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  She started to reach up for her hair once again, but he captured her hand and held it tight. She drew a deep breath. “I saw you in a recurring vision for about a month before you actually arrived here in Cherokee Corners.”

  His eyes grew slightly darker and he scooted closer to her, still holding her hand. “Are you sure it was me?”

  “Positive. I saw your face…your blue eyes and dark hair, your strong jawline and stubborn chin.”

  “Determined, not stubborn,” he corrected her with a half smile. But the smile lasted only a moment. “What was I doing in this vision of yours?”

  Although she’d thought herself prepared to tell him all about the vision, she quickly realized she hadn’t quite prepared herself for sharing the intimate details. The heat of a blush clawed its way up her neck and swept into her cheeks.

  “By the blush on your face, I think I might like this vision,” he said.

  She pulled her hand from his and stood, needing some distance from his body warmth, from his scent, as she spoke of the vision.

  “When it begins, we’re making love in the bed in the room where you’re staying.” As she spoke the words, the sensations from the vision filled her.

  Her nipples grew taut, as if his hands were stroking her there. A whispered heat slid down the side of her neck, as if his lips were tasting the skin just beneath her earlobe.

  “We’re making love on the blue sheets, and it’s passionate…sensual…fevered…and then I stab you to death.”

  Nick blinked as if startled out of a pleasant daydream. “You stab me?” He raked a hand through his hair. “I like to think when I make love to a woman I inspire great emotion, but that’s not exactly the reaction I had in mind.”

  “It’s not funny, Nick,” she exclaimed, and to her horror the burn of hot tears stung her eyes. “It’s awful and horrible and the night you walked in here I felt the worst kind of terror I’ve ever felt.”

  The tears that had burned in her eyes now scalded her cheeks as they fell. There was no way she could make him understand the horror the vision shot through her each time she experienced it.

  He was up and off the couch in a single, graceful movement. He pulled her into his arms and held her with her cheek pressed tightly against his shirt. “You’re right, it isn’t funny. Anything that makes you cry isn’t funny at all.” He stroked her hair and his sweet words released the dam of emotions she’d kept inside far too long.

  Deep, wrenching sobs racked her. Nick didn’t try to talk to her, nor did he do anything in an attempt to stop her tears. He did the only thing she needed at the moment.

  He held her while she cried.

  As her tears flowed, she realized not only was she crying from the trauma of the vision about Nick that she had endured for the past month, she was also weeping stored-up tears from the kidnapping and recovery of her aunt Rita. She was also crying for a lifetime that so far had been filled with far too much isolation and loneliness. She wept for herself and she wept for Nick, who had loved so deeply and had lost his wife to a horrible death.

  Finally, the sobs halted and she raised her face from Nick’s pleasant-smelling shirt and looked into too-blue eyes that nearly stole her breath away.

  In an instant she was aware of the strength of his chest against her softer breasts, the heat of his hands as he swept one over her hair and the other up and down her back. She could feel the solidness of his thighs and something else…the hardness of his arousal against her.

  She swiped at her eyes and stepped out of the embrace, fighting against the heady, sweeping thrill that enfolded her as she realized his response to her closeness.

  “I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to fall apart.”

  “I apologize for making light of your vision,” he replied. “Come, sit down and let’s talk about it.” He showed no overt signs of whatever desire had made his physical response.

  Together they returned to the sofa and sat side by side. Alyssa picked up her cup of tea, which was now cold, but she sipped it in an effort to regain her complete composure.

  “Now, tell me again about every detail of this particular vision.” He must have seen the pained look on her face and he smiled gently. “You don’t have to tell me the sexual details, you can skip over them.”

  Relief flowed through her. “There’s really not a lot to tell. Like I said before, when the vision first begins we’re in bed making love, then the scene shifts and we’re beneath a strange, misshapen tree.” She frowned, concentrating on the memory of the tree. Why did it seem so familiar? Where had she seen it before?

  “And that’s where you stab me?”

  She nodded, fighting against the wave of despair that swept through her. “I use a long, sharp knife and I plunge it into you over and over again…I see blood…blood everywhere, then the scene goes black.”

  She didn’t tell him the worst part of the vision, about the heady surge of power that had shot through her as she stabbed him. She didn’t mention the almost Godlike omnipotent feeling that had rushed through her. That was the most horrid part of all about the vision.

  “Alyssa.” For the second time that night Nick took her hand in his. “Can you think of anything or any one who could drive you to kill them? Can you think of any reason that would prompt you to pick up a knife and stab somebody to death?”

  “Of course not,” she answered without hesitation. “I’m not a killer. I could never take anyone’s life.”

  “Then, what are you frightened of?” he asked softly.

  What was she frightened of? So many thoughts flew into her head, thoughts she couldn’t share with him, thoughts she had never shared with anyone.

  She was afraid that if she continued working the bed-and-breakfast, it would eat her alive, and yet she was afraid if she stopped working there she would have nothing else in her life.

  She was afraid to get too close to anyone, certain that her visions would eventually drive them away, afraid that she would love and finally have her heart broken and never recover from the experience.

