and shook her head. Then she shut her eyes. Of course. She’d been scared over nothing.

She’d tell him about the diary and the secret room.

Her stupid fear was why she avoided haunted houses and scary movies. Next time, she’d ask Gabriel for more conversation. She’d tell him what she found. Yesterday proved one thing: she couldn’t leave. But she refused to spend every day here with her hair raised on her neck. She already jumped at every noise in the house. Last night, she’d needed to listen to his steady heartbeat. Near him, her body relaxed. In life, Erica never ran around scared, and yesterday didn’t sit well in her stomach.

To stop, she threw her hands up in the air and tried to release her frustrated energy. Her shoulder burned, and she rubbed it to stop the pain. Even this didn’t help, and her frustration combined with the hurt.

In a hurry, she stormed out of her room fast, to see if Gabriel was still in the apartment. She should go and find wherever it was that he was working on the house.

Silence clung to the air. Again she approached his room, and she heard more of the same. Nothing.

The noise in the wall had to be him at work somewhere.

Eventually she turned around and rolled her eyes. He had disappeared again. She should have expected it. And what did he mean when he said she was safe here?

They were alone in the chateau, right?

Goose bumps grew on her arms. Hands had helped push her out the door the other day, and they were too small to be Gabriel’s. Was that someone else? Or was there a ghost?

A yawn escaped her lips. She tapped her fingers on her wrist, then decided to try to get more sleep, not that she was tired. In a rush, she slammed her bedroom door shut. Then she marched back into bed and tugged the covers over her head to stop her headache. Her lack of clarity would go away the second her head straightened out.

This hadn’t worked for her, and until she’d been here, she’d never been lazy.

Something else had happened in this house.

The tightness in her chest didn’t go away, and she sat back up. She blew air out of her mouth and renamed the emotion frustration. With a sigh, she shook her head.

Her mother needed Erica to be the strong, collected one. But now she was lost. And the one other person, Gabriel, had left.

She was mad at herself. Why had she not scheduled their next talk? Loneliness sucked, and she was definitely lonely here. How had her sister disappeared years ago?

Erica gazed at the white snow in the window. She was slightly scared that snow would never melt. Sure, she knew irrational thoughts all swirled in her head, but it stayed in the center of her thoughts.

With dramatic flair, she sat up in her bed. She scrubbed her hand over her head and remembered the diary. Perhaps in his wife’s diary, there was a clue to whatever he wouldn’t tell her. She didn’t know much about Gabriel. She’d like more information on the man who made her heart beat faster. At the very least, his dead wife would leave a few clues about his personality and what he liked. She reached under the bed to fish out the book from where she tossed it.

A squeak cried in the air, and it wasn’t the bed.

What was that? She flinched, then stared immediately at the mirror. The squeak seemed to come from behind it, but a moment later nothing stirred. The white noise of the machines was still in the distance. Finally, she pulled out the diary and opened to the first page.

Marriage is not all it’s cracked up to be when married to a Marine. It means long bouts of no sex.

Erica shrugged and assumed the wife to be a fickle woman. When he was home, he’d have bottled-up energy like she’d experienced, and the memories of his touch made her forget every other boyfriend she’d ever had.

Her smile grew wider. She’d settle for a few years with no sex and never complain if the reward was Gabriel. She’d already experienced the wait with her long bout of celibacy, until she met Gabriel. Perhaps she’d spent too much time in hospitals over the past few years. But Gabriel excited her the minute her eyes glanced at him. All he had to do was walk toward her and her body temperature soared.

With a laugh, Erica realized that most men, in her opinion, were not memorable enough to think about after the big act happened.

Gabriel was amazing.

She continued reading.

Gabriel must never know. At least I had some relief. His brother Raphael and I continued our affair under his nose. Gabriel is so busy, he never noticed what I did or who I did. This has been so easy. The wall in the library gave way as he pushed me up against it. That moment was both erotic and scary. With Raphael still inside me, we uncovered one of my husband’s many secrets. The old hotel had secrets he never knew about, and I could use that against him, like keeping the affair an intimate moment that Gabriel would never find. No man controls me. I dictate my life. My marriage will end on my terms, and no one else’s. Gabriel is not allowed to get a divorce.

With a gasp, Erica brought her knees up to her chest and covered her mouth. Gabriel’s wife had an affair with his brother? What secrets did she think Gabriel had? He seemed a decent man. Poor Gabriel must have eventually found out about this betrayal. Those were lines that should not be crossed.

She stared at the door for a second. If the diary was here, then could the secret room be in this place, or had they lived somewhere else? If it was here, were there more? If she found the room, would she discover what pained Gabriel?

No. Not yet. She’d finish. So she flipped the page and read the rest of this entry.

I marked the wall with my nail polish and pushed a bookshelf to the side with Raphael’s help. The man has a glorious body, all muscular, and his shoulders were made for a football player. To be truthful, Gabriel’s were too hard from the Marines. I married him for his money and good looks, knowing he’d be perfect because he’s never home. The Marines were supposed to kill him, not send him home. Raphael, though, is becoming the man I love in bed. It took me a while to figure out the right cocktail to get him there. His guilt makes this whole thing more enjoyable. He has no choice but to love me. Everyone should love me. We now have the perfect place to be alone, and I’m so happy. The entire chateau might have secret compartments, but this one is all we need. Growing up, my parents had a secret bunker built into their home too. I always hid everything in my life there and made sure no one caught on. Like Gabriel, my parents tried to tell me to live my life with a moral code. Who did they think they were? Anyhow, my life is what matters now. Raphael is the best lover. Gabriel has become immune to my charms, and he’s lost his usefulness. Getting Raphael, now that was fun, and every time he protested, but he soon became my toy to do with as I please. I had to use unusual means to get him to cooperate in bed. Gabriel must have spoken to him about morality. Raphael was a close call the last time, but I had my way. I have to work more on him, and ensure he agrees we’re not wrong to be together. I decide my life. Besides, Gabriel is always working and never done. He’s helping his brother keep a satisfied wife.

Erica’s cheeks burned. Her mouth went dry, and she stared at the wife’s name. Tiffany. If they had met, Erica would have told her off. But then, Erica worked hard to keep her family together, not break other families apart. Women like Tiffany worked with a whole other set of rules. Her mother always spoke about the golden rule of ‘do onto others what you would have them do onto you’ in life, and Erica could never understand how any woman would be so heartless. Her toes curled while she almost choked on the fact that someone would intentionally hurt Gabriel.

Poor Gabriel. Secrets had driven him into seclusion. She wasn’t wrong to defend him. One man for one woman was what she believed, and Gabriel would be enough for her. A laugh escaped her lips. Scared out of her wits, Erica’s solace came from that man’s warmth.

She stared at the diary in her hands. If she read more now, the sour taste in her mouth would grow.

So she shoved the diary in between her mattress and box spring. She had more questions, but couldn’t read any more.

Her skin crawled. She stared in the mirror. Then she closed her eyes and relaxed. Gabriel’s hands on her back replayed in her mind, and her skin tingled. Where did he spend his days out of the apartment? His hands were callused and hard. Hard labor? What did he do all day? She pressed her ear to the wall. The sound of that machine buzzed.

A thud echoed louder, but Erica shook her head. That must be the sound of the house.

Huh, that connection made sense. He worked with his hands, and the chateau needed repairs. Gabriel had his project. If she spent her days alone, she’d need one too.

With a shrug, she stood. If the Marines and war hadn’t done a number on the guy, his wife who cheated on him had. As she tilted her head, she rolled her shoulders.

The secret room roared back into her thoughts. The answers might lie in the library. She smiled for the first time all day. She had a goal. If she freed him from his past, perhaps they would have a future. The snow had to melt eventually.

No more regrets. The man gave everything physically. And at least he didn’t pine for that dead wife. No man she ever met dreamed of a so-called perfect love that wasn’t returned. He’d been a prize, so Erica just had to show him that she was not the same as his vain first choice. Trust mattered.

Family always came first. The second she could leave, she’d run back to her mother’s side. Hopefully, she’d still be alive, and, who knew, perhaps she’d introduce Gabriel.

A lump formed in her throat. Erica did not let her stupid fears get the better of her. A giggle escaped her mouth.

Gabriel needed her right now.

And for once she’d not date a man who depended on her for everything he had in life. That would be a welcome change. The man took care of himself and would obviously keep a secret to the grave.

She covered her mouth to stop her smile. Then she found her shoes. What did Gabriel want in life that he spent all hours of the day working on it? A hum returned to her every move as she brushed her hair. She respected hard work. No personal achievement in life came without struggle, except for those people she read about. Erica respected only those with brains and the power to put thoughts into action.

Gabriel’s forthrightness when it came to sex might be a mini version of what he was like at work. If so, she’d like him even more.

The diary entry flashed in her mind. It sounded like Tiffany manipulated whoever Raphael was too. Then Erica thought about her sister’s hug the day she’d left years ago, but Erica’s fingers ached to hold her younger sister again too. Family was family. And his brother and he needed to be brought back together. Tiffany was dead.

In the meantime, Erica had a mystery to solve. Was this house haunted? Erica refused to believe that. Supernatural stuff wasn’t normal. But something happened in the walls. More important were the secret chambers, and this room where Tiffany had betrayed Gabriel.

No bang greeted her ears, but the buzz of machines echoed in the far distance.

She mustn’t overdramatize the house noises.

She reached for the doorknob, twisted it, and opened the door, but she hesitated for a moment. She squared her shoulders and closed the door behind her. Tiffany didn’t deserve Gabriel.

A huge shadow in the shape of a giant grew on the wall. The shadow followed her everywhere. Erica stared at every wall, and within the second the shadow grew beside her. Footsteps echoed lightly, but it might be her own. Erica held her breath until she made it to the library.

Nothing moved here. Erica inspected the walls. Tiffany had marked the wall somewhere. No colored spots were obvious wherever she gazed. Erica exhaled, then walked toward a heavy oak bookcase. If she were devious, then she’d hide the secret location. Was there nail polish on any walls behind bookcases in the library?

Erica ran her hand through her hair. From a glance, nothing obvious stuck out, but there were a lot of books and bookshelves.

Her shoulder burned still, but the pain had dulled.

She stared at a copy of Jane Eyre. She could read that one too.

Gabriel was a reader. His wife would have known that. If her secret room was here, Tiffany would have seen any affair here as an extra twist of the proverbial knife to his heart. Did Gabriel know his wife cheated on him with his brother? That was something that shouldn’t keep a hold on his heart. Not that it should matter, except she knew how hard it had been when her sister disappeared. Part of her own small family had gone, and Erica had wished to find Kimberly.

Gabriel should find his brother and live in the real world with his family. Unless this Raphael was evil like Tiffany, but Erica’s heart refused to accept that.

Gabriel needed to speak up, and she had this mystery to solve until he came back.

All in all, because she was snowed in, it didn’t mean she had to stay bored. She’d find the secrets that lay in the walls.

11

In the kitchen, Erica’s nose twitched. She sniffed and stopped at the oven. The light was on, and something was cooking. She glanced around, but she didn’t see Gabriel. Curious, she opened the oven to peek inside. She inhaled, closed her eyes, and recognized the aroma. Chicken Piccata. Her mouth watered as she took the pan out.

She stirred the sauce and then tasted it. Not bad. No one had tried to cook for her in years, not even her mother. Erica licked the spoon. Gabriel cooked pretty well. She pressed her lips together to taste the flavors of every morsel. Then she decided it needed more cream, and a hint of ginger would make the flavor more delish. Most people were afraid of the calories, but if good food fell off the fork for tenderness, the price was always worth the risk.

And exercise cured a lot. She stayed fit.

The wind howled outside the window again. In Miami, the only time wind scared her was in a bad hurricane, and this wasn’t anything near that caliber. She added the spice to the sauce and stirred.

Her skin had goose bumps and a chill ran down her back. She shook off the sense someone stared at her, and finished mixing the cream into the dish. Then she adjusted the timer and placed it back in the oven. Finished, she stared at the wall for a second and swore she saw a shadow. “Who is here?”

No answer. Wolves didn’t speak English. The shadow of a person’s face then grew softer, like it floated in the air. Erica rolled her shoulder to feel the soreness.

She shook her head. Today she’d search the house. Finished with dinner, she headed back to the library and stared at the outer door to the lobby.

Nail polish left a tiny line. First, she cleaned up the books she’d left near the couch and piled up everything. Her arms still had goose bumps. Outside, the wolves would be hungry. Erica swallowed, and her muscles relaxed. The gray clouds outside would eventually dissipate. The bright light of day would help her see more.

Work cured her of fears. At least her mess was gone, though she didn’t glimpse any nail polish. This wall seemed the only one with a built-in bookcase. The others were all old-fashioned wood furniture.

She sighed. The bookcases would be heavy to move. She fixed the books back on their shelves. Her body became hot from the work. She rubbed the back of her head and headed out into the drafty lobby. A few minutes in the bitter cold would defrost her internal oven.

The lobby was cold, and could hold secrets too. The wind rushed through the room, and a chill greeted her. She blinked. The dust in here would be a nightmare to clean. A few days ago this room had been her salvation. The elegant woman with her clear blue eyes scowled in her picture, and the expression matched her diary. Erica twisted to stare at anything else. A shadow slipped past her vision. Her gaze followed the movement, but nothing was there. She chewed on her lip. She’d never believed in ghosts. So why did she still flinch?

She looked toward the stairwell. There were more than two doors on the second floor, from what she could recollect and she’d ventured to the second door during her first look around. Her phone was useless now, but perhaps she could see some sign of a cell tower of sorts. If she saw human ingenuity outside the desolation, Erica told herself she’d make it through this winter.

Curious, she pressed her lips together and zipped up her sweatshirt. She’d be fast. Gabriel wouldn’t come to dinner for another hour, at least. This time, in her dry sneakers, she took to the stairs and climbed up the creaky steps.

Every step whispered she shouldn’t, but that was Erica’s imagination. The hall had little light except the huge window at the end. To get to the window, Erica needed to see. She pushed the nearest door open. Inside that room, she propped a chair out from a desk to hold it open. Light filtered into the hall. She tried again. One out of three doors weren’t locked, and opened. She kept the same procedure to add more light all the way till the end of the hall. If she could see, then she wouldn’t be scared. At last, she dragged the last chair in place and smiled to herself.

Next time, if she came back up, she’d be fine. Light usually solved issues.

At the last door, she stepped around the chair. She carefully slipped past it to the hall. She needed to go to look out the upper-floor window before night fell.

As she peered down the mountain, she couldn’t even imagine where her rental car was or how far she had climbed the other day. Everything on the ground was white, and a gray sky with dark clouds dropped another dusting of snow.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

She covered her head with her hands and twisted around fast to watch all the doors slam in the hallway. She screeched. The doors made a huge banging noise and left her dark and deserted.

She released her hands and hugged her sides. Panic never helped. She inhaled and took one more glance at the gray sky of the coming storm. Then she kept her head and wits about her and headed back downstairs.

Something inside her screamed run. She swallowed and rushed down the black hallway, her heels squeaking on the wood. Erica stopped. She stared at her sneakers. That clack of heels wasn’t her. She scratched her head and stared at the wall again. Was someone there? She decided to push against the wall, but it was solid and steady. Her shoulder throbbed, and Erica decided it was just a wall. Finally, she made it back to the stairs that led to the lobby. Where was Gabriel? The sun still gave off enough light to show her the way down. At the bottom step, she crossed her arms to hug herself.

The place was frigid.

Again, she heard nothing, and no shadows played in the corners of her eyes. Even though she thought she was calm, her footsteps pounded the ground. She kept her mind on the word safe. Then she flung open the library door and, with a quick breath of air, slammed the door behind her. The apartment held such warmth from the crackle of the fireplace. Her skin grew goose bumps.

In a daze, she stared at the fire, and her heartbeat normalized from the fast thump. She needed to find Gabriel.

She heard Gabriel clear his throat behind her. He walked toward her.

He was here. She stared up and met his dark, sexy gaze.

He motioned with his hands and said, “There you are, Erica. Dinner is ready.”

Where had he been today? No. Gabriel wouldn’t hide in the walls or clack in heels. His footsteps calmed her. She shook off the thought and licked her lips. She’d been foolish before. Slowly, she raised her eyes and offered him a small, slow smile. “I’m impressed. Are you eating with me?”

He winked at her. “Unless you want me to leave.”

“No.” She ran over to him to tug on his arm. She inhaled his spice, and she couldn’t help the smile that quickly formed on her lips. “Stay. I’m happy. You’re my only company, and my savior. The sky is a mess out there.”

“Three storms in a row is highly unusual.” He nodded and then ran his hands down her arms. “You’re freezing again.”

She clenched him in a tight hug, and he hugged her back. Good. She needed him right now. His hard body warmed her up. “I was exploring upstairs.”

“Next time, take a jacket.” He rubbed her back. “And be careful. It’s not safe in most of this place.”

“I can’t stay still with nowhere to go.”

He stared at her. “If you wish to explore, take a flashlight from the laundry room.”

Oh. At least he hadn’t told her to stay cooped up in her room. She nodded into his chest and let out the tension she’d been holding. “Or I could go with you and help with whatever you’re doing.”

He shook his head. “If I had my way, you’d stay in the apartment where it’s safe and not explore anything.”

She held her head higher. “I’d be safe with you.”

He froze. “No, you’d distract me, and where I am all day, that would end in disaster.”

She sighed. “I wish you’d show me where you are all day in case I need you.”

He nodded.

She held her tongue. She had won that argument. The silence clung in the air. He sighed and told her, “Remember to bundle up in more than a sweatshirt. We can’t have you getting sick. I’m not a good nursemaid.”

“Yes, you are.”

He let go to step back, but she wouldn’t let him. She picked up his hard hands and kissed his knuckle. Then, with a heavy sigh, she stepped away. “We all have our talents. I enjoyed you keeping me warm. Your hands are callused from manual labor.”

He walked into the kitchen behind her, not saying a word. She let the silence hang in the air.

She stared at him. He found plates and sat beside her, and then gazed at the ground. She refused to talk until he did. He fixed the silverware, then broke the quiet. “I’m remodeling the entire chateau. Over the summer I updated the roof, and last year handled the outside. This year I’m going inch by inch through this house, laying new floors, fixing the walls, and whatever else is needed. My tools and you sound like a dangerous combination.”

The buzz within the walls was him, but that didn’t account for the creepy noises. She reached over and took her plate, then corrected her silverware he set in the wrong order. He stared at her changes, then moved his spoon. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “The lobby and guestrooms were deserted and untouched.”

She gulped, then tilted her head. “Are you going to fix all the creaks in the stairs?”

“Yes.” His shoulders relaxed. “I’m working on the back rooms first. Back when this was a hotel, the staff complained the most about sounds and ghosts. The lifeblood of any good hotel is efficiency, and this place needs a lot of work.”

She choked on her breath for that second. “Ghosts?”

He shook his head. “There is no such thing. There has to be something that echoes that frightened people.”

Of course. “That’s good. The doors all slammed shut upstairs.”

“There must be a draft up there.” He shrugged. “I’ve not touched a guest room.”

Old houses made noises. The draft sounded logical. She smiled encouragingly and nodded. “So you plan on reopening?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really care, but it’s something to do.” He shrugged, then stared off into the distance. “I moved back here to work, alone. My doctor recommended working with my hands to push past everything else. I’m not good at keeping company anymore.”

Again, she raised her eyebrows at him and smirked. He then gazed at her. “I would bet money you were never good at keeping company. You possess an ‘I do what I want’ personality.”

A smile cracked his serious face, and his entire face brightened. “I’m from Connecticut, the land of the suburbanites. My parents raised us to be upper-class snobs, though I did rebel.”

“Like Mr. Darcy, I imagine.”

He tilted his head. “I never read Pride and Prejudice. It’s a girly book.”

Her eyes widened, and she smiled. “But you know about it?”

“My mother and sister loved that book.” He shrugged. “I haven’t seen them in a long time”

“You have a sister?”

“She’s a handful of trouble, last time I saw her.”

“Mine too. Kimberly, my sister, disappeared on us.”

“That had to have been hard.”

“My parents taught me family was important.” She leaned closer to him. “I never rebelled, but I’d bet you enjoyed yourself.”

His smile faltered, and his expression became somber and sad. He reached out and rubbed her arms. “Don’t be sad. We’ll get you back to your mother.”

He saw that? She gulped for a second. When was the last time anyone asked her anything personal? “She’s all I have. My father took off when I was little. I hardly remember him. But Mom . . .” She sighed, then shrugged. “She’s in the hospital with cancer. My sister disappeared, much like my father did. The day she turned eighteen. So it’s been Mom and me for years. She’s who I want to call. I drove up here to ensure I had the money to pay for her treatment.”

Gabriel massaged her arm. “Erica, I’m sorry. For you, I wish I had a phone.”

“You didn’t know I’d show up at your door.” She stared back at him. His dark eyes made her want to curl up in his embrace and let herself go. “When I cook a family a good meal, I’m giving people a little of the love that I always hoped to find in my own life.”

“I’ll let you cook all the meals from now on, then.” He winked, though his hand fell on her lap to squeeze hers. “I tried to cook for you, but I think you fixed this one too.”

“Okay, you caught me.” She smiled again, and her body was warm. “Dinner was good. It’s been a long time since anyone’s taken care of me.”

“Your mom will be okay. Hold on to hope. It gets you through a lot.” Abruptly, he threw his napkin on the table and averted his gaze. “I have to go finish work. Would you like me to wake you later?”

She pushed her plate back and stood up as well. “You didn’t eat anything.”

“I can’t right now.” He swallowed and shook his head. “Maybe later. Do you want me to say good night if it’s not too late?”

“Well, I’ve always had a wake-up-to-sex fantasy.” She covered her mouth. Had that just come out of her mouth? “Not that that is what you meant, at all.”

With a shake of his head, he laughed. “No, but I’ll keep the thought in mind.”

She nodded at him and tilted her head. Then she laughed. “See that you do. I do like that I don’t seem to have a filter with you.”

He stared at her for one moment while he squeezed her arm. “I’m not used to honest women. You make me unsure how to act in front of you.”

“Honesty is important.” She smiled. “It’s okay to talk to those you trust. It goes hand in hand with trust.”

“I’m not open.” He stepped back and left without another word.

No kidding. As she clutched her stomach, she smiled. A small victory. It had taken her a few days, but the man had opened up a little. If she was stuck here, at a minimum of a month, with him, then it couldn’t just be sex. Gabriel deserved more. She deserved more.

Her lips tingled from the last kiss days ago, and she wrapped her arms around herself. If he comforted her as he continued to, then she’d be in danger of falling in love with him.

A smile grew on her face, and Erica refused to care. No one saw her. She could dream.

Then a shadow danced on the wall again. She froze and suddenly stared toward it. She looked toward the kitchen. Work kept her head straight. She went over and washed the dishes in the sink, though left Gabriel a plate on the table to eat later.

A crack sounded in the air.

With her hands in the water, she froze.

She could sense a cold, hateful stare boring into her back.

She turned her head to the side and glanced around. She couldn’t figure out why it seemed someone watched her. The house was empty except for the two of them, right? Was it an animal? Erica swallowed, but stood straight. Gabriel had left, and the energy in the room was much colder now.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t the sweetheart of a man she was stuck with. Erica sucked in her breath. She shouldn’t be afraid of shadows.

“Go away,” Erica shouted, though she knew she wasn’t talking to anyone. Her neck tingled.

Gabriel wasn’t the culprit. The man warmed her. His every glance at her turned her body temperature higher and higher.

Her thoughts of him now helped, and her throat grew less constricted. Good. The coldness left, and she could move her hands without goose bumps. She ran her hands down her shirt and jeans. Then she straightened out her clothes and errant thoughts.

A whoosh of something rushed past her.

Her ears rang, and she plopped the last dish in the strainer with more force than necessary.

A squish reverberated in the air.

What? She flinched.

Then she blinked.

The sink faucet was on, and the water flowed. Was that water she heard? She turned the water off and held her breath and tried to be quiet. What happened? Her hands went clammy, though she clenched her hands in case she had to fight.

No noise followed.

It must have been the sink.

She unclenched her hands and swallowed hard. Nothing stirred. Finally, she cleaned and dried the plate and placed it back in the cabinet.

Adrenaline spiked through her body, and she wasn’t the least bit tired now. She ran to her room to get a sweater. She hadn’t investigated the library yet, and that had been this morning’s plan. She’d go now.

Hopefully, Gabriel would return to her soon. A hug from him would help alleviate the illusionary noises in her head.

12

Erica bundled on her sweater and checked that her socks were folded around her ankles just as she had as a girl with long socks. The routine didn’t calm the adrenaline in her veins. The goose bumps stayed on her arms and legs, as the heavy sound of the storm pounded at her the already buried window. She sighed. How many storms were there going to be this winter? She crossed her arms, but nothing stopped the chill in the air.

Gabriel mentioned the outside walls were secure and new, so she’d trust him. No windows were cracked, and the living quarters still had power despite the wall of snow outside. The fire in the library was warm and the best place to curl up in this house. He must know what he was doing to always keep that fireplace going.

To stop her anxiety, she needed to move. So she closed her door behind her and headed back to the library. Once inside, she stopped to stare at the fireplace. The embers were warm and inviting, which was sexy in its way. If they did lose power, Gabriel would have to stop working and wrap his arms around her to keep her warm. Her face crackled with a hearty laugh. Her daydreams were so vivid here.

A man who took care of things would be nice to keep around. She hadn’t had that since her dad left, if she even had that then.

Her father had left the greatest family a man might ever ask for.

Her mother deserved the best care in the world, and Erica had to find that for her. She’d, somehow, find her sister, Kimberly too. For too long, Erica walked around, angry that Kimberly had left. But now she realized how stupid that had made her. Their mother would be alone, and the chip on Erica’s shoulder for her sister leaving now felt stupid.

Tears threatened to fall down her face, so Erica forced herself to shrug. She could make it right.

Perhaps she’d even score a sexy boyfriend here.

The chill in the air rattled a window, and her heart soared. They’d live. Everything in the room was solid. She glanced around at every bookcase, full of heavy books near the walls.

Was there nail polish?

If she lifted any shelf, she’d be exhausted and possibly hurt herself.

Her initial inspection of the walls hadn’t revealed any nail polish, but then, Gabriel’s wife had written in that diary that she’d moved a shelf. Erica stared hard at the wood bookshelves that were taller than her. Those cases must be heavy, and Erica didn’t possess upper-body strength. From the creepy portrait, she guessed Tiffany had been dainty. Erica tapped her neck. Had Gabriel rearranged the library after she died and missed the marker? Did he not know? Erica sighed. She had no other explanation. She gulped and stared at a shelf. She’d lever herself on the one near the other door first and use her legs and backside.

She shifted her jaw and decided on her first shelf. The lobby near the outside door meant, logically, that a closet or other door would be nearer the larger room. If she had to guess where a secret room might be, it would be logical between the lobby and here.

Sweat formed on her back. Erica shifted and used her back muscles. She braced her feet on the wall, but the shelf hardly moved. One would think she didn’t have years at the gym under her belt. Sweat glistened on her entire body and her back muscles stretched. Finally, the bookshelf scraped forward. She ignored the throb in her shoulder, and with all her might, she continued.

Her legs were wobbly, but she stood back up and checked. The wall revealed nothing but darkness. She exhaled and inhaled again. Her exertion didn’t move the shelf far enough to see much.

There had to be an easier way.

She rubbed her neck. Then she tilted her head to the side and decided to remove a few books. A laugh almost escaped her lips. The wife must have had the brother knee-deep in the affair to move the shelf. Erica wrinkled her nose. And who had sex on bookshelves?

Erica needed to banish that thought immediately.

If she vilified Tiffany, she’d miss Gabriel’s emotions. There must have been something good about the woman. Erica needed to read more tonight, and she’d keep an open mind.

Erica frowned as her mind went blank. Then she shrugged. The books made everything heavy, and perhaps Gabriel had added to his book collection in the year. She ran her hand through her hair and decided to remove a stack of books from the shelf to make it lighter.

With the books piled on the floor, she tried again. This time, as she pushed with her back muscles, she moved the shelf with less muscle contractions. Good. When it was far enough, she stopped. With a wipe of her brow, she brushed her clothes, and knelt to examine the wall.

Nothing. No marks anywhere.

Her nose wrinkled. She supposed it was possible that this wasn’t the place, but the diary read like everything had happened in the library. Perhaps she miscalculated.

After she returned the books to the shelves, she tapped on the walls. The echoes sounded sturdy and heavy, with no weak spots, but then, she’d expected that. A secret wasn’t easy to find, or else it wouldn’t be much of a secret.

Her brow furrowed. She rubbed her chin and decided where to go next. Gabriel mentioned he’d work late tonight. She’d investigate a little more. For all she knew he read the diary and knew about the affairs, but since he didn’t talk she wasn’t sure. If she discovered anything, she’d show him and perhaps then he’d talk to her.

Corners would be the most logical, in her deduction. She headed to the next corner and knelt to examine the wall behind the bookshelf.

