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Jessie was finally out of sight, he turned on his heeland went back to the car, already planning his jam-packed schedule for the few hours till school let out again.
    But instead of heading toward the job he had landscaping a newly completed house overlooking the bay, he drove back to the Lindsey place, drawn by something he couldn’t quite explain.
    Had Jessie actually seen something move? Or was he simply reacting to her too-vivid imagination, caught up in the mystery of the deserted house that had fascinated him from the moment he’d arrived in town? Whichever it was, it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to put his mind at rest and satisfy his curiosity. Maybe then he’d be able to put his mild obsession with the place behind him once and for all.
     
    Melanie was standing in her grandmother’s kitchen ineffectively battling cobwebs, when the front gate creaked, sending her already jittery nerves into a full-blown panic attack.
    Only a few minutes earlier she’d thought she heard a car stop on the isolated road, but when she’d peeked through the curtain of her upstairs bedroom, she’d seen only a glimpse of sun on metal before hearing the car drive on. The incident, which would have been commonplace enough in Boston, had been oddly disconcerting here.
    With her heart pumping and her pulse racing once more, she crept into the living room and edged toward the window she’d thrown open to let in the cool spring breeze.
    “What the hell?”
    The very male voice just outside had her plastering her back to the wall, even as her heart ricocheted wildly.
    “Anybody here?” the man shouted, rattling the doorknob.
    This wasn’t good, not good at all, Melanie decided. Hercell phone was across the room, just more proof that she wasn’t thinking clearly of late. Even with all the recent development she’d noticed as she drove in, the nearest neighbor was a quarter-mile up the road. There were a few boats on the bay this morning and sound did carry near water, but would anyone get here in time even if she shouted for help?
    She tried to think what Ashley would do. Her fearless big sister would probably have a firm grip on a lamp by now and be in attack mode by the door. Picturing it, Melanie reached for the closest lamp with its heavy marble base and tested its weight. This sucker could do some real damage, she concluded, suddenly feeling more confident and in control.
    “Who’s there?” she shouted back in what she hoped was a suitably indignant tone. “You’re trespassing.”
    “So are you.”
    She was so taken aback by the outrageous accusation that she swung open the door and scowled at the interloper. It was amazing how much braver she felt with that lamp and a little indignation on her side.
    “I most certainly am not trespassing,” she said again, trying not to let her voice waver at the sight of the hulking man on the threshold.
    At least six-two and easily two hundred pounds, he was all muscle and sinew. Even though it was barely April, his skin had already been burnished gold by the sun, and his dark brown hair had fiery highlights in it. His T-shirt stretched tightly over a massive chest, and his faded jeans hugged impressive thighs. An illustration of Paul Bunyon immediately came to mind.
    At any other time in her life, she might have been more appreciative of such a gorgeous male specimen, but in recent days anything driven by testosterone was theenemy. That didn’t seem to stop her heartbeat from skipping merrily at the sight of him. Given his obviously sour mood, her instinctive response was doubly annoying.
    “Cornelia Lindsey is dead,” he announced, his blue eyes steady and unrelenting as he challenged her to dispute that.
    “I know,” Melanie said. “She was my grandmother. She died seven years ago this month.”
    He nodded slowly. “You’ve got that much right. You’re a Lindsey?”
    “Actually I’m a D’Angelo. Melanie D’Angelo. My mother was a Lindsey until she married my