Twilight Illusions by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page B

looked up and down it, obviously not sure which way to go.
    â€œDo those attacks come often?”
    She started, as if she didn’t know he’d walked along behind her. “None of your business. Which way is the phone?”
    â€œAnswer my questions and I’ll take you to it.”
    If her eyes could shoot daggers through his heart, they would have. When she spun on him again her hair flew out around her like a wet halo, spraying his heated face. “Why did you bring me here last night?” Her eyes widened slightly for just an instant as the obvious answer occurred to her. “I was unconscious, wasn’t I? Did you do anything to me?”
    â€œShannon, for God’s sake, I don’t go around molesting delirious women. I brought you here because I was afraid to leave you alone. You were sicker than hell. I’d have called some of your family to take care of you if I’d known where to reach them. But I didn’t, so I decided to do it myself.”
    â€œI don’t have any family.” Her eyes narrowed to slits as she studied him.
    â€œIt’s happened before, hasn’t it?”
    â€œOnce or twice.” She turned her back on him, started down the hall in the wrong direction.
    â€œHow often?”
    She shrugged. “What’s it to you, anyway?” She stopped a few yards away, turned and came back, apparently deciding to go the other way.
    When she passed him, he took her arm, walked beside her. “Nothing,” he reminded himself. “Absolutely nothing. The phone is downstairs, but you don’t need it. I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go.”
    She blinked up at him, pausing in their trek toward the stairway, which was now in sight. “You will? I mean…you’re not going to try to…” Her gaze fell to the floor and she shook her head.
    â€œWhat did you think—that I was holding you prisoner?”
    She met his gaze, her own flashing again. “You locked me in.”
    â€œThere was a reason.” He started down the stairs, led her through the narrower hall to the second staircase and then down that. When they finally emerged on the first level, he guided her into his oval library, waved her toward a leather sofa.
    She stiffened, remaining in the doorway. “What is this? I said I wanted out.”
    â€œShannon, when you broke in here and asked for ten minutes, I gave it to you. I’m only asking you to return the favor.”
    Her head tilted to one side, a wary animal sizing up its chances with a predator. She didn’t trust him. She had good instincts.
    â€œYou can leave whenever you want to. I won’t stop you. There’s a phone on the desk over there.” He pointed. She looked, licked her lips, nodded.
    â€œAll right. Okay. Ten minutes. No more.”
    No more. Unfortunately for both of them, there was going to be more. A lot more. And he’d keep her with him by force if he had to. But first he’d try to talk her around to his way of thinking.
    And he’d pray he wasn’t worthy of all her fear.
    Â 
    Why the hell did she agree to sit here and listen to him? The guy could talk her into buying swampland in the desert if he applied himself. There was something about him…
    She walked into the library, took a look around. The room’s shape came as no surprise. The curving walls were lined with books, most of them old-looking, with that wonderful, slightly musty smell that old books always have. The sofa and chairs were rich brown leather. New. Their aroma mingled with that of the books, and that more subtle scent that was distinctly Damien.
    She glanced over her shoulder at him. He stood right where he’d been before, watching her intently. It was his eyes—that’s what it was. They were so huge and deep and expressive. So dark. Combined with the tenor song of his mellow voice, they were compelling.
    â€œSo, talk,” she said, trying to sound