Navarreknew she was there before he opened the door. He'd sensed her presence even before he came downstairs.

He opened the door and her nearness filled his senses. She wore a V-necked pale blue sweater, black slacks, and sandals. Her hair fell down her back in soft golden waves.Navarre took a deep breath, inhaling the mingled scent of soap and skin that was hers and hers alone.

Adrianna smiled uncertainly asNavarre opened the door. She had every right to be here, she assured herself. It wasn't as if she was coming to seehim . After all, the man owned a business, and she was a customer. The fact that his place of business was also his residence didn't mean a thing.

But it did. She had spent all day Sunday trying to convince herself that she didn't care a fig about the man, or what he thought. She had invited him to share her company twice, and twice he had refused. She didn't have to be hit over the head; then again, maybe she did, because she had come here directly from work, not even going home long enough to grab something to eat.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Adrianna pasted a smile on her face and stepped into the house.

She feltNavarre 's gaze on her back as she walked into the spacious front parlor.

"Anything I can help you with?"Navarre asked, coming up behind her.

"No," she replied brightly. "I'm just browsing."

She didn't have the courage to face him, certain he would read the lie in her eyes. But she could feel his nearness. The sheer size of the man was overpowering; his masculinity made her limbs tremble and her insides ache with longing. It had been madness to come here, she thought, but she was here now, and she'd just have to make the best of it.

Trying to ignore his presence, she wandered around the room, pausing to study an oak hall tree, a three-tiered mahogany table, an old school desk, complete with inkwell. But no matter where she was, she was aware ofNavarre . He stood in the doorway, his arms folded over his broad chest, one ankle crossed over the other. Once, she slid a covert glance in his direction, only to find him staring at her, his gray eyes narrowed.

He held her gaze for a long moment, and she felt the heat climb into her cheeks. She wasn't fooling him for a moment, she thought. He knew exactly why she was there. All she could do now was bluff her way through and make as hasty and dignified an exit as possible.

Reaching for the first thing that came to hand, she picked up a shaving mug emblazoned with the words "Buck's Barber Shoppe" and asked the price.

Adrianna heard the amusement inNavarre 's voice as he named a figure, but the words themselves didn't register. He was wearing black again, she noticed. Black jeans and a faded black "Phantom of the Opera'' T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and chest like a second skin.

"Shall I wrap it up for you?" he asked.

Adrianna blinked, startled to find him standing directly in front of her, wondering how he had crossed the room without her even being aware that he'd moved.

She stared up at him, transfixed by his stare. "What?"

"The shaving cup. Shall I wrap it up for you?"

She looked at the object in her hand as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh. No, no, I... I was... no."

"Why did you come here today, Adrianna?"

She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips, at the husky sound of his voice. "Why?"

Try as she might, she couldn't draw her gaze from the web of his stare. "Because - that is, I..."

She took a deep breath. Lying had never come easily to her, but she was prepared to tell a whopper now, anything to make him stop looking at her like that, as if he knew her every thought, her deepest, most intimate secrets.

She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him she was looking for a gift for her boyfriend, but Navarre's eyes were fixed on hers - fathomless gray eyes that delved into the nethermost regions of her very soul.

"Adrianna?" His voice was harsh, demanding the truth.

"I came to see you."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

But he knew. Throughout the centuries of his life, women had been attracted to him, seduced by the dark power he possessed.

"Go home, little girl." He took the cup from her hand and put it back on the shelf. "Go home before you get hurt."

His voice was as soft as the first spring rain, as intimate as a lover's caress.

Adrianna swayed toward him, drawn like the tide to the shore. "I'm not a little girl."

"Aren't you?" His voice was thick, so thick he could scarcely speak.

"No." She tilted her head back, the better to see his face, parting her lips to give him ready access to her mouth.

Navarregazed into her eyes, and in their clear blue depths he saw sunshine on a summer day, the ocean at rest beneath a cloudless sky, lovers entwined on a sandy beach.

Her nearness enflamed his senses, senses that were sharper, stronger, more discerning, than those of a mortal man. Her nearness was intoxicating, her scent as alluring as the Siren call of the sun.

Muttering an oath, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

Heat coursed through him, firing his blood, chasing away endless centuries of loneliness. Unable to resist taking her in his arms any more than he could resist the blood hunger that kept him alive, he pulled her into his embrace, gathering her body against his.

Her body fit to his as though she had been sculpted to his measurement. Her breasts were warm and firm against his chest; her hair fell over his arm in a waterfall of honey-gold silk.

She sighed as he deepened the kiss, her breath fanning his cheek, fanning his desire. He could feel the rapid beating of her heart, smell the blood that flowed in a crimson rush through her veins.

His response to her touch, her nearness, was immediate and obvious. He expected her to pull away, to scream for help, to slap his face.

She did none of those things; instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer, her tongue darting out to touch his, a little moan of pleasure rising in her throat.

What insanity was this, he thought as his tongue delved deeper into her mouth. Was she mad, or was he?

Common sense demanded that he put her from him, that he send her away, but the need to hold and be held was stronger than logic, more compelling than reason. He couldn't let her go, not now, not when she felt so good, so right, in his arms.

He could only imagine what would have happened next if he hadn't heard the sound of footsteps in the foyer.

With a muttered oath, he put Adrianna from him and took a step backward.

"Go home, Miss Grant," he said, his voice like sandpaper over steel. "Don't come here again."

Before she could think, before she could argue, he left the room. A moment later, she heard his voice welcoming another customer.

Giving herself a mental shake, Adrianna squared her shoulders and left the house, determined never to go back.