She peered into the blackness, but didn’t find much. Most nail polishes, even colorful ones, didn’t shine in the dark. And the dainty little miss in the portrait didn’t strike Erica as the glow-in-the-dark type.

No, Tiffany had the frilly mean-girl stare.

Erica bit her lip and decided to move books again. Gabriel had been reading the day she had barged into the house half-frozen. His broad shoulders straightened the second she came in, and he’d transformed into her dark angel. To cool off her thoughts, she collected bundles of books for the floor. Then she’d attempt to move the shelf.

This time, the routine went fast.

First, she tried the shelf on her left, and then repeated the same procedure but in a tighter space.

With her back muscles, she pushed the shelf far enough back. Nothing. She let out a deep breath and knelt, then stared harder. Again, she discovered nothing.

Perhaps this wasn’t the place Gabriel and his wife had lived at that time? The diary wouldn’t have survived a move, though.

Erica sucked on her bottom lip and shuffled to fix the room fast. Today she’d be done with the basic search.

She let out a heavy sigh, then gazed at the next shelf. With her jaw clenched, she unloaded the books and stepped against the wall to push the shelf.

A noise clattered in the other room and stopped her short.

“Erica, are you up?”

She clenched her fists at her sides. Wasn’t he working? She didn’t want him to catch her. She hadn’t found anything. Cold sweat grew on her neck, and she almost didn’t stare at the door, like that would stop him.

Her heartbeat was unsteady but fast. She needed to clean up, and fast. First, she scrambled to push back the shelf and right everything. Then she glanced down. She almost missed the spot of red polish on the wall.

Her stomach became upset instantly. The heaviness came from her conscience. This was the place with the secret room. His wife had had an affair. She closed her eyes and wished she’d been wrong, but now was not the time. If she told him, then he’d know she read the diary and ransacked his house. In a flash, she threw everything back. She used her back and moved the shelf. Then she threw the books on the shelf. The screech of the door alerted her Gabriel was here. Just in time, she landed on her knees at the bookshelf.

He stepped inside. At the open door, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Looking for a book.” Her voice cracked at the lie. The truth stayed on her tongue, but wouldn’t be said. She needed to see the secret room herself before she told him anything. She bit her lip and hoped her face wasn’t bright red. “Any recommendations?”

He walked to her, and her eyes and face were on level with his massive cock underneath his jeans. With her hands, she covered her mouth. The blush she might have had before flushed down her body again.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Her body trembled. And she knocked over a few books. She stared down and fixed the mess. She quietly told him, “You won’t believe me when I tell you that before you, I never fantasized about men.”

He picked up a few books she had dropped and re-shelved them with her. “You’re beautiful, Erica. I’m sure you never had to go far to find a man.”

“Hot men don’t hang out in the cancer ward.” Her eyes met his intense stare, and she licked her lips. “My celibacy lasted for two years. I found work more important to help my mom. Now . . . since being here . . . with you . . . I’ve dreamed about you. You taste better than the richest chocolate, and I liked what happened between us the other day.”

Gabriel leaned down to help her stand. She gazed at his strong, muscular frame. Then she stood beside him.

Silence clung in the air. Her face heated. What if he didn’t want her? She gulped and waited.

He tilted his head and gazed into her eyes. Then he stepped closer and ended the silence. “What’s your fantasy now? We’re both awake, and you can’t fake sleeping. You’d make too much noise.”

“True.” She tilted her head and laughed. “Two things. First, I am curious about you and would like an hour tomorrow to talk.”

She swallowed. The truth lay between them, though she stood silent next to him. She fidgeted with her hands and waited for him to say something.

He didn’t say a word. Finally, she stepped back. And he stepped into a shadow.

No. This wasn’t the end. She took a step to follow him. He stopped the second he understood she wouldn’t stop. His shoulders dropped. “Talking. I don’t do that well anymore.”

Instead of an answer, she pressed her hand on his and offered a tentative smile. His gaze met hers, then she whispered, “I won’t press for anything that’s too difficult, but I do need company, not just you occasionally checking on me.”

He squeezed her hand. “Okay. I’ll get everything done before dinner tomorrow.”

A smile formed on her lips. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and he smiled at her. Her entire body hummed in excitement.

“When your smile glows at me like that, Snowflake, it’s inviting,” he whispered in her ear, and pulled her closer into his body. “I’m so thankful I left the door open.”

“So am I.” She followed him. He took a seat, then she settled onto his lap. She liked that nickname, and how it came out of his mouth.

“Are you okay?” His eyebrows went up.

She nodded. “What did you call me?”

He smiled. “Snowflake. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Why?”

“You’re an impossibly hard-to-find woman out there. You’re beautiful, yet still a sweetheart.”

The word sent a thump in her chest. She shook her head and kissed his cheek. Then she rested with him, and he fixed her hair. Comfortably, they settled on the couch to watch the fire. The wind howled outside, but it made the fire brighter somehow. With her head on his chest, she could hear his heartbeat, and she had the sensation of being full. “I’ve only known pretty men who can’t do much. You’re making me blush thinking how I settled for so little, always taking care of things. I wish I knew you sooner.”

“You jitter all the time.” He laughed as he ran his hand down her back. “Half the time, I think I scare you.”

“It’s not you. It’s the house. And I don’t scare easy, though I’ve never been locked inside with no way out. Here, it’s like there is a ghost inside the walls, which sounds silly to say out loud.” She snuggled closer and shifted to give him better access to her leg. “You might not believe it, but I run seven restaurants and two bakeries, and intended to go nationwide. You knocked my ego down a notch with your opinion of my cooking.”

“All to care for your mom. Erica, you’re impressive.” His laugh echoed out of his chest. “You’re much better than me in the kitchen, and a good woman. I liked getting under your skin.”

She closed her eyes. “I like being here with you.”

He kissed her forehead. “And you’re tired, Snowflake. I’ll let you get your sleep.”

“I look tired?” Her body hummed for him now, but her leg muscles had a slight spasm.

He rested his head on hers. “You’re pale and clammy. I can’t have you getting sick on me.”

Her back muscles quivered from her activity tonight. With no argument, she let out a soft sigh and hugged him. “You are my angel. Don’t change.”

“Angel?” He helped her stand. Then she glanced to the floor to give him space. He kept his voice low. “Having a woman say that is humbling. I’ll not let you down. I’ll help you with whatever I can. Now let’s get you to sleep.”

Slowly they left the cocoon of closeness, and she tugged on his arm. “Stay with me tonight.”

He rubbed his chin. “I don’t sleep much, ever.”

She shook her head. “Then stay until I fall asleep.”

He kissed her forehead. “I can do that, Snowflake.”

Good. She’d not let him go. Every time they spent together, she saw more details about Gabriel. His brown eyes had red-ember streaks that mixed with gold, and his gaze was smoldering hot. The rest of his muscular frame made him a picture-perfect movie hero and angel, and she’d not let him disappear on her.

13

Erica’s limbs shook her awake. Shadows seem to play on the dark walls. She sat up in bed, alone. Gabriel had left again. Her breath hitched in her throat. With her hands clenched, she stared around her dark room.

No one was here.

But every cell on her skin stayed alert to wait for an attack. She massaged her neck.

Nothing happened.

Eventually she lay back down and tried to sleep. But her body stayed up, and she twisted in her bed. More shadows seemed to dance on the wall. The wind swept past the windows and rattled the glass. Her gaze landed on the frosted white window. Another storm howled outside. Winters never ended here, and she missed the hot sun of the Florida beach.

Shadows didn’t dance on the walls, and her eyes needed to be checked. To calm down, her thoughts turned to Gabriel and his quiet honesty. Those wide shoulders of his were made to wrap around her and hold her, all night, every night, as he had earlier. Slowly her body relaxed and her mind pictured his dark, smoldering eyes. The memories comforted her.

In bed, he’d set her on fire. Tonight, though, was different. He wasn’t here, and her clammy hands never warmed. She swallowed, closed her eyes tight, and tugged the blankets up higher.

With a huff, she thought of Gabriel again. His muscular arms and backside had his jeans molded to his well-formed body. He worked so hard that his body was a machine.

A giggle escaped her lips. Tonight, she’d won a major battle. He’d been so sweet. It was more than that. He had held her tight and complimented her. A lightness grew in her chest. He’d even called her a nickname. Excitement raced in her pulse, and on the high she dared not open her eyes.

A crack on the wood echoed through the night air, and she opened her eyes. Was that just an old house settling in? A clink reverberated and sounded like high heels. She sighed.

Her pulse calmed and she rationalized. She couldn’t push Gabriel too far, too fast. Patience must be a virtue. Her mother had told her she’d learn that one day. And now she was stuck here and had to learn. It was not like she had a choice. If she did, though, then Gabriel’s huge leg muscles would be entwined with hers under some twisted sheets.

Since her body quivered in excitement now, she wiggled on her bed to find rest. Her thoughts were the opposite of restful. Then she bit her bottom lip. She remembered the diary.

Tiffany would be a mood killer, and hopefully, would make her go back to sleep. Normally she opted out of dark horror stories, but Tiffany had had an affair. It wasn’t that she had gone crazy from a long bout of isolation on a mountain, and Gabriel had been scarred from this woman. Erica needed to know how anyone could ever betray her angel.

She reached out and found the book in its hiding spot. She smiled to herself and settled in. Her pillows made a restful spot for her back. Then she flipped open the book.

My husband doesn’t love me. He never did. I know it. When we first dated, I thought he’d help me forget my less handsome fiancé, and how that all ended. Maybe I should have married Alan. He had money, and he’d not speak so cruelly to me. Gabriel wants a divorce, but I can’t let that happen.

Besides, if not for Gabriel, then I’d have not met Raphael. The only bright spot in my life right now is Raphael. Gabriel Murphy is the son of the devil himself. He doesn’t think I should stuff my bra, and he yells at me to stop buying shoes. Who cares about the price! They are so beautiful, and that color underneath is a signature design. All women should own Jimmy Choos. But the worst part about marriage is that he’s angry I’m not pregnant. I can’t help if he thought I was the day he married me. I would have fixed the mess if I knew he’d drag me up here to this mountain. He’ll be sorry. I’ll have my revenge. He won’t know what hit him. I always win. Ask Alan or my parents the price they paid for standing in my way!

Who was Alan? And what had Tiffany done to her parents? And why would Gabriel ask for a divorce in one paragraph and then Tiffany said he yelled about no children in the next? Had Gabriel married her because he thought she was pregnant? Gabriel was honorable. Erica rolled her head back on the pillow to stretch. It was obvious that Gabriel had married a vain woman. This much was crystal clear, and no, most women did not own fancy designer shoes. Gabriel came alive at simple kindness, and now it made more sense. She rolled her eyes at the pages Tiffany had left behind.

No one believes me. I told my sister and his brother that Gabriel hit me, hard. And that it wasn’t a one-time accident. My sister told me to stop lying. I don’t know what to do. One day Samantha will get what’s coming to her.

Some words were scratched out. Was Samantha her sister? Erica brought the book closer to her face and squinted to try and read in the darkness. The words slowly came together.

But this lie was the only option I had at the time.

Anger coursed through her. Tiffany had lied about abuse. She had lied about Gabriel. No wonder Gabriel had issues. Erica needed him to open up, but he had lived through an unimaginable betrayal of trust. Erica rolled her shoulders to calm down, and finished reading the page.

I can’t leave him, as I’d get no money, but no one listens. If I end up dead, maybe then they’ll believe what I said. What should I do? I married him, but I’ve never expected he’d turn out just like my parents. Everyone always thinks they can beat me. I have to find a way to be with Raphael and get away from Gabriel.

Erica’s eyes widened, and she reread the passage twice. A wolf’s howl in the air made her jerk and sit up. Her shoulder was almost healed from the wolves now. She was safe inside these walls, and she stared at the diary. This Tiffany woman sounded crazy in her own diary. And was Gabriel’s own brother as duplicitous as his wife? Blood, at least to Erica, should be thick enough to never hurt others.

If she had Internet access, she’d look up what happened to Alan, her parents, Tiffany, and Raphael. Everyone had history that was accessible online, and Erica’s fingers ached to type in their names into a search engine.

Her stomach hardened and her skin crawled.

Was that a faint scream?

Erica swallowed and sat up. She blinked and listened hard. Nothing stirred. Tonight, her sleep came with crazy thoughts that kept her up.

She settled back down in her bed and closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe Gabriel had had this type of woman for a wife. Righteousness coursed through her. She’d fight off any ghost. The man took care of her and made her body come alive. She shook her head and almost convinced herself not to think about Tiffany or her diary.

Erica stared at the window, now covered with snow, and settled down. The stupid wind must have moved a pile of snow. Erica’s shoulders tightened. It wasn’t the wolves. And she placed the diary under her mattress. She’d go back to sleep now.

Under her blankets, she settled in.

Then another scream rang out.

In that instant, she curled her legs up to her chin and rocked in her bed. She swallowed. A moment later, Erica’s mind cleared, and she scolded herself. So much for the confidence she had in the real world. She sat up again and stared all around her. Her ears drummed so loud that it affected her hearing. To stay calm, she asked out loud, “What was that?”

The question scared her, and scream rang out. Erica’s head whipped to the window. The scream was far in the distance. In Miami, all she knew were stray cats and dogs. All she knew out in the snow were the wolves. Her shoulder heated at the memory. She collected her thoughts and took a deep breath. She forced herself to get up and check the room.

Another scream, this time louder and deeper.

That one had been different and more masculine. Her mind cleared.

Gabriel.

His voice was distinct.

Erica ran into the hallway and rushed to his bedroom door. She pushed, but it didn’t open. She used her hip and pushed again, and she realized his door was locked. She rattled the knob and knocked.

The man had a deep sadness in his screams. At the door, she listened to the pain in his voice. The noise was deep and primal. Then she thought she heard the patter of feet. Erica shook the door handle and the feet scampered away. Was someone else in there? Did he suffer nightmares? With a loud knock, she yelled to wake him. “Gabriel. Get up. Now. Open this door.”

His screams subsided, but he didn’t come to open the door. She lost her nerve. Nothing here made sense. Her mother needed her, and she scolded herself that she shouldn’t hope to comfort Gabriel. Her goals had become so strange in this chateau. In the dark hallway, she crumpled onto the ground. She didn’t know what else to do. So she waited. Deep breaths helped, but her heart still raced.

She rested her head against his door.

The darkness was so thick in the night. Her ears drummed and she swore she heard the clank of high heels. Nothing stirred. No monsters came out of the dark.

She sat quiet and no one came toward her. Ghosts were figments of the imagination. And Erica’s mind kept picturing what the diary said. What could he do to her if he switched personalities? She swallowed. That thought was uncalled for.

She rubbed her forehead. There was no escape in this place. Nowhere to run. Gabriel must have come here to heal from his wife’s treachery, if he even knew. Perhaps this was simply his hideaway. Erica swallowed. She should conserve her mind to getting home to be there for her mother’s cancer treatments.

A tear washed down her face.

Erica curled up into the fetal position at the door. Being alone meant no one helped her, and part of her shook because Erica hated this quietness. She never cried. Her eyes misted now, and she told herself she could always find the answers. The world offered solutions to any and all problems. Her sister had run off into the world alone. And Erica stayed home to take care of her mom. Everything had been handled until the car accident. Her cheeks were now moist, but she couldn’t cry. She told herself only girls, not confident women, had time to cry.

Gabriel would heal in time. Tiffany sounded crazy, despite her size. Erica needed to get home to ensure her mother healed too. There was too much to do for Erica to sit around and mope.

The collar of Erica’s nightgown became tighter. If Gabriel hadn’t been here, she’d be dead too, and no one would have found her body until the snow melted in spring.

For the longest time, she sat there unmoving. Her eyes watered. She broke. All she could do was cry.

14

Eventually, Erica yawned, then stood to walk stiffly back to her bedroom. Her legs were cold and weak, and she fought off dizziness. The heat of her shoulder reminded her to rest and heal.

Her cheeks held her dried tears.

Isolation and bleakness hadn’t been natural in her life. Normally, she spent her day with a million things to do and never had time to think about her personal demons. She rubbed her arms and opened the door to her room. Every day, she ran at full throttle to keep her mind busy, but what happened in the hallway hadn’t been that bad. Except, in this house, she turned so lonely and cold. In Miami, cold ended fast. She’d turn the air conditioner down a little and the problem was solved. But in this house, the draft seeped under the skin.

In her room, she closed the door and plopped back in her bed. Finally, she closed her eyes and tugged the blankets on top of her. The coldness hadn’t dissipated yet. And she couldn’t sleep. So she ran her hands down her legs to get warm.

Nothing was in this house except her and Gabriel.

Her ears drummed louder. And her throat constricted. Sleep was impossible, and her mind raced back to the diary. What if Gabriel had been violent? Or what if Tiffany had done something so hurtful that he’d never talk about it? She couldn’t believe it, but right now, the question took on a life of its own. She tossed in the bed and hoped to find some respite.

She sighed, then sat up in bed. Unable to stop herself, she reached for the diary, though she vowed to read only one more passage. Taking a breath for a second of sanity, she opened the book.

I confronted my husband while he worked. I could stand no more of his constant abuse. Then he fell on top of me and claimed it was the ladder. I knew better. I clawed at him to free myself, but he pushed me back. His damn hammer and nails were more important to him than me. One day I’ll use his tools against him. I’ll use his house against him.

He told me to leave. I threw myself on top of the wood he was drilling a hole in, and he almost hit me with the hammer. Yelling didn’t help, and I clawed at him. Again, yelling, I told him he wasn’t a good husband or lover, and it made it worse.

He pushed himself on me, and I screamed and screamed. But then I clawed at his clothes. He threw me off him. He was supposed to love me, not want a divorce. He hates everything about me. What am I supposed to do? My sister said it’s good if I’m finally telling her the truth now, and that I should agree to the divorce. She thinks his settlement is fair. She’s a disloyal bitch. No one listens, and I’m alone. My parents used to call me names too. It’s up to me to stop this. He will not leave me. Otherwise, I’m going to die here, and Gabriel will be the one who killed me.

Erica winced like she’d been slapped, and threw the book clear across the room. What had Tiffany done? Erica swallowed. The man steered so far from her, and she’d never have guessed he suffered from someone like Tiffany. Tiffany was his wife. Erica shook her head. That made this read worse. The poor man down the hall had lived through two hells. He had a liar for a wife. He had endured two wars. The second one, the one with Tiffany, had scarred him far more than combat.

Erica realized facts were the truth. One person’s opinion did not make what happened the truth. Tiffany was dead, but that wasn’t enough fact. Erica’s heartbeat refused to listen. Gabriel could do so much better if he talked as it would help him heal.. They’d have a chance.

Besides, Tiffany sounded insane about her parents too. And what had happened to Alan? Erica ran her hand through her hair. She’d not let Tiffany destroy whatever was happening between her and Gabriel.

Reading those entries in the diary had been a mistake. Erica shook her head and sighed. She would never tell Gabriel she’d even read this trash. She’d not let the insinuations and lies in the past steal her happiness now. Despite her revulsion, she bit her lip.

Did she finish the pack of lies? No more surprises meant nothing came out of the shadows to get her. She rubbed the back of her neck. She’d finish the book later, but tonight she had enough. Gabriel would eventually open up, and whatever someone might say about him in the future, she’d defend him. She hesitated, then picked up the book. At first, her fingers stayed clutched and she couldn’t open it. Finally, she opened her palm and the book. She took a deep breath, then scanned the next entry. Nothing about Gabriel were in that entry. She swallowed, and she slid the book back in its hiding spot.

She lay down and tugged the covers over her shoulders. Her pulse continued to race with fear and anger. She’d have to calm down.

The bitter, howling wind sounded like a womanly moan. The sounds played tricks with her mind. That had to be the wolves. She ought to know better. This night never ended.

Finally, Erica fluffed her pillow, shook her head, and reminded herself that she shouldn’t have read anymore of the diary. Gabriel had been nothing but nice to her, and his wife was dead. Tiffany’s entry in her diary mentioned that she’d die, and it would be Gabriel who killed her.

Erica’s throat thickened and she nearly choked. But tall tales never made sense, and Tiffany’s story stank.

* * *

In the morning, Erica ran a hand over her head, but she refused to open her eyes. Her head pounded. Had she had any sleep? She needed a pain reliever, a sleeping pill, something. Her mind kept playing cruel tricks on her. And the nightmares became unbearable. All this happened because she was alone.

Gabriel had to keep his promise today to seek her out. She’d go crazy if left alone.

At home, her mother’s sickness never left Erica a moment for herself. She had to work. Or she had to be at the hospital. Nothing else mattered. And from constant activity, she became numb to life. She helped her mother through the pain. She had never once picked up the phone to call her sister, not that she knew where. She sucked on her bottom lip. She could have hired someone, or tried to find Kimberly, though.

Erica realized how selfish that had been.

Stress ate at her, but she didn’t deal with helplessness well. Finally, she opened her eyes and prayed.

A memory floated into her mind a moment later. When she had been a girl, her mother had done yoga to relieve stress. Was there a book in the library on positions?

Erica supposed the idea was good. She’d never let herself calm down. She reached behind her head to massage her neck. Erica had never experienced this roller-coaster of emotions and needed an anchor. Life had demanded much, and she’d always been too busy to notice.

Despite the morning, her sleep came fitfully, and an hour later, she gave up the effort. Cook. Clean. She’d find something to stay active. Erica showered and dressed, and found the apartment deserted.

Gabriel had woken early to work.

Erica rubbed her chin. She decided to figure out where the back rooms might be. Gabriel had mentioned he was upgrading the staff locations, and there had to be an entryway. It was not like he walked through walls.

She blinked. The diary had mentioned secret passageways, which reminded her she needed to go find that secret room. Her stomach rumbled, so she’d eat first.

No. Erica shook off the numbing coldness. The man was an angel, and wouldn’t lock her up and leave the front door open. There had to be another door.

Her body calmed down. She pictured his sexy, smoldering, dark eyes. In candlelight, his wide pupils reflected the flames. Who was this man who excited her? The perfect lover she’d be crazy to doubt or a man married to the crazy lady from the diary? Her body ached. She marched to the kitchen. He’d be innocent of his wife’s lies, and the diary could be washed away. Her heart stayed heavy. Erica hoped the thoughts of the woman would die already.

She opened the fridge to decide what to do. It was a stupid diary and not Erica’s problem. Tiffany’s marital affair meant trouble in paradise, and Gabriel didn’t open up easy. Erica needed to pry him open to speak. Words took effort for him. Unlike her—she could talk to anyone for hours about nothing at all.

The refrigerator held no appeal. She stopped and picked up a muffin on the table, which, though made the day before, still tasted good and edible. After a few bites, she took a deep breath, then clenched and unclenched her hands. Another one was missing, so Gabriel had eaten one too. Good. She’d make more. Every time she baked, everything else in her life became better.

She went to the cupboard to get ingredients. Her mind cleared as she whisked batter for muffins. Then she kneaded the dough for bread and let go of everything else.

Food gave life and substance, and deserved to be delectable. She lost herself in the mixing.

The moment she finished, her smile grew wide. She’d do something else. Perhaps organize something. She headed out to the library, her every step echoing on the wood floor. She entered the cold lobby. Her body kept calling her back toward the warm apartment, yet her feet kept on their forward path. If Gabriel intended to fix this place, then she’d be useful.

Tonight, she’d talk to Gabriel, with a scrumptious dinner to celebrate.

With a watery smile, she walked behind the stairs to what looked like a filled-in wall that could have been a service entrance. The staff would have to get to the front desk somehow. The wall had strange paint. On a whim, she pushed forward, and the wall gave way easily.

“Hello?” she called out.

The whisper of a slight wind echoed in her ears, and dust blew into her face. She coughed.

As per usual, Gabriel didn’t answer, but from the clean, bright floor, he’d been here. The wood was brand-new and buffed. He’d told the truth about what he did all day. The remodeling was so different. The lobby was dank and without life. In here, the cream walls and polished floor showed care. The dust must have been wood chips, which an open window would take out. Plus the floor didn’t creak with every step ahead. All in all, this work was superb.

At the next room, her breath caught in her throat. The staff here would have a nicer work area than the people at her own restaurants. Everything was sterling silver and functional.

Then something brushed against her back that sent goose bumps up her entire body. She turned around and stared into the next room in the distance.

Chains. Saws. Axes. Metal slabs she couldn’t describe littered the room. She stepped back and flinched.

After she turned around, she blinked. Nothing was behind her. What had brushed against her?

Her throat constricted slightly. The man had a million tools, and the diary entry flashed through her mind. She stared at a red liquid oozing on the floor. The workbench next to the mess was chipped and of various colors. In a flash, she gulped for air. The diary had been full of lies. Yet Erica cringed and ran back to the apartment.

She’d rather forget what she saw. She shook her head. The tools were for work, but her feet pounded into the floor in her mad dash.

Back in the library, she tried to stop her frantic breathing. This made no sense. He couldn’t be whom that person in the diary claimed. He was fixing the house, as he said. But the wife had mentioned tools, hardness, and how he had pushed her down. She rubbed her forehead. She’d not believe Tiffany.

Something cold and small touched Erica’s back, and the sensation of it brought everything she read to life. She turned around to grab at the air, but no one was there. A dull ache caught in her chest.

A creak reverberated in the air. Erica twirled. She remembered how she told him to take her without permission. Even now her body hummed. She needed him to tell her that this place was safe.

Erica let out a small scream. Then she told herself, “Too much alone time is making me crazy. Get going and go finish that cake and prepare dinner at cake for tonight. No need to act crazy.”

Ghosts didn’t exist.

There was a rational explanation for everything, and Gabriel was still her wounded angel. She’d figure the rest out. She rubbed her temples. In business, she’d been schooled in fearlessness. So why did Gabriel send her into hyperventilation? And what was with this creepy hotel? Something was off here.

Back in the kitchen, she took flour out of the cabinet, and she chose to forget tonight for a while.

Today, she’d bake cupcakes too.

* * *

A few hours later, she was relaxed. No more noises, and her mind hummed with life. She set up the cupcakes in the refrigerator and put a newly baked cake on the table. Everything in life had a purpose, and she’d find hers. There was a reason she’d ended up here, and she’d help Gabriel and herself figure everything out. For now, the food looked delicious, and the room smelled wonderful.

Just because she stayed trapped in his house did not mean she needed to feed her fears. She had choices and refused to go crazy. She’d always been a fighter, despite what she’d been like the past few days.

Now she ached and went to take a nap. In a few hours, she’d be fine and alert. The wind whipped past the windows, and she hadn’t blinked. Good.

There was no such thing as ghosts.

15

Erica checked the fresh batter she whipped together on the counter. The yeast had risen slightly.

Gabriel hadn’t come back. The man must be hungry.

Tonight, she’d bake the fresh bread. Her nap had worked wonders on her spirit, and her body stayed tension free. She checked the oven, and the meaty lasagna smelled savory. Tonight’s meal had the heaviness of carbohydrates that had always fed her soul as a child. The tomato sauce smell went right through her nose and sang to her heart.

The buzzing electrical noise in the wall ended. A smile grew on her face. She had forgotten she heard that sound sometimes.

She gazed at herself in the glass and stared at the white flour on her body. A giggle escaped her mouth, and she shook her head. She needed a fast shower. The clothes she wore had various food-processing marks.

Her eyebrows shot up. A nice outfit would keep her happy and help Gabriel notice her. She sniffed herself, but all that came through her nose was the smell of tomatoes. She ought to dab on vanilla, as she read that men find that smell the most exciting.

She rushed into her room and hopped in the shower. She’d wash the food stains off in thirty seconds. She towel-dried her body, then ran to find a red dress. The label had made absolute sense the moment Erica stared at the beaded material. That many beads were expensive, but then, one-of-a-kind designers had no limits.

Erica held the dress to her body. Her hips might be an issue. She tugged at the material and it hardly stretched. She didn’t need to wear this, but the style magazines all spoke highly of this designer. On her own, she’d never bother to go into a store to test. Erica bit her lower lip and wondered if she’d look good in it anyhow. The dress was two sizes too small. In a flash, she made a choice and tried to squeeze into the dress. A fancy dress for dinner was a perk, and she needed a high moment to finish this lazy afternoon.

To wiggle the thing past her hips, she squirmed.

Slowly the material went up. Good. She reached behind her and closed the top button.

The dress clung at her chest, but she managed to get the zipper up.

First, she stared at in the mirror at her legs. The hem stopped halfway up her thighs instead of at her knees, as intended. She stepped closer to the mirror and peered at her body. Her breasts arched. And she gave herself a secret smile. She hadn’t worn red in ages. In Maine, she suddenly wore a South Beach outfit, complete with the leg length. She giggled. In Miami, she dressed the prude. Hopefully Gabriel liked her legs. Another laugh escaped her lips, and the dress almost ripped. She’d have to be more careful. Open-toe heels would complete her high-class pretense, so she found silver spikes.

With one more glance in the mirror, she nodded. She looked great. She went back to the kitchen to check on the food.

Yes. She had a hum in her step. Everything was perfect.

The kitchen was still and undisturbed. Gabriel hadn’t returned yet.

Outside, the gray skies indicated another storm. With a deep breath, she rushed and set the table. She laid down the last spoon and relaxed. The troubles of last night hadn’t mattered.

