Grinning, Zack continued on until he came to the solitary cabin at the top of the hill. He paused, surprised to see there were lights on in the house. A plume of gray smoke rose from the chimney. The cabin had been vacant for the last two years. He had, in fact, been thinking of buying the place for a rental.
Ah, well, too late now.
He was turning away when he caught the scent of prey. Glancing back, he saw a young woman looking out the front window. He whistled softly. He had seen a lot of beautiful women in his day, but this one—he shook his head. She was beyond beautiful. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, her eyes a deep dark blue. Hair the color of a raven’s wing tumbled over her shoulders.
He frowned when her gaze found his, and then shook his head. She couldn’t see him, of course. He was hidden by the darkness. And yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew he was there, that she was staring at him, as he was staring at her.
Curious to see her reaction, he stepped out of the darkness into a shaft of bright moonlight.
He had expected her to gasp in surprise, call 911, or hastily move away from the window and close the curtains. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, her gaze moving over him from head to heel, much the way he studied a woman he was considering as prey.
Zack was contemplating what to do next when she moved away from the window. Moments later, she was standing on the front porch, her arms folded under her breasts.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Her voice was low, soft, and yet he detected a fine layer of steel underneath. He grunted softly. Most women would have been frightened if they looked out their window at midnight and found a stranger standing in the yard. But she wasn’t the least bit afraid.
He had to admire that. Inclining his head, he murmured, “Good evening.”
She lifted one delicate brow. “I repeat, what are you doing here?”
“Merely enjoying the night air,” he replied with a smile. “And I repeat, good evening.” He frowned, mystified by his inability to read her mind. It was a skill that had never failed him before and left him wondering if she was deliberately blocking him, and if so, how?
She huffed a sigh of exasperation. “Same to you.”
“You’re new in the area,” he said.
Kaitlyn nodded. He must be a longtime resident, she thought, else he wouldn’t be aware of that.
“It’s a lovely house,” he remarked. “I had intended to buy it myself.”
“Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. Our town can always use another pretty face.” He took a step forward, extending his hand. “Zackary Ravenscroft,” he said. “But my friends call me Zack.”
She descended the stairs. “Do you think we’re going to be friends?” she murmured, taking his hand.
“I hope so.”
“I’m Kaitlyn Sherrad.”
He gave her hand a slight squeeze. “Kaitlyn.”
She didn’t know if it was the sound of her name on his lips, or the touch of his hand on hers that sent a shiver of excitement racing down her spine. Startled, she jerked her hand from his and took a step backward. Who was this guy? She had never experienced a reaction like that with any other man. Stranger still was the bewildering fact that she couldn’t divine his thoughts. She supposed there were bound to be a few people whose minds she couldn’t read; still, it was disconcerting. Was there something wrong with him, she wondered, or was the problem hers? She would have to ask her father about it the next time he called.
Needing time to ponder her odd reaction to Zackary Ravenscroft and her failure to read his thoughts, Kaitlyn bid him a quick good night and hurried up the stairs and into the house. She closed and locked the door, then stood there, her back pressed against the wood. Who was that guy?
Zack stared after her for several moments before he turned and headed back down the trail toward the casino.
Kaitlyn Sherrad was a puzzle, he mused, and he hated puzzles.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2011 by Madeline Baker
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