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She looked down at her dress. It hit about thigh-high on her legs. Black platform sandals gave her a few more inches in height, putting them on about the same level. Her eyes came back to him, a tantalizing flush to her cheeks. “Is the dress too—”
“It’s perfect,” he said, meaning it. “You look sensational.” Meaning that, too.
She quirked a smile at him and ducked her head. “Thanks.”
Yes, definitely new territory for her. This was a woman who didn’t often feel vulnerable. But she did right now. He couldn’t help but wonder why. Even if he hadn’t had to make a quick getaway, her vulnerability made him all the more anxious to get her out of here before her real date arrived.
He glanced out the front window toward the street, the fog dense as chowder. No sign of the dark figure he’d seen earlier. “Why don’t we go out the back? It’s closer that way.”
She lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. He helped her with her jacket, wondering how much she knew about her real date, and opened the back door, glancing down the quaint brick alley to make sure no one was waiting for him.
As they left, he noticed the small sign hanging over the back door. Ridgemont Detective Agency. She worked for a private investigator? Just his luck.
He could hear music and the faint murmur of voices traveling on the sea breeze coming up from Raven’s Cove. His heart picked up the beat of her heels tapping the brick as they walked closer to the wharf, wrapped in the dense cloak of the fog, making what was already an unimaginable night surreal.
He told himself he’d just stolen someone else’s date. That alone could explain his uneasiness. Also he was home again, back in a town he’d vowed never to return to. Unfortunately, he knew only too well all the things that could be lurking in Moriah’s Landing.
She took his arm, the dark alley almost intimate as the foghorn groaned out past the cove. He breathed in her scent and tried to relax. He was safe with her. But he knew relaxing would be impossible as long as he was in Moriah’s Landing. And dangerous.
The apparition came out of the mist so unexpectedly Jonah didn’t even have time to reach for his weapon, let alone sense the presence. Suddenly a dark figure appeared in front of them, her black hooded cloak blowing out in the breeze like the wings of a vulture.
He started at the sight of the old crone, her gray hair a silver aura sticking out from under her black hood, her eyes bottomless holes in her wrinkled face.
Reflexively he stepped between his date and the old woman as the crone reached clawlike gnarled fingers toward them.
“It’s just Arabella,” his date whispered. “She’s harmless.”
How little she knew.
The old woman’s gaze locked with his for an instant, then she stumbled back as if she’d seen a ghost. Or something worse. “Katherine,” she cried, fear contorting her face as she gasped for breath and reached around him, trying to pluck at the fabric of his date’s jacket sleeve.
“Danger comes in with the fog,” the crone croaked, her gaze on Jonah. “Danger and death.” Then the old woman stumbled back into the mist, leaving Jonah shaken. If he couldn’t even sense an old woman coming in the fog, how did he plan to protect himself from the real trouble here?
Katherine must have seen his expression. “Arabella’s just local color,” she said with a laugh, and pulled him toward the Moriah’s Landing Inn. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the town council paid her to freak out visitors as part of our witch-folklore ambience.”
Jonah looked over his shoulder. The old woman was gone. But like him, she’d sensed something had come in with the fog, unleashing evil in Moriah’s Landing.
They walked past one of the “witch” shops along the narrow alley that peddled magic, from herbs and oils to tarot cards and crystals.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about all this foolishness?” his date asked as she glanced into the shop window, then at him.
“What foolishness?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know and that he wasn’t still shaken by their run-in with Arabella.
“Witches, the supernatural, all the hype that comes with Moriah’s Landing,” she said with a laugh. “According to local legend, early resident McFarland Leary was a consort to a witch.”
They crossed Main Street to the entrance of the Moriah’s Landing Inn. He opened the door for her, anxious to get inside. Because of the hour, the hotel lobby and the restaurant were nearly empty. A young waiter showed them to a table by the window facing the cove—farthest away from the door and Main Street.
“When they started burning witches at the stake in Salem, many of the witches fled to Moriah’s Landing where they were hidden by McFarland Leary and his consort, a witch named Seama,” she said, and nervously plucked up her cloth napkin from the table. “Seama and her secret coven give the town its supernatural ambience.”
