Lainey sat in front of her computer, staring at the blank blue screen. Try as she might, she couldn't concentrate on the book she was supposed to be writing - a book that was due in just three months.

"Think plot," she muttered.

But all she could think about was the Grayson mansion, and the mysterious voice that had spoken to her.

Who had that sexy male voice belonged to?

How had that fire started in the fireplace?

Who had left a carton of orange juice on the back porch of a house that hadn't been lived in for ten years? Who had been reading the newspapers?

Why had she felt so at peace there?

Why did she want to go back?

Oh, Lord, maybe she was losing her mind. Maybe there hadn't been any fire. Maybe she'd imagined the orange juice. And the voice? Had she imagined that, too?

She glanced through the photographs of the house that she'd had developed earlier that day, and then frowned as she stared at a close-up of the third story. Was that someone standing at the window?

Rummaging around in her desk, she found a magnifying glass and studied the photo. Was that a person, or merely a shadow?

She stared at the slightly hazy form, noticing that a faint blue aura seemed to surround the figure.

It had to be a shadow, she thought, or a glitch in the film.

Switching off her computer, she sat there for several minutes. It was a mystery, and she loved a mystery. Her mind made up, she grabbed her purse, her jacket, and her camera. Plucking her keys off the top of the TV, she left the house.

Twenty minutes later, she was standing at the end of the long winding driveway that led to the Grayson mansion.

He squinted against the late afternoon sunlight as he watched her walk toward the house. He had sensed her presence long before he looked out the window.

He studied her as she drew nearer. He thought her quite the prettiest creature he had ever seen, with her long black hair, soft brown eyes, and smooth tawny skin. She wore a pair of tight black pants, a bulky pink sweater, and a pair of short white hoots. He liked the way she moved, as fluid as water.

Why had she come back?

He checked to make sure the door to the room he'd chosen for himself could not be opened, and then he listened to her footsteps as she moved through the house. So strongly could he sense her presence that he could almost see her as she moved slowly from room to room. She stopped in front of the fireplace for several moments before going into the kitchen.

The sound of her footsteps drew nearer, and then he heard her approach the third-floor room.

Lainey stared at the door for a moment, then turned the knob. Nothing happened. She shook the knob, then pushed on the door.

"Are you all right in there?" she called, jiggling the knob again.

He cocked his head to one side as he visualized her standing on the other side of the portal. What manner of creature was she? Didn't she realize how puny her human form was, how easily it could be destroyed? He could crush her with one hand, vaporize her with a single glance.

"I know you're in there," Lainey called. "I saw you in the window yesterday. I heard your voice." She tapped her foot, exasperation warring with concern because he refused to answer. "Are you sick? Do you need a doctor?"

He shook his head, amused by her boldness, dismayed by her apparent lack of fear, and even more appalled to learn that she had been able to discern his thoughts the day before.

Go away.

As before, Lainey glanced around, seeking the source of the voice. As before, there was no one there.

Lainey frowned. She'd heard that voice in her mind three times now. The first time it had assured her there was nothing to be afraid of. The second time it had begged her not to go. And now it was telling her to go away. It didn't make sense. And neither did the fact that she wasn't the least bit afraid. As before, she'd felt a curious sense of peace when she entered the house.

"Are you all right?" she called again. "Is someone keeping you here against your will?"

Not someone, he mused, but hewas being kept there against his will.

Go away!

"Not until you tell me who you are and what you're doing here."

He shook his head, faintly amused by her stubbornness.

"This morning you asked me not to go. Why are you so anxious for me to leave now?"

You could be in danger.

Lainey swallowed. "From you?"

No.

Lainey took a deep breath, intrigued by his voice. She should go. She knew it. Standing there arguing with an unseen man had to be the height of stupidity. And yet, she knew somehow that whoever was behind that door wouldn't hurt her.

"I just want to help."

He held his breath, waiting for her to go away, wanting her to stay.

He heard the doorknob rattle, felt her curiosity, her concern.

"I'm not leaving until you open this door."