She returned to the oven and took the lasagna out with a pair of gloves. With perfect timing, she placed it on the table as Gabriel walked inside from the back door.

His blue jeans clung to his muscular body, and his blue T-shirt barely contained his rigid build and half showed his US Marine tattoo. She smiled brightly and leaned over to fix the plates. From the corner of her eyes, she caught him checking her out, and a warmth went up her entire body.

His fiery gaze stared at her. He must like her outfit. She flipped her hair to the side and met his stare head on. Then her mouth fell open. He stared back with a grim face. His frown was colder than the snow. Unsure, she froze. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes were dull and lifeless, and his arms were crossed. “Where did you get that dress?”

What happened? She narrowed her eyes. “Where do you think? In the closet.”

His voice was etched with anger, and she gulped. He took a step back. “I didn’t throw that away?”

Something about the dress bothered him. She tried to understand. “Okay. Bad memories. I’ll go take it off.”

She passed him to leave, but he held up his hands. A loud sigh escaped his lips. She kept her gaze down. She’d not touch him. But he stood so close, and his woodsy scent became a whiff of reality. He brushed her arm and quietly told her, “Wait. It’s not you. I shouldn’t be in a bad mood over a dress. You didn’t do anything.”

“No. I didn’t.” Her shoulders relaxed. She dropped her guard and brushed against his arm. The last thing she’d ever do was hurt him. She gulped. “I can change if it makes you sad.”

He shook his head. “Clothes don’t make a man sad, Erica. I was rude.”

“Sit. I made us dinner.” She nodded, but her heart pounded near him. The heat turned a different temperature.

“You look good.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. The fire inside her grew. She gave him a small smile, and her heart skipped. He led her inside and held a chair out for her. Then he waited. “And this kitchen smells appetizing, like tomatoes.”

“And you’re forgiven.” Her smile grew larger, and she brushed his muscular arm to take her seat. “I hope you like lasagna.”

“Sounds good.” He pushed in her chair, then took his seat. A sense of belonging overtook her fast, but she pushed the thought back. He picked up a fork and leaned closer to her. “I thought women knowing how to cook was some urban myth of lost generations.”

“I had no choice. Cooking calms me.” She cleared her throat and stared into his smoldering brown eyes. “I checked out the work you’re doing in the back rooms.”

His eyes brightened up like she had mentioned fireworks. And the pit in her stomach descended. He pushed for more. “And?”

He sounded hopeful. Her face flushed, and she stared at her shoes. She had overreacted about the tools. She coughed. “The floor shone and didn’t creak.”

He sat back in his chair. “That’s all?”

Okay, she had misjudged. He stared at her like she had stolen Christmas from him. She chewed on her lips. She didn’t believe in ghosts. What happened made no sense. As she pursed her lips, she answered, “I didn’t get very far. You have a lot of tools.”

His eyes widened with understanding and hope. With a nod, he admitted, “It’s true. The first room is messy. Once I’m done, I’ll take all that stuff out and buff that room. It became easier to leave my stuff there in the winter. What did you think of the kitchen?”

Next time, she’d not get scared off. Her shoulders dropped, and she leaned closer to him. “I didn’t see it.”

With a genuine smile, his eyes held a shimmer that somehow took them from smoldering to burning hot. He told her, “Oh. You’d like it, I think. I updated all the equipment to make it modern and efficient.”

She stopped. “It wasn’t before?”

“This place was falling apart.”

With an honest smile, she tilted her head. “I’ll check it out tomorrow. I can tell you what I’d add in the kitchen.”

“Expert opinions are welcome, and you are my favorite chef.”

Laughter bubbled out, and she leaned closer to him. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He winked at her, then leaned closer to whisper, “That’s good to hear. My work was off all day, and I’ve been in a foul mood.”

“Why?” Had he seen strange things too?

She caught how he blushed. Then he took her hand in his. Had he meant her? “I don’t sleep well, ever. Today dragged, but it’s getting better.”

He had meant her, hadn’t he? She was sometimes dense. She scooted closer to him but kept her gaze on his chin. “I freaked out when I saw your tools. It was stupid of me, but being alone isn’t something I’m used to, at all. In Miami, it’s never this quiet.”

He moved their handholding to his lap, then leaned closer. “Miami? You don’t have the accent.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled up at him. “I grew up in Central Florida and then moved farther south. I travel to New York and Boston three times a year.”

“Explains you better.” He nodded.

Her eyebrows lifted. “How?”

With a wink, he answered, “Miami people don’t drive in snow.”

She tilted her head and then answered, “True.”

He leaned on his arm for a minute. “Why did you even think that a factory in Maine was so important that you came in the middle of winter?”

She let out a breath, happy to answer and talk. “I was heading to an investor’s winter ski resort to sign off that I’d open my factory here in Maine. If I avoided the blizzard, I’d have made it. A national company shut down operations a year ago and left the place abandoned. I didn’t care where the place was, as long as the equipment and workers could be found at a reasonable price. The price was too good to pass up. Now, though, I’ve likely lost that deal.”

He massaged her palm. “Why?”

Her gaze dropped, and her face heated. She leaned closer and told him her fear: “Because I’m probably assumed dead.”

He didn’t deny it, but he patted her knee. “Don’t think about it. When the snow clears, I’ll get you out of here and we’ll clear it up. If it’s the old cupcake factory, I know the owner. We’ll straighten it out.”

“You’re my angel, still.” She smiled. “I hope no one else wants the place.”

“No one is going to come up to northern Maine in the middle of winter like you.” His eyes wrinkled with laughter. Then he shook his head. “You’re the only person who thinks that. He probably lowered the price to entice someone desperate and foolish.”

“That would be me, then.” She held her breath for a minute before changing the topic. “Sometimes, I think a ghost lives in your house.”

“Sometimes, I think so too.” He shook his head. “Ghosts aren’t real, but the demons in my past never stray from my mind.”

Perhaps this wasn’t the time for that discussion. No need to bring up pain. She needed him to help mask her fears. With a smile, she reached to the side of her dress to unzip it. She’d let him see more of her for dessert. But it caught on her skin. She flinched. “Help me. Pull this hard.”

He stifled the sexy groan of an almost laugh.

She shook her head. “I was trying to be smooth.”

His laugh broke free now, but his hands brushed against her back. “Let’s see.”

“And I was trying to help you seduce me.” She turned around and gave him her back. “But I’d like to breathe. I put this on before eating the fattening food, and I’m bigger than your wife.”

“You smile more too.” He stood behind her back, and his large hands rested on her hips. His hands could almost wrap around her entire waist, and she wasn’t tiny. The zipper still tugged her skin, but he held her closer to his warm, muscular body. The headiness took the pain away. Then he whispered, “If I can’t get the zipper, I’ll get scissors.”

“Deal.” She nodded. But to stay brave, she closed her eyes while he tugged. His callused hands sent a heat wave through her.

The dress hadn’t budged.

This wasn’t sexy. She chewed on her lip and tried to pull at the dress. “Maybe I can wiggle it off.”

“Let’s get you on the bed and get your body to relax.” He kissed her ear. “I can find the scissors, though.”

“I don’t want sharp objects on my skin.” She twisted around in his arms and played with his belt loop to force him closer. His erection meant she hadn’t screwed up entirely. With a saucy wink, she added, “But that hard blade is more than welcome to try and break me.”

His eyebrows rose. “Try?”

“Maybe you’re not ready to rip the dress off me.”

He reached for her leg, traced her thigh, and brushed against her center. A shiver escaped her body. Suddenly, his other hand reached for the top of the dress.

He held her so close she thought he’d kiss her. But he instead whispered, “You asked for this.”

He yanked the top of the dress hard, almost causing her to fall. The rip reverberated in the air. Her chest bounced free from the dress’s cage. She took a deep breath. His hand on her hip and his massive chest didn’t let her stumble. She sighed her approval.

His grin and the chill on the hardening pebbles on her breasts made her smirk up at him. Gabriel was everything she hoped for in a man, and she teased, “If you do this to all the clothes in the closet, I won’t have anything left to wear.”

“That’s a good idea, Snowflake. I’m all for watching you strut around naked.” This time he held her close for a kiss, and she squirmed and tumbled to get him on his back.

“How do you know I don’t cook in the nude already?”

He laughed and didn’t budge. “Believe me, I’d find out, fast.”

He traced his hands down her back and squeezed her ass. She moaned and he picked her up. Her legs curled in his embrace, and he carried her back to her room.

Another giggle escaped her lips, but she let him kiss her shoulder. In his embrace, she slyly maneuvered her bra lower. He kissed the top of her breasts, then told her, “And seeing these not fit in the cups is sexy.”

“The wrong bra size can cause headaches.” Seriously, what was wrong with her sometimes? She swallowed, then finished, “Though tonight, I hoped you’d like the strapless push-up.”

“Wash yours. We have a laundry room, which you seem to avoid for some reason.” He reached around her and unhooked her bra. Her chest free meant she could breathe. His coarse hands on her back left a trail of electricity in their wake. “Let’s take it off, Snowflake. Can’t have you getting ill.”

His lips brushed her exposed skin, and he set her body on fire.

“Hold still.” He stepped back and untied his work boots.

A chill raced down her spine and went to war with her heart. The man couldn’t be what his dead wife claimed in her diary. He couldn’t. He was unlike any man she’d ever known. Her body ached for his touch. He kicked his shoes off; then his hands traced up her leg as he stood.

Now he took a hardened areola in his mouth to suck, and her entire body flushed. Thoughts jumbled and she became inarticulate.

With the wall behind her, she wrapped her legs around his body and pulled him closer.

“You’re flexible. I like it.” His hands on her thigh edged up her body. She needed him, and closed her legs around his torso. “I like everything about you.”

“Me too. I like being with you.” She swallowed. “I’m happy.”

He stared at her for a moment. She thought she’d gone too far, but then he nodded. “Me too.”

He carried her to her bed, and his hard hands against her soft skin made her body ache. At the edge of the bed, he set her down, and she sighed into his neck. She was half dressed, and her hands went to his chest to take off his shirt.

He helped her. The moment she pushed past his shoulders, his shirt came off easily. Then she threw it clear across the room.

Her fingers led her back to his belt, and she tugged. Wow. She ached to taste him. He ran his hands on her naked skin and kissed her cheek. “Patience, Snowflake.”

Someday she’d learn that lesson. But instead she took his hand and ran it down her legs. He growled with desire, but she refused to let him go. She kept her legs locked around his waist, and he squirmed. Then he leaned lower to kick off his shoes.

She kissed his ear and whispered, “Hurry, angel.”

A sigh escaped her. Gabriel stared at her like he’d won a prize, and, somehow, she was his. His smoldering eyes set her skin to well past burning for him. Then he turned his head to kiss her hard. Playfully, she kept her neck away from his lips. He kissed her skin so gently that she ached. Then she smiled and stared up at his succulent, sexy brown eyes. She sucked on her lower lip and dared, “Pants first, angel.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Move your thigh, so I can unzip the rest of that dress.”

Damn. Caught. With him naked, she could endure anything. She kissed his shoulder and shook her head.

He let out a groan. Good. She massaged his back to distract him. But he twisted and figured out how to pick up her leg to wiggle out of his pants.

At last he stood almost bare. At that instant, his hands went to her hips. He tugged, and she lost the last shreds of her dress. His hands massaged her back, but she twirled out of his arms. Freedom was good.

Now she sat on his lap, and his engorged manhood rose up to greet her.

She leaned in to kiss him, and she let go of all crazy fear. She needed him. Her muscles relaxed. The man’s kiss was hard, exciting, and delectable. The frenzy inside her body demanded to have him inside her moistness.

Without patience, she positioned herself better and pushed his cock into her. Shyness was for another day. Today, she kept right on kissing him.

“Damn,” he managed to say. No more words. She pushed him backward on the bed.

In full control, she needed to ride him. The heady throes of taking control made her body tremble.

She bucked backward. In a burst, she shattered all her control and lost herself in that moment.

16

Erica slept through the night and woke up the next morning. She stretched her arms and suppressed a giggle. Her body hummed from activity. Multiple times. Yum. She’d wrangled a promise from him last night. She had made him swear that tonight he’d dress for dinner in a suit. Her eyes rolled backward from the memory of their lovemaking. A sigh escaped her lips. She’d demanded he take her hard. She had left him no choice but to do what she wanted.

Tonight, they’d switch roles. He swore he would.

Her heart raced now. Today would be a good day. She stood and walked to the closet.

She ran her hands through her hair, and her entire body stayed well sated.

Finally, she went through her morning routines to clean herself up.

Gabriel had wanted her to see his work. All day with the incomparable man would end all her nightmares.

She anchored her hand on her hip and nodded to herself. She could do more than just cook. She could figure out how to use a hammer.

Outside her window the wind rushed past and it sounded bitterly cold. The windowpanes were frosted through, and for a second she wondered if ice could crack glass.

She sighed and stared at the door. Outside would be the library and that constant fire. She’d beat her fears of ghosts and whispering winds. Useful was what she preferred to be. He intended to clean up the front area this winter. As she straightened her hair into a bun, she concluded she could straighten things out with him too.

With a scarf around her neck and gloves in her pockets, she shuffled out of her room. The dark hallways echoed. She swallowed. Shadows and echoes were common, and this part of the house was fine. She had sat in the hall the other night and nothing happened.

At the kitchen, she placed her gloves and scarf on the table. She ticked her tongue to the bottom of her mouth and decided: a good, hearty chicken soup was fast and easy to prepare.

She shed her jacket and sweater, then went to work. She chopped the celery, which would go bad if not used, and set the pot on the stove. She finished preparing dinner for tonight and set the oven.

First mission accomplished. The soup would take hours to warm.

Now she bundled back on her sweater, jacket, gloves, and scarf, and went into the main lobby.

A blast of cold hit her face harder than a concrete wall. She rubbed her arms, which grew goose bumps despite all the layers. Then she swallowed and took another step. Halfway to the service door, she stopped. Was there a shadow again? Then she clicked her tongue and glanced around the lobby. No. This place was a mess. Spiders would be at home here. She turned around and decided to clean up behind the counter.

She gazed around the front desk, where hotel guests would check in. The ancient computer would likely be trashed. Then she sniffed the dust in the air. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. If she cleaned, she’d be less afraid.

She turned and marched back into the living areas. She found a plastic bag, then returned. Her breathing grew easier, and her heart beat at a regular pace. Work was great. She threw a few loose wires inside. Then she opened a cabinet and picked out a stack of papers and a ledger. She threw them in the trash. Dust gathered in her eyes and she coughed.

Despite the work, she was in a good mood. She picked up a second stack to trash, but she stopped. The word guests caught her gaze. Gabriel? Who had stayed in his lodge, and was anyone related to Tiffany? Curious, she tossed the rest but held onto the guest log.

The drawer was empty of papers and everything. Erica sighed, then stared at the guest book. She scratched her chin and opened up to see what the last date of entry was. Suddenly, a yellowed news clipping fell out.

A picture of Gabriel picture caught her eye. His expression was deep in the photo. His eyes held the echo of sadness. Her skin prickled and she reached to the floor. Gabriel’s smile sent heat through her, but she knew it was fake and for the camera. Her fingers brushed the edges of the newspaper. His handsome face without remorse sent a thrill that caused her to smile too. He’d been so carefree. Whatever had happened hadn’t crushed his intensity, but his eyes seemed almost haunted.

Then she stared at the words, and her eyes bulged out. Suspect Questioned in Murder stuck out in bold letters. No. This was crazy.

Gabriel Murphy, eldest son of real estate mogul Jack Murphy, was questioned in the murder of Alicia Hatfield. Her tumble down the stairs of the hotel is considered suspicious. His lawyer, Quinton McDougal, has stated his client is innocent and working with the police to provide a full account of what happened at the Chateau Louis Ermons.

Who was Alicia? Erica continued to read.

His wife, Tiffany Murphy, had transformed the chateau into a ski chalet for the wealthy. Mrs. Murphy did not appear with her husband and has not been seen publicly in over a year, though there are multiple reports she’s on the property.

Murder? Erica’s body convulsed. Had Tiffany set him up? Erica squeezed her eyes shut, but the word murder floated in her mind. Her heart beat a little faster, and she swallowed. Seeing the world as it was never interfered with how she thought or reacted. She gulped, and her heart raced. Her feelings were hard to read. This was impossible, and she wished she hadn’t read Tiffany’s stupid book of lies. Now this. Her body finally stilled. Coldness crept inside her lungs, but at least she calmed down.

She opened her eyes and stared at the newspaper clipping. She rubbed her neck. Gabriel had been questioned for murder. The frayed paper held morsels of truth.

Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. Tiffany had tortured Gabriel. That had to be the answer, but Erica never assumed anything about anyone. She gasped for air and pocketed the newspaper clipping. She glanced at the portrait on the wall of the cold woman with no smile on her lips. “You framed Gabriel?”

A question pounded in her head. Had she welcomed into her bed a man who killed his wife and other people?

No. Her heart screamed not to think those thoughts, but her head screamed to run away. The snow piled high outside the window, and the gray skies were darkening. There was nowhere to run.

And then her shoulder heated at the thought of facing the wolves out there again.

Erica’s feet shuffled backward, but she couldn’t stop the question. She had to get out of here. Her head spun again, and she shook it. If she wanted, could she get out the door?

Her breath caught in her throat and her hands shook. She walked fast and swung the front door open. The white wolf had nearly killed her. Her body shook.

A huge pile of snow greeted her. She’d die out there. Her hands trembled. She sucked in her lip, then slammed the door shut and gasped for air. The howl of a wolf echoed through the door. Her breath hitched and her head spun. There was no escape.

Her entire body shook uncontrollably. Panic never helped her think logically. To stop, she placed her hands on her heart and tried to stop hyperventilating. Her choices were to be eaten or figure out a murder.

This had to be wrong. She had to be overreacting.

She had to think of something positive.

A shallow whisper of a giggle escaped her lip next. She had finally discovered good sex.

Perhaps that wasn’t a good thought. Gabriel took her in, fed her, clothed her, and was becoming the most important person in her life. Near him, she felt safe.

Why believe anything else?

Her breathing stayed raspy, but she dulled her heartbeat to a slower pace. To not let the whirlwind of questions float in her mind, she stared at the stairs. Black spots clouded her vision. Murderers weren’t hot, gorgeous men with the ability to make her body melt, right? And this particular man spoke to her heart.

Trust should be natural, and her heart refused to believe the things she’d read. Her heart whispered to be calm.

The room seemed to grow smaller. She’d always been a smart and rational woman, but now she questioned her own mind. Were winters always this bleak? She’d lived her life in the sun and never had to stare at her own shadows. Finally, she put her hands together and dropped to her knees. She decided to pray. “Please. I need help to be rational. Gabriel could not have done this.”

A mental image of Gabriel’s strong, capable hands loomed in her mind. That wasn’t appropriate in a prayer. She stood up, brushed off her pants, and took off into a run.

She stared up the stairs toward the second-floor rooms. The dust flew everywhere in the hallway. She swallowed. The window at the end was too far. This time she headed even farther up the stairs. The floors creaked with every step. Everything grew darker, and she was almost in pitch black, until she circled around and reached the top floor. Light reflected here. Massive windows in what was once a restaurant helped slow her heartbeat. She coughed out the dust in the air.

She inched closer to the windows, and a breathtaking view captured her attention. A sea of evergreens was covered in snow up the side of the mountain. She leaned her forehead against the glass, despite the frigid temperature. The cold helped lower her body heat.

She stared at the powder snow, untouched and clean. This view was what Miami people dreamed of. Snow seemed so beautiful. Her eyes searched lower down the mountain, though the blanket of white mixed with those deep green pines had no signs of human activity. From here, she couldn’t even see the wolves, unless they were all pure white.

A sigh escaped her lips. In Miami, she had dreamed of snow sleds and snow angels and snowmen. In all the movies, families had seemed so happy. But she’d never imagined the vastness of mountains. The whiteness stretched as far at her eyes could see, and her chin trembled.

They were alone.

She was trapped, and if she judged the position of the sun correctly, evening approached. The grayness indicated a night storm.

She heard a creak of the floorboards in the distance. She turned to stare around the empty room, full only of tables. This must have been a dining room for guests.

No one was here, but she had goose bumps on her arms again.

She rubbed her arms for warmth. Gabriel would be looking for her.

So much for helping him today.

Her throat itched and she massaged her neck. If she showed him the article, he’d believe she had doubts. In that moment, she made a choice. She’d not tell him what she found. She’d pretend everything was normal. She had no other option. If she told him and he was innocent, he’d withdraw. She’d never forgive anyone who accused her of murder. And if he was guilty . . .

Her throat constricted.

Her hands went clammy and cold. She’d stop that train of thought right now. He couldn’t be guilty. She’d find the truth and her assumptions would be vindicated.

Maybe in Tiffany’s secret room? Why hadn’t she gone there today? If she had been anyone else, she’d have screamed to go there first.

Yes. She had the best plan she could come up with. The dead wife would be easier to blame.

17

Footsteps echoed in the hall. Gabriel? The back of Erica’s neck tingled still. Her shoulders tightened, and she backed into a bookshelf in the library. The heaviness of the books bumped her elbows, but she’d have something to throw if the doors opened.

She braced for impact and stared at the door to the lobby.

“Erica?”

Her ear buzzed in one side. Gabriel. Her heart thrummed a little less now, and she turned to gaze at the door to the apartment.

Ghosts were a stupid thing to be frightened of. She swallowed. She’d let him think she’d spent the morning in the library. Her heart whispered he’d understand she was outside, but her head spun. In desperation, she pressed her lips together and stayed silent to take her seat. She flinched at the creak of the door. She rubbed her hands down her body, then stared up with a small smile. He opened the door.

Without a thought, she closed a book and left it on the chair.

“There you are. Reading again?”

The lie wouldn’t form on her lips. She glanced at her shoes. She couldn’t tell him. She’d never been a good liar. But her muscles relaxed near him. Surely it meant something. She batted her eyelashes and stared up at him. Then she nodded. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

His muscular frame leaned against the door. “I thought you were coming to see me work today?”

“I was.”

“What happened?”

“I got afraid in the lobby.”

“Why?”

“Wolves. They were outside the door.”

“I am sorry, Snowflake. Were you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m even better now.”

She lifted up her chin a bit more, and she blushed the moment he met her gaze. No words formed. Why couldn’t she tell him? Why was she afraid? Then he winked. “The chicken soup smells satisfying.”

Her mind went blank. What could she say? She opened her mouth and stared into his tantalizing eyes. Her heart melted a bit. “I was cleaning up the lobby and tossed a lot of papers into a trash bag. Tomorrow, I’m going to sweep out there and get rid of the dust.”

“You don’t have to.” His smile grew into dimples a bit, and his face was warmer. “You’re a guest.”

Her skin had sparks of life in it again, which countered how cold she’d been. She sighed. “I want to help you.”

“Thank you.” He came closer. She stared at his broad shoulders and muscles until he stood in front of her.

Her jaw stayed open, and the electricity in her body sang. She saw the boyish gleam in his eyes as he stared down at her. “What are you thinking?”

He knelt on one muscular knee and his face came closer to her. “That you are beautiful and precious.”

She stroked her throat, and her body burned. Her brow furrowed. What? Then his lips met hers, and steam came out of every cell in her body. Gabriel tasted better than anything else she’d ever had. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and she met his kiss with her own.

She sat back a little to focus on anything but how rapturous he was. In protest, he kissed her neck, and her knees went weak. He pressed her into his body. She wanted him. Right now. His muscular chest next to hers sent her heart into pleasurable palpitations. His fingers tugged at her shirt and lifted it up. Her brain became foggy, and he claimed her lips in a kiss again. Her mouth quivered with excitement.

Suddenly, she called out, “Wait.”

He stopped instantly. “Erica, did something happen to you?”

“No.” She swept her hand across her forehead and blinked a few times. The fire inside her grew hotter near him, and despite everything, her lips tingled for him. Ghosts weren’t real and the house made noises. “I want to help you, Gabriel.”

He traced her nose with his finger. “You said that earlier, Snowflake.”

She nodded, and her lips sent the electric pulse for another kiss that moved up in her brain. “You deserve a second chance at living your life without being stuck in the mountain.”

“I don’t know what I would be like if you hadn’t barged through the door.” His hand stayed on her side, though he slid it up to hold hers and squeeze. “You’re important to me. Far more than you realize.”

She swallowed hard. She couldn’t lose him if she lied. But her heart and mind needed to work together. Her gaze lowered. “I don’t know. I don’t know much about you.”

His large hands firmly held hers now. “What do you want to know?”

Should she tell him what she found? She needed answers. She opened her mouth to tell him about the newspaper, but when she gazed into his intense eyes, she became hypnotized. “You were a captain in the Marines. And you live here alone. Do you have a job that pays you?”

“I don’t need one. I have enough with the rebuilding of this ski chalet.”

She turned her shoulder away, but said nothing.

He stared at her eyes for a moment. Then with a firm smile, he told her, “I’ve been living off my investments and restoring this place. I have more money than most people, if that’s what bothers you.”

Her eyes misted a little, but only because her heart opened to him. “I just wanted to know if you had the means to take care of yourself.”

He nodded, but the silence clung in the air. She’d screwed up this conversation. “But if you live here alone, what happens if you get sick?”

“My parents will find me in the spring.”

“What do they do?” The question fell out before she could do anything else.

He sat next to her on the couch. “Dad was an investor and owns hotels. Mom was a librarian until she married my dad. She was his second wife, though they met long before my brother, sister, or I were born.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Tell me more about them.”

His entire body went rigid. “I don’t want to talk about my brother.”

His wife. Raphael and the betrayal had to be painful, but Erica needed to know. So she stepped closer, leaned on his shoulder, and whispered, “Your sister, then. Who is she?”

His grim frown opened up, and his jaw went slack when he told her, “Baby sister, Michaela. Mom wanted four children to name after the four archangels. She had three.”

She nodded. “That’s a cool concept.”

He continued. “Michaela’s a terrible writer, but she hopes to write the next big song.”

Her hands brushed against his. “We should all be talented at something.”

“Talent does not run in our genes.” Then he took her hand and rested it in his lap.

She turned her body a bit more. “Everyone has something they are good at.”

His nose turned a little. “Our mom is on the spiritual bent where it’s almost a religion, but she’s not as bad these days. I can’t imagine any brother with the name Uriel.”

“It wouldn’t be that horrible of a name. I kind of like it.” Her mind relaxed.

“You’d kiss a guy with the name Uriel?” He froze after the words came out of his mouth.

She swallowed, then swung her leg over his to sit on his lap. “I don’t know anymore. I have a thing for the name of the messenger angel, and I don’t go for sharing. Now shut up and kiss me, Gabriel.”

He followed instructions, and her lips ached for more. With a sigh, he stopped a moment later. “Wait, are you the boss again?”

Her eyebrows rose. “I’m slightly bossy all the time.”

A smirk grew on his face. “I’m okay with that.”

With a wide grin, she told him, “Good, because I want to stay in your arms.”

Her stomach stayed hard, but flashes of heat coursed through her. Another flutter of kisses sent her body into overdrive. This time, he ended the kiss, and he stripped her of her shirt and sweater. Her head rolled back, and she bounced in his lap and brushed against his manhood.

He groaned at how she moved. “Unbutton my belt, Snowflake. I like your hands all over me.”

A watery smile appeared on her lips. Tomorrow, she’d tell the truth. Tonight, she needed him. She did as he commanded, and was turned on. But something held her back. Why hadn’t she told him what she found? The truth would set her free. But every second he brushed her skin with his callused hands, her body burned up, and she loved his every touch.

He unhooked her bra and gave her the biggest smile. “This is your only fitting one. Guess you’ll earn it back.”

“Earn?”

“Get it back later. I need you.”

“Good.”

The boyish smile on his face melted her heart. Her hair on her arm rose. Her smile grew. And her skin electrified every second his hands traced her bare back.

She lost her ability to think, and could only react. Her body convulsed the moment he kissed her ear; then she whispered, “Take off your pants.”

“What will you do?”

“Ride you. Sit back on the couch.”

She shivered. She’d do anything to stay. Gabriel backed away. Her feet rocked for one second. She was unsure what to do.

He gave a wild wink, then dropped his pants.

She giggled. Her stallion was ready to go.

Her mind cleared. She closed her eyes. A bubble of excitement grew inside her, and she pushed her ill-fitting jeans off her body and sat on his erection. Her pace stayed slow, but she lowered herself further down. “Is this good for you?”

“Teasing, Snowflake.” His hand traced her thigh and squeezed her backside at the same moment he met her gaze. “I thought tonight, we’d played chess.”

“Later. I like this first.”

“Erica, you are insatiable.”

“True.”

Her lips trembled. A primal urge grew inside her. He rubbed her backside, which sent a longing for his sumptuous body to take her.

“I’ve thought of your breasts all day.”

Hunger for him grew in her womanhood, and her fingers ached with need to touch. “I hope you enjoy.”

Then she bounced up and down on his shaft. He groaned.

He shook his head. “Erica, you’re amazing.”

“I like how you say my name.”