That night, her dreams were filled with drifting shadows, images without form or substance. She heard a voice calling to her from out of the shadows, a deep voice, filled with the loneliness of a thousand lifetimes. It was a sound of such sadness that it caused her heart to ache with compassion, and even though she knew she shouldn't wander into the shadows, even though she knew that danger lurked in the swirling mists of darkness, she felt impelled to follow the sound of that voice.

Abruptly, she found herself adrift in a sea of blackness. Too frightened to move, she searched for a light, any light at all, and then it was as if a movie screen unfolded before her eyes. A barrage of images flickered before her: images of a man in a cage, of a woman with devil-black hair and eyes. She saw another woman, her green eyes filled with love and fear as a tall dark man rose over her. There were scattered images of ancient castles and kingdoms, of time passing, of a man buried deep in the earth, a man who was not dead, but not alive.

She screamed as the blackness dissolved into a warm red river that pulsed with the very essence of life. Nausea rose up within her as the blood engulfed her, filling her mouth and throat, mingling with the blood in her own veins, until she was drowning in the scent and the taste and the texture...

She woke with a scream on her lips. Still caught in the terror of her nightmare, she sat up and flicked on the bedside light. But it wasn't enough to chase away the terror that engulfed her and she bolted out of bed, running through the house, turning on every light in every room.

As she passed the living room window, she felt an overwhelming urge to look outside. Heart pounding with trepidation, she pressed herself close to the wall and peered into the darkness.

At first, she saw nothing and then, as her eyes adjusted to the night, she saw a dark figure lurking in the moon-dappled shadows beneath the old oak tree at the end of her driveway.

She blinked, and he was gone, leaving her to wonder if she had imagined it, or if she had really seenNavarre staring back at her.

Navarreturned away, blending into the night as he headed toward home. He had known from the beginning that going to her house would be a mistake, but he had been unable to stay away. Knowing he must never see her again, he had nevertheless felt the urge to be near her one last time, and so he had gone to her house in the dead of night.

Standing in the shadows, he had given free rein to his senses as he focused on Adrianna. In his mind's eye, he had seen her sleeping in her bed, seen her as clearly as if he stood in the room. She slept on her left side, one hand pillowed beneath her cheek, her hair splashed like gold paint upon a white pillowcase. He had inhaled and drawn her fragrance into his nostrils, into the very essence of his being, absorbing the smell of her shampoo, her toothpaste, the soap she had bathed with, and, overall, her own feminine scent.

Knowing it was wrong, he had probed her mind, curious to know what dreams kept her company while she slept. He had been unprepared for the link that had formed between them, startled to discover that, even as he was probing her thoughts, she was delving into his. Scattered images of his past lives had been woven into her dreams, though she had not been aware that it was his past she was dreaming about. And then, before he could close his mind to hers, before he could erase the growing horror that filled her mind like a dark plague, she had come awake with a scream on her lips.

And still he had lingered in the dark, waiting. He had seen the lights go on in every room of the house, and then he had seen her peering into the darkness. Their gazes had locked for one brief instant, and then he had turned away, feeling as though he had left a vital part of himself behind.

By morning, Adrianna had convinced herself it was all just a bad dream.

She got ready for work, ate a quick breakfast, and left the house. She paused at the end of the driveway, staring at the old oak tree where she had imagined she sawNavarre . She moved to stand under the tree, then felt her skin prickle as if she had received a mild electric shock.

Alarmed, she jumped onto the sidewalk, then glanced up and down the street, wondering if anyone had seen her behaving so foolishly.

Clutching her handbag in a death grip, she hurried up the driveway, opened the garage door, slid behind the wheel of her car, and drove to work.

She still felt a sense of pride when she saw her name on the door. She had bought the bookstore a year after she graduated from high school. For Adrianna, it had been a dream come true, made possible by the inheritance her great-grandmother had left her when she passed away. Still, it had been scary, going into business when she was only nineteen. But it had been good for her, giving her a feeling of self-confidence she'd never had before.

Sitting in her office helped put everything in perspective. She had met a rather odd man. She'd had a scary nightmare, and that was all.

Adrianna heaved a sigh as she opened her checkbook. It was time to put the night's foolishness behind her and get down to business.

But, try as she might, she could not putNavarre from her thoughts. No matter how often she pushed his brooding image away, it sprang right back up again. What secrets was he hiding behind those fathomless gray eyes? Why did he keep such peculiar hours? Why had he kissed her with such passion, and then sent her away with a warning?

What did the V stand for? She had the most peculiar feeling that if she could discover his first name, she would unlock the mystery that wasNavarre .

Like a sleuth on the trail of a killer, she went to work. She called her friend, Nancy, who worked at the DMV and asked her to checkNavarre 's records.

"V. Navarre,"Nancy said a few minutes later. "Says he was born inNew Mexico on September first, nineteen-seventy. He's six foot, four inches tall, has black hair, gray eyes, weighs two hundred and twenty pounds."

"Yes, that's him," Adrianna remarked. "Thanks,Nancy ."

"Why the sudden interest in this guy?"Nancy asked. "I've never heard you mention him before."

"Nothing, just curious."

"Uh-huh."

"Honestly,Nancy . I just wondered if the V stood for anything."

"Why don't you just ask him?"

"Because I'll probably never see him again."

"Navarre?Navarre ? Say, isn't that the name of the guy who owns the antique store out onOld Piney Branch Road ?"

"Yeah. I bought a bed from him last weekend."

"I see."

"No, you don't. Listen, I've got to go."

"Sure, well, keep me posted."

"All right, I will. Bye."

Frowning, Adrianna hung up the phone and went out to wait on a customer. Apparently, there was no mystery to be solved. The letter V didn't stand for anything.