said dryly.
Sara winced. He must have talked to one of the locals, she mused. But she wasn't kidding about the system. It was designed to protect Moonspell Keep from even the most determined invader.
"Why won't you let me inside?" he asked.
"Judging by the trouble my research caused before, I think it's best that it remain completely confidential."
"I don't care about your plant research. I'm not here to peek at your lab or fondle your orchids."
"I told you, I'm putting my past behind me."
"But you haven't built much of a present or a future to take its place. We'll talk, well work out your fears"
"My only fear is that you won't go away."
"That's a valid one, then, because, lady, I'm not."
Sara recalled that his aging-Beach-Boy outfit concealed a lean, powerful body that served him well no matter what he asked of itwhich in this case might include climbing stone walls and dodging a flock of mean geese.
He could never get inside her fortified home, but he could probablyno, definitelyget inside the grounds and cause a great deal of trouble. "All right, ten minutes," she told him wearily. "But I'll walk down to the gate and talk to you there."
"Good enough. Sara, the past is over. You can relax."
She bit back an ironic laugh. Looking at his scarred face and thinking of her daughterwhom he might despise if he ever learned of her existenceSara knew that she could never relax.
Kyle got out of the car and leaned nonchalantly against the front fender, pulling a white Windbreaker over his arms as he did. Crossing his legs at sockless ankles, he stared at his baggy white trousers and white running shoes.
The sports car and the beach clothes would, he hoped, make him look a hell of a lot more jovial and carefree than he was. The last thing he wanted was to remind Sara of the last time she'd seen him.
Should he take off the sunglasses? Remove the hat? He ought to. Unlike the Windbreaker, the glasses and hat made it obvious that he wanted to hide his scars. Nothing carefree about that. Kyle realized that his throat was dry with anticipation and dread. He hesitated for a moment, then tossed the hat onto the car's hood and laid the sunglasses beside it. Running his fingers through his sun-streaked hair, he exhaled wearily and waited.
There was no sound from the other side of the massive gate. Kyle gazed at the gray steel, listening as the minutes passed. It began to dawn on him that she might have lied about the visit. He eyed the stone walls that stretched into the forest on either side, calculating ways to get through the barbed-wire shield that protruded from their outer edge. He looked closer, noting a barbless wire that wound through the others. The shield was electrified.
Dear Lord, who did she expect to fight? Ninjas? Rambo?
"Hello," a soft voice said behind him.
He whipped around, silently cursing himself for being so distracted that he hadn't heard her footsteps. She stood on the other side of the car, leaning toward him a little, her small hands pressed atop the fender as if she liked knowing the car was a barrier between them.
The world shrank, becoming only a backdrop for their silent tableau. Her shadowed green eyes never strayed from his pensive blue ones. Her jeaned legs were braced slightly apart; her chest moved raggedly under a pullover sweater striped in russet and gray. He wanted to hug her, wanted to gather this deceptively delicate-looking woman into his arms and tell her that he'd never forgotten her. Instead, he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.
"You cut your hair," he said finally.
She blinked, thought for a moment, then nodded. "Right after I came home. As part of my starting-new program."
"Pretty dramatic."
Touching a hand to the short, feathery cap of cinnamon-red hair that had once hung to her waist, she smiled tentatively. "I guess it's a shock to you."
"I'm used to shocks. I like it."
"At least it makes me look older. Now when I see myself in a mirror I don't fight an urge to
Sara winced. He must have talked to one of the locals, she mused. But she wasn't kidding about the system. It was designed to protect Moonspell Keep from even the most determined invader.
"Why won't you let me inside?" he asked.
"Judging by the trouble my research caused before, I think it's best that it remain completely confidential."
"I don't care about your plant research. I'm not here to peek at your lab or fondle your orchids."
"I told you, I'm putting my past behind me."
"But you haven't built much of a present or a future to take its place. We'll talk, well work out your fears"
"My only fear is that you won't go away."
"That's a valid one, then, because, lady, I'm not."
Sara recalled that his aging-Beach-Boy outfit concealed a lean, powerful body that served him well no matter what he asked of itwhich in this case might include climbing stone walls and dodging a flock of mean geese.
He could never get inside her fortified home, but he could probablyno, definitelyget inside the grounds and cause a great deal of trouble. "All right, ten minutes," she told him wearily. "But I'll walk down to the gate and talk to you there."
"Good enough. Sara, the past is over. You can relax."
She bit back an ironic laugh. Looking at his scarred face and thinking of her daughterwhom he might despise if he ever learned of her existenceSara knew that she could never relax.
Kyle got out of the car and leaned nonchalantly against the front fender, pulling a white Windbreaker over his arms as he did. Crossing his legs at sockless ankles, he stared at his baggy white trousers and white running shoes.
The sports car and the beach clothes would, he hoped, make him look a hell of a lot more jovial and carefree than he was. The last thing he wanted was to remind Sara of the last time she'd seen him.
Should he take off the sunglasses? Remove the hat? He ought to. Unlike the Windbreaker, the glasses and hat made it obvious that he wanted to hide his scars. Nothing carefree about that. Kyle realized that his throat was dry with anticipation and dread. He hesitated for a moment, then tossed the hat onto the car's hood and laid the sunglasses beside it. Running his fingers through his sun-streaked hair, he exhaled wearily and waited.
There was no sound from the other side of the massive gate. Kyle gazed at the gray steel, listening as the minutes passed. It began to dawn on him that she might have lied about the visit. He eyed the stone walls that stretched into the forest on either side, calculating ways to get through the barbed-wire shield that protruded from their outer edge. He looked closer, noting a barbless wire that wound through the others. The shield was electrified.
Dear Lord, who did she expect to fight? Ninjas? Rambo?
"Hello," a soft voice said behind him.
He whipped around, silently cursing himself for being so distracted that he hadn't heard her footsteps. She stood on the other side of the car, leaning toward him a little, her small hands pressed atop the fender as if she liked knowing the car was a barrier between them.
The world shrank, becoming only a backdrop for their silent tableau. Her shadowed green eyes never strayed from his pensive blue ones. Her jeaned legs were braced slightly apart; her chest moved raggedly under a pullover sweater striped in russet and gray. He wanted to hug her, wanted to gather this deceptively delicate-looking woman into his arms and tell her that he'd never forgotten her. Instead, he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.
"You cut your hair," he said finally.
She blinked, thought for a moment, then nodded. "Right after I came home. As part of my starting-new program."
"Pretty dramatic."
Touching a hand to the short, feathery cap of cinnamon-red hair that had once hung to her waist, she smiled tentatively. "I guess it's a shock to you."
"I'm used to shocks. I like it."
"At least it makes me look older. Now when I see myself in a mirror I don't fight an urge to
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