She meant it, he thought ruefully, and focusing on the door, he released the force that had kept it closed.

His eyes narrowed as daylight crept into the room.

"Hello?" He heard the faint tremor of disquiet underneath the excitement in her voice as she took a step forward and peered into the room. "Is anyone here?"

He hesitated a moment, knowing he should frighten her away, yet he was strangely drawn to her warmth.

Fearing he was making a terrible mistake, he probed her mind, took on a shape she would find pleasing, and stepped out from behind the door. "What are you doing here?"

Lainey whirled around, her handbag clutched to her breast, as she stared at the most outrageously handsome man she had ever seen. Fabio, she thought breathlessly. He looks just like Fabio.

She blinked up at him. "What did you say?"

"I asked you what you are doing here."

It was the voice, that same tantalizingly deep velvet voice she'd heard in her mind.

Flustered, she answered his question with one of her own. "What areyou doing here? This place is supposed to be vacant."

He stared at her through fathomless silver-blue eyes. "I needed a place to stay."

"And you decided to stay here?" Lainey shook her head. "What are you, a clairvoyant or something?"

He frowned. "Clairvoyant?"

"You know, someone who hunts poltergeists and things."

"Poltergeists?"

"Never mind. You're not from around here, are you?

A faint smile touched his lips. "No."

"I didn't think so. You have a strange accent. Where are you from?"

"A great distance."

She drew back as he took a step forward, but he didn't approach her. Instead, he closed the door.

"The sunlight is very bright," he said. "It hurts my eyes."

A shiver of fear tiptoed down Lainey's spine. Good grief, maybe the place really was haunted by a vampire!

"It is only temporary," he assured her. "It will pass in a day or two."

She backed across the floor, thinking she ought to stay as far away from him as possible. She kept telling herself she should be afraid of him, but she wasn't.

"How are you called?"

"Lainey," she answered, unable to draw her gaze from his. "Lainey St. John. How... how are you called?"

"I don't know how to say it in your language."

"Then say it in yours."

"Zermicazyne."

"What?"

"Zer-mica-zyne."

"That's a mouthful. Would you mind if I just called you Micah?"

"Micah," he repeated. "I like that. Thank you."

She felt a sudden glow, as if she'd just given him a gift beyond price. "You're welcome. How long have you been inAmerica ?"

"How long?" he repeated. "Three... ah... three weeks."

"I see. You didn't tell me where you're from."

"Xanthia."

"Never heard of it."

"It's a small plan... a small place very far from here."

She couldn't keep from staring at him. He wore his long, dark-blond hair parted in the middle. His eyes were an unusual shade of silver tinged with pale blue; his mouth was wide, sensual, and totally masculine. He had a body that looked as though it had been carved by an Italian sculptor. His skin was pale and seemed to glow and yet even as she watched, the glow disappeared.

The wordvampire whispered through her mind again. Pale skin that seemed to glow. Unearthly colored eyes that were sensitive to the light. Long blond hair. Maybe it wasn't Fabio she should compare him to at all, but the Vampire Lestat.

"Well, I guess I'd better go," she said in a rush. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Lainey St. John."

The loneliness in his voice was unmistakable and she paused, her hand on the doorknob. She couldn't just go off and leave him there alone. She grinned wryly. Even if he was a vampire, surely she'd be safe. After all, it was daylight. Weren't vampires supposed to be helpless when the sun was up?

"I could stay a while, if you like."

"Would you?"

"You... you won't bite me or anything, will you?"

"Bite you?" he asked, confused. "Why would I bite you?"

"Never mind." She glanced around the room. There was no furniture of any kind, not a chair, nothing. "Why don't we go downstairs?"

"If you wish."

"I don't suppose you have anything to eat?" Lainey asked as she walked down the narrow flight of stairs that led to the second floor.

"No."

"Maybe we could go out?"

"No."

"Oh, the light. I forgot. Well, never mind. I'm too fat, anyway."

"Not fat," he said from behind her, and the way he said it made her blush to the roots of her hair.

When they reached the main floor, Lainey dropped her purse on the floor, then sat down in the chair nearest the hearth.