With passion that built inside her, she let him lavish his attention on her hardened nipples. Every few seconds, she bounced. Desire coursed through her and a warm sweetness grew.

First he took one bud to suckle, then the other. He took his time, licking, kissing, and her body ached with a need for release.

She soon pressed closer and begged him to take her.

He flipped her around suddenly; her butt stuck out and her chest pressed into the couch. The liquid desire for him grew. She needed him, and his hands checked her apex. Good. Then he pressed his finger inside her and kissed her shoulder blade. “You’re excited, Snowflake. I have no idea how I lived this long without you.”

His tenderness was her undoing. Her body shook, and her adrenaline spiked. He slightly squeezed her ass. She squirmed, and he played with her clit. A small burst of rapture coursed through her. Had she ever been so alive? With heavy breath, she opened her mouth and told him, “I’m yours, Gabriel.”

“And I am yours.” A second finger plunged inside her and made the fever in her body electrify.

An unstoppable moan escaped her lips. She panted. “Please, Gabriel. I need you.”

His fingers picked up the pace, and her release grew, about to explode. He pushed her on the couch and told her, “Erica, you are my weakness.”

A moan escaped her lips and she closed her eyes. Everything inside her shuddered. Her words were true: “Gabriel, you are the only one I ever want.”

Love was too strong a word. She’d prove him innocent.

After he squeezed her ass, he pushed into her mound and the deepness of him inside her set her off balance. Aching with desire, she ruptured and lost all control.

With her eyes rolling backward, he pushed deeper again. His manhood rammed into her. The moment the wave seemed to end, another frenzy took over her and pushed her off the edge again. Her last thought was that Gabriel was definitely an angel to cherish, because no other man sent her into oblivion like this.

18

Euphoria deserved a reward. With her shoulders back, Erica lazily stretched her arms wide. A vague memory of last night surfaced, and she visualized the moment he’d called her his weakness. Gabriel gave her what she had always wanted but never dared ask for. Then she had met him. Sated, she’d slept beside him most of the night.

Erica settled on her pillow and a deep sigh escaped her lips.

Her nakedness made her flush and bury herself in the blankets. Last night’s multiple orgasms from Gabriel lay at such odds with what she had found. Her well-suckled breasts still ached for him. Marks of his ample attention remained.

He set out to please her and make her every wish come true. Her heartbeat was too sure now. She’d find out the truth here.

She’d hand him the article and the diary. Then she’d call it rubbish and toss everything in the trash.

Her heart ached to trust Gabriel and go slow with him. Her lips twitched, but her head reminded her that the man could be a murderer multiple times over. Her heart screamed no. Fulfillment didn’t come from doubt, though, and she had no answers, except that her instinct was to trust him.

The warmth she had in her soul for him should be cherished. Perhaps she had missed a few things when she’d skimmed the last part of the diary the other night. Her heartbeat had thrummed in her ears, and all she had heard that night was the thump in her head. Now adrenaline rushed through her body, and she had the energy to conquer the world.

In the stillness of the night, she decided to read more of the diary. One clue that Tiffany’s diary was a lie would be enough. Erica tapped her finger on her cheek. Gabriel was in his room. The diary might have answers to how bad he was hurt. Or even better, the murder could be explained away. Gabriel had been too good to her to believe anything else.

She picked up the small book and flipped open to the next page.

Today was different. Raphael told me that we couldn’t continue our affair. I threw myself at his feet, but he walked away from me. He blames himself for betraying his brother and family. Without him, I am utterly alone. I can’t let him go. My parents are dead. Alan is dead. And my sister and Gabriel both hate me. Gabriel promised to love, honor, and cherish me. He was a liar. I started the affair with Raphael to stab him in the back, but everything changed. I fell in love. I have to get Raphael back. His love is all I need. I need to find the right concoction to make him stay. If I told Gab about Raphael, he’d have grounds for a divorce. If I lose Raphael, then Gabriel will pay the ultimate price. I can’t let Raphael go, and I can’t let Gabriel get away with ruining my life. Not yet. Not ever. I deserve better. There has to be a way to not lose the only thing I love.

I cannot lose him, or it would be like losing myself. Without Raphael I am nothing, no one. He is all that matters. All I care about. If his family cannot accept that I will have to make them . . .

With her eyes in a dramatic roll, Erica relaxed. His wife had been an idiot, and slightly off. Concoction? Was she drugging him? The only one Tiffany loved was herself. Selfishness was on every page. Erica swallowed. She had been right about his wife. Besides, if she were married to Gabriel, she’d never cheat. The man set her on fire in a way no other ever had, and Tiffany had used him.

Erica’s neck tickled again, like someone stared at her. She stretched her hands above her head.

A loud sigh helped dissipate the strange sensation on her body.

As Erica flipped the page, her shoulders eased on the pillow behind her, though she noticed the entries were almost done. The other night hadn’t revealed much, so today’s more fine-tuned reading should end all doubts. The woman didn’t write much, though Erica’s eyes stared straight at the name she sought: Alicia. Who was the woman who had died? She hoped this would clear away her doubts.

That stupid woman doesn’t deserve this attention. Alicia spent the night flirting with Gabriel. She got what she deserved. My husband’s life will never be happy. He doesn’t get to replace me. Not when he stole away my chance at happiness. Raphael is gone now, but he didn’t tell Gabriel anything. At least he had no idea Alicia flirted at all. The man spends most of his time outside with the hired help, and at night he screams. I keep laughing to myself. War is supposed to make a man stronger, but my husband became a coward. I don’t care how many medals he’s won. If he were courageous, he’d not have nightmares. And if he believes war was too much for him, he’ll never withstand what I’ll do.

Erica cracked her knuckles, and the sound reverberated in the room. Then she narrowed her gaze to read the rest.

When Gabriel discovers my affair, he’ll be completely destroyed. His mistake with Alicia will be his undoing. It’s my only chance of escape now, if I can find Raphael. His brother will be enough for me, in a way Gabriel and Alan could never be. Raphael will never know the lengths I will go for him. First things first: If I don’t destroy Gabriel, he’ll surely kill me. I have no choice. It’s why I hide the evidence in our secret room. Alicia’s fall was useful. Gabriel won’t know I set him up. He’s never home.

Erica’s fingers froze on the words Alicia was useful. She scratched her head and sat up. She tapped the entry with her index finger. What did that mean? The entry was riddled with confusion, and Erica’s grin grew less confident. She ticked her tongue to the side of her mouth. What had Tiffany done to Gabriel? If she had killed Alicia, and not Gabriel, everything made sense. She nodded at the book as thunder boomed in the distance.

Erica frowned and stared at the door. Had she not checked it immediately because she was afraid? Tiffany was dead. If there was something in that secret room, then Erica needed to see. She had to go find the truth. Her mother had always said the truth was better than a lie. Gabriel deserved to know the truth too, if he’d been set up.

The chilly air was a shock. Her body had overheated from exertion earlier. But she threw a nightgown over her body and found a sweater. She’d sleep better if her brain trusted the same way her heart and body did. She found her slippers, then slipped out of her room. Her hands were frozen, and she rubbed them on her arms to warm.

* * *

The fire in the library kept her gaze for a moment. Then she stared at her task, and her body soaked in the warmth. She marched toward the bookshelf, shed her sweater on the sofa, and moved books to a pile on the ground first. Her hands had tingles, and, again, there was a tickle on the back of her neck. She refused to entertain doubts now.

She pushed on the wall that had the mark of the nail polish, and at first nothing moved. There had to be a secret door here that held everything. With her hand on her hip, she decided to knock and listen for any hollow sounds on the wall. Doors had different sounds than walls.

The entire thing echoed in the same fashion. She sucked in her lower lip. What was she missing?

Her shoulder ached, but she ignored it.

Behind the next shelf, she ran her hand on the wall and clicked something. A giggle escaped her lips, and her heart beat a bit faster. She pushed the wall again, and it opened easily.

A satisfied smile grew. With her hand anchored to her hip, she found it, and her pulse raced. She took a step to go inside.

“No.”

She winced. Had he seen her? No. She should have told him. Gabriel’s scream echoed in her heart.

With a fast inhale of breath, she slammed the door closed and spun around fast.

No one stood behind her, and she stopped flinching. As she let out her breath, she froze. She heard a second scream, and recognized the guttural cry of terror.

Had something happened? She ran to Gabriel’s room and tried his door again. This time, he hadn’t locked it. She pushed in and stared at him. Somehow, he sat up in his bed with his legs curled up to his chest, but he wasn’t awake. He had a huge safe next to his bed. She reached out and brushed his hair behind his head. To comfort him, she leaned closer to sit next to him and massaged his scalp. “Gabriel, are you okay?”

At first he didn’t answer, but his strong body shook. He was in a sleep state.

Uncertain what to do, she rubbed his shoulder to get him to relax. He stopped his shaking a moment later, and his body slowly released tension. His gaze sharpened and stared at her. He must have awoken, because he nodded, and she understood.

“I don’t sleep well.” He kept his hands on his head. “Memories haunt me.”

She massaged both of his shoulders, then kissed his neck. “It’s okay. Memories of war? Or your wife?”

“Both.” His eyes met hers for a moment before he dropped his gaze.

With an understanding heart, she offered him a side hug. He swallowed. Then she heard the sigh from his throat.

He shook his head. “Erica, I’ve seen more than I should have. The darkness means good girls like you shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”

“That again?”

“I’m in a dark place.”

“And hospitals are filled with optimistic people? I spend most of my time alone.” She brushed his arm, then tilted her head as she continued to stroke him. To protect her from whatever haunted him wasn’t a good idea. “What was your dream? Talking about things helps.”

He twisted his legs to sit up. “You don’t want to hear it.”

To gain his trust, she hugged his shoulder and answered, “If it’s haunting you, I’m here to listen.”

He stared out the window and at first said nothing. Her pulse was on alert. Trust went both ways, and she ought to tell him. Then he took a deep breath and broke the silence. “When I was captured in war with my men, I had to watch a young kid die. They killed him because I had to keep our mission secret.”

Her heart constricted at the picture he painted. She scooted closer to have her legs brush his and hugged him again. “Gabriel, it’s not your fault.”

His pupils were big, and his stare so empty that her heart hurt for him. His muscles tensed as he shook his head. “I put us there.”

What a horrible burden he held. She offered him a small smile, though she couldn’t let him go. “You didn’t shoot him. They were after you, and it wasn’t your fault.”

“Too many ghosts haunt me to deserve you.” He kissed her hand. He seemed so melancholy. “Let me put you back to bed.”

“I was already awake.”

He said nothing at first.

The man shouldn’t be alone. She picked up the blanket and tucked her feet under the covers. He didn’t move, and she pressed on the pillow. “I’ll stay here with you.”

“I won’t sleep anymore. I’m up now. Best to get up and go to work.” Without giving her a moment to react, he stood fast. She sat up, but he rushed like something chased him. “You should get more sleep, though, Snowflake. It’s still early, and you’re white as a ghost.”

“I told you already, I can’t sleep without you.”

She took his offered hand, unsure what to do. He wasn’t a man she could talk into anything. She slipped her feet back into her slippers, then leaned closer to him. “The best way to get over pain is to talk it out. Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”

For a minute, he didn’t move; then he hugged her. The fire in her belly grew, and so did the weight of what she should say. She opened her mouth to fess up, but then he told her, “You’re the first to ask in a long time, Snowflake. Give me time. Tomorrow, I’ll find you during the day and show you the kitchen. We’ll talk more then, but first I need to work stuff out in my head.”

She blinked. What should she say? He had opened up to her. And promised more. He had to think things through.

Trust went both ways, and the weight of that inside her stomach kept her locked in place. With heavy footsteps, she followed behind in the hall.

The moment they stepped into her room, she froze. The diary was on the bed. This was not the time, and she didn’t need him to disappear on her, not yet. In an ungraceful move, she pushed herself in front of him. She walked backward and picked up his arms to her waist. “Okay, I’ll wait on you, but can you stay with me?”

“I thought you couldn’t sleep.”

“I can. Next to you.”

His eyes spoke before he did, and she knew he’d agree. He squeezed her waist slightly and stepped forward. “Are you sure? We’re both moving fast, and you’ve been skittish.”

It wasn’t her who was skittish. “I’m positive.” She sat on the bed, dropped the diary down behind it, and then smiled up at him. “Lie down. Don’t be shy. I’ve already seen you naked and approve of the entire package.”

“You win, Erica.” A chuckle came out of his mouth next. She sighed and settled down. He kicked off his sneakers, then sat beside her. He fixed the blankets around them as he lay down. “Go to sleep, Snowflake.”

“Close your eyes, angel.” She held his hand beside her and listened to her steady heartbeat. Tonight, they enjoyed each other’s company. His strong, callused hands engulfed her, and the safety net of being near him soon enveloped her. Slowly, she closed her eyes. “I won’t hurt you.”

He made no more sound, except a deep breathing. He had to be asleep.

The diary had to have an explanation. Tiffany, not Gabriel, was the murderer. Erica would find the evidence in the secret room and offer it to him. But right now, her body relaxed next to him. He needed to know she believed in him. Her muscles warmed into a safe cocoon next to him and her eyes closed.

Her last thought, as she drifted off to sleep, was that tomorrow she’d find proof he was innocent.

Everything would then be perfect.

19

For the first time since she’d arrived, Erica woke up smiling. Today, she wasn’t scared of any ghosts or diary entries. She sniffed the air, and the smell of the deep woods was still in her pillow. Gabriel. Her mouth watered. Instead of bouncing up, she flipped over to the other side of her bed. She could still cuddle in the warm sheets and smell him in his pillow. He’d recently left. Despite his arguments, Gabriel had slept more. A grin grew on her face. Good. If she helped him, her entire soul lifted and peace entered her heart.

She swallowed, sat up, crossed her arms, and yawned.

She’d prove today that his wife had set him up with that accusation, and any doubt Erica possessed would stop its pounding in her head. She needed to show him the room. Her heart trusted him. How had she even wondered such awful things about him?

At the window, the coldness hit her fast and chills ran up her body. She stared at the white wall of snow outside, and her throat constricted. Panic inside her grew. A tingle started on the back of her neck again, like someone else was here. The darkness crept from the walls.

She blinked. No. A larger shadow grew on the wall. Erica gasped, but then the darkness evaporated. She shook her head. She was lightheaded, and that transformed the fear and terror into something else. She’d been irrational. Now she needed to find the proof.

Gabriel was falsely accused, and she’d be here for him. If he sought answers, she’d give him whatever she found, all tied together with a bow around it. Her heart lifted at that thought. Perfect. She rushed to the closet and found clothes. In the meantime, she’d get moving and go see if there was any way to help him.

The shadows near the wall seemed to follow her, and her breathing was shallow.

No. She shook her head. Erica dressed and then stretched her arms and legs. She tried to relax, and not think, for two minutes. Her mother would tell her that her fears were just hogwash.

Erica laughed at the thought, stood on her toes for a minute, reached up to stretch, and then went about her morning routine. She turned around and stared at the wall one more time. No shadows at all. She almost walked out of the room, but then she saw his note. Will come back this afternoon early to show you the kitchen. I hope you like it. Gabriel.

Aw. The man was polite and kind. Her mother would like him. She took off on her mission. She briskly walked through the small apartment. At the kitchen, she shook her head. She’d make something later.

In a march, she reached the library door, closed the door behind her, and headed right to the secret door. Gabriel was innocent, and today she’d vanquish her fears and his ghosts. Her shoulders were ready for the burden. She moved the books and the shelf as fast as she could. Then she reached to click the spring and open the door. The second she heard that pop in the air, she stopped. A chill went down her spine, like someone was watching her. The tingles on her neck reappeared.

She rubbed her neck. Shadows didn’t go room to room, especially with no windows or sun. Her eyes darted around the room once, but she shook off her reaction.

An eerie feeling pushed inside her, and the pit of her stomach grew heavy.

She sneezed and waved her hand. The dust of the place meant no one had been there in a long time. Erica covered her face. The musky smell in the air went right up her nose. She gagged but continued. Inside the room, her gaze immediately settled on a twin-size daybed. Erica’s eyes watered. His wife had cheated on Gabriel in the light pink–painted room with a flowered bedspread. Erica’s nose turned up, and a gasp escaped her lips. The old-fashioned cheapness somehow made sense here.

What would link this room to what happened to Alicia? Erica turned around.

She checked out everything, then sat in the chair at the vanity and stared at herself in the dirty mirror. She could see the daybed behind her. With a blink, she could imagine the small woman from the portrait who chose to have an affair and stare at herself during sex. The image was burned in the walls. Erica surmised that this was the place. Picture frames lined the table, and she brushed dust off the nearest one. The blonde woman in that red dress stared back at her. Erica swallowed. No wonder Gabriel had frowned.

There had to be something to prove him innocent. She tapped on the counter, then opened the first drawer. Dust blew up her nose and she tried not to sneeze. Her eyes watered. Then she stared inside. Instead of answers, she found another news article printed out from the Internet. The link must be the local paper. Evidence of a later report, in which Tiffany was implicated? With a smile, Erica read on.

With the unsolved murder of Alicia Hatfield still hot, a second victim has been found at the Chateau Louis Ermons. The handyman, Reilly O’Shea, was found dead this morning. The police suspect poisoning, though no official statement has been released. Gabriel Murphy went to the police of his own volition the day the body was found. His lawyer, Quinton McDougal, states his client is innocent of all charges and is fully cooperating with the police investigation. Police Sergeant Walters told his fellow officers that they already have a suspect in mind but must gather all evidence before making the arrest. This reporter wonders how many more hours of freedom Gabriel Murphy will have.

Her nose wrinkled. Who had underlined that? And who had written this slander? Heat burned her cheeks. Erica glanced up at the name of the reporter, Ruth Smith, and red-hot anger coursed through her body before her hands shook. So much for fair and impartial news. Erica put the paper down and shook her head. Then she ticked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and tried to rationalize what she knew. The wife, Tiffany, was dead, and in her diary, she claimed Gabriel would kill her. Then she basically admitted to killing Alicia. Now the handyman had died, and again Gabriel had been crucified.

Her poor, sweet Gabriel.

The story had holes, but Erica had her theory. Tiffany had done this. She had some sort of plan. Erica ran her hand through her hair. Today, she’d ask Gabriel how Alicia and O’Shea had died, and risk rocking the boat of trust. She’d bring him here, to this secret room. He had answers, or clues. Had he been here remodeling or stripping the place apart for evidence of what happened to him?

Erica stopped. Was that what he was doing? She swallowed. It made sense. Talking together would clear this up, and she’d find what she needed.

She rubbed her neck. Gabriel had been through so much. Two murders in this place. Everyone blamed him. The second report found in the wife’s cheating hideaway. Erica froze. A guest and a janitor. Gabriel was questioned, but that didn’t make him guilty.

A memory burned bright in her mind. His kiss sent shock waves of electricity coursing through her. The lingering doubt went away. It couldn’t be possible. She’d get to the bottom of this.

“Erica, where are you?”

Gabriel’s voice. No. Not here. A lump lodged in her throat. She jumped to her feet and ran out of the room. The dust in the air gathered in her nose. Inside the warm library with the fire, she slammed the door closed and sneezed. A moment later, he opened the library door. “I’m making a habit of finding you here.”

“It’s a big, warm space.” She glanced around.

“Are you moving the books?”

“Yeah, don’t ask. Come and kiss me instead.”

She didn’t blink until he came over and kissed her on the lips. The spark stayed, despite the tingles in her nose. She closed her eyes and smelled the homey, woody scent that was all Gabriel. Then she opened her eyes and gazed into his sexy brown ones. She’d solve this, then when the snow melted, she’d . . .

She wasn’t thinking about that right now.

“You’re distant.” He stepped backward.

“Distracted. It’s nothing.” She moved forward and wrapped her arms around his waist to stop him from backing off.

His face turned into a small smile. “What?”

“I’m worried about my mom.” What held her back?

“I’ll do what I can, Erica. Pray for time. And I’ll pay the hospital bills.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I have the money, and you love her.”

“I do.” She swallowed. “Thank you.”

Generous too. She sighed. He smelled of soap and sweat but mostly of freedom. Doubts had no place. She kissed his cheek, then told him, “Your kiss makes me happy.”

“Yours too.” He kept his hands around her and held her. She swayed a little. He kissed her cheek in return, and told her, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Snowflake. But come. Let’s get a sweater for you. I want your expert opinion on the hotel kitchen. You can tell me if I should add anything.”

She smiled at him and took his hand. The callused hands enveloped hers, and a gentle heat coursed through her now. “You’re planning on reopening?”

“With the front of the house, I’ve hired a professional company. This winter, I’m fixing up the back, and mostly finishing the prework. When they come, everything will be cleaned and all they need to do is lay the new floors, restore the ceiling, and paint the walls. I had an electrician here last summer who painted and restored the grounds and redid the roof, the plumbing, and windows.”

“You’ve been busy.”

He squeezed her hand. “I was waiting for you.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Then I’d have been here sooner.”

Perhaps he wasn’t searching for clues into what happened. Perhaps he knew. She swallowed and intended to ask.

Then he opened a door—the laundry room. She covered her mouth and almost laughed. She’d never checked out that room. “I am used to dropping my laundry off at the cleaners. It never occurred to me to check for a door here.”

“Or get a flashlight.”

To hold in her giggle, she kept her hand in his, and he admitted to her, “When the house is in order, I’ll happily stop doing laundry myself.”

She leaned over and squeezed his hip. She teased, “So you intend to let people in and help you?”

His hand rubbed the back of her hand. “Despite how you met me, Snowflake, the only other time I took care of myself was in the Marines. I’m thinking I’ll head home when I’m done.”

She fell back while he led her down the hall. “Where’s that? Connecticut with your parents?”

“Boston.” He gave her half a smile. “I’d like to see you again.”

Wow. She smiled. “Count on it, Gabriel.”

She had recently opened a restaurant there. Again, she kept her mouth shut, and he let her hand go.

To give way, he stepped behind her. “So, what do you think?”

“This is some kitchen.” She twirled around to stare at all the gleaming counters, the freezer door, the huge oven, the fresh metal pans. Then she stared back at him, eyes wide open. He almost reminded her of a little boy who waited for approval. Her eyebrows shot up. “Amazing.”

“Need a professional opinion, Ms. Chef.” He kept his distance, and she roamed on the beige Venetian-tiled floor and touched every counter. Then she nodded.

“Anything you’d add?”

With a shake of her head, she laughed. “This is state-of-the-art. I’d recommend power.”

His mouth fell open. “Funny.”

Ask him about the murders. She jerked her shoulder forward and reprimanded herself. As she pressed her lips together, she stared at the oven. The pit of her stomach grew heavy, but she tried to ignore it. She should show him now. She gulped. “What happened here that you shut down power in the main house?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She swallowed and turned to stare into his thoughtful eyes. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Talking about whatever happened will help you.”

“Not always.” He backed up in the room. “And if I scare you, I can’t melt the snow.”

No. She’d not let him run away. She had to ask and tell him what she’d found. She stepped forward and matched his pace. “I’m scared if I don’t know the truth.”

He ran his hand through his hair, and his skin paled. Then he shook his head. “I can’t talk about this.”

Her body shook. Her voice cracked. “Please, Gabriel.”

“I need to—” He shook his head violently, then broke contact.

“Don’t. I have to talk to you.” With her hand over her mouth, she stopped talking, and her eyes followed him. He paced the room and never looked at her. He shook his head like he was worried. Then, with no answers, he stormed out of the room.

She put her clenched fist in her mouth and bit on a finger. Then she covered her mouth and tried to stop her feet from rocking back and forth. If he answered that question, she’d believe him. All she needed was a rational explanation.

20

Late in the evening, Erica stood in the cold kitchen, and her hope slowly faded that he’d come back. She tried to relax, but Gabriel hadn’t returned.

Outside, the night sky became darker, and the stars were the only bright things she could see from where the window was. Answers on how she’d tell weren’t forthcoming, though her shoulders were heavy. Her head spun. He had said he’d be back, but the house was so still. Eventually, she gave up and dropped her hands to her sides. She needed the missing puzzle pieces to figure this out herself. Gabriel had nothing to fear from her. If she stood around on the cold floor, she’d let the cold seep through her skin.

She hugged herself and realized she had a room to search. Her fists clenched, then she turned toward the library. She swallowed and told herself she couldn’t be wrong about his innocence. A cold sweat broke out on her brow. She’d be in a whole lot of trouble otherwise.

What was that thought?

She headed back to the library and the secret room. Her thoughts were ridiculous. Gabriel was kind and sweet and perfect. Tiffany had hidden that news clipping, and there had to be more clues in her hideaway. If she had a secret place, she’d keep all her hopes and dreams in it.

What happened to Tiffany, Alicia Hatfield, and Reilly O’Shea? All three people were dead, and Gabriel’s name had been mentioned multiple times as the main suspect. The weight on Erica’s shoulders was the opposite of the whispers in her heart.

Yet he was here and not in jail. Murderers didn’t live at the scene of the crime. They went to jail. Unless, of course, there wasn’t enough evidence. No, she’d not go there.

The man needed to answer a few questions, but he took a while to open up. Erica had never had much patience.

Everything with him was almost perfect now. So what was wrong with her?

She managed to silence herself. Then she took her first few steps into the warm room. She’d go mad if she waited around for the rational explanation that had to exist here. Her mind racing, she walked back to the library.

What if he wasn’t what she hoped he was?

Doubts had no place in her life.

She pushed past the fireplace and its warmth of the library, headed right for the wall, and pushed it open. A sneeze escaped her nose. After a deep breath, she reminded herself to cover her face the next time she came in here. The dust swirled around. Then she coughed. She covered her face with her hands, though her eyes still watered. The shadow on the walls stayed, but everything else settled.

A chill went down her back, and the tingle on the back of her neck returned. She rubbed her neck. Was someone here? This time the sense was stronger. It was like cold, metallic daggers boring into her neck. Someone hated her.

No one was here, though. She squared her shoulders and headed farther in and toward the vanity, which had a second drawer.

She opened it up. She found a few books and papers, and then her heart froze. Something didn’t add up here. The drawer was too shallow on the inside.

With a knock at the wood on the ground, she heard the hollowness.

Secrets. She picked the books and papers up and brushed her fingers against a false bottom. This could be the answer. With her fingernail, she traced the wood to find the groove, then picked up the switch.

No! Her body twitched, and her breath caught in her throat. A gun.

Erica’s hands shook. Why had Tiffany had a gun?

Erica’s hands turned white. Her eyes wouldn’t blink. She closed her eyes and ignored the weapon. To keep warm, she hugged herself. How did Gabriel figure into this?

Perhaps Tiffany had set him up. Erica’s theory might be right, and then Gabriel was innocent.

The need for answers overwhelmed her, and she opened her eyes. She stared hard at the papers and book on the desk. She picked up the papers, rummaged through them, and found yet another news article that came off the same Internet site.

Raphael Murphy, brother of Gabriel Murphy, was shot this morning at the Chateau Louis Ermons. The police have taken Gabriel into custody. Alicia Hatfield and Reilly O’Shea’s murders have not been linked yet, but share the same location and the same suspect. This reporter wonders when the arrest for the alleged murderer will take place. Tiffany Murphy has appeared publicly for the first time in over a year. She’s lost a lot of weight recently, but she’s vowed to close down the chateau. Raphael’s murder is the first in this series with a gun. Alicia fell down a flight of stairs, and O’Shea was poisoned. The murderer is growing bolder with every kill. Gabriel Murphy’s arrest will put this town at peace, though his lawyer, Quinton McDougal, states his client is innocent of all charges. Three murders near our sleepy town are causing a mass panic.

The newspaper was scandalous and one-sided. The paper was clean and hadn’t yellowed as fast as the other.

Gabriel had been arrested for his brother’s murder? How far did this go? Erica’s breathing became shallow.

No. She’d not hyperventilate. She put her hands on her face to cover her nose and mouth and forced herself to take deeper breaths. Three murders. Plus his dead wife. Her pulse raced, and her brain, full of questions, took over.

The woman might have had a gun to protect herself. It was a possible explanation. No one else would do this, though Tiffany might have been crazy. She had said multiple times Gabriel would kill her.

The list of suspects for the police centered on the man who made Erica’s heart complete, but the diary entries also sounded like Tiffany had done everything.

In war, the man had been captured and tortured.

Erica rubbed her temples. She had a backbone in business, and she’d grow one here too. She stood and brushed her hands together to get the dirt off her. Had the events played out because of his posttraumatic stress and his inability to talk about it?

The question swirled in her mind and her ears rang. To calm down, she locked her thoughts on her most likely suspect.

Tiffany hadn’t cared enough about her husband to ask questions—that much had been obvious from the diary.

Erica turned her head to the books on the vanity. She flipped one open and a receipt for a pharmacy fell out. At least seven different prescriptions had been purchased around the time of the murders. The name on them had faded out. Strange. Perhaps it had been rubbed out. The wrong dose of things could be a cause of death, at least according to celebrity death reports on her television.

Or Tiffany had drugged Raphael into the entire affair. The diary had read “concoction to get him into bed,” hadn’t it? Erica rubbed her arms and wondered if the crazy thought was right.