She glanced at him, then out at the foggy darkness as if there was nothing to fear beyond the window. “McFarland Leary is our resident ghost, cursed by the witch he betrayed.” She swung her gaze back to him. Definitely nervous, making him pretty sure she didn’t know much about him. “Seama was carrying Leary’s child when she caught him cheating on her with a mortal and she damned him for eternity. Then she disappeared with her unborn baby. Some people swear she later returned to town and her descendants live among us.” She smiled at that. “The town accused Leary of being a warlock and sentenced him to die. Warlocks were used for kindling around the stakes to get the fire going hot enough to burn the witches. But Moriah’s Landing likes to be different. The town hung Leary from a big oak tree on the town green and buried him in St. John’s Cemetery as a warning to others who might want to consort with witches. Now Leary rises from his grave every five years to seek revenge on the town. Or at least that’s what the chamber of commerce wants you to believe.”
She took a breath as she finished her story and let out a little tense laugh. “Welcome to Moriah’s Landing.”
Obviously, her real date wasn’t from town. He smiled, gazing intently into her dark blue eyes, anxious to change the subject, no matter what it took, even if it meant flirting with a beautiful woman. “I like it already, Katherine.” At least Arabella had provided him with his date’s name.
“Kat.” She dropped her gaze, a faint blush rising in her cheeks, making her even more appealing, as if she wasn’t already. “Everyone just calls me Kat.”
Except for Arabella. He glanced toward Waterfront Avenue, the fog too thick to know if the man he’d seen was still out there looking for him. “You sound as if you don’t like the town,” he said, not sure how much he was supposed to know about her but determined to keep her talking about herself so she didn’t start questioning him. “What makes you stay?”
She seemed surprised and he feared he’d already messed up. He wasn’t ready to go back out on the street. Even if it had been safe, he found his “date” intriguing. Maybe too intriguing.
She took a sip from her water glass, then picked up her menu. “I’ve never even thought about leaving. Can you believe it? I didn’t even leave to go away to college.”
So she went to the all-girl Heathrow College at the edge of town.
“I’m eighth generation,” she said as if that explained it. “In Massachusetts you aren’t considered a native unless you have at least eight generations buried in the local cemetery.”
A local girl. Just his luck.
“Your ancestors must have been fishermen,” he guessed, opening his own menu, although he wasn’t in the least bit hungry.
“Seventh generation,” she said. “Dad died at sea when I was a sophomore in college.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded and peered at him over her menu, her wide blue eyes magnetic. “Commercial fishing,” she said, then dropped her gaze again behind the menu.
He nodded to himself, more than aware that the sea had always taken men from small fishing villages like Moriah’s Landing and would continue to as long as men went to sea. And men would always be drawn to the sea. Some forces in nature pulled at you with a witchery that Jonah understood better than most.
“What about your mother?” he asked, hoping his question was general enough.
“My mother—” he heard the catch in her throat, the hesitation in her voice “—died when I was three. I can’t remember her.” She closed her menu, clearly closing the subject.
“I’m sorry. I hope that isn’t all the family you have here,” he said, doing a little fishing of his own.
“There’s my half sister, Emily. She’s seventeen and a real handful, but I love her. She’s all the family I have left and she graduates from high school next week. Tell me more about you.”
More about him. He studied his menu wondering about the man she was supposed to be having dinner with tonight. He could only guess that they met online, considering her comment about getting her e-mail, and that they obviously hadn’t met face-to-face—until tonight. He knew nothing about online dating. But it was pretty clear that she didn’t know her date very well—nor he her. “There isn’t much to tell.”
“Your father wasn’t a fisherman, I’ll bet.”
Far from it. He shook his head and smiled as he lowered his menu. Fortunately, the waiter saved him. “I have to have lobster,” Jonah told her. “How about you?”
“I don’t eat seafood.” She shook her head. “Not because of any moral stand or because of my father. I’ve just never liked it. I’ll take the chicken,” she said to the waiter.
“Kat,” Jonah said, trying out the name. He liked it. It fit her. “You must know practically everyone in town.” Cause for concern.
“Everyone,” she said, and laughed.
She would know his family. The thought left him cold.
“It’s one of the problems of living in a small town,” she said. “Everyone knows everything about you. And you them.” She shrugged. “But it’s home, you know?”