Micah took the other one. His movements were quiet and inherently graceful, she thought. When he walked, he made hardly any sound at all.

She couldn't help staring at him. The white T-shirt he wore fit like a second skin, clearly outlining his broad shoulders and chest. His faded black jeans were also skintight, revealing long legs corded with muscle.

"How long will you be here?" she asked.

"Until someone comes for me."

"Someone?"

"A friend. From home."

"Oh. Is he picking you up here?"

Micah shrugged. "Here, or somewhere else. The place does not matter."

"Did you start the fire last night?"

He hesitated a moment before replying, "The fire? Oh, the fire. Yes."

Lainey frowned. Sometimes she had the feeling he didn't really understand what she was saying, yet he made the correct answers. It was strange.He was strange. And yet, she felt inexplicably drawn to him.

"Did you leave the orange juice on the porch, too?"

Again that pause before he answered. "Yes."

Lainey glanced at the window. "It's almost dark," she remarked. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to go out and get something to eat?" Her stomach picked that moment to growl meaningfully. "I only had a banana for breakfast," she said, smiling self-consciously, "and I didn't get any lunch."

"You're hungry?"

Lainey nodded. "Come on, let's go out. My treat."

"Treat?"

She was more convinced than ever that English was his second language. "I'll buy," she said. Rising, Lainey held out her hand. "Come on."

He stared at her hand for stretched seconds, and then he placed his hand in hers. His skin was cool, yet warmth flooded her palm and washed up her arm, spreading through her like liquid sunshine.

Stunned, she gazed up at him and saw her own astonishment mirrored in the depths of his incredible silver-blue eyes.

"Your hand is so small," he said, his voice tinged with wonder. "Small and warm."

Lainey glanced at the sofa, which looked altogether too inviting. The house, which had once seemed large and dark and gloomy, now seemed suddenly small and intimate.

She smiled uncertainly. "I... we should go."

He looked out the window and when he saw that the sun had gone down, he nodded slowly. "If you wish."

"I think it would be a good idea."

Outside, she took a deep breath, wondering at the odd effect his touch had on her. Opening the car door, she slid behind the wheel, then waited for him to get in. Glancing out the window, she saw him standing beside the car, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Get in," she called. "It isn't locked."

"How?"

"How?" She stared at him, certain he must be kidding, but he looked dead serious. "They must have cars where you come from."

"Not like this."

Frowning, she leaned across the seat and opened the door. Somewhat cautiously, he settled himself on the seat.

"Hang on," she said, and pulled away from the curb. "Where would you like to eat?"

"Where?"

"Yeah, where? Do you want to go to a restaurant, or just grab a burger at McDonald's?"

"A burger will be fine."

"Don't tell me. They don't have hamburgers where you come from, either."

"I don't think so."

"I don't mean to offend you, but that must be some small country you're from."

"Yes," he agreed with a wry smile.

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Lainey glanced at Micah out of the corner of her eye, noticing that he was studying the dashboard carefully.

"We're here," Lainey said, pulling into the McDonald's parking lot.

After finding a parking place, she switched off the engine and slid out of the car, figuring she'd have to open Micah's door for him. But when she reached the passenger side, he was already out of the car and waiting for her. A quick study, Lainey thought, smiling up at him.

"Come on," she said, "they've got pretty good food here."

"Yes, food."

Inside, Lainey took a place in line, trying to decide between an Arch Deluxe, fries, and a chocolate shake, or a filet of fish and a chocolate shake.

She glanced at Micah as they moved up in the line. "What are you gonna have?"

"Have?"

"To eat."

"Yes, eat." He hesitated a moment. "What are you going to... have?"

"An Arch Deluxe, I think, and a chocolate shake."

He stared at her blankly for a moment, then said, "I will have the same."

Lainey told the counter girl what they wanted, covertly studying Micah as she waited for their order to come up. He was obviously a foreigner, but she couldn't place his accent. Sometimes she thought it sounded Italian, and sometimes French, and yet it didn't really sound like either one.

"So," she said, "where's your country located?"