However, Gabriel had mentioned he saw a doctor, who had told him to work with his hands to keep busy.

Erica’s mind swirled. She made a clicking noise in her mouth and decided the pills must have been Tiffany’s. This was her secret room, after all.

Alicia had been poisoned. Erica flipped open the hardcover book of Murder on the Orient Express and blinked. Inside she found another diary, not the expected book.

The first page told Erica plenty about Tiffany.

The day of my wedding is when I saw my true love standing in the aisle. Raphael Murphy will be mine. Gabriel ships off to war in two weeks. I can pretend, then follow my heart. I pretended with Alan until I hooked Gabriel. His brother will be easier. He’ll check up on the lonely wife. Ha. I’ll set the groundwork for Mr. Sexy Brown Eyes when he comes over to help me out, and he’ll spend time with me. I guilted Gabriel into this marriage through one manipulation. Perhaps I can use a different approach with Raphael. I always get what I want.

No woman in love wrote words like that. It would be so easy to blame her for Gabriel’s downfall.

In his right frame of mind, Gabriel would have seen how manipulative the woman was and divorced her. All of this could have been avoided if he had walked away.

The man turned away from her countless times, so maybe he had learned his lesson.

Another cough escaped her lips. Erica needed answers. The dust in the room made her nose itchy. Erica decided to take the book to her clean room and read there.

A few minutes later, she closed the secret door in the library, and her throat and nose cleared. The fire crackled and the room was warm. Yet the back of her neck tingled. And the tension that someone stared at her dissipated the longer she stayed near the fire. Strange.

Erica took a few more deep breaths, then let her shoulders relax. She found an empty notebook and a pen at a desk. Perhaps making a list would help her think more rationally.

In a march, Erica returned to her bedroom. Then she shoved the book under her bed and went to the kitchen to start dinner and write up the list.

Order helped her. She cooked, and the moment she put the chicken in the oven, she sat at the table with a pen.

Could I love Gabriel? Yes.

Can I forget my doubts? No.

She bit her lower lip and wrote her next question. Do I want him in my life? Yes.

Hmm. She shook her head. Next question. Can I accept murder in his past? No.

In big letters, she wrote and underlined, GET HIS STORY.

Tonight, she’d show him the room and the gun.

No more delays. She’d get to the bottom of this. She’d push slowly with Gabriel. And she’d read more of the new diary. She didn’t expect him back soon.

She lifted her chin and took the paper. Again the idea that someone was here remained her strongest instinct. Without a thought in her head, she went back to the library. Embers from the fire hypnotized her, and the feeling went away. The flames would destroy the paper in her hand. If some crazy ghost were here, they’d not get her list. She’d not leave anything to chance. She glanced around at all the walls.

In a flash, Erica decided, and threw the paper to burn it in the fireplace. She watched the paper curl, and her words disappeared in the flames. No one would take that from her, not that anyone was really here. Ghosts were not real, and it wasn’t like anyone could sneak up the mountain. They were buried in snow. Outside, the snow couldn’t melt fast enough.

Calmly, she went back to the kitchen. Gabriel’s footsteps echoed in the hallway a moment later, and heat rose in her body.

He was back.

She’d get her answers.

21

“I shouldn’t have walked away from you earlier.” Gabriel’s face had a tint of redness still. “I needed to think.”

Erica gulped and kept her gaze on the oven even as he hugged her. But her smile spread. If she stared back, he’d see how much she cared for him. Then he kissed her cheek, and her heart raced. She’d never been stupid in her entire life until she came here. Now everything she thought about herself was false. Everything was turned upside down.

She had no answer for what she should do, except her heart trembled near him. His hands on her stomach sent flutters throughout her body. Her head arched back the second he tugged at the loops on her jeans and sent hot embers of fire inside her.

Again, he kissed her neck. A twinge raced through her. Then he murmured, “I need you, Erica.”

“I need you too.” She sighed, and his hands held her so close. Despite everything, her heart begged for him.

“Falling for you is dangerous.”

“I like danger.” She turned her head and kissed his cheek; then his lower lip spread into a grin, like a sly boy’s.

With a wink, he unzipped her pants, and his fingers traced her clit. Her cravings for him grew. He drew her pants lower, and he continued lower. She sighed as his hand grazed her curves.

Her heat level rose, and he drew her farther backward.

Finally, he picked her up and placed her on the kitchen table. She swallowed. Then he kissed her womanhood.

Uncontrolled, her body convulsed and shuddered. His tongue joined in on the action, and she became heady.

The second she arched her body, she spasmed and lost all control.

Instinct took her, and her eyes rolled backward for a second time. He stood, unbuckled his jeans, and pushed his cock into her, holding her trembling body on the table.

She reached out for him, and he pushed her backward. Finally, when he came, his release sent her into another earthshattering orbit.

* * *

Some time later, she tried to get up. He shook his head and kissed her bare stomach. “Stay there. I’ll get your dinner.”

An unfamiliar satisfaction slowly left her body. Her lips twitched and she sat. She stared at him and licked her tingling lips. She stared at his naked body. He went to get the plates to put the food on. “Men like you don’t exist in real life.”

He handed her a fork, and his huge bicep caught her gaze. She coughed.

“Sure we do. We hide in the mountains, waiting for women to come to us.”

“Funny.” She picked herself up and took a seat at the table. Falling in love with Gabriel was the easy part.

Her body stayed limber, and she jiggled in her seat. He pushed the full plate in front of her and she raised her eyebrows. She stilled the second he leaned closer to explain. “You’ll need your strength tonight. Eat up.”

“I will?”

“I have erotic plans to eat you later.”

Her mind screamed at her to stop this, but her heart had other intentions. She loved him, and she’d prove to herself she could trust her instincts. Without a care, she told him, “I’ve always wanted to role-play. You be the cop. I’ll be the bad-girl prostitute.”

His eyes opened wide. “Damn, woman. Okay.”

She ate fast, but she kept her stare directly at him. Now was not the time to think about love. She’d need the storm outside to end, so she had her options first.

He winked at her.

Her body stayed stimulated near him. And he ate decidedly slower with her rapt attention on him. She smiled and stared at him. She finished her plate. She stood to help clean her half, but he helped her rearrange her chair and, somehow, she ended up in his lap. She laughed, and he finished his dinner.

The second he placed his fork down, he suckled on her neck. “Just a sample of dessert, Snowflake. Go put something on for our game. Meet you in the library, where you’re going to think you’re meeting a client.”

A laugh escaped her throat. “And to think I used to be a good girl, in full control of my life.”

“You were bored and waiting for me.”

Hmm. That might be a very true statement, not that she’d admit that to him. “Going now. Go get ready to be the cop.”

His eyes stayed on her departing form, and delightful wickedness coursed through her. She then ran out of the kitchen at full speed. She rushed into her room but in her haste, didn’t turn the light on. In the dark, she threw on a too-tight bra and a thong. Then she grabbed a pair of too-small red shoes and a shawl.

Outside, lightning cracked in the air, followed by the growl of thunder. Erica jostled back for a second, and the move caused a huge crash in the closet. She surmised she’d started a chain reaction, and other shoes in her closet fell off the shelf in rapid succession.

She checked the closet to see what she’d clean up later. Then she immediately glimpsed another news clip behind the shoes. That hadn’t been there before. Her heart pattered as she stepped into her room for light. Gabriel Murphy’s name was in bold letters.

Her stomach tightened, and the food threatened to come up the wrong way. She clutched her belly and stumbled backward. She refused to faint. She caught herself and closed her eyes. She told herself everything had to be fine. Her body and soul craved that man in the library. These reports were lies. Erica picked up the small news article and forced her shoulders to relax. As she unfolded the article, her shoulders dropped and a smile returned to her face.

It was a wedding announcement with a picture. Gabriel was the handsome younger man. Erica’s fingers brushed against his shy smile in that photo. And Tiffany’s smirk in another red dress of hers spoke volumes. She had stood in his arms, but her reaction had not screamed happy. The picture spoke plenty. Erica became convinced. It hadn’t been a love match.

Surely in an engagement photo a couple stood close together.

Erica put it back on the shelf. She’d find it again and question him later. If he hadn’t loved her, why would he marry her? He didn’t seem stupid, so why didn’t he see who Tiffany truly was before the marriage?

The lobby portrait of Tiffany played in her mind. Why would she have hung a picture of herself in a hotel lobby? And why was it still there? He’d have to take that portrait down.

Erica wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and sauntered to the library. She spied him immediately with a new, button-down shirt on, and his hands tucked into his clean black dress slacks.

She pasted a smile on. Her joking tone cracked a little. She said, “Are you looking for a good time, mister?”

He raised his sexy, dark eyebrows. “What kind of good time, young lady?”

Her shoulders tightened. Without intention, she glimpsed books on the floor. She must have not put everything back earlier. The weights in her stomach told her to tell him about the secret room now. Her knees weakened, though she forced a smile. Gabriel couldn’t find out about her doubts or the room the wrong way. She’d tell him right after.

She hesitated, then met his gaze again, and her tensions dissipated. “The kind where we both get off.”

His eyebrows arched. “Can you be more specific?”

Her shoulder brushed up against him. To continue her charade, she dropped her shawl, smirked, and pressed into his body. “Your hard-on keeps on growing. For a price, I can take care of that.”

His erection grew. “Your tongue on my rocks is tempting. Come here, young lady.”

She swayed her hips, and her breasts ached for his attention. Cravings grew, and she grazed his penis in rapt attention with her fingers. “For money, we’ll come to a perfect understanding.”

After he groaned, he twirled her around fast and pushed her into the wall that had the hidden chamber. Her body’s wetness grew, and he locked her hands in his cuffs. “Erica . . .”

“Don’t stop.” A sigh escaped her lips and her pulse raced. Black spots appeared again in her vision, and the brush of his hands sent her into orbit.

“Okay. You’ve the right to remain silent . . .” His free hand cupped her breast and his lips pressed to her neck.

A moan escaped her. “Please, let me go.”

“I’m taking you to jail for prostitution.” His fingers found her nipple and squeezed her breast. He sent a shiver down her entire body. “Found one of your weak spots.”

As she rolled her head backward, she begged, “Please. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Erica, I want you, right now.”

With a shove, she backed away from the wall, then relaxed. “Count me in, Officer.”

The man played to her fantasy beautifully, and she’d thank him with her mouth. Until she met him, she’d have never done anything like this.

Emboldened, she took his manhood in her mouth, and she sucked him like she would a lollipop. His warm dick made his eyes bulge out in passion. His reaction told her he enjoyed this, and she sped up.

Without realizing, she leaned backward into the wall, and with his hands, he pushed at the secret door.

Instead of stopping, she pulled his entire cock in her mouth to somehow prevent him from discovering the room.

With a heavy groan, he took his manhood away from her. “Wait, Erica.”

The pain in her chest grew. She couldn’t let him go in there. Everything could change if he suspected her in any way. She reached for his manhood with her mouth, but he yanked her up to her feet. “There is a room behind you.”

He stepped aside and pushed at the door. It creaked open. He didn’t look at her at all. She pressed her lips together.

Her feet froze in place. Did she follow him? She struggled to stand straight. Stupidly, she had worn ridiculously small shoes. With tiny steps, she trailed behind him, but she couldn’t take enough fast steps. “Gabriel, wait.”

“This could be what I was looking for.”

As she chased him in, she clinked and clanked for two steps inside the door. In a huff, she finally kicked the stupid heels off.

Barefoot, she followed him into the dusty place, her arms locked behind her. She held her breath in an effort to not sneeze. Her eyes watered from the dust.

He opened the drawer with the gun, and she gasped for air.

She clenched her eyes shut and refused to see.

The blackness hadn’t answered anything. And silence wasn’t an answer.

Her eyes opened, and she glanced over to see him shaking violently. “This must be where she hid.”

Her heart beat so loudly in her ear that she almost didn’t hear him. “You mean Tiffany?”

“It has to be here.”

“What?”

Another cough escaped her lips from the dust. His head shook, and she glanced up from his hand. His eyes stared straight into hers, and then he unlocked the handcuffs. “Erica, you shouldn’t be here. Go get dressed, Snowflake.”

She stepped away from the desk and shook her head. Words didn’t form in her throat while he took the few steps toward her. She should have told him. She bit her bottom lip and didn’t know what to say. His fingers brushed her skin, and she averted her gaze.

She flinched. To her horror, she’d reacted stupidly. Then he placed his hand on her hip. He calmly told her, “Relax. This could solve a huge mystery for me.”

A lump formed in her throat. In a blink, she tried to figure something out, and all that would come out of her mouth was a question: “What is this place?”

His words caught in his throat, “My wife . . . This was where . . . Never mind. Erica, go.”

She took his wrist in her hand and turned him toward the door. “No, come with me.”

As he took his arm back, he shook his head. “No, Snowflake. I need to find something.”

The gun. She understood. She clutched her stomach. She had tingles in her chest.

In a rush, she left the chamber and grabbed her shawl with her cuffed hands. Perhaps she should have shown him. Should she wait in the library? She froze for a split second. But then she pushed her shoulders back and marched back into the dusty hidden closet of a room. Her limbs shook, and she had a sour taste in her mouth. She had to ask, “What are you looking for?”

He tapped his fingers to his chest and moved the dresser. “The woman—my wife—had a diary. I thought she destroyed it, but I need to find it.”

Not the gun? Her stomach had rocks in it because she couldn’t digest anything, especially her own actions. She closed her eyes. “Why?”

“The gun and the diary would prove she tried to frame me for her crimes.”

She rocked on her feet. She had to tell him the truth. Yes, the diary made her question everything Tiffany ever said. Her mouth opened, and she whimpered. “She did it? I knew it. She killed those people, not you.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared hard at her. “What did you say?”

Her mouth fell open. She had everything. Her eyes teared up in frustration. Why couldn’t she speak? “Your wife, she framed you for three murders.”

There was a tilt to his head, and his lips pressed together. “How did you know it was for multiple murders?”

She had chills that outweighed the coldness she’d endured. She lowered her gaze to finish this. “I have the diary in my room. I took it to read.”

He shuffled backward a step. “You knew about this room?”

How red were her cheeks? Her face was heated.

She’d been stupid. He ran his hand through his hair, and their gazes locked. She couldn’t speak that way, though, and lowered her focus to his mouth. “I found it the day you caught me in the library.”

His stance widened. “Get me the diary.”

“There are two, actually.”

“What?”

“I found the first in my closet.”

He shook his head, but said nothing.

“I’m sorry.” Her cheeks were wet.

His cold, hard stare locked on her. He kept his mouth closed. Nothing had prepared her for that.

“There is a false door to the second drawer. The gun is there.”

A gasp came out of his lips. He must hate her. Her eyes watered even more.

Her footsteps pounded on the wooden floor as she ran out of the room. She pressed her palm over her lips to hold back a cry.

22

Erica closed her bedroom door without any energy in her movements. Behind the door, everything hit her hard. She covered her mouth and hyperventilated. How had she made such an epic fail? Why hadn’t she once thought to hand over the diary to Gabriel the very second he had opened up to her?

Waiting had made her appear untrustworthy. She had known better.

The word frame had come out of his mouth, and her heart had almost fallen out of her chest. She believed him. Her heart always had. Her rationality had left her body the day she’d met him. Her delay was bad. Really bad.

She threw on a T-shirt and a pair of sweats. He wanted the diary. She’d bring it to him. Sex had complicated everything. Near the mess of shoes, she cringed and somehow hoped to stay in her closet. Until Gabriel, she never been this sexually forward with anyone. Tiffany had framed him. And Erica was just as bad. She hadn’t told him what she had found. Sex had left her body tingling, and her dishonesty now ranked up there with her guilt. She let the overwhelming desire to disappear with the ghosts into the wall wash over her, and fought against her anxiety.

She rubbed her neck, like she was looking to free herself from a proverbial rope. He deserved the whole truth now.

Erica straightened her spine. She walked out of the closet and headed to her bed. The first diary waited there. She fell to her knees to find the book. As she inhaled, she searched for the book, but her fingers were like butter. She fished around but stilled. His footsteps echoed outside her room. Her heart thundered in her chest louder than gunfire.

If she crawled under the bed, she’d disappear. That had boatloads of appeal.

“Get up.”

Instead she closed her eyes, and her hands trembled. She clutched the books to her body. With a stretch, she pulled back and handed him her items.

“That one’s a book, not a diary.”

With her head downcast, she refused to meet his gaze as she stood.

“It’s a diary with a book cover. This is what I found in that room.” She brushed to straighten her pant leg. He deserved the full truth. “And this diary is what I found in my closet.”

His brow wrinkled. “Impossible. I searched her closet.”

She shrugged. “It was there. I checked out her designer shoe collection and found it. She had a thing for bright colors.”

With outstretched hands, she offered the books. His head shook. “Tiffany never did anything without starring in her own show. It’s how my brother hatched a plan to flush her out.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Your brother, Raphael?”

He rolled his eyes. Then he let out a derisive cough. “Yeah. My baby brother, her lover, as I’m sure you read.”

Her face burned. “She killed him?”

“No.”

“Thank goodness. I felt so awful for him.”

She pushed the books into his chest, and then stared at her shoes, not his face.

Gabriel shook his head. “She thought she had. He’s living in New York now, I hear, about to marry someone named Eileen. I don’t know her last name.”

A gasp escaped her lips, and she asked, “Why didn’t he tell you where the secret room was?”

Gabriel crossed his arms and shook his head. “We don’t talk.”

“Why not?”

“He slept with my wife.”

“She drugged him.”

“What?” He shook his head. “A drugged man cannot have an erection.”

“You’re wrong. There is medication that causes all sorts of reactions.” She took a step closer to him. He stepped back. She swallowed. “When you said you were framed, the diary made more sense. The book I found recently, I’ve only read page one.”

His breath caught in his throat. She stared up, and he clutched the books. “Were you like everyone else, believing I did that?”

She’d wondered, and though she risked everything, she couldn’t lie. “You wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

“Did you think I was a murderer?”

“No. Most of the time, no.” She kept her gaze on his mouth and wished she didn’t have to do this. “I didn’t want to. I sought out more clues to prove you weren’t. I found all these articles that said what happened, but you didn’t want to talk.”

He stepped backward. “So you thought so too?”

She couldn’t hug him. Instead, she threw her arms out to her side and tried to explain. “I was torn. How could the man who has made my body ache be a murderer? The news article I found in the lobby. The diary in my room led me to the secret room in the library. I didn’t know anything, and I set about to prove to myself you hadn’t.”

“You didn’t tell me about anything.”

“You never wanted to speak to me about anything.”

“I changed, but now I see I was wrong.”

“Please, don’t. I’m sorry.” Her eyes were wet. “I was falling for you hard.”

He shook his head. “No. We’re done. I can’t do this anymore. You should have told me straight away.”

After he turned on his heels and stormed out of the room, her chin quivered.

As the door slammed, her face tingled, and she fell onto the bed. Tears formed in her eyes, and she clutched her pillow to not let him hear. She’d done enough.

She should have told him sooner.

Tears rolled down her face.

The distant thunder of a storm echoed in the room. She had tingles in her chest, and her fingers were ice cold. How was she going to avoid him now? She was stuck.

There was no escape.

Every limb in her body shook.

23

The next morning, Erica woke, her body still numb. Her cheeks were caked with dried-up tears. Instead of spending the night next to her lover, she now stared at the white blanket of snow outside her window and curled into a ball on her bed. Love was complicated.

Love? What was that?

She threw the blanket above her head and hoped to make the dark cloud that hung over her head disappear. But every time she closed her eyes, she still faced the truth. Gabriel had been framed. And he believed she hadn’t trusted him. What could she say that would make this better?

“I’m sorry” wasn’t nearly enough.

Fresh tears formed, and she flashed to how he’d always taken care of her. He had been reclusive, but always good to her. She should have been grateful. It was why she’d been conflicted.

Her tears stopped, and red-hot fury took over her body. She’d have never thought any of this if not for Tiffany. What kind of wife framed her husband? If he’d married her instead, they’d have been happy.

In a flash, she covered her mouth and gasped. Daydreams only tortured her now. Gabriel had every right to not speak to her. She hadn’t spoken to her sister, Kimberly, or tried to reach out to her despite her mother’s illness. So in a way, she’d been judgmental. Besides, she’d have not noticed Gabriel in her busy but dull life. Well, she might have, but she stayed so focused on her mother and earning money that she’d have kept silent near her gorgeous angel.

Besides multiple daily visits to the hospital, she ran her own business. She hadn’t time to form any romantic relationships or even made female friends. Not really. Gabriel had been a blessing that she hadn’t pushed away.

She struggled with the stupid decision to find Kimberly, and that should have been done a long time ago. Now Mom had no one, and Erica had let everyone down.

Pessimism never helped her.

She glanced at her hands.

She blinked and stared at the shadow on the wall. She realized that though she was stuck with Gabriel, she had fallen half in love with the man already. Doubts kept her clueless. And though she’s been open and honest in some ways, she’d kept her fears to herself.

Now she covered her head with her pillow and curled into a ball. She’d never forgive herself. So there was no way he’d forgive her.

Her breathing hitched. Then she rubbed her head, in hopes she’d drive away the migraine. She’d caused this.

And for the next hour, she’d let herself stay numb.

* * *

Eventually, she stood and dressed without any extra life in her steps. She had a plan for today. Mediation had calmed her, and she had to stay focused. Perhaps she’d figure out yoga or read a book.

The windows rattled from another cold winter storm outside, but her head was so heavy that she had no reaction.

Her skin stayed chilly, but her mind was calm. She remembered the order of her discoveries. First, she’d found two of the articles in different rooms of the chateau. She rubbed her temples. After she threw on her tennis shoes and fixed the laces, she had a part two that ran in her head. If there had been one secret room, there could be more. Her mouth fell open. Wow. Why hadn’t she thought that before? This time, she’d tell Gabriel the moment she found it.

The truth. If she finished her intention to find something to show him, well then, she’d at least prove to herself that she was worthy.

She shifted her weight. The place made more sense if she was right. She massaged her neck the best she could and then finished dressing. The idea of searching for more ways to help him prove that Tiffany had set him up appealed to her. She tapped her fingers on her chest. It was something she could do. Her heart lightened a bit. She’d stay busy. And if there was more evidence, she’d find it and give it to Gabriel.

Love came with forgiveness—at least, that was what her mom would have said to her. And with time, Erica hoped he’d forgive her. She fixed her hair behind her ears. She had to live with herself too.

As she bundled on a sweater, she told herself, “When I plan a surprise takeover and know someone could find one part, I have the real plans hidden somewhere else.”

Yes. As she said it aloud, her pulse calmed into a routine beat. Instead of crumpling on the floor in tears, her gut hardened. Everything might be all right in the end if she found more rooms and showed Gabriel. He might even forgive her. She took a deep breath.

Hidden rooms could be anywhere in the chateau, and this place was huge. Goose bumps rose for no reason on her skin. She shook it off and started in her room. How many times had she had that sensation of something behind the wall? In order, she pushed on every wall. Her knuckles became hard, and she lost a bit of feeling from the constant bangs she made. Yet she continued. Everything sounded solid, but then her mind flashed to that hotel room upstairs.

She smoothed out the bottom of her sweater. There had to be one secret room up there. The doors all slammed shut, and she’d been the most afraid up there. She swallowed and rubbed her neck. How else would Alicia have died there? She’d have locked her hotel door. A secret passage made the most sense.

Erica’s heart ached, and she hoped to see Gabriel soon. But he needed time. Whatever she found today, she’s show him immediately. She’d never hurt him again.

Empowered, she left her room and checked the kitchen. Nothing stirred. She almost walked away but stopped. Gabriel deserved a good dinner, and her knuckles were bruised enough. So she opened the refrigerator and scanned for something fast. Then she would hunt down more secret rooms. Her body was calm. And besides, the small food offering would at least make her feel better. Food cured her sadness. And she’d ruined everything.

In a hurry, she threw everything into a pot to let it stew, then took off to the lobby. The library wall had been hollow, so she banged on the walls outside the drafty entrance room and tried to find the soft spots.

Her teeth chattered. The picture of Tiffany stared at her, and Erica froze. The howl of the wolves outside somehow emboldened her. She couldn’t go anywhere, and walls didn’t bite. Then, with a determined lift of her head, she refused to glance at that woman’s portrait again. Gabriel deserved better.

She stopped and checked the back of the frame. The nail was too high, and she’d need something to stand on to get the portrait down. Perhaps she’d get Gabriel to help, or a sturdy ladder. She dropped the frame back on the wall. It made a loud thump. Then she set off up the stairs.

The main lobby needed a good cleaning, but Erica’s heart raced now. She shook off the queasiness in her stomach and circled the room. Soon her knuckles ached, but she finished searching the room. No secret spaces in the main vast lobby, but the eyes of that creepy portrait seemed to follow her. Erica shook her head. Impossible thoughts were not needed right now.

Erica ran her hand through her hair. Then she looked up at Tiffany again. How had such a dainty woman been overlooked as a suspect? Was it the blonde hair? Erica’s more mousy brown hair would never get her out of anything, including a speeding ticket, not that she’d tried. Erica hugged herself and then headed back into the apartment.

She needed to check upstairs, but first, she’d stir the stew. Hopefully she’d find a pair of soft gloves back in his small apartment.

Without hesitating, she opened the door and walked right into Gabriel. His ripped body sent a thrill down her. His large shoulders blocked her vision, and she almost lost her balance. His strong arms caught her as she swayed. Her hands and feet went still, and, slowly, she stepped back. “I’m sorry about everything.”

His stare into her eyes made her cheeks burn, but she didn’t blink. She was determined to face him.

He crossed his arms, like he needed to build a wall between them. “You should have told me, Erica.”

She glanced to his chin and nodded. “Yeah, I should have. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

As she lifted her chin up, he dropped his hands, then brushed her face for a moment. “You’ve dark circles under your eyes, Snowflake. I won’t hurt you. I tend not to shoot at people who don’t take a shot at me first.”

He stepped back like his hand and body were on fire.

“Wait.” She traced his arm and then placed her hand on his hip. He stopped, but gazed at his feet. She took a deep breath, then argued with him. “In your head, you can’t let what happened in war and your wife be confused with what happened here, with us. The war is the past. Your wife is supposed to be someone you can trust. You don’t like to talk about anything, and I wanted to help you. I should have told you the second I found the room. I was wrong, but I never set out to hurt you.”

Instead of an answer, he shook his head and took a step to leave. She hugged his waist and refused to let him go. He brushed her hand off as he shook his head. “And the woman I’m having sex with and started to trust shouldn’t think I killed people.”

Queasiness grew in her stomach. He had trusted her.

“I don’t. I wanted you to be able to talk to me.” She touched his shoulder and hoped he’d turn back to her. “I begged you to talk to me. You wouldn’t tell me, so I went looking.”

He sighed, but she won, though the victory was hollow. He turned back to meet her stare. “I was opening up to you, but I shouldn’t have. You’re no better than anyone else.”

With a shaky voice, she choked with her desperation and tried to bargain. “Wait. I said I was sorry. It should be enough. If I had been truly terrified of you, I couldn’t have kissed you, never mind shared my most erotic fantasies. Before getting stuck here with you, I wasn’t open to either. I was closed off to relationships of any kind.”

“You found what I’ve spent over a year searching for, Erica. I owe you.” Instead of saying anything else, he turned away from her again. He stared out the window at the never ending snow. She stood there and gazed at him. The rattle of the wind broke the silence first. Then he told her, “I have a plan to get us out of here.”

“You do?” She stepped closer to him, and became overwhelmed. She sniffed his manly scent that turned her insides to jelly.

Gabriel stayed stiff and kept his arms to the side of his body. He stayed silent for a moment, then told her, “I’ve spent the day fixing up my snowmobile and gassed it up.. I needed a few tools to ensure it’s engines purr. Tomorrow morning, I’ll test it out. If it works, I’ll drive you down the mountain.”

“No.” Her hand went to her hip, and she shook her head.

He turned around to stare at her and raised his eyebrows. “No?”

She shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not leaving, not like this.”

“Your mother needs you.”

She put her hand on her hip. “True, but that sounds dangerous.”

“I’ll get you home.”

“You won’t be able to get back to your own house.”

He crossed his arms. “I’ll manage.”

She dropped her hand to her side. “If there was one secret room, there may be more.”

“Don’t bother yourself.”

She gazed into his eyes. “I will find it.”

“Erica, stop.”

She swallowed. “Mom wouldn’t want us both to die.”

“We might make it.”

“Not good enough. We’re waiting until it’s safe to go outside, and I’m not leaving before I finish tearing this house apart.”

“I don’t understand you.” Gabriel tilted his head and stared at her. She held still and waited for him to say something else.

Instead, he walked away. She hadn’t known what else to say. Not that she knew what his silence meant. In time, he’d have to forgive her. She wasn’t going to let him kill them both with his insane plan. Her eyes were watery, but she refused to cry. Every argument she’d spoken had been true. And she’d see this through to the end.

With a tortured sigh, she headed to the stove and stirred the stew. Dinner smelled succulent.

