He studied her for a long, brooding moment. “Second thoughts already?” he finally asked.

She drew a deep, steadying breath. A semblance of reason returned. She could not blame any of this on him. She was the one who had gone crazy here. Act like a grown-up.

She cleared her throat. Her fingers tightened on the doorknob. “Sorry. I’m not being real cool, am I?”

“No, but that’s not the problem. Nobody ever said you had to be cool.” He did not move, just stood there in the hall, watching her. “But for the record, I’d really like to know what went wrong.”

“I’m not sure.” She released her death grip on the doorknob and shoved her fingers through her hair. She met his eyes. “No, that’s not right. Rafe, I need to ask you a question, and you have to tell me the truth.”

“What’s the question?”

“This.” She swept out a hand to indicate the searing passion that had begun in the solarium and ended in his bedroom. “What just happened between us. It didn’t have anything to do with Dreamscape, did it?”

His eyes narrowed. “You tell me.”

She flinched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve had your wicked way with me, and now you’re trying to leave as quickly as you can. Some dumb excuse about a dog, I think. I’ll bet you’re not even going to call me in the morning, are you?”

“Damn it, Rafe—”

“What the hell am I supposed to think?”

She stared at him, stunned. “Do you really believe that I just… I just—” She broke off because her voice was threatening to get lost in a squeaky soprano. She swallowed and tried again. “You think that I just seduced you in order to manipulate you into selling your half of this place to me?”

He let her wait a beat. She felt perspiration between her shoulder blades.

Then he smiled slightly. “No.”

She sagged back against the doorjamb. “I should hope not. Good Lord, I don’t do things like that.”

“Neither do I,” he said simply.

She looked at him for a long time. Gradually the tension inside her began to seep away. She had gone mad, she thought.

“No. No, of course not.” She rubbed her brow. “I don’t know why I freaked. I guess I’m just a little stressed.”

“You’ve had a busy night.”

“You can say that again.” She straightened away from the door, composed herself. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time you took me home.”

“All right.” He fished keys out of a pocket. “On one condition.”

She jerked back around. “What condition?”

He walked past her and opened the door. “You gotta promise to call me in the morning.”

He was gone, out into the night, before she could think of an appropriate response. She heard the less than civilized growl of the Porsche engine. The lights came on, blinding her.

A vivid mental image of a hapless deer paralyzed by the beams of an oncoming car galvanized her into action.

She slammed the front door shut behind herself. Hand held high to shield her eyes from the merciless glare of the lights, she rushed toward the passenger side door.

Winston greeted her with a yawn and his customary good cheer. He bestowed an equally enthusiastic welcome on Rafe. Then he trotted across the porch, went down the front steps, and disappeared into the privacy of the bushes. It was obvious that he was in no great rush to use the facilities.

Rafe looked at her, eyes gleaming. “You’re in luck. He doesn’t look like he’s been worrying too much.”

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “You’ve made your point.”

“You think so?”

“I’ve already admitted that my little panic attack back there was an overreaction to stress.”

“Stress, huh? Sounds like another excuse.”

“Good night, Rafe.”

He caught her chin on the heel of his hand and kissed her very deliberately. He stopped just as she felt the breathlessness setting in again.

“Good night,” he said. His eyes were shadowed and intense in the yellow porch light. “You’ve got my number at Dreamscape and my cell phone number. Call me if Winston goes into his alert mode again tonight, okay? I can be here in less than ten minutes.”

“His alert mode?” She had forgotten all about Winston’s nocturnal prowling. “Oh, right. That’s very kind of you, but I really don’t think—”

“I know you’re having trouble thinking tonight. You’ve already explained that.” He went down the steps. “Just call me if he does the sentry thing.”

She held the door open for Winston. Rafe waited until they were both inside the house before he drove away into the darkness.

Twenty minutes later she emerged from the bathroom clad in her primmest nightgown. It was a Victorian number, pure white, with long sleeves, a ribbon-trimmed neckline, and a hem that fell to her ankles. She glanced once at herself in the mirror and was satisfied with the demure gown. It was definitely not the sort of nightwear favored by women who were in the habit of leaving their undergarments strewn on the staircase while they indulged themselves in a mad, passionate fling with the most exciting man in town.

Make that the most exciting man she had ever met.

An aberration. That was what it had been. It had been much too long since she’d had anything resembling a normal sex life. Aberrant behavior was to be expected under such circumstances.

With a sigh, she switched off the lamp. Winston was already in position at the foot of the bed. He raised his head from his paws when she went to the window that overlooked the bay. She could feel him watching her as she opened the drapes.

“Weren’t you even a little bit concerned about the fact that I was so late getting home?” she asked.

He did not dignify that with a response.

“I was afraid of that.”

She padded through the shadows to the side window and pulled the curtains wide. She was about to turn back to the bed when she glimpsed the sheen of moonlight on metal between two trees.

“What in the world?”

She gripped the window ledge and peered more closely at the glint. A closer look verified her first impression. There was a car parked in a stand of trees near the road. In that position, whoever was in the vehicle had a clear view of the house and the entrance of the long drive.

She glanced at Winston. He had his muzzle on his paws. Not in alert mode.