He didn’t know. He glanced out the window toward the wharf. The neon from the bars at the end of Waterfront gave the fog an eerie glow.
“You can’t even see the lighthouse tonight the fog is so thick,” Kat said, following his gaze to the night, sounding worried about fishermen who might be trying to get to safe harbor.
Jonah looked out past Raven’s Cove, where he knew the lighthouse loomed up from a jagged island outcropping of rock, then back at her as the waiter brought their salads. He couldn’t stop thinking about Arabella’s warning. Or his own uneasiness. He told himself it was just the fog. Just being back here.
“So tell me about your work,” Kat said.
He watched her take a bite of her salad, captivated by her mouth. “My work?”
“Computers. What is it exactly that you do?”
He let out a laugh. So he was supposed to be a computer nerd? Great. “It’s too boring for words. I’m sure your job is much more interesting.”
She shook her head, smiling. “You aren’t one of those people who thinks the private-eye business is like on TV?” She had a great smile. He felt heat as his gaze locked with hers.
“You mean it’s not?” he asked, trying to sound disappointed as he looked deep into all that blue. It was like looking down into the sea. Bottomless and full of mysteries.
She licked her lips, her cheeks flushing again, and dropped her gaze to her salad, her fork poised above a piece of endive. “It actually consists of tedious, time-consuming hours spent digging up facts. But I started the business because I wanted to help people, so I don’t mind.” She shrugged and let her gaze lift to his again.
He didn’t know if the jolt he felt came from her look—or the realization that she was the P.I. of Ridgemont Detective Agency. Bad news. But although he was more than a little attracted to her, he wouldn’t be seeing her again after tonight. In fact, he planned to be out of Moriah’s Landing as quickly as possible. As soon as he finished what he’d come here to do.
He managed to steer the conversation away from himself throughout the rest of their dinner date, careful not to give anything away—or let on that he wasn’t her real date. He even got her to relax a little.
“I had a nice time,” she said shyly outside the restaurant after dinner, sounding surprised. Why did he get the feeling that she didn’t date much?
“I had a nice time, too,” he said, realizing it was true. He hadn’t meant for the date to last this long. He could no longer pretend he was just buying time. And yet he felt off balance again out here in the fog, being with this woman who should have been with someone else. “Can I walk you home?”
She shook her head. “I just live a block or so from here.” She tugged her jacket around her and shifted her feet. Her gaze came up to meet his. Oh, those eyes. And that mouth.
Stirred by a yearning stronger than the force of the moon on the sea, he bent to kiss her good-night. Goodbye.
Her eyes fluttered closed. Her lips parted. A hairbreadth from her wonderful mouth Jonah felt something brush the back of his neck, something cold as the kiss of death.
He jerked around, only to see wisps of fog streaming past as if blown up from the sea by a gust of wind. Except there was no wind, just as there was no one right behind him. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a presence out there in the mist watching them. “Let me walk you home.”
She opened her eyes in surprise, licked her lips and turned her face away, unsure. Again. “I am more than capable of walking myself home.” Obviously upset with him for not kissing her, she took a couple of steps backward.
“I had a great time,” he said, not wanting to let her go. Suddenly afraid to let her go.
She nodded, turned and disappeared into the fog.
He waited and then followed her at a distance as she walked to her clapboard three-story house at the edge of the town green, unable to shake the feeling he’d had that instant before he’d almost kissed her.
Before turning back to the wharf, he listened for the sound of the bolt sliding on her door, and then for the footsteps he’d heard to retreat, shaken by the fact that someone else had followed her home as well.
Chapter Two
Kat couldn’t lose the odd feeling that had come over her outside the restaurant. It wasn’t just that her date hadn’t kissed her. Or that he seemed to cool toward her. As she’d walked home, she’d heard footsteps behind her on the brick pathway. Two sets.
When she’d stop, so did the others, which only strengthened an illogical but growing fear that someone was after her—just as someone had been after her mother twenty years before. The Beretta in her purse and the fact that she was an expert markswoman, had given her little comfort tonight. She’d been spooked and running scared, both highly unlike her.