Suddenly, she heard a loud bang and froze. The windows rattled from the wind in the next second, but that wasn’t the first noise.

A cold sweat on her skin made her hands clammy. Her neck had those tingles again, like someone else was here. She inhaled.

A crash reverberated in the air.

What? She dropped the spoon in the stew and flinched. This wasn’t a storm outside.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. Whatever that was, it was big and metallic.

She shook her head. Noises made no sense. Had she imagined it? Gabriel was in another part of the house.

She fetched the spoon out of the stew. After she washed it, she strode to where the bang had come from.

Strange. She had never heard things in her life until she’d come to this house.

Her stomach hardened. She believed something saw her as prey, but the wolves were outside.

Her shoulder barely ached now. He’d taken excellent care of her.

Had Gabriel hurt himself? Had he left a door open?

She hurried. In the laundry room, she opened one door, then the second to where he worked. His snowmobile sat in the middle of the room. He must have cracked it against a wall. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she held. No, she’d not leave. She wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms.

As she tapped her foot, she stuck out her chin until he came back in the room to stare at her. She met his intense, pained brown eyes. “We wait until the snow melts.”

He nodded at her and met her gaze. “It would be safer to wait.”

He didn’t say another word, and she nodded back. “Good. Dinner is almost ready. Clean yourself up.”

Her hips swayed. She could feel that he was watching her figure. His gaze fired up her skin, and the coolness inside her dissipated. Slowly, she headed back into the apartment. Until she left, he stayed silent, so she slammed the door behind her. Her dramatic exit made, she let herself breathe. She wished she hadn’t doubted him, but she’d never given up on any of her intentions. She’d fix what she did.

And she’d find whatever other secrets were left in this house.

The search began again after lunch. First, she’d try to talk to Gabriel.

The tingles on her neck went away, though. The creepy feeling that someone stared with hate at her in the kitchen again hadn’t washed away with all the truth telling, and it was time to put whatever haunted him to rest.

24

Gabriel never came in for dinner, and Erica lost some of her determination. Dejected, she watched the night sky grow darker. If he ever showed up, she’s apologize. Perhaps today wasn’t the day. She wrapped the meal and went to bed without one glance at the door he’d left from. On her walk to her room, her shoulders slouched and her stomach was queasy and light, despite the hearty meal she’d made. Hopefully, sleep would help her. She opened her bedroom door and stayed determined. Tomorrow was another day and she had nowhere else to be.

A roar of an oncoming storm greeted her ears. She refused to kill herself and him if she had tried to escape down the mountain of snow. In time, he’d have to speak to her.

Neither of them had an escape route. So hopefully he’d forgive her.

In her closet, she changed into flannel pajamas. The storm tonight would be another setback to winter ending. Gabriel had kept her alive. The memory of his gentle strength and massive shoulders hit her hard. He had held her until she wasn’t cold anymore.

Damn. She’d screwed up. She brushed her hair out. Then she stared at herself in the mirror, and thought she saw something white in the corner.

Her eyes narrowed, and she blinked. Nothing moved. She turned toward the spot, and stared at a wall and her shoes near the door.

Wishful thinking, no doubt, that Gabriel would arrive.

After she finished with her hair, she placed the brush back on the vanity and stared at the door.

At least everything was out in the open now. No more secrets.

Yet her shoulders were tense, and she had goose bumps on her arms. Her mind screamed, but she shook it off. With a deep breath, she opened her hand and stretched to let go. Coldness hit her neck and icicles raced down her spine. Strange. She rolled her hands out in a circle to relieve stress.

Finally, the goose bumps on her neck stopped and she could breathe.

No more murder mystery plot played in her head. If she found another secret room, she’d solve the mystery and regain Gabriel’s trust.

With her gaze downcast, she caught sight of the sores on her hands. Her palms needed a good soaking and a good moisturizer to heal. The lobby had been big. Tomorrow, she’d start on the rooms, which were much smaller.

She took herself into her bedroom. Sleep escaped her. So she paced a minute, then decided to take a long shower. Perhaps she’d find some moisturizer under the sink.

* * *

A half hour later, she turned off the faucet. Her ears perked up, and she hoped to hear some sign of Gabriel. But silence greeted her ears.

With a heavy sigh, her head hit the pillow, and her body burned for Gabriel. The wind rushed past her windows. The mirrors in her room represented her past, empty and devoid of life. The gamut of emotions she’d experienced here had changed her. In the past, she’d stayed intensely focused on money for her mom. And all success had steered her away from love and sex. She’d never forget Gabriel and wasn’t ready to give up. As she stared at the ceiling, she raised her hand up above her pillow and decided. She wanted him back. She might be falling in love with him.

Hmm, well. Everything started with sex. Perhaps it was time to find a way to get him back in bed.

Her mother would say that wasn’t a good plan, but Erica’s muscles relaxed at the thought. Pretense of a relationship wouldn’t sate her for long. She longed for all of Gabriel.

As she nodded off to sleep, she remembered how she told Gabriel her fantasy of waking up to sex. A small smile appeared on her face. She had told that man every wicked thought in her head. Goodness knows she hardly did anything beyond read a few books. If he came to her, it meant he’d forgiven her. As she drifted off, she tugged the covers up to her head and wished he’d take her again.

* * *

She woke up the next morning, alone and untouched, and brought her legs up to her chin. She’d have to change her approach. Confrontation had never worked with Gabriel, though until she came here, she’d never had much patience. She ran her hand through her disheveled hair. She’d have to break him down slowly with understanding, and not be pushy, and let everything be. This plan included time with him, and she wasn’t much use with a hammer.

Food worked as her best weapon. He’d have to eat at some point, and her meals had won awards.

This plan sounded reasonable, but she also had her search to take some of the time away.

Suddenly she stood, and her steps were heavy with determination. Gabriel’s steps became clearer with every second. She gulped. She quickly threw together what he called shepherd’s pie, though she added lemons to make it taste like picadillo, Miami’s more spicy version.

A few minutes later, she finished. The footsteps stilled, but he didn’t come into the kitchen.

She let out a sigh. Eventually she’d win. She bundled on sweaters and left the warm apartment. More secret rooms meant more evidence his wife had set up him up, and she’d eradicate one of his demons. In her pocket, she found another layer of gloves, though in the drafty room, she quickly stopped to read the article on Alicia Hatfield again. Did it mention a room number? She’d found the article on the second floor.

A secret room where the murder took place would give someone a way in and out. If the police hadn’t known about the rooms, it was probable no one bothered to check the walls.

She crumpled the paper in her back jean pocket. No news on the room number, but she’d head up to where she had found the news clipping.

On the step, she closed her eyes and vaguely remembered the number 203 on one of the papers. This time, she used a flashlight from the laundry room and headed up the stairs. At the top step, she flashed the light at the room numbers. Her eyes widened. She’d found the article in the same room.

A chill raced down her spine. Someone had been murdered here. On the steps where she stood. Erica straightened her outer sweater. Dread was natural, but the killer was long dead.

As she pushed inside, she glanced around to check out the room. Her neck tingled here, and the coldness spooked her. She squared her shoulders and headed straight to the walls, where she threw her gloves on the nearby bed, then began knocking.

The sound of her banging reverberated in the air. The walls were solid near the dresser and windows. Her palms ached by the third wall, next to the bed. She swallowed and continued. The sound changed halfway. This time, the wall echoed hollow.

A giggle escaped her lips. To stop her smile, she bit her bottom lip and used her palm to trace the wall. In the library there was a switch near the solid walls. A few seconds later, she found the door latch. It clicked, but nothing moved. She pushed harder.

Nothing, though her neck tingled. She developed cold sweats, like someone stood behind her. Erica turned around fast, but no one was there. She rubbed her temples, then went inside. Would secret rooms explain the walls?

The other secret room had a handle to click, but nothing on the wall moved there. A chill racked her, and goose bumps appeared all over her body. In a flash, she froze, and her head shouted inside her to run away, but her legs held her strength anyhow. She refused to give up on this.

If she opened a secret door, she’d have something to tell Gabriel. Her legs were stronger than her hands, and she used her backside. To try with her biggest asset, she leaned back with her butt and pushed hard into the wall.

Finally, it lurched open, and she fell in. But her fingers became clammy, and she dropped her flashlight.

Landing on her butt, she bounced.

Ouch.

Her flashlight crashed in the other room and shattered into pieces. The whoosh of dust brought tears to her eyes. Suddenly, the door swung closed behind her. She screamed and leaped to get to the door. She landed back in a heap with the door slammed in her face.

She took dirt into her lungs, and coughed until she could breathe again. She covered her mouth. Blackness surrounded her with no chance of light. She shed a few tears, then stopped. Was she trapped in the secret room about to die? Her mind raced, but she shook her head. No. Now she had a new set of problems. She needed to think.

She’d get out of this.

She stared into total darkness, unable to see.

She cringed and fought back dizziness from the lack of oxygen in her lungs. Slowing her breathing became easier. The dust settled back down.

Finally, she stopped gasping and waved her hand in front of her face. She could barely make out anything. She blinked, but didn’t see much at all.

Even during a blackout in Miami, after a hurricane knocked out all power, she’d never been in this much darkness.

Her pulse raced, and she picked herself up. Taking careful steps forward, she tried to find the door. With a few small steps forward, she almost lost her balance, like someone with tiny hands had pushed her. She swallowed. Her thoughts were impossible. Her vision became a little sharper, though everything remained dark. Her fingers gripped the wall, and she stayed upright. “Hello?”

The blackness of shadow had an outline of a woman and stole away her sight.

No one answered.

Instead of panic, she tipped her toes and hit a step. A fall would break her neck. She rubbed the back of her head. Whoever was here preferred to hide. Erica reached out with her hand to find and trace the second wall through the room. Was she in a hallway? The walls were so long, and the step went down. If this was a hall, then she’d find another way out. Determined, she found grooves to latch her fingers into and held firm.

A chill ran down her spine, like someone hunted her. Erica Mira refused to die here, not like this. The iciness kept her alert, and she stared into the darkness. Did she go back to find the door?

With a gulp, she decided to push backward, and internally counted her steps. The second she found the door, she’d get out. As she traced the walls, she launched herself in the other direction, away from the stairs. She’d claw her way out.

Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Not much, but the wall had to go back into the room. The shadow of a woman disappeared. Maybe she’d imagined it, but Erica refused to be still. She banged on the wall, but her head screamed to be silent. Erica shook her head. No one was here. The voice of panic made no sense. She took a breather, then stared at her hand. There had to be a handle. Her fingers left the wall and knocked on her way down the hall. She didn’t find anything.

She followed the wall until she almost tripped again on a step.

She scratched her head. She couldn’t figure it out. Where was the door?

If she went up, everything would be worse. Gabriel lived downstairs. No one was up there. But then, if there was a step and one wall, maybe a door was on the other wall, and she was disoriented.

Perhaps the design of the secret door was how someone broke into Alicia’s room. Tiffany wouldn’t have a way out if she’d poisoned her, so she scared the woman and threw her down the flight of stairs. The door only worked one way.

The chill that someone watched Erica’s every move stayed on her back, and she refused to let go of hard surfaces.

She bit her lip and traced the other wall for grooves on her way back.

After a few feet, she pushed with her butt against both sides of the walls. Everything was solid.

Her heart raced faster. She’d get out. She’d keep the faith. She tried the next wall, and no latch was found.

Gabriel would never find her here. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The man worked all day and had no idea about the secret door upstairs.

She’d have to find her own way out. He was down a flight. He had said the servants complained the most about ghosts. There had to be a way to get back to him.

With grit, she opened her eyes and focused on her hands. The sensation that someone stared at her remained. Every cell in her body stayed on alert. The wall had no hitch as far as she could gather.

Her vision had adjusted slightly to the darkness, but there was dust and grime everywhere. There had to be a connection on the lower level. The secret room, her bedroom, and Gabriel’s were all down there. The steepness of the steps was all dark and mysterious. Maybe she’d imagined the push, but she took no chances.

Still, she traced the wall, and this time, as she reached the steps, she sat.

She’d get filthy, but she didn’t want to fall to her death. Her butt weighed her down, and her feet pushed lower, one step at a time. She descended the stairs as a child would, but her balance would prevent her from tripping and falling to break her neck.

Inch by inch she lowered herself, and kept her hand on the nearest wall. The dirt would wash off. She flinched the second her fingers ran over some heavier layers of dirt.

Soon her feet found the bottom step, and her gaze became a little clearer.

There was slightly more light coming from the floor and bottom of the walls here. The buzz in her ears played like music. She tapped on the wall, but she knew he’d not hear her. On the other side of the wall, Gabriel must be running some electricity.

Her heartbeat raced, but her breathing grew easier. She’d find her way out now. As she banged on the wall with more grit, she hoped to get his attention, though she doubted he’d hear anything.

With every step she took, she could see clearer, and her steps became emboldened. There had to be a way out. With light, she’d find a door. From the inside, it had to be easier to see. She continued to knock everywhere, and she circled through the house until her eyes caught a latch and a door spring.

Yes. A smile brightened her face, and she tugged. The door clicked and she opened it wide.

She stepped into the light into Gabriel’s polished new kitchen.

In the gleaming cookware, she caught her reflection. “Dirty” didn’t describe her. Her hair had streaks of grime. Her lips curled. She needed an immediate shower.

The sound of power tools cutting wood pierced her ears in the distance.

Her feet froze on the spot, and she called out, “Gabriel Murphy.”

The buzz of tools in the distance told her he’d not hear a word. She picked up a pot and shoved it in the secret doorway to keep it open. Then she followed her ears. She called out, “Gabriel.”

The sawing sound became louder and louder. The man wouldn’t hear over that noise.

Finally, she found him working at a bench with a work hat and headset on. He had his back to her. For a moment she stared at him and tried to decide how to approach him. Without warning, he powered off and stood straighter.

All she could see was his wide shoulders.

With his back to her, he laid his tool down but didn’t turn around. She needed him. He took off his headphones. Then he called out to her, “Erica, I’m not ready to talk yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She brushed her hand on his shoulder. “I need you to look at me. I found a secret room. I know how Tiffany went into Alicia’s room.”

He flinched, and his eyes opened wider the second he twisted around to see her. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine, though I’ve been trapped for hours.”

“Don’t go running around this house.” He checked her arm for cuts and bruises. “It’s dangerous without power.”

His warmth was what she needed. She offered him a tentative smile. “I’m okay, at least physically. The hall was so dirty, but I’m fine. Emotionally, I’m hoping you can forgive me.”

He closed his eyes, and he shook his head. “I don’t want to make a mistake.”

“Me neither.” She swallowed. “It is a mistake if we fall apart.”

“I don’t know.”

Then he took a deep breath. She’d not push him on that. Then he opened his eyes, and she touched his gloved hand. “Come with me. I found a secret passageway. I was just stuck in it when I was checking out the room Alicia stayed in. I know how Tiffany snuck into her room.”

He instantly took his work gloves off, brushed the sawdust off him, then squeezed her hand. “Show me.”

As she nodded, dust came off her and landed on him. He didn’t care, and placed his hand on her back. “I don’t think we’re alone in this house,” she said.

“No one else is here. They’d have showed themselves to me years ago.”

“I saw the figure of a woman.”

“You couldn’t have.”

She smiled brighter now, and her shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad I believe you. This is the part in the movies where the bad guy reveals himself and the heroine fights for her life in a horror.”

His gaze narrowed like she had verbally attacked him. Heat burned her cheeks, and she bit her bottom lip, though she hadn’t meant it like that. He slowly asked, “What do you mean?”

Despite how she wrinkled her nose, she tried to talk her way through this. “The plot twist where the heroine becomes the victim. It’s why I hate those movies. The girl trusts the wrong person.”

Gabriel took his hand back and stepped away. “Are you saying you’re scared of me?”

Her filthy hands covered her mouth as she shook her head. “I never say the right words with you. That’s not what I meant. I meant the woman. Please come.”

Back in the kitchen, she pointed to the wall. “I feel safe in this house only when I’m with you.”

His intense stare caught her off guard. Then he broke their gaze. She pushed on the wall and it opened.

He poked his head inside the secret door. “This goes to the second floor?”

“Yes.” She watched him and waited till he stepped back inside with her.

“I’m getting a flashlight and my gun.”

“A gun?” Her mouth dropped, though she had wondered if someone had pushed her. “I still don’t think we’re alone in this house. Is is possible someone else is here?”

“No. I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “I’d have found them years ago, but sometimes my tools go missing, and the day you arrived, I thought you were the incarnated ghost for a moment. I used to think I was going crazy.”

A lightness entered her heart as she told him, “I sometimes think someone watches me too. Whoever it is doesn’t like me.”

“Impossible. You’re almost perfect.”

She was? Did he forgive her now? She swallowed.

His fingers looped around her and settled on her back. “Go inside and wash up. We’ll talk tonight. Nothing happens inside the apartment, and I want to see what this is. We probably don’t have anything to worry about.”

The walls in her room had created the tingles in her neck so many times, like someone else was there. Both times, though, the tiny hands found her in the house, and not in the apartment. “Be careful. I’ll come looking for you in an hour.”

Every cell in her body begged to go with him. Now was not the time to split up, and she wasn’t the type to sit at home and wait. She chewed on her lip. She had to trust him. He thought she hadn’t. Her feet pointed toward him, and she was ready to argue. Then she dropped her hands to her side. As he held the door open for her, he shook his head. “Two hours. I might see something and want to check it out.”

With one shoulder, she shrugged, then nodded. “Deal. Two hours.”

He gave her the first smile he had in days. “Go. Wash yourself, Snowflake.”

Her heartbeat raced, and she grinned back. The second he turned away, she ran back to her room. He had used her nickname again. Her heart soared out of its cavity as she raced back inside the house to wait for him.

25

Her hands trembled. Erica paced the kitchen floor. The food was packed up, not that she ate anything. Her stomach roiled at the thought of eating, and her nose turned upward every time she smelled her own cooking. She turned around and dropped her hands.

Then she stared at the clock. The minute counter said twenty minutes had passed since she’d last peeked. She sighed, then tied her wet hair up with an elastic and located a hat. Gabriel’s time was almost up. Hopefully nothing had happened to him. Her feet tapped the floor. She couldn’t wait anymore. She squared her shoulders and fought back her anxiety. She counted all her fingers. Gabriel was one minute late. He could have fallen down those stairs.

She wrapped a scarf around her neck. Then she heard heavy footsteps in the hall. The thunder of his shoes on the wood floor sent electricity that ran right through her. She raced out of her bedroom and spotted him carrying a box.

His brown eyes met hers. He was fine. Then she took in the dirt on his jeans. He tipped his head to greet her. “Let me clean myself up. Meet you in the kitchen.”

Food. Her initial plan of action. She should have heated something.

Her eyes followed him to his room until he closed his door. In a flash, she took the scarf and hat off and headed into the kitchen. She threw the shepherd’s pie concoction into the oven for ten minutes. Food preparation would help her anxiety and feed her stomach.

Silence greeted her ears, and her teeth chattered a bit. Today, they’d talked. She decided to open a can of vegetables. Not her favorite, but she couldn’t pop to the market to buy fresh.

Canned anything didn’t take long to cook. Without much effort, she boiled the water and fretted about. Every thirty seconds, she checked the pantries. Then his slightly damp hand cupped her shoulder.

Tension dissipated the moment he did, and sparks of desire coursed through her. She turned around and met his succulent brown eyes. “Come sit with me.”

Her eyes narrowed on his other hand. “Why are you carrying the diaries and that box?”

He kept his mouth pressed together for a minute. She stilled. Then he quietly told her, “My brother said there were DVDs to prove what she did, but they were never located.”

Evidence. She crossed one of her arms over her body and studied the box. “He didn’t know where they were?”

“I don’t know.” He set the box on the table. “Raphael had set Tiffany up to save me, and he claimed not to know.”

“Like I said, I think she drugged him.”

Gabriel crossed his arms. “At the time, I thought he’d betrayed me when he slept with my wife.”

“He helped you. That counts.”

“Maybe you’re right. He said he never remembered it.”

“The diary made me think she manipulated and murdered people. Forgive Raphael. He’s your brother.”

“I don’t want to talk about Raphael.”

“So you don’t talk to each other?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“My sister is a free spirit, and we argued all the time as children. Then one day, without warning, she was gone. Mom and I both missed her.” She let out a deep sigh. “Your wife set out to have your brother, just as she set out to have you. Like you, he was tricked. You were both her victims.”

Without a word, he sat back in his chair and shook his head. Finally he answered, “I fell for it. And I guess so did he. But the difference is she was single when I met her.”

Her tongue clicked against her bottom lip. “Or she murdered that Alan guy to be with you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Who’s Alan?”

“The guy she almost married until she married you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I read her diaries; you weren’t the first. With every page I read, I felt worse and worse for you.”

“Everyone believed me guilty.”

“They were wrong.” She took the seat beside him. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know who Alan was.” He shook his head. “And I never met her parents or her sister. My wife repeatedly said she had no family and that she wanted me to die in war.”

Erica’s mouth dropped open. “Wait, she said that about you?”

He tugged on his ear. “Yeah.”

“Evil.” She wrapped her hand on his arm. “I am glad you’re here, angel.”

He squeezed her hand on the table but said nothing.

She thought about him a lot. And he needed help. Whatever happened was the past, and he needed to heal. “Keep talking. You were home a year before the murders, you said.”

He closed his eyes, and she could see a pulse beat at his temple. She guessed he remembered something. A moment later, he opened his eyes and nodded. “Yes, though one winter before I spent in Germany. She stayed in New York. I came home when I could, and even then she was unhappy.”

“New York, not here.” She kept her voice light. “Interesting, but off topic. Let’s focus on this place and how to clear your name. We need evidence of what happened here to you.”

“We?” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’ve never said any of this out loud to anyone who didn’t want to throw me in jail.”

“Not even your lawyer?”

“He was bought and paid to get me off. I don’t think he cared if I was guilty or innocent.”

“I believe you.”

He stilled and gazed into her eyes.

“I intended to find proof you were innocent.” She moved her hand to his knee, and she tilted her head to ensure they made eye contact. A moment later, his gaze met hers, and she offered more support. “I’m not here to judge. But I need to know what happened.”

Heat rose inside her. He placed his hand on top of hers and let out a long, drawn-out breath. Then he answered. “After Reilly O’Shea, our caretaker here for ten years, was killed, all eyes were on me. They even had my prints on my old medicine bottle used to store the poison. I didn’t know what would happen to me. Then Raphael showed up with his plan, admitting to his adultery. He claimed he was ashamed he’d let himself fall that low. He wanted to just be my brother again. Tiffany had been setting the whole thing up.”

She lightly stroked Gabriel’s arm and nodded. “So he had a plan.”

“I guess.” Gabriel kept his hand on hers. “He worked with my lawyer, getting her to confess publicly while hiding two police officers in the house to listen to every word.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t he videotape the conversation? I’d have done that.”

He shrugged and shook his head as he answered. “Maine is one of twelve states in the nation that doesn’t allow video evidence to be used in court. I wasn’t involved in the plan much, as they wanted to keep me safe.”

She intentionally kept a gentle tone. “But your brother was shot?”

With his eyes on her nose, Gabriel answered, “She shot him with one of my guns.”

Her jaw dropped. Wasn’t Raphael the love of her life, according to her own words? This made no sense. Her diary said she wanted to get back with Raphael. Why would she shoot him? “What?”

Gabriel massaged his temples. “He told her he’d never let me take the fall for what she did, and that he’d go to the police. She didn’t know the police were listening to every word.”

“Wouldn’t she still be considered guilty of attempted murder? You don’t get to shoot at people with the police present.”

He massaged his neck. “They considered the moment some accident.”

Her mouth stayed opened. “Wow. I’m glad he’s okay.”

Gabriel sat back in his chair, and his gaze was so intense. All she could do was stare back at him. “I don’t know what to say or think or feel. Brothers honor wedding vows.”

She nodded. “And adults need to let go of grudges. He was her victim too. How did she die?”

His eyes went dead, like she had hit a nerve, and he dropped his hand on hers. The second the snow melted, she’d find her sister and apologize. For right now, she’d be the friend Gabriel needed. Her heart was so open to him. Gabriel stared at the ground unmoving, but slowly he answered. “My lawyer told me she died in a standoff with the police. They won, but I never buried her.”

“Did you identify her body?”

“I did it, through photographs. I can’t stand the sight of death.”

The hair on the back of her neck stood. She mirrored Gabriel as she pulled back. “Strange. Why didn’t you bury her just to make sure she was dead and gone?”

“I couldn’t handle the details. She shouldn’t be in the grave with my last name.” He stared at the door. “I left her in the city morgue for the state to handle everything.”

She gazed into his haunted expression. She’d not push on that subject. She wasn’t sure she’d see to the burial of someone who tried to kill her either. But what if the officials screwed up? She squeezed his leg. “So why do you want the evidence?”

The fire in his gaze returned, and his voice grew stronger with every syllable. “The gun Tiffany used on Raphael wasn’t the same gun she owned. It was mine. But I’ve been looking for these DVDs and her gun for years, and until I figure out how everything went wrong with this house, I’m not leaving.”

Secrets in the walls. She had found the secret rooms. She nodded, then directed his attention to the DVDs. “Where were these?”

“In the secret room leading to your bedroom.”

A huge sigh of relief formed in her head. She wasn’t crazy. She tapped her chest and her eyes widened. “My room? What?”

His smoldering gaze sent her body into overdrive. He nodded. “Yeah. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have put you there.”

With a hard swallow, she relaxed because she trusted him. He had no idea how turned on she’d become suddenly. It was his nearness, and now was not the time. “Continue the story.”

“The police cleared me of all charges, but I’ve tried to make sense of everything. There wasn’t enough evidence.”

“That’s amazing.” He wasn’t on the run or still a suspect. Someone else must have thought Tiffany guilty, but she hadn’t found those articles. Strange, but Erica’s entire body felt lighter.

He shook his head. “Something in this story never rang true. After reading her diary, I found she wasn’t happy. I wish she’d have asked for or agreed to a divorce.”

“You weren’t either. You can’t force someone, especially someone with a sick mind, to do anything they don’t want to do.” She pushed her bottom lip out. “To me, a divorce is cleaner than a ‘let’s murder someone’ idea. That’s extreme.”

His voice had a mocking tone suddenly. “Tiffany never lived her life like ordinary people.”

Erica shrugged and answered with a smile, “Divorce tends to be cleaner than murder, and she’d be free to sleep with drug or manipulate the next man that caught her eye.”

“That doesn’t sound nice.”

She nodded. “True. I’m glad you’re free now.”

He winced, then ran his hand in his hair. He stared at her and then told her, “Don’t.”

No. She’d not let him pull away. Distance wasn’t needed anymore. He needed to let go of the past. “It’s okay, Gabriel.”

Slowly, he leaned toward her and took her hands. “I promised you. I’m getting you out of here. You can go back to your life, free of all this.”

That was a sudden topic change. She met his gaze. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

“We can’t.” His face froze.

She had energy that coursed through her now. If he could talk like he had today and find it in his heart to forgive her, then yes, they could have a future. Her heart fluttered. “Yes, we can.”

Without a word said between them, she decided to be more dramatic. This talk deserved to get more physical, and she’d make her point. She unbuttoned her shirt and his eyes grew larger.

His voice cracked while he told her, “We made a huge mistake.”

“You’ve been right for me.” She picked up his hand and placed it on her heart. Then she offered him a small smile and told him, “Don’t you see how I burn for you? I’m so busy out there. With you, I’m here. I’m honest. And, most of all, I’m alive. We are not a mistake. Please take me, Gabriel.”

His eyelids lowered, and her skin tingled in awareness of him. She’d never been this brave before. She’d never asked for a man to come to her. She licked her lips and waited. Then his tender, callused hands touched her creamy skin and every pore electrified. The moment he squeezed her breast, her body ached.

“We shouldn’t.”

He hadn’t sounded convincing at all. She’d lay odds he needed a small push, and she noticed his erection. Boldly, she sat on his lap and picked up his other hand. Pushing forward, she placed his palm on her back. “You want me. I want you. I can’t help myself with you.”

As she ran his hand on her leg, he sent tingles through her body. “You’d tempt a saint.”

She shook her head. “I’m no saint. I want my dark angel.”

His mouth curled into a grin. As she leaned up to kiss him, she moaned. His lips crushed hers, and the tingling coursed through her.

She curled her hands in his hair and drew him closer. Then her legs wrapped themselves around him.

“Erica, you’re impossible to say no to.”

She arched her back and trembled. His hands circled her waist. She was instantly turned on, and energy coursed through her. But his fingers trailed lower to her jean zipper. The heat in her body grew until the lights flickered off.

They both froze. As she stood, he picked her up with him, and she brushed against his erection. A moment later, the power went out. The entire house and apartment was black. The wind rattled the windows and the stars gave off hardly enough light. With a quick kiss, he told her, “I’ve got to check the generator.”

“I’ll go into the bedroom and wait for you there.”

He let her down. She smirked, and in a tease, she decided to loosen the jeans. To demonstrate, she gave him her back.

Emboldened, she brushed her naked stomach, and he let out a small groan. But he walked past her down the hall.

