There was no one to shout at now.

And no way to rid herself of this horrid case of nerves that was

threatening to overwhelm her.

She could actually feel it swelling, growing as she sat in her bed, straining to make out the origin of different sounds.

She was going to drive herself crazy.

Annoyed with herself, Caitlin kicked-aside the sheet covering her legs, bunching it up at the foot of the bed.

She swung her legs over the side.

The air conditioner was set at seventy-eight.

A nice, fnild temperature, but she felt cold.

Cold from the inside out.

Caitlin ran her hands over her arms.

She didn't think she was going to feel warm again until they finally

caught this man.

Until ' I he was out of her life permanently.

If ever.

Restless, she got out of bed and walked out of the room to look in on

Graham.

If he was awake, maybe they could talk.

Or play cards.

Something.

Anything to get her mind off the scenario that continued to thrust

itself into her mind at every unguarded moment.

He heard her before she entered.

Graham responded instantly to the sound of her bare feet treading

lightly along

the large, gray-blue tile.

He was never completely asleep, even at home.

Ever since he had been a child, there was something inside him that was

always alert, always waiting to spring into action.

When he was five, there'd been a fire in the small house his father had

rented.

Graham had never forgotten the horror of waking up, surrounded by the all-consuming heat, by the flames that were taller than he was.

He'd screamed, terrified, certain he was going to die.

And then his mother had come running from the other room, running through the blaze to save him.

She'd snatched him up and carried him off to safety, collapsing in the

front yard.

Her left arm had gotten badly burned.

The scars remained.

His uncle had told him that they were her badge of courage.

His mother never talked about it and neither did he.

But Graham was always aware of them beneath the long-sleeved blouses

she wore.

Aware, too, that she had given him life twice.

Hand on the gun that lay ready on the coffee table, Graham turned to

see Caitlin standing in the doorway.

Moonlight seeped into the hall from the kitchen, highlighting her body.

His breath stopped moving in his lungs.

She was wearing a nightgown that barely covered the tops of her thighs,

the hem whispering along them the way his fingers itched to.

He curled them into his palms.

Graham felt something tightening within him and forced himself to

relax.

Very carefully he lifted his hand from his gun.

"Can't sleep?"

She shook her head.

Standing there, she