Once inside her house, she closed the door behind her, locked it, then pulled aside the curtain to look out into the fog, seeing nothing, hearing nothing but her own ragged breath and the erratic thump of her heart. Logically, she knew the sound of the footsteps had probably been some weird echo because of the fog, just as she knew what had caused this sudden case of paranoia. The very mention of her mother.
She kicked off her heels and padded barefoot farther into the first floor of the house she’d lived in her whole life, noticing as she looked upstairs that a light shone from under her sister Emily’s bedroom door. She could hear music playing and Em on the phone talking with one of her friends, both reassuring sounds. She was glad the seventeen-year-old was home on a school night and would be graduating next week, although it worried her that her half sister didn’t seem to have any plans after graduation. But tonight, Kat was just glad not to be alone in the house.
As she passed the phone on the small table at the bottom of the stairs, she noticed that the answering-machine light was flashing. Distractedly, she hit Rewind. She still felt a little scared and wished she’d taken her date up on his offer to escort her. But wasn’t that possibly the mistake her mother had made? Trusting a man? The wrong man.
She hugged herself as the answering-machine tape stopped. What was wrong with her? Her date had been perfectly nice. He’d made her laugh. He’d made her forget how uncomfortable she’d felt about online blind dating. He’d seemed interested in her, in her work. And she couldn’t discount the obvious attraction she’d felt for him.
But once they were outside the restaurant, he’d started to kiss her and hadn’t—as much as she’d wanted him to. Why was that? Not out of shyness, that was for sure.
And yet he’d seemed almost scared of her at first. The way he’d come into her office, appearing confused. Late. Showing up looking as if he’d just gotten off work at the docks. She’d been nervous about meeting him. But he’d seemed nervous, too.
And he hadn’t been the nervous type. Nor had he been anything like she’d expected. The strong jawline, dark from a day’s stubble, the deep brown eyes, a shade lighter than his short brown hair. He’d looked more muscular, rugged..dangerous than she’d expected.
The thought startled her. She’d already been the dangerous-man route. Just the once. But a smart woman learned the first time. Or she ended up dead on the town green. She didn’t want to be the kind of woman who picked the wrong man. Like her mother.
Kat shoved that thought away and hit the play button on the answering machine.
“Hi, it’s Ross.”
Her head jerked up, her attention dragged from her date—to the voice on the answering machine.
“Sorry about tonight. I really wanted to meet you in person, but something came up at the last minute. Maybe we could do it another time? See you online.”
Disbelieving, she pushed rewind and listened to the message again. Her online date had stood her up?
She felt a chill. Then who had she just spent dinner with?
Desperately, she tried to remember what the man had told her about himself during their meal. Only vague generalities that could have fit any man! No wonder he’d seemed surprised when he’d come into her office. No wonder he’d seemed so interested in her, in her work. Because he knew nothing about her! And he didn’t want her asking too many questions about him. She’d been so nervous, she hadn’t even noticed. Until now.
A thought struck her. Maybe his interest in her hadn’t been just to cover his deception. Scared, she tried to remember what she’d told him about herself. Why had he pretended to be her date?
She felt sick inside. Normally, she was damn good at reading people. But dating—God, it made her so anxious. Probably because it had been so long and she’d been so scared that he would turn out to be another Mr. Wrong. Mr. Dead Wrong. And maybe he had been. Thank God she hadn’t let him walk her home. She hugged herself, suddenly cold. Had his been one of the set of footsteps she’d heard following her home? The thought froze her to her core.
“Sorry about your date.”
Kat looked up the stairs as Emily leaned over the railing in her favorite, worn-thin teddy-bear pajamas. Emily was small and slim with their father’s gray eyes. She’d pulled her dark, shoulder length hair into a ponytail, making her look even younger than her seventeen years. “I saved the message for you. What a jerk. He didn’t even come up with a decent excuse for standing you up.” She frowned. “Have you been working all this time?”
She considered lying. “No, I…went out to dinner.”
“By yourself?” Emily made it sound as if she couldn’t imagine anything worse. She probably couldn’t.
“No, actually, I met someone.” She tried to assure herself that it had been innocent, needing desperately to believe that. He’d just taken advantage of the situation. What man wouldn’t who saw the chance to have dinner with a young woman in a sexy black dress? An honest man. A man with nothing to hide.