She picked her pants off the ground and bounced back into her room. Without a care, she opened the door in the dark and tossed them to the side.

Suddenly, a chill went down her spine.

A female voice called out from the dark, “Slut, I thought it was about time to introduce myself.”

Her backside hit the wall, and she didn’t have time to blink. Sentences couldn’t form, and then something sharp hit her head. Her vocal cords froze, and she couldn’t call out. A split second later, spots appeared. Then she blacked out.

26

“Miami princess, wake up.”

A cold female voice echoed in her ears. Erica wrinkled her face. Her head hurt, and her left arm didn’t move. With effort, neither did her right. No. She blinked and opened her eyes. The dark room appeared like a basement or a bomb shelter. Slowly she tried to sit up, but instead, she struggled against ties that held her down. A light flickered above her head and shone down on her like a spotlight. She coughed and her eyes adjusted. Then she saw the woman in the portrait. “Who are you?”

The petite woman sat in a chair and stared at her. How had Tiffany dragged her here? She was tiny. Then Erica’s scan of the dark room stopped at the silver cart in the corner. She trembled at the glasslike blue eyes that were filled with loathing. The portrait was a vain, selfish woman. The person in front of her had hate that filled every cell in her body. Erica shook her head. Then a huge, catlike grin appeared on the woman’s face, and she crossed her legs.

Erica struggled for freedom, and the woman shrugged. “The bigger question, slut, is why you kept sleeping with my husband after I left you all those signs that he murdered people. A normal woman would want to be far away from him. What kind of woman falls for the criminal?”

Erica coughed again. Her throat was parched. “You’re Tiffany?”

Without warning, she stood and loomed over Erica.

Erica struggled against her restraints. Tiffany smiled and fixed Erica’s hair. “Guess even idiots have their moments. Why are you having sex with my loser of a husband?”

With pain, Erica forced her head up and lashed in her restraints. Nothing moved. All she had to rely on to get through this were her wits. Somehow, she’d untie the restraints.

Gabriel would eventually realize she was missing, but until then Erica had to hold out. With a fast prayer, she hoped he’d find her soon. He knew about the secret passages now. Then Erica raised her eyebrows and met the woman’s gaze. She refused to let Tiffany bully her. “Gabriel and I aren’t rational, but then, neither are you. You’re supposed to be dead.”

She bit at the air. Later, Erica would tremble. Right now, Tiffany hummed and checked on Erica’s immobilized arm. “I’m not, but you will be soon.”

“Were you the one who left the articles for me to find?”

“I thought I told you that already? I wrote them. I couldn’t believe the online following I had as that author. But that’s a different story. Are you not paying attention?” Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Yes, I left all the clues. You were supposed to be scared of Gabriel.”

The clues made sense now. Erica swallowed. She should always listen to her heart. “The diaries too?”

Tiffany’s smile grew. “Gabriel is the villain in the story. No sane woman would ever fall into his bed.”

Ah. Erica’s mouth opened, and before she could stop herself, she stated her opinion: “Our definitions of sane are different.”

Tiffany’s face froze. “Excuse me?”

Erica tried her legs, but she couldn’t move them either. Her gaze never left Tiffany. She answered, “Gabriel is a handsome man. Even you thought so.”

She saw the blank stare Tiffany gave her. Erica blinked, as she didn’t want to see crazy in the other woman’s eyes. “You’ve not met his brother.”

Still? She hadn’t seen the man in years. He could have eaten lots of junk food for therapy. Erica swallowed. “Gabriel is the sexiest man I ever met.”

“You really are a foolish slut.”

“Tiffany, my name is Erica.”

Tiffany shook her head. “I was so close to finally winning. Gabriel believed he was half-crazy. This winter was supposed to be the end. He’d finally commit suicide, and I’d walk out of here as the innocent victim he had locked away.”

A tug on her arms didn’t work.

“No one would ever believe that. Raphael had the police listening to your confession.”

With a demonic stare, Tiffany ran her hand down Erica’s arm and shoulder. Erica winced from the touch. Tiffany explained, “Everyone would believe that. The entire town thinks him half-crazy, and he’s been a loner for a long time. And I never confessed. People talk; and I was so close until you showed up unexpectedly.”

Erica twisted her head. “My car crashed. I had no choice.”

The cold blue eyes stared right into her again until Erica flinched. Tiffany fixed her hair. The police had questioned her in the past. Did Tiffany not think that clear? “You might have lived if you didn’t have sex with Gabriel and convince him he’s not crazy.”

With her chin up, Erica opened her eyes. “He’s not crazy. He suffers because of his past, but he’s a good guy.”

At least she held back a “crazy wife” comment.

A derisive sneer came out of Tiffany’s mouth. “You only say that because of your chemical reaction to him went off the charts after sex.”

Erica’s eyes widened. “I say that because I’m falling in love with him.”

“That’s your final sin.” Tiffany backed away, and Erica lost sight of her for a moment, until she came back into view. Tiffany had a half smile, and she squeezed a syringe.

Erica swallowed. “How will you win Raphael back after you kill me and Gabriel?”

“He’ll believe Gabriel kidnapped me.”

“You shot him.”

“It was an accident.”

“He’s engaged to some other woman.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

A drop of the poison dripped on Erica’s arm, and her hands became fists. Tiffany leaned in and whispered, “Your left hand is already sterilized and immobilized. This will all be over soon.”

“Wait, how have you lived down here on your own all this time?” Erica needed to keep the conversation going while Tiffany used an alcohol rub on her hands to wash.

“This was built as a bomb shelter for World War II. I’ve all the necessities. It’s really quite spacious, with all the secret passages to the chalet.”

Tiffany stepped back for a second, but kept that damn needle in her hand. Erica shook her head. “You’re insane.”

“Shh. It’s almost over.” Tiffany smiled, but kept a solemn face. She cleaned Erica’s arm and searched for a vein.

“Why bother? Aren’t you going to kill me?”

Tiffany’s cold fingers slid on her arm. “For the police after they find your body. It has to look like an accident and that you weren’t poisoned.”

Erica tried to pull away, but couldn’t. Tiffany told her, “I needed you to get him to talk about Raphael. It’s why I waited so long to kill you. Now that I know he saved me that day…”

“He set you up, and you shot him.”

Tiffany tilted her head. “I have my ways of influencing men.”

“Anyone with a brain ought to see through you.”

“Gabriel didn’t.” Tiffany laughed. “Your would-be hero fell for my acting, the same as every other man on the planet. Do you know how that happens?”

Erica shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“I believe every time in my soul that this one guy will be different, he’ll be a hero for me.” Tiffany shrugged. “They never are.”

Tiffany was insane. Erica kept her mouth shut.

Tiffany pushed the needle tip into her arm. Erica tried to kick, but couldn’t. “I can put you and Gabriel out of your misery. No one can ever love Gabriel.”

“What?”

She screamed. Tiffany’s hand on the needle stilled. Why didn’t she push the poison and be done? Why torture her now? Erica cringed.

A boom rang out.

The needle casing shattered, and the impact released the liquid on her arm. Then, as blood splattered on her face, Erica screamed.

Tiffany fell backward and clutched her stomach, like she’d been shot.

To breathe, Erica closed her eyes and counted to ten. She was still alive.

She shook her arm to get the needle tip out.

Erica opened her eyes and gazed at Gabriel. She smiled. He must have moved with the speed of light to pull the remains of the needle out of her arm. With her heart beating so fast, she almost didn’t hear Tiffany’s muffled scream.

In a split second, Gabriel unbuckled her arms from the restraints and kissed her forehead.

Erica tried to stop hyperventilating. The habit wasn’t helpful.

Gabriel stepped back and found blankets, throwing them on her. He stepped over Tiffany. His gaze stayed on Erica. “You’re not dying on me.”

Erica sat up and checked her pulse. She’d be okay.

Tiffany screamed, “You made Raphael leave me. You don’t deserve . . . happy . . . ever . . . after . . . with . . . your . . . slut . . .”

Erica squirmed to get free, and untied the ropes holding her legs. The knots were complicated.

She struggled. Gabriel froze and stared at Tiffany for a moment. Erica watched Gabriel. His shoulders were tense. Then he said a prayer, turned back to her, and kissed her shoulder. “I should have been here sooner.”

“You were just in time.”

Then she could breathe. Erica scanned the room. Gabriel did the same. “Tiffany’s not here.”

Erica swallowed. “I didn’t hear her.”

“I was focused on you.” Gabriel stepped back. “Where did she go? She almost killed you.”

Erica grumbled, then called out, “Don’t stand there. Help me.”

His brown eyes met hers; then he glanced at her arm. “You can’t die on me.”

“I’ve no intention of it.” She checked her arm where the needle had gone in. She bled a little, but everything in her body worked.

She could make a fist.

He untied the ropes, and her raw skin chafed. As he checked her arm, she lifted it for him to search for the puncture. He kissed the exposed skin, and she told him, “I think I’m okay. I think you hit the vial the second before she could press down.”

He gulped. “If I’d have been a moment later . . .”

His face went white.

She cupped his chin to get him to gaze at her. “Don’t think about that. I’m okay. You saved me.”

A second later, he met her gaze. “I thought she was dead.”

“She is here.” She stood and tested her ankles. “Help me stand up. We have to find her.”

With a decisive move, he stepped back and didn’t say a word. She couldn’t let him leave with more guilt to rack his body. She reached out to his arm and tugged on him. “Let’s go.”

He helped her and stared at the ground. She tugged on his arm, but he didn’t move. “We should get you to safety first. I won’t let her hurt you.”

She flexed her arm to check that it was fine. She felt okay. “You’re the crack shot in this duo. I’ll do whatever you say.”

He clutched his gun, but said nothing.

She placed her hand on his heart and pressed into him. “What’s your plan?”

Tension came out of his shoulders with every millisecond she stepped closer to him. He hugged her and then kissed her ear. Soon she relaxed. Strength grew throughout her body, and her spine pumped adrenaline throughout her.

“You’re fine. Let’s get you to my room. I keep my gun locker there, and if we secure the apartment area, then she can’t get in.”

“I’ll help search every wall for secret passages.” She hugged him and rubbed his back. “Where are we?”

Without letting her go, he answered, “In a basement I’ve never seen. You found her hidden passageways. I searched through the secret halls.”

“At least now we know she’s here.”

“I knew the story had a major hole in it, but I never found her.”

They walked down the dusty passageway together. Her body was warm and soft again next to his. She gave a small smile. “How did you find me?”

He took her hand and traced her arm. “Your pants were on the ground, and you weren’t in your room. My heart froze. I feared I’d lose you too.”

His name fit him. He truly was her angel. She went to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You saved me.”

He kept her enveloped in his warm embrace as he led her out. “Let’s get you out of here. I have a plan, Snowflake.”

She stepped with him. “So I’m dating a married man.”

“Yeah.” His face went white again, and she couldn’t let him pull away.

“In this case, I’m sure it’s forgivable. She is hell-bent on killing you.” As she inched closer, she let him grip her hip. “She can’t hurt you anymore, now that we know the truth.”

He shook his head and opened the door back to the house. He gazed around the room, then held out his hand to help her. “Wrong person, Erica. I don’t care about myself. I can’t lose you.”

With a strong hand, he led her away from the rooms he worked on and back to the living quarters.

Her heartbeat grew louder in her ears as she followed.

The man’s white pallor wasn’t good for him, and she refused to let him go back to the basement tonight.

The second they made it back to the apartment, he stopped expressing anything. Even silence made her upset for him.

His heavy footsteps in the kitchen area echoed in her ears. She walked toward the refrigerator, and she smiled. “I feel better here.”

He stood in the hall by their bedrooms. “Let’s get supplies and get to my bedroom. I have to ensure the guns are stored and still in the safe.”

Without a question, she took his hand and didn’t stop walking with him. She followed, and he led her straight into the bathroom. He called out, “Lock the door and let’s check the walls here first.”

She nodded, then banged on the wall.

He opened the safe, and she froze. He had at least four guns, some knives, and some other gadgets. He picked something up and said, “Hold this.”

She shook her head and shivered a bit as she picked up the strange thing that looked like a gun but had two hooks. “What is it?”

His eyebrows lifted. “It’s a Taser—unless you know how to shoot?”

“I don’t. Why do you keep these here?”

“I was in the military.” His gaze bored into hers. “I might need to hunt. It’s me against the elements up here.”

She nodded. Now was not the time for questions. She needed to organize the list of what to say in her mind first. So she studied the Taser in her hand. “How does this work?”

He pocketed some bullets, locked up the safe, and came over to her. He directed her hands, then said, “Hit that last button in the direction of Tiffany if she comes close. She’ll be knocked out.”

“But not dead?”

“No.” He crossed his arms. “Let’s finish checking the walls. I want to leave you in a safe place.”

Her entire body stilled. “What?”

His jaw set. “I intend to find Tiffany. I can’t let her hurt you.”

She placed her hand on her hip. “You are not leaving me here to worry. We’re going together.”

He stiffened. “Someone needs to watch the guns.”

“Change the password and don’t say it out loud.” She turned toward the walls. “I’ll make sure no one sees you. Tiffany wants us both dead. If we separate, we would give her the opportunity to divide and conquer.”

“Tiffany is pretty good with a gun.” He closed his eyes and seemed to pray for a moment. “If we find her, you need to hide.”

She gulped and realized she’d won this argument. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Whatever happened, she’d stick to his side like glue. It was the best plan.

27

Erica tried to catch her breath. Gabriel and she had been collecting his tools to stop Tiffany from getting them half the night. No noises other than the scrape of metal against the wooden floors reverberated in the air. Erica closed her eyes for a minute now and yawned. “Are we almost done? I’m exhausted.”

In the adjacent room that was under heavy reconstruction, Gabriel made noise as he picked up another big machine. Tiffany might use anything to kill them. Gabriel rolled it toward Erica. The noise in the air made her think he hadn’t heard her. She stiffened and stood guard at the door. His callused hands brushed past her the second he lifted the machine into its storage place. She sighed. Most of the night had been spent this way. She gazed past his shoulder to see this machine. He loaded a table with a round cutting thing. She held back her yawn. “Gabriel, she’s shot. She’s weak. I doubt she can lift that. I don’t know how we didn’t find a trail of blood.”

Gabriel shook his head. “She’s dangerous and smart, Erica. If we stop, I’m afraid she’ll have a gun and shoot you.”

Erica was so numb. She shook her head. “If she has a gun, then why didn’t she shoot you years ago? And what about the gun in the secret room?”

“I locked it up with the others.” He swallowed. “She could have another.”

“She’s crazy.”

“Tiffany has never been rational.”

He walked back to the other room. Erica rolled her shoulders to stay awake. Gabriel walked back toward the closet with another sawlike thing that could be used to maim or kill. “She’s been in my walls planning my demise for years.”

Erica rubbed her arms, as if that would chase away the coldness inside her body. “Where did she get the drugs?”

He shook his head and walked back out to get more tools. “I’m not a psychic. I’ve no idea.”

“What’s your plan, then?”

“No. Don’t speak here.”

She stood straighter. “She could hear us talking.”

“I’m more worried about her next plan. Our defenses are best in my room.”

“We have time. She’ll keep on the run until she heals herself.”

“Why do you think she can do that?”

Erica shrugged. “She has drugs, so I’d guess she has medicine.”

He stiffened. “I shot her in the stomach.”

“We don’t know if the bullet hit her or the vial.” She swayed on her feet, then steadied herself.

“Are you okay? I was worried about you in the basement, and you’re my primary concern now.”

Maybe he was right. He knew how to shoot, but Erica refused to take any chances. “You saved me again, Gabriel.”

He shook his head. “We need to finish locking everything up.”

A thump of something hit the floor in the distance. They both stopped.

He stared down the hall. “Let’s set up a barricade in my room for you to get some sleep.”

“Us.” She crossed her arms. “You need sleep.”

“I’m not tired.” He carried what looked like a gun for nails and placed it in his tool locker. She kept watch. He then brushed his hand on her shoulder, and she turned to him. “You can rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

“I can’t sleep, not with your wife out to kill me.”

He nodded. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Almost healed.” She’d not deny how she felt. “I’m numb right now more than anything else. It’s not every day someone tries to kill me.”

He shrugged. “It’s been my every day for years, it seems. Guess I’m used to it.” He walked back to the other room. His voice echoed in the hall. “I’m almost done. I wish I put things away instead of leaving things out, but we can’t let Tiffany use anything else of mine to hurt you.”

Erica stiffened. “She’ll frame you.”

Gabriel met her gaze. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”

She reached out to massage his shoulder. “Gabriel, we’ll be okay.”

“I don’t have your optimism and determination, Snowflake.”

“I have enough for both of us.”

He said nothing else.

Another question popped in her head, and the words fell out of her mouth without a filter. “Why did you marry Tiffany? Didn’t you know better?”

He ran his hands through his hair. “I was leaving for war.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He rocked on his feet. “I knew her for a month before my departure date.”

“What?”

“Let me finish.” He crossed his arms. “I needed a reason to come home after going to war. I’m not like most Marines who live for their work. I joined, and my parents were upset that I would go to war. My world spun, so I thought if I married Tiffany, I’d have a reason to come back home.”

She reached out and massaged his arm. He uncrossed his arms. What could she say to him to help? No words surfaced, so she stood on her tiptoes and intended to kiss his cheek. He turned, and her lips met his. He tasted sweet.

“Tiffany said her plan was to make you think yourself insane.” Erica could not guess what the next tool might be used for. She stayed on topic. “Were you going insane before I arrived?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I wasn’t feeling good about anything. I had no intention of suicide, if that’s the question.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be here alone, like you were.”

His smoldering eyes gazed into hers and the coldness dissipated. “You brought me back to life.”

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Likewise. I wasn’t living much of a life. Then I was stuck here with you and saw what this life can be. In the past, the days rolled by, but it wasn’t my life.”

He turned and took her hand. He said nothing.

She swallowed. “You’re important to me.”

“You’re the most precious gift in the world.”

The clank of something metallic pierced the air, and she dove into his arms. He brushed her hair, and she shivered a bit. He whispered, “She’s making noise to frighten us. We’ve moved what’s left of the tools. I need you to turn and head back into our apartment. I’ll lock this up.”

“No.” She shook again. “We go together. I don’t want to be by myself. Whatever happens happens to both of us.”

“Erica . . .”

She squeezed his waist more and he stopped talking. She assumed he nodded. His head moved, but she didn’t gaze up. She stepped back to let him lock the closet.

The rustle of the wind outside the window sent a chill in the air. Gabriel took her hand in his, and she felt safe. Despite the danger, Erica’s entire body hummed in excitement to follow him.

They walked back into the apartment, but the tingles on her neck grew. Erica turned around and saw the lights flicker in the library. She squeezed Gabriel’s arm and he followed her lead. As they neared the door, she fell back behind his shoulder. “We’re not alone.”

Gabriel reached behind his back for his gun, and kept his eyes on the library door as he sought out his target. She took his hand. He whispered his order: “Go to my room.”

“No.”

He shook his head, and clicked something on his gun. “Stay behind the wall. Stay safe.”

“Kiss me.”

He stopped.

She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips into his. His lips were small and withdrawn at first. Then he wrapped his arms around her. She felt the cool steel of the gun on her waist, but she deepened their kiss. His lips sent her entire body into overdrive. This would not be the last time. She’d not let anything happen to him.

He unwrapped his arms and she stepped back behind the wall. He rearmed his gun and stiffened his entire body, ready for a tight. She nodded at him and clutched her Taser.

In silence, he slid the door open. Then he cleared his throat. “Tiffany, this is over now.”

He pointed Erica to go back down the hall. Erica stood behind him and refused to move.

“You shot me.” Tiffany’s voice was almost like a melody. “You loved me once, Gabriel.”

Shouldn’t she be in pain? Erica peeked out and saw that Tiffany held her stomach and rocked. In her other hand, she held a gun that pointed right toward Gabriel.

“I never knew you.” Gabriel held his gun ready to shoot Tiffany. He shook his head. “You should be dead.”

Tiffany’s melodic voice held a tinge of sadness. “We’ve gone too far. I want this to end.”

How was this woman still moving? Erica’s own shoulder still stung from the wolves. Tiffany had been shot.

Gabriel held his hand on the safety of his gun. “What do you mean?”

Why? Erica dropped her Taser and reached to pick it back up. Gabriel tensed, and Erica heard a gun click like it was ready to fire.

“Slut.” Tiffany shot at the wall. Erica cringed. She’d almost been killed. Her heart hammered in her chest. Tiffany called out, “No one wants you here.”

Tiffany lifted her gun in the air, and Gabriel snapped his gun and made a noise. Tiffany turned back toward him. “Tiffany, stop.”

Erica called out, “No one has to die.”

Tiffany laughed. “You die first.”

Gabriel grabbed Tiffany’s gun. She fought back. Erica said a little prayer, then crawled into the room to get behind the couch. She had to help Gabriel.

A shot rang out in the air.

Tiffany continued to laugh. “Your little slut of a girlfriend won’t see morning.”

Erica stared down at the blood pooling at Tiffany’s feet. She was hurt. Then Erica realized her shoulder burned again. Were the wolves back? She swallowed. Then she realized her shoulder was bleeding. Her head spun a bit. Had she been shot?

Tiffany held her gun higher. “Adultery is a sin.”

Erica shook her head. “Says the saint?”

The pool of blood at Tiffany’s feet grew thicker. She must still be bleeding.

Gabriel now held the gun he’d taken out of Tiffany’s hand. Erica swallowed, unsure how he held the gun.

Erica sat down to stop the dizziness.

Tiffany leaped on Gabriel. Gabriel held his gun trained on her. Erica froze, unable to help. Then a second gunshot rang in the air.

She stared at Gabriel and Tiffany as they struggled for the gun. Who had been shot? The pool of blood grew larger, faster.

Tiffany moved like a huge cat. Or was that desperation and adrenaline that made her crazy? She jumped on a man that was taller than both of them, and his gaze never left the target.

A loud bang reverberated in the air. Gabriel threw Tiffany off him like she was a bug. Erica’s gaze followed the thud to the gun on the floor near her.

Gabriel told Tiffany, “This is over.”

“Hell, no. You don’t get to win.” Tiffany had jumped on Gabriel, despite the gun in his hand. Erica’s shoulder burned. How did Tiffany find the energy to move? Erica curled behind the couch, but clutched the Taser.

Gabriel threw Tiffany off him again. Erica then spotted a knife in Tiffany’s hand. She must have grabbed it from Gabriel’s waist. He still held his gun on her.

Erica swallowed. Gabriel might need to shoot his wife. No. Erica inhaled. He’d been through so much. She’d help, if she could. She crawled over to the gun and picked it up with both hands.

Neither of them came at her, as they were focused on each other.

From behind the couch, Erica peeked her head up and called out, “No more. Tiffany, there is no way to win.”

Tiffany jumped, catlike, and flew toward Erica. Gabriel shot his gun.

Erica screamed. Blood rained down all over her. Tiffany was bleeding badly. Why didn’t she just die like they did in movies? Erica held the gun, but Tiffany scratched at it.

Gabriel’s footsteps reverberated in the air. He was close.

Erica swallowed, then threw the gun toward him. Tiffany scratched at her arm and shoulder. The pain shot raced through her, but she clutched the Taser then, without another thought, shot Tiffany with the two electric circuits.

Tiffany screamed and shook in the air.

Erica massaged her shoulder and wiped the blood off her face.

Tiffany fell to the floor in convulsions.

Gabriel ran over to the pair of them and grabbed Erica. Her arms wrapped around his and the Taser thumped back on the floor.

Tiffany stared at both of them. “I never lose.”

“You do this time.” Erica shook her head, then buried it in Gabriel’s neck. Gabriel brushed her back.

A thud of a body hitting the floor echoed throughout the house, and the sound carried on the wind.

Gabriel let Erica go.

She opened her eyes a moment later and stared at him as he stood over Tiffany’s lifeless body.

“She can’t hurt us anymore.”

Erica crossed her arms. “Are you sure she’s dead?”

Gabriel knelt next to Tiffany and unbuttoned her shirt. A gauze pad covered her stomach. “She’s lost too much blood.”

Erica stood over him. “Check her for her wounds. I don’t want any more tricks.”

Gabriel nodded as he stared at Tiffany’s belly. He tore off her gauze pad to see the bullet wound. Erica stared at her white face and hollow eyes. How had she lived through this?

Gabriel stood up and took Erica’s hand. “Erica, it’s over.”

She gazed up into his eyes. They were free. She swallowed, wiped more blood out of her eyes, and without another thought, kissed his cheek.

28

“You look horrible.” Erica stared at Gabriel with his grimy hands. Last night, they’d both washed off the blood. This morning he sported the red face of someone who had spent the night in the frigid cold. His eyes were almost dead. Then he shivered. She sat up from bed. “Where were you? I spent half the night wondering if you were coming back.”

He leaned down toward his feet and untied his boots. “After I tended to your wounds, I thought you’d sleep the night.”

She scooted closer to the edge of the bed. In the corner of her eye, she glanced at the window. The blackness told her it was still the middle of the night. She waited until he returned her gaze and told him, “I woke up and you weren’t here.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He kicked off his shoes.

She blinked and waited for him to say more. He kept silent. “And?”

“Tiffany’s body was lying in the library.” He closed his eyes, looking haunted. “We couldn’t leave her there.”

“We said we’d bury her in the morning.”

He shook his head. “I should have buried her before. I made sure I did it now.”

Last night neither of them knew where to hold her body until spring arrived. Erica had collapsed in his arms, and he had told her to not worry. She swallowed, then met his gaze. “How?”

He unzipped his jacket and removed his hat. “I have a snow blower, torches, and a plow.”

She covered her mouth with her fingers. “You went outside.”

“She was lying on the floor of the house.” He opened his bloodshot eyes. “She is dead and buried.”

“You look like hell.” He must be exhausted. She massaged his shoulders. “You need sleep.”

He unzipped his snow pants. She caught a glimpse of his jeans. “Are you okay?”

Her hands brushed her sides. He slipped out of his outside layer. She then stared at his biceps and sheer muscular strength. She swallowed, then glanced at her shoulder. It burned again. “Yeah. I think so. Do you think I’ll have a scar?”

He nodded. “Probably.”

Her mouth fell open. “What?”

He sat next to her on the bed. Then he checked the gauze he had placed on her shoulder. “I’m not a doctor. The bullet grazed your shoulder, or I’d have buried you both.”

His fingers were icy cold. The man’s white pallor wasn’t good for him, and she refused to leave him alone, not right now. He spent the night in solitude. She had slept a little.

Without a question, she took his hand and didn’t stop walking with him. He followed, and she led him straight into the bathroom. With force, she twisted on the shower, and she pushed his shirt off his chest. He lifted his massive arms and let her slide the shirt off.

“I can’t have sex right now,” he mumbled.

“Of course.” She helped him out of his jeans. “That’s not what I want right now. We’re getting you in the shower.”

He stepped up and helped her undress him. “Why? I’m too cold.”

“The water will be warm.” With precise movements, she checked the temperature of the water, kissed his cheek, and undid her shirt. He didn’t struggle. She pushed him into the shower. “Because the water’s clean and pure. You saved my life, so stop feeling guilty. We’re taking this shower.”

Without any further argument, he stepped out of his pants and followed her direction.

The water could wash his skin and, hopefully, help cleanse his sorrow. Gabriel was her hero, and deserved far better than he’d received. Tiffany was dead now. Now she could take care of him, like he had watched out for her.

A few minutes later, she led him to the bed and changed him into clean clothes. He didn’t argue. Once his head hit the pillow, his eyes closed. She massaged his scalp until she was sure he was asleep.

She couldn’t sleep. Not at all. Not now. He took care of everything tonight. So she marched herself toward the kitchen.

A good meal cured people. Everything she touched had the energy of her love. Gabriel’s nightmare was over, and so was hers. They were alive. She’d make a grand dinner.

The hallway was silent now, except for the icy rain. Out of habit, Erica rubbed her arms and listened. No tingles inched their way up her spine anymore. Near the kitchen, she detoured back into Gabriel’s library. Perhaps she should clean up the remains. Cleanliness would help everything in the morning. She inhaled, held her breath, and opened the door.

Everything was in order. No sign of last night’s struggle remained. Gabriel must have done this too.

She exhaled and shook her head.

Gabriel had taken care of the details. He had shot Tiffany. She slowed her death, but she knew she’d die. At least she hadn’t won.

Erica rubbed her arms and checked her bandage. The whiteness of the gauze in the mirror struck her as strange. Shouldn’t there be more blood?

She swallowed, then went to work. He loved a lamb roast. So tonight, they’d eat that. She’d prepare a wholesome salad. What should she make for dessert? Last night Gabriel had put her to bed and taken care of the details. Today it was her turn. She’d take care of him. He had enjoyed her cupcakes.

The wolves howled outside the windows and Erica smiled. The animals would get no cupcakes and they weren’t scary anymore.

They were free.

She set to work and made everything ready for a feast. Cupcakes with buttercream frosting would be the best treat.

A few hours later, Gabriel came out of the room in his dark blue jeans and a simple formfitting gray T-shirt. She had never seen him with such lightness in his every step as he came toward her in the kitchen.

