door or something. This was Summer Shores, North Carolina after all. Small town. Friendly. Safe. There were a multitude of possibilities for why the house was making a—
Thump.
Her nervous gaze landed on a spiral staircase that dropped to the lower level just past the main section of the living room. Whatever—or whoever—was making the noise was downstairs.
The small hairs at the nape of Kelly’s neck pricked to attention.
Eyeing a pair of pewter candlesticks, she tiptoed across the floor to grasp one, the metal cold and heavy in her now-shaking hand.
Thump.
She started, white-knuckling the candlestick and holding it high. “Who’s there?” She forced out her voice, strong and loud. Not bad for being completely rattled. Not bad at all.
Keeping the candlestick between herself and the stairs, she fumbled in her backpack for her cell phone, pulling it free and pressing the Power button.
She moved toward the front door, planning to get out before anyone could answer.
The noise from below had stopped. Probably a stray animal or something completely harmless, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She backed toward the door, trying to punch 911 on the tiny keypad. Darn these things.
“Whoever you are,” she yelled. “I’m calling the police.”
“I assure you I’m harmless,” a man’s voice answered.
The deep timbre sent awareness and fear washing through Kelly. She stumbled and the candlestick fell from her grasp, clattering loudly against the wood floor.
A dark-haired man appeared at the top of the steps, raising both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.” His midnight-blue gaze moved from Kelly to the candlestick to Kelly again. One dark brow arched. “Were you planning to use that on me?”
Kelly picked up the heavy metal object, pointing it at him. Her heart jackhammered in her chest. “Who are you?”
“I’m a…was…a friend of Rachel’s.” His expression softened, but the furrow between his brows remained. Deep lines etched into his forehead, leaving no doubt he was a man on a mission. “She had something of mine and I thought I’d pick it up before you got here.”
Kelly blinked, her head spinning from the surge of adrenaline racing through her. The man took a step forward and her breath caught. His well-worn denim shirt stretched taut across broad shoulders, his stance conveying nothing but sureness and pure male virility. Her heart slapped so loudly against her ribs, she had no doubt he could hear her fright.
She glanced at the cell phone in her hand. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? I should call the police.”
“The name’s Dan Steele.” He continued toward her, close-cropped chestnut-brown hair framing his rugged, thirtysomething face. “They know me.”
“Oh. This is a frequent activity of yours?” Kelly backed onto the porch and punched the last digit into the phone. “Don’t push your luck.”
“I’m telling the truth. Here.” Steele dangled a small silver object toward her. “She’d given me a key.”
Kelly suddenly felt like an idiot. She knew nothing about Rachel’s recent life. This guy might have been her lover for all she knew.
She concentrated on calming her whirling mind. “How did you know her?”
“Friend,” he repeated.
“And what did you need?”
He hesitated, reawakening her suspicions. “Something.”
“Something?” She frowned. “How do I know you’re not a fast-talking burglar?”
“With a key?” He shook his head, his expression incredulous.
“You never know.” Kelly set the candlestick on the floor and held out her open palm, nodding toward the key. “I’ll take that. I’d rather not have you stopping back unexpectedly. Nothing personal.”
One dark brow arched again as Steele pressed the key into her hand, his touch lingering a moment too long. Heat built at the spot where their skin met, searing her palm. The man’s intense stare never left hers, and Kelly fought the urge to look away. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction.
“Just what is it you’re missing?” she asked as she closed her fingers around his key then pocketed it, still gripping the cell phone tightly in her other hand.
“You know, you look a bit like her around the—”
“I know.” Kelly pinned him with a glare, frustration edging out her fear. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m leaving now.” He brushed past her and pushed the screen door open.
“I have half a mind to check out your story,” she called after him as he headed toward the steps.
He stopped short, turning to face her, his smile not quite reaching his deep blue eyes. “This didn’t go well. I’ll stop back later.”
Kelly focused on drawing deep slow breaths as she watched him cross the drive. The air seemed to still, as if the man owned the space around him and the ground beneath his confident stride. He turned toward the beach without looking back. Much to her dismay, a purely female response tangled with the anger and fear battling within her. The man oozed vitality—raw, male and intriguing.
She shivered with awareness.
He no doubt had known Rachel. Kelly’s friend had been beautiful, and never had trouble turning a male head. Dan Steele apparently had not been immune to her charms.
When he was fully out of sight, Kelly dropped her cell phone into her bag and headed for the kitchen. She plucked the receiver from the wall phone, dialing the keypad—911.
Hers might not be a true emergency, but if Steele planned to follow through on his promise to return, she intended to find out exactly who he was.
DAN STOOD AND STARED at the ocean. The woman had unnerved him. There weren’t many things in his life capable of eliciting that response. Not anymore.
He should have headed out the side door instead of checking the third bedroom. There’d been nothing there. He’d managed only to wedge his arm behind a bookcase reaching for a blank sheet of paper. As if Rachel would be that careless with anything important.
Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he headed up the beach toward his house, the woman’s face filling his mind. At first it had been like looking at a ghost, but once her fiery spirit flashed through her mesmerizing deep brown gaze, he knew she was no Rachel. Rachel had always put on a good show, but behind her reporter’s notebook, she was nothing more than a pretty bundle of nerves.
The friend had hidden her fear and surprise admirably. Beauty and backbone. Imagine. A longing stirred deep within him—evidence he wasn’t completely dead inside after all. No matter. He needed to find Rachel’s notes, not worry about her friend.