  “I don’t know,” she finally replied. “I’m afraid that even though I don’t think I’m capable of hurting anyone, something might change and make me harm you. That’s why I tried to be unfriendly to you, to keep you at arm’s distance since you arrived. The vision is so vivid each time it comes and it’s usually the ones that are vivid that eventually come true.”

  He squeezed her hand more tightly and she felt the warmth steal up her arm and right to the center of her chest. “I think there’s only one way to show you that this particular vision isn’t going to come true.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  His eyes glittered teasingly, but beneath the teasing light she saw the flames of something quite different. “I think I should take you upstairs to the blue bedroom and make mad, passionate love to you. I can promise that you will be positively unable to stab me to death, because you’ll be limp with pleasure.”

  Despite her worries, a small burst of laughter left her, even as a swirling fire claimed the center of her being. “You’re pretty sure of yourself. What happens if I’m not limp with pleasure, but rather unfulfilled and angry?”

  He took a finger and slowly traced it down the side of her cheek, then moved it achingly slow over the fullness of her lips. “I can promise you that won’t happen.”

  She was frozen, held captive by his touch, unable to move as his finger continued to smooth over the curves of her mouth.

  Alyssa certainly wasn’t a virgin. Two years before, she’d had a brief relationship. It had lasted only three weeks and they had parted as friends and remained close still.

  But nothing she’d experienced in those three weeks of their lovemaking had prepared her for her turbulent response to Nick’s simplest touch.

  Her stomach quivered and she felt as if every nerve ending in her body was on fire. She wanted to draw his finger into her mouth and taste him.

  She wanted to wrap her a
rms around his neck and press herself intimately against him, feel the hard length of his desire seeking entrance into the very depths of her.

  “Or, we can make love right here, then move up to my bed and have a repeat performance,” he whispered as he leaned into her. His mouth scorched hers, breathing fire through her as his tongue entered her mouth.

  She gave herself to the kiss, her tongue battling with his as her arms wrapped around his neck. In the back of her mind she thought that if he made love as well as he kissed, then no woman had ever been left unfulfilled by Nick Mead.

  He eased her onto her back on the sofa, using one hand to spill the colorful decorative pillows to the floor. His mouth never left hers as he lay half across her body and half off. The part of him that weighed on her felt heavenly…so warm and masculine.

  His lips finally left hers, but only to blaze a trail of fire just beneath her ear and down the length of her throat. She couldn’t help the soft moan that issued from her as one of his hands moved across her stomach, then up to smooth over one breast, then the other.

  Even through the material of her thin cotton dress and bra, her nipples responded to his touch, pebbling to rock hardness.

  He raised his head to look at her, his eyes gleaming like twin sapphires. “I want you, Alyssa. I’ve wanted you from the moment I walked into the ice-cream parlor and saw you staring at me.”

  “And I wanted you before I even met you, when you were just a vision in my mind and nothing more,” she replied, her voice deeper than usual and throaty with desire.

  Once again his mouth stole over hers, hungrily taking possession not only of her lips, but her spinning senses, as well.

  At the moment, the terror of her vision seemed very far away and the only thing important was the taste of Nick’s mouth, the hot flames he stroked into her as his hand moved across her breasts.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  It took her a moment to realize the sound she heard was not the crashing of her heartbeat, but rather a knock on her door.

  Nick groaned and pulled his mouth from hers. “Do you have to answer it?” he asked softly.

  “I do.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Despite the desire that rocketed through her, she laughed softly. “Unfortunately, I’m sure.”

  Reluctantly he sat up and pulled her to a sitting position beside him. He raked a hand through his hair and expelled a deep breath that was obviously one of frustration.

  “Just a minute,” Alyssa called out. She needed a minute to get herself under control, to halt the racing of her pulse, to make the transition from desire to duty. She stood, her legs feeling rubbery and her body temperature so heated she felt feverish.

  She opened her door to see Michael Stanmeyer standing in the darkened hallway. “Michael…come in.”

  The bald, tall, thin man slid through the doorway like a wraith unsure of its welcome. When he saw Nick his brown eyes widened slightly and he shuffled backward as if to leave the room. “You’re busy…I can come back later.”

  “Nonsense.” Alyssa grabbed one of his thin arms and half propelled him toward Nick. “Nick, I don’t believe you’ve met Michael. Michael, this is Nick.

  He’s staying in the blue room.” Nick stood.

  Michael nodded, his gaze not on Nick but rather on the floor. He didn’t offer his hand for a shake. Nice to meet you,” he mumbled.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Nick replied.

  Alyssa saw Nick’s sharp gaze taking in every detail of her boarder. “What do you need, Michael?” she asked.

  “Towels. I’m sorry to be a bother, but I’d like some clean towels.”

  “I’ll get them for you.” She left him standing awkwardly in the center of the living room as she went into the bathroom to retrieve a couple of clean towels for him.

  It was obvious when she returned from the bath room that neither man had spoken in the brief moments while she’d been gone. Michael stood looking down at the floor and the only change in Nick was that he had sat down.

  She handed Michael the towels, he murmured thanks, then raced toward the door and disappeared back into the darkened hallway.