"It's very far from here."

"Yeah, that's what you said. Is it inEurope ?"

"Europe? No."

"South America?"

"It's north of here. Very far north."

"NearCanada ?"

Micah glanced away. "Yes. NearCanada ."

"Funny, I've never heard of it. Well, maybe not so funny, the way countries are changing their names these days. What did you say it was called?"

"Xanthia."

Their order arrived then and after paying for it, Lainey led the way to a table near the back window. She couldn't help noticing that every woman in the place turned to stare at Micah, but then, who could blame them? He was far and away the most handsome man she had ever seen.

She peeled the paper from a straw, poked it through the hole in the plastic top of the paper cup, and took a long drink. It was thick and rich and chocolaty, just the way she liked it.

Micah watched her a moment; then, very carefully, he removed the paper from his straw and poked it into his cup.

Lainey almost laughed out loud as he took a drink, his eyes mirroring surprise, and then pleasure.

"Don't tell me," she said. "They don't have chocolate shakes where you come from, either."

"They have nothing this good," he said solemnly, and took another long swallow. His shake was gone in nothing flat. "Do you think I could have another?"

"I think it could be arranged," Lainey replied. Grinning, she went to the counter and ordered another shake.

When she returned to their table, he watched her pick up her hamburger and take a bite. Micah picked up his burger, sniffed it, then turned it over. It was meat of some kind, he decided. A vegetarian since birth, he had never eaten meat. Curious, he took a small bite, chewing it carefully before swallowing. A variety of tastes filled his mouth: tangy, sweet, sharp, mild.

"Good," he said, taking another bite. "Very good."

"You are the strangest man," Lainey murmured.

"You have no idea how strange," Micah replied, and then he smiled, a broad smile that hit Lainey square in the heart and almost took her breath away.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" Lainey asked as they left the restaurant.

"Yes, if you wish."

She was tempted to take his hand, but thought better of it. After all, she didn't really know anything about him except his name, and the fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous. The women on the street were no more immune to him than were the women in McDonald's. Every woman they passed stopped to take a second look, but then, it was all she could do to keep from staring at him, to keep from running her fingertips over the muscles in his arms, to keep from pressing her hands to the broad expanse of his chest...

She gave herself a mental shake, furious and embarrassed by the path her thoughts were taking. She'd seen handsome men before - in the movies, on the beach, at the market - but none had ever affected her quite like this.

Lost in thought, she started across the street.

"Lainey!"

She heard him shout her name, felt his hand close over her arm and jerk her back onto the sidewalk just as a low red sports car careened around the corner.

Breathless and frightened by her near miss, Lainey collapsed against Micah, finding comfort in his strength, in the nearness of another human being.

For a moment, Micah stood looking down at her, wondering what he could do to comfort her and then, moving cautiously, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

She was shivering now, her body trembling convulsively as the full realization of what had almost happened sank in. If Micah's reflexes had been a fraction of a minute slower, she'd be dead.

"You saved my life," she murmured, and burst into tears.

Micah's arms tightened around her as she cried. Emotions he had never known he possessed stirred within him at the sight of her tears; feelings he had suppressed long ago struggled to make themselves known.

He held her until her body stopped trembling, until her tears subsided, and even then he was reluctant to let her go. She felt so good in his arms. Her body was soft and round and it molded itself to his form in a most pleasant way. Holding her close, he was conscious of her warmth. He bent toward her and a faint, vaguely familiar scent rose from her hair.

Lainey sniffed one last time, then drew away a little so she could see Micah's face.

"I seem to have drenched you with my tears," she said, dabbing ineffectually at his shirt front.

"It doesn't matter."

Lainey glanced around, suddenly embarrassed to be standing on a street corner, bawling in a stranger's arms. "Maybe we should go."

He agreed reluctantly, wishing he could hold her in his arms forever. Just holding her made him feel good all over, made him wish for things he didn't fully understand.

He felt as if he'd lost a vital part of himself when he let her go.

It was a feeling he pondered long after she'd dropped him off at the house and driven away.