He kissed her cheek then stared at the table. His gaze stayed on the elegant cupcakes. “What are we celebrating?”

“Us.” She smiled and walked toward the champagne. The roast lamb was already on the table. “I found this in the kitchen you prepared for the staff. I figure we have so much to be thankful for.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I’m one of a kind.”

He reached out to her side. The electricity in the air fueled her. The sparks were undeniable. He tilted his head. “Let’s check your shoulder.”

“No. It’s fine.” She shook her head. She had hoped for a kiss. “Tonight is about us and celebrating that we’re together and alive.”

He pressed her shoulder, and it stung a little. “You need to take it easy.”

She nodded, but moved out of his reach. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Are we together?”

She stilled. Did he not want her? “Aren’t we?”

Then he took a step toward her and took both of her hands in his. His hands were warm and inviting. Her heartbeat grew louder. His sexy brown eyes met her gaze, and he massaged her hands. “I’d love to spend the rest of my life with you, Erica. I love you far more than you know. You brought color into my life.”

“I love you too.” She stepped to the side and pointed to the table. She couldn’t continue to stare into his eyes. Not right now. “Sit. Let’s eat.”

He crossed his arms. “No.”

She stopped, then stared back at him. “No? What’s wrong?”

He dropped his hands, and instead circled her waist. Her entire body was mushy, and her eyes watered. She sniffed to stop her tears. Then he pulled her closer to him. Her lips came inches from his, and she smiled. “Do you intend to kiss me?”

He nodded and smiled. “I want far more than that, but a kiss is a good start.”

She wrapped her hands around his neck and laughed. “Deal.”

His lips brushed against hers and everything but him became blurry. She pressed her mouth closer to his, and every cell in her body came alive.

They had so many issues, but with love, anything was possible.

Her heart soared as he deepened the kiss.

29

Erica woke up next to her man. Her stomach fluttered, and she stared out the window. The sunshine somehow made the day softer. She glanced at Gabriel, still asleep beside her. Her muscles relaxed. Today, everything was peaceful.

No more cleanup around Tiffany.

The house was quiet, and no noises echoed in the halls.

Erica laughed. They were here. Last night, all they did was hold each other. She snuggled into Gabriel’s chest. His warmth kept her calm. Last night, the celebration of their love was overshadowed by the night and last night’s events. He’d told her he loved her. She refused to think about the recent horror. All her life, she’d hoped to fall in love with a guy. Today was almost like a dream come true.

She kissed his neck, and his rough, unshaven cheek stimulated her skin. The tingle sent a tantalizingly sweet fervor through her body.

All that was missing was her mother and sister. The snow had to melt. Then she’d introduce Gabriel as the love of her life.

No more ghosts would haunt them. The bad parts were over. The good parts remained.

She couldn’t sleep, and she settled into his shoulder. Her mother would approve of Gabriel.

She stilled until his hands squeezed hers a second. Her smile broke the moment he flipped over her and covered her entire body with his. Her shoulder hardly ached now, and she played with his short brown hair. She wrapped her legs around his spine, and he claimed her lips. A sweet moan of surrender and promise escaped her.

Slowly, she twisted her head and laughed. “Morning breath. I must smell terrible.”

“You taste better than candy, Snowflake.” Her mouth fell open, and he claimed another fiery kiss. Her body ached for him. His hard-on grew, and her legs spread to give him access to her secret entrance.

His tongue circled hers while her lower lips softened to open up to him. All sense of time disappeared with him.

To tease, he rolled his head back. Then his eyes met hers. She waited. He showed her his dimples, then squeezed one of the puckered pebbles on her breasts. Desire surged through her. His face rubbed hers, and her eyes rolled back in pleasure. He laughed, then whispered, “You’re always ready, aren’t you?”

“For you, yes.” She arched her back to give him better access to her breasts.

“Erica, I . . .” Instead of finishing his sentence, he pushed his huge member into her.

Sated, she closed her eyes, and her body was warm and ready. She let the sensation take over. He pushed into her, and she lost thought of everything else. All she could do was cry out, “Gabriel. Oh, yes.”

Emboldened, he used his fingers to find her clit as he continued to move in and out of her. Soon she became inarticulate waves of pleasure coursed through her.

Gabriel kept up a steady pace, then slowed to torture her. Then he sped up, matching her rhythm until she reached an explosive release.

“Ah.” Was that all she could say? Words wouldn’t form, and her spirit soared.

Her muscles quivered while she hugged him on top of her. He kissed her forehead, then rolled over next to her. She moved with him. “Gabriel, I’ve fallen in love with you.”

His body tensed. She tugged the sheet over her. He loved her too. He had told her last night. What had changed?

She stayed silent.

He walked over to his dresser and opened a drawer. He found something. She tilted her head to see.

He came back to bed and tugged at the sheet to let it slip. She stared at his hand. What did he have? She dropped the sheet and scooted closer to him. He stroked her inflamed body, and she arched her back to give him better access.

Then he stopped. She sighed.

His captivating eyes met her gaze. He froze for a moment. She stared at him, unsure what was going on. Then he held out a ring. She covered her mouth.

He went down to one knee. Her gaze and heart followed him. He held out the diamond toward her. “Erica . . .”

She laughed. His voice squeaked.

He stopped. Then she stopped laughing. “I’m sorry. I’m happy.”

He shook his head. “Let me ask.”

She swallowed. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath, then met her gaze. “I can’t live without you anymore. When Tiffany almost killed you, I realized I didn’t want to live without you.”

“Don’t mention her name right now.”

He blushed. “Sorry.”

She blinked. “No, continue.”

“I love you more than I’ve loved anyone.” He swallowed. “Will you marry me?”

Her huge smile grew, and she kissed his cheek. Then she took the ring. “Where did you get this?”

“It was my grandmother’s. She promised me one day I’d want to marry someone much better suited to me.” He slipped it on her finger. “She told me one day you’d show up in my life, even if I wasn’t looking.”

She laughed and stared at the diamond on her finger. “I think I like your grandmother.”

He let out a sigh and matched her smile, though he had a pinch of sadness in him. “Good. She’d like you too. I hope to meet your mother.”

Erica nodded. “She’ll love you because I love you.”

Gabriel stilled again. “I want to reach out to Raphael and apologize for being an unforgiving jerk.”

“I’ll stand beside you.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I wish I knew how to get to my sister, Kimberly.”

He held her close, and she settled on his lap. “Together, we’ll handle everything.”

She gazed up at him. “Finally, you are determined and optimistic.”

“It took falling in love with you.”

Gabriel Murphy was the sweetest man she’d ever met. Erica gazed at the ceiling. She fought for everything in her life, and now she had someone to share everything with.

30

Erica was surveying her third New York restaurant. Gabriel spoke with one of her staff and they both laughed. Erica’s gaze narrowed as a customer caught her eye through the window. With a nod to her hostess, she hung up the phone. Now was the time. She took the spot next to the hostess. The customer walked in.

Gabriel sat back down with her mother. Their table was behind the false wall, so they didn’t see this customer. Erica licked her lips. Her plan had almost worked.

Everything became easy the moment Raphael walked through the door.

The two men had similar looks, though her Gabriel was far sexier. The brown hair, broad shoulders, and dark eyes were the same, but he didn’t have Gabriel’s aura.

Erica tilted her head. She supposed that they could almost be twins.

Raphael came closer to the hostess, unaware of whom she was. Erica crossed her arms and clicked her heels on the marble floor. His surprised eyes stared up. “Can I help you?”

He nodded at her as he scanned the room. “I’m a little early for my reservation. But I am meeting my brother, Gabriel Murphy.”

Gabriel stopped talking to her mother. They must have heard. Erica sucked in a breath. Gabriel needed to stay still. She hadn’t told him her surprise. “He’s here.”

Raphael looked through the door. “Where?”

Erica stepped in front of him and placed her hand on her hip. “Only if you can answer a few questions from me.”

His eyes narrowed on her, and she noticed the similar line down the middle of his forehead. Gabriel had that quirk every time she asked him a direct question too. “Who are you?”

With a tap of her shoe, she raised her eyebrows without an answer. Then she picked up the menu, shrugged, and held back her smile. “If you answer my questions correctly, you get to see Gabriel. If I don’t like what you say, then you’re out.”

He took a step back and stared at her like she was strange. He had no idea about anything. Then he nodded. “Okay.”

“Did you know Tiffany was alive?”

His eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. “What do you mean alive? She’s dead.”

“No. She didn’t die. Did you know?”

His face turned ashen. Then he placed his hand on his heart. He violently shook his head. “I never saw a body. I thought Gabriel took care of those details.”

“She was alive all this time and intended to kill him.”

“What?” Raphael’s entire face fell. “I thought she was dead.”

Now she could blink, and she nodded at him. “Well, that’s one plus for you. She’s dead now, and Gabriel is here. Everything’s fine.”

He swayed on his feet. “Where was she?”

Erica swiveled to stay in front of him so he didn’t bypass her and go into the restaurant. “Still in the chalet, in the secret rooms.”

Raphael dropped his hands to his sides. “Gabriel would never talk to me. I tried to tell him about that stupid room.”

“Did you set out to have an affair and betray your family?”

Red-faced, he tugged at his ear and shook his head. “Lady, I don’t feel comfortable talking about this with a total stranger. Who are you?”

“This is my new wife, and you are not touching this one.” Gabriel came out from behind the hidden seats and hugged her waist.

With a smile, Erica answered fast, “Gabriel, he’s not as hot as you, my love. Besides, no one is going to want me in a few months when I get rounder.”

“Gabriel.” Raphael stepped back and stared at how Gabriel held her close.

Her husband stared at his brother. Then he raised his hand and offered it to Raphael.

Raphael reached out and shook his hand.

Erica took her husband’s free hand, placed it on her hip, and raised her eyes at his brother. “Well, let’s sit. Eating together is a good way to smooth over any gaps.”

Raphael’s eyes never wandered from Gabriel. “What’s your wife’s name, and do our parents know?”

“Erica,” Gabriel answered. He kept his arms around her. “Our parents met her yesterday.”

Raphael’s mouth fell open. “Only yesterday?”

“The snow took a while to melt.”

Erica nodded. “We drove to the house in Connecticut on our way down.”

Gabriel then continued, “We met Michaela in Boston and stayed a few days for her mother, Katherine, to fly up.”

“Did she like you?”

Gabriel cocked his head to the side and Erica’s mother gave him the thumbs up. His brother saw.

“We’re going to stay in Miami for a few days for Gabriel to get to know my mother more after you both talk,” Erica added, then squeezed her husband’s hand. Her mother gave them all a knowing smile. They sat around the table, and Erica kept the conversation up. “Gabriel drove down the coast. He’ll tell you that I’m not good at driving these roads up north.”

Raphael refused to sit at the table she’d directed them to.

Gabriel asked, “Where’s Eileen?”

Raphael inhaled and stared at everyone. His face went red, but he didn’t say anything.

Her mother added, “Don’t be shy. We’re all going to be family. It’s all right to talk about everything on your mind. I beat cancer because my daughter went missing, and I needed to get out of that hospital.”

Raphael nodded. “Eileen married someone else.”

Gabriel pointed to sit. “I am sorry.”

“You should hate me.”

Gabriel sighed. “I was so angry.”

Raphael stared at the ground. “I should never have touched Tiffany. I don’t know how it began, but you were my brother. There is no way to make up for that.”

Kathy nodded at Erica. Erica nodded back, then stared at Gabriel.

Gabriel met Erica’s eyes, and she smiled at her husband to encourage him. Forgiveness was important for him to let go of his past. Their gazes stayed on each other. He kept silent. So Erica answered, “Tiffany put drugs in your drinks. It’s how she had her way with you, Raphael.”

“What?” Raphael said.

“We found her diaries and her drug cabinets.” Erica elbowed Gabriel to speak.

Gabriel’s eyes brightened and he squeezed Erica’s knee. Then he told his brother, “Tiffany set out to win a game. She did what she could, but I would like to bury the past and have my brother back.”

“I’d like that too.” Raphael’s voice cracked. “I was wrong.”

Gabriel nodded.

Kathy added, “I approve of men who have an open heart.”

Erica smiled; then both men stared at the menus. Her mother kept smiling.

“Is that it? Get up and hug your brother.”

Gabriel stood first. “Better get up, Raphael. Erica won’t rest until she gets her way.”

“I like your new wife.” Raphael leaned closer to him.

“She takes after me,” Kathy added. “My other daughter, Kimberly, is still out there. I wish I had both my girls back.”

Raphael patted Gabriel on his back, and the men hugged. A second later, they separated and Gabriel pressed his lips together. “I trusted you.”

Raphael looked stricken. Erica said, “Be nice.”

Color returned to Gabriel’s brother face before he told her, “I’m grateful. You brought my brother back. He’s a lucky man.”

Gabriel gave a bold wink at Erica. “That I am. I married a good woman, and I miss my brother.”

Erica smiled when the men patted each other on the back.

Gabriel then winked at her mother and slipped Erica a piece of paper. Erica stared at them both, confused.

Her mother told her, “I can’t type anymore. I need you to take care of this.”

Erica scratched at her neck, then stared at the paper. Her sister’s name was bold and clear.

Gabriel explained, “Your sister doesn’t have a phone, or a permanent address. But she has run this website for years. This is her e-mail.”

Kathy added, “Send her a wedding invitation.”

Erica shook her head. “Mom, we’re already married.”

Gabriel squeezed her knee. “I’m game for a family wedding that brings everything to a close.”

Erica swallowed. They’d be together for the rest of her life. A wedding with her family would be ideal. They could celebrate every day of their lives together. She might have crashed her car as a beginning, but now she had her happy-ever-after.

Somehow, she’d found a family again. Erica nodded. “I’ll e-mail her an invitation.”

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed Gabriel and Erica as much as I did. The next book the the Frosted Game of Hearts series involves Erica’s sister whose returning for the wedding though her plane crashes on an island, where she meets Raphael who saves her life, more than once. Order Hidden Raphael Now!

Or you can read about a short story series of billionaires all being targeted and you start the Tempting series with Tempting Gabe for FREE.

Third option is Favorite Crush where Penny refuses to be anything like her gold digging mother and is all about being a smart engineer, and almost misses out on her chance at love with billionaire Jay Marshall in Favorite Crush.

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Hidden Raphael Preview

Kimberly Mira blinked into the dark and sniffed the air. Clean cotton sheets? A soft mattress cushioned her back. Her skin grew goose bumps as the wind howled outside. This wasn't heaven. Her skin felt grimy and her head pounded like she'd drunk too much last night. Flashes of an out-of-control fire replayed in her mind. She sucked in her breath like she needed to hold as much oxygen in as possible. She told herself to be normal and that the intense fire was in her mind's eye. Eventually she relaxed her body. Another memory surfaced as she closed her eyes and remembered falling into depths of a freezing forest.

She wiggled her feet, and her bare feet brushed against the soft sheets. This bed wasn’t hers and this black-as-night room made no sense. What had happened? Kimberly rubbed her eyes and stared into a dark gray room with walls etched out of stone. With the help of the moonlight her eyes adjusted, and she saw the wood floor shone as if from a recent polish.

Wind rattled the windowpane.

She breathed in and out, neither dead nor frozen. She sat up in bed, in the dimly lit room, and ran her hand over the silk nightgown she wore. She hadn’t had silk anything, ever. Her brow furrowed as she realized this wasn’t hers. Her own clothes were gone. She scratched her arm because it itched, and she remembered the hard, cold ocean. Who knew how deep she'd fallen into the watery depths, and she thought herself dead. Her skin itched with salt. Last night she’d been so cold. How was she wearing silky anything? She stretched to get out of the bed, and her feet pressed against a rug, though it wasn’t anything like the blankets, which offered warmth she hadn't thought to experience again.

Nothing made sense here. Where was she? She glanced around the room, and this time paid more attention to the long, thin windows that reminded her of Medieval Times. Was it a castle window? The dreary mist that was illuminated with the full moon outside offered no natural light.

A crisp wind blew past the window, and she shivered despite how the room was warm. Kimberly peered at the stone wall near the massive curved door with a round top and black metal trim, looking for a switch. She sucked on her bottom lip as she stared at a chandelier above her head. She had to be wrong about that. This was a crazy dream, but did castles have electricity? She shook her head and decided one step at a time. One issue at a time.

Step one. She wasn't dead. Was she kidnapped? Unlikely. A flashback in her mind went straight to the second where the tall, dark pilot left the front of the plane with a gun and she screamed. She shook her head. He’d tried to kill her. Her heart raced, but this didn’t help. She reasoned to herself that he wasn’t her kidnapper. How would the pilot know where to crash the plane to get here?

Calm down. However she’d ended up here in this room, she’d been placed in bed and changed into a nightgown. Everything had to be fine.

She stood up, and the cold from the wood floor rushed through her feet, up her legs. Kimberly jumped onto the plush Persian rug between the bed and the door, happy to lose the frigid bite of ice from her toes in the silky carpet. Then she traced the walls. They were rounded, polished, and real stones. This was a castle. How?

Castles were European and not American, and they had to be closer to the US, unless the pilot took them seriously off course. Airplanes follow routes, and they’d have been stopped if they went this far off course. Nothing made sense about where she was. She rubbed her forehead. She had left London hours ago. The plane had refueled in Greenland and they were on course to Boston. Eileen and Ali had offered her a ride. She had bought them a hot chocolate at the last airport. Then she remembered blood and how shards of the plane littered a beach. Now they were gone. The memories were facts, and now she was here.

Kimberly stared into the ornate mirror with delicate black metalwork surrounding the glass. Her face was pale, except for that nasty bruise on her cheek that made her dark eyes almost black. She leaned closer and reached behind her chestnut hair to her scalp. She had a nasty Easter egg, but someone had bandaged the spot where she had found blood. Her chestnut-brown hair was a knotted mess, and hardly hid that bump.

She wore a silk nightgown, long, that was like something Mom would wear in the house, but not her. She blinked. It certainly wasn't from Eileen's designer wardrobe. She jerked away from the mirror, like a memory of her friends cut into her skin.

There were more mysteries to unravel here. Someone had changed her out of her wet jeans. A memory of the pilot pointing a gun to her head as she huddled with sharp rocks replayed in her mind. Had that someone saved her from someone about to shoot her in the head and brought her here? She winced and remembered the gun in her face. Kimberly had to find out if she was still in danger. The windows rattled again, louder this time.

She needed to call home. Kimberly hobbled across the floor toward a gray dresser with doors that had two different knights. She threw it open and ransacked the square wooden drawers with metallic circles for handles. Socks would help. She crossed her fingers and veered to the right. She rifled through towels and shirts until she found wool socks. She leaned onto the wall and lifted her feet.

Someone had bandaged her feet too. How had she not noticed? She took a deep breath and checked the nasty Easter egg with her fingers again. It had to have been an angel last night that saved her.

The windows shook like someone or something wanted in. She swallowed and stared at the storm that brewed outside the window. Thunder boomed in her ears.

Bang.

She fell to the floor behind the dresser and covered her head. Fragments of memories flooded her brain, but she had to stay in the here and now. She squeaked, but then finally said, "Hello?"

The heavy wooden door creaked open, and her adrenaline spiked.

She stood up, coughed, picked up a dove figurine from the dresser top, then called out, "Hello. Can I help you?"

An older woman with gray hair and a Victorian-style black dress entered the room. Kimberly had chest pains as the woman opened her mouth and said, "The master sent me to ensure you're fine, miss. May I come in?"

The master? Who said that in today’s world? Her hand shook, and Kimberly carefully set the figurine back on the dresser. She chewed her lip and realized the older woman was not who had saved her last night. The coldness that rushed to her bones made no sense. The older woman was no match for the pilot. She rubbed her forehead and hoped her fingers warmed.

"Are you okay, miss?"

I'm an idiot. Her entire body wanted to run. Kimberly straightened her spine and nodded her head. "Yes, please come in."

The woman's gray hair was streaked with pure white, and the bun on the back of her head accentuated the wrinkles on her pale face. She walked over to the bed and stripped the sheets.

Kimberly swallowed and wondered if she should help, but the woman was done too fast. "You're up,” she said. "It's a good sign, miss. What is your name?"

"Kimberly… Kimberly Mira," she answered in a shrill voice. She dropped her hands to her side. "How did I get here? And who are you?"

The older woman walked over to the closet and retrieved a wicker basket. "I'm Meg, the maid in this house. Master Raphael, my employer, found you and brought you back unconscious. We spent half the night attending to your wounds. Were you in that plane crash near on the beach where he found you?"

"Yes." Memories of running around the island forest bombarded her brain, but the picture was so foggy. She couldn’t remember. She tried to keep her voice light as she walked toward her. "Are authorities on their way?"

"I don't know, miss." The woman walked around her and went back to the bed to gather the sheets. "Ask Master Raphael. I’ll get you clean sheets, as these must have salt and sand from the beach."

He'd probably saved her life. She intended to thank him, but then a chill raced up her spine. Where was the pilot? Was he in a different room? Her voice cracked, and her throat became parched. "Was I the only one brought into the house last night?"

"You're the only survivor that I know about." The maid packed the sheets in the basket. "You'll have to ask him your questions. I have a lot of work to do."

"Where is he, Meg?" Kimberly stared at Meg with her mouth still dry. She hugged her waist. She was probably safe for now, but her mind raced with what ifs and more goose bumps grew on her arms. "I’d like to talk to him."

Meg nodded. "Good. Wash up first. I found some clothes for you to wear and hung them in the closet."

Kimberly smiled and rubbed her arms. Mr. Raphael must be in his sixties, like Meg. He probably wore old-fashioned clothes like Meg. They lived in a castle that was straight out of a history book. And Kimberly didn’t care if the clothes offered to her were from the last century, as long as she washed the dried salt of the ocean off her skin with a decent shower. Her skin was caked with grime, and even a bath might help her mind be clear. She sniffed her hair and her face wrinkled. She smelled like a sewer mixed with oil. Meg went to the closet and carried out clean sheets. She made the bed.

Coldness floated through Kimberly. A gust of wind must have come from the slightly opened door. Meg finished her work then pointed to the en suite bathroom. "Wash as best you can, miss. I'll change your bandages if we have to."

Kimberly held her tongue that would have asked why this room had its own bathroom, as castles didn’t seem to have that luxury. It was best not to know details. Then Meg took a step toward the door with the basket of sheets. Kimberly’s blood pressure surged. "Wait. Where you going?"

"I need to set the wash." Meg shook her head. "I'll be back, but you are not my only responsibility today. I've work to do."

Another chill rushed through Kimberly as Meg opened the door to a drafty hallway. How big was this castle? The door thudded closed and the windowpanes shook. She turned and stared at the mist outside. The storm might be worse now. Kimberly held her tongue. She wanted that shower.

She swayed on her feet and stared into the mist. Lightning brightened the sky. Was the pilot out there? Waves crashed against the rocky coastline, and a billow of black smoke emanated right off shore that mixed with the gray mist.

Mr. Raphael must have seen the crash from his windows. Did he have other neighbors? Was there a nearby hospital? She scanned the horizon but couldn’t see past the forest of thorns and evergreens. Her skin pinched like one of the thorns last night had pricked her. She brushed her arm and glanced to see the cut from last night. She ran through that, and the ocean was past the dense woods. She gulped and realized the ocean was a memory, as she couldn’t see anything but trees. She scratched her chin. The pines and firs had a slight glitter that probably held icicles. She had a sense that she was utterly alone.

She walked into the bathroom and the door slammed shut. She hadn't intended for it close so hard, and the loud bang sent tremors in her stomach.

The stone walls continued, but the shower had tempered glass and seemed modern. She stepped into it and the sterling silver knobs released warm water onto her raw skin. The shower was cleansing. The shampoo smelled of cucumbers, and the soap had a hint of coconut that reminded her of her mom’s home in Miami. She lathered twice to ensure that the rawness of the salt wouldn't return to make her itch again.

Kimberly dried off with a huge towel that she wrapped around herself and tied at her chest. She rubbed away steam from the mirror. Where were the police and why wasn't she in a hospital?

She swallowed, studying her face. Her bruise wasn’t so pronounced, but her head still stung. Meg and Mr. Raphael had brought her here and not to emergency personnel. Why? Kimberly closed her eyes and swore not to be so negative. She was alive.

She owed them her thanks. Ali and Eileen’s skulls had bullets through the brains. Kimberly’s legs almost collapsed. It was better not to think about her friends who didn’t make it.

She walked back into her room and studied the vast chamber. With the thick rug, hardwood floors, and handcrafted furniture, this was made for an elegant lady or some rich, elite person. She must have read to many historical stories to imagine something like this.

She clicked her tongue in her mouth and went to the closet.

Her mouth fell open and she stepped into the walk-in closet. These weren’t old-lady clothes. She picked up one black silk shirt and read the label. The shirt cost more than the rent on her small house in the South Seas last year, but then she had lived cheap. Whoever owned these would want them back.

Kimberly realized her chest and average waist wouldn't fit the designer top.

The previous owner probably ate half a salad and never tasted chocolate. Kimberly shook her head and repeated her old mantra: no need to be mean. Then she sifted through skirts and tunic dresses to find something more loose-fitting that might work around her hips.

She gathered every piece that might work and piled them on the door hook. The super-skinny off-to-a-nightclub outfits could be shoved to the end and never touched.

A knock reverberated in the air. She threw on a red cotton dress and walked out of the closet, hoping it was Meg. The maid had already let herself in, and carried fresh towels. Goose bumps grew and the overwhelming sense to run hit Kimberly hard.

"Do you need me to change your bandages, Miss Kimberly?" Meg asked.

Kimberly blinked. She was a miss? No one was so formal with her. "I'm feeling good. If you have some first aid or antibacterial cream for my scratches, though? If not, I’m sure everything will be fine."

"Very well." Meg shook her head then stepped around Kimberly to place the towels in the bathroom and take the soiled one. She placed it in a basket and said, "I'll be right back. Then you can go see Master Raphael. He's expecting you."

The woman had a slight accent, but the proper style of her phrases jarred Kimberly. On the island or in Miami, people spoke warmly and invited others into conversation. Meg did not.

Kimberly picked up a hairbrush, working her way from the ends toward the roots, and detangled the mess.

The door opened, and this time Kimberly didn’t jump. She finished her hair then turned to smile at Meg. "Are you from Boston?"

"No." Meg shook her head. "I was born and raised in Scotland, but Master Raphael moved us here to Maine."

Maine. Kimberly let out a breath. She was in the continental United States again after eight years. If she had to walk to Miami, she'd find her way home.

Meg stared at her feet. "We don’t have any slippers that would fit you, and you didn’t have any shoes. The socks will have to do. I'm to ensure you find your way to the study."

Kimberly swallowed then rushed to follow Meg's directions. On the second foot, though, she slowed down a bit. Questions never helped her get on people's good sides. She ought to meet the aged man that Meg worked for.

"Socks don't take this long, miss." Meg tapped her foot a bit.

Kimberly folded the top then stood up. Dizziness hit her hard as she stared at Meg, but she fought against the notion. She nodded at Meg and asked, "What is Mr. Raphael like?"

"You'll see soon enough." Meg walked in front of her. "And don't dawdle, Miss Kimberly. I have a lot to do."

Kimberly picked up her pace, but the long hardwood floor with the blue carpet that ran down the middle made her feel small. This place was huge and dark. The stone walls were cast in shadows. She stared at the huge mahogany doors that circled at the top. How many bedrooms did this place have? She shivered. This had to be a real castle. The hallway floor was meticulously kept, but her eyes were drawn to the portraits. Long-dead European nobles from throughout the ages littered the walls. One portrayed a man on horseback holding a bag full of heads to present to a woman in front of the castle. Kimberly swallowed and turned away. Her heart felt like it would explode in her chest.

Her gaze adjusted to the darkness, though she followed Meg, who picked up a candelabra from a corner table near her room. Kimberly held her breath then stared at the polished banister that overlooked the first floor. There was nothing scary about modern.

She cringed at another gargoyle in the corner near the stairs, but she kept her head up. "At Christmas, I bet you have a huge tree on the first floor."

Meg lifted her long skirt and went down the first step. "Last year Master Raphael skipped Christmas, but this year might be different."

Who skipped Christmas and why? Kimberly nodded, held the banister, and followed Meg. Even if Raphael was Ebenezer come to life, she still owed him her thanks.

Meg then led her down another hall toward double doors. She pointed and said, "Master Raphael is inside the library."

Kimberly nodded as Meg walked away, the draft in the hall causing the lights to flicker. Kimberly's hand trembled and her heart skipped.

Kimberly reached for the handle and crossed her fingers behind her back. She hoped she was safe and that she could call home. Mom might make her feel better, because the murders of her friends in that plane kept flashing in her mind.

Order Hidden Raphael Now!

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About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author, Victoria Pinder grew up in Irish Catholic Boston then moved to Miami. Eventually, found that writing is her passion. She always wrote stories to entertain herself. Her parents are practical minded people demanding a job, but when she sat down to see what she enjoyed doing, writing became obvious.

Visit my website and download a free novel

www.victoriapinder.com

victoria@victoriapinder.com

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