  “What’s his story?” Nick asked the moment Alyssa had closed the door once again.

  She didn’t return to the sofa to sit next to him. Although she still felt the residual effects of Nick’s kisses, his caresses, the mood that had overtaken her earlier had vanished and she wasn’t prepared for a repeat.

  “I’m not sure what his story is,” she replied. “I think he’s on some sort of disability and is painfully shy. I can tell you this, he keeps his room immaculate, never causes problems and always pays on time. Why?”

  Nick’s eyes were dark…thoughtful. “He fits the tentative physical profile of the killer we’ve come up with.”

  Alyssa stared at him in surprise. “Physical profile?”

  “From what little evidence we have to go on, we think the murderer is tall and very thin. A bald head would explain why we never have found any hair evidence on any of the bodies.”

  “Michael wouldn’t hurt a flea,” Alyssa said, but even as she said it she thought about the fact that although Michael had been staying here nearly two years she knew virtually nothing about the man or his past.

  Nick stood and walked over to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed at her intently. “From now on I don’t want you to allow him in here when you’re alone. I don’t care if he wants towels, a bar of soap or a freshly baked cookie.”

  “I’m not in danger, Nick,” she protested. “The victims have all been men.”

  “So far.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders and sighed deeply. “We don’t have a handle on this guy yet. We don’t know if he may change his victim profile, start killing women or children. Just indulge me in this.”

  “Okay,” she agreed uneasily.

  “We have unfinished business between us, but you look tired and I think what you need more than anything is a good night’s sleep. Go to bed, Alyssa, and have sweet dreams.”

  “I am tired,” she admitted. The night of emotion had left her wrung out.

  He smiled, that teasing, sexy smile, then leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, a lingering kiss that whispered of heat. “Good night,” he said, then slipped out her door.

  For a long moment she stood, waiting for the warmth of his kiss to pass, and when it did, a chill swept through her as she remembered his warning about Michael Stanmeyer. Was it possible, for the past two years, she’d had a serial killer living under her roof?

  Chapter 7

  The task-force room was beginning to look and smell like the back lot of a fast-food restaurant. The trash bin overflowed with hamburger wrappers and oil-soaked French-fry boxes. A half-eaten pizza sat in a box on one of the tables, along with the remnants of a fried catfish meal one of the men had ordered the day before.

  Although Nick was aware that the room was trashed, at the moment he had other, more important things on his mind as he listened to each of the men give updates on the work they had accomplished since the day before.

  He was pleased by how much they had accomplished. Family and friends of victims had been reinterviewed, records had been checked and rechecked. It was obvious that all the members of the task team were making this the number one priority in their lives…as it should be until they caught the killer.

  The only person who had not been reinterviewed was Virginia Maxwell, and Nick told the others that he’d take care of it since the woman was staying at the Redbud Bed-and-Breakfast.

  “Okay, so to recap what we have. We’ve got four victims. Gregory Maxwell, age thirty-two…Sam McClane, age thirty-five, Tim O’Brien, age thirty-eight and Jonathon Blackbird, who was thirty-three,” Nick recapped. “Gregory Maxwell’s marriage appeared to be stable, both Sam and Tim had reputations for being wanderers despite their marriages, and Jonathon was single. They were all found stabbed, then stripped naked and left at some point or other in the s
quare. None of them seemed to be having financial difficulty and none of their family members can state that any of them had any real enemies.”

  “Except we know that Billy Thunder threatened both Sam and Tim in the weeks prior to their deaths,” Clay interjected.

  Nick frowned. “I don’t remember seeing that in any of my reports.”

  “If I remember right, Jason Sheller took the initial reports about that, but I don’t know if he did any follow-up or not.” It was obvious from Clay’s tone that he didn’t particularly care for Sheller.

  In the time Nick had been working out of the Cherokee Corners Police Department, he’d found the young, good-looking officer to be a pest, constantly trying to intrude into the task-force work.

  “Clay, do you have Billy Thunder’s address? I’ll try to interview him this evening.”

  Clay hesitated a moment, then nodded. “I’ll give you his address, but you might want to take Alyssa with you. His place is difficult to find even with directions and Billy isn’t exactly the friendly sort, but he and Alyssa are good friends.”

  Alyssa. Nick had consciously tried to keep thoughts of her out of his head, but now that Clay had mentioned her name, Nick’s head was filled with her.

  As the others continued to discuss the cases, Nick couldn’t help but remember last night and those moments when Alyssa had been in his arms.

  He’d been shocked by the vision she’d been having of him, but had believed her when she’d told him about it. He didn’t pretend to understand where the vision came from or what it could possibly mean.

  What he did know was that on the first night he had walked into the ice-cream parlor, she’d looked as if she’d seen a ghost. He also knew that no matter what her vision presented to her, there was no way he would ever believe that she could intentionally harm him or anyone else.

  But it wasn’t her telling him about the vision that had made him consciously keep her out of his mind. It had been the scent of her that he’d tried to forget while he focused on work. It had been the taste of her lips he’d needed to forget so he could keep his concentration where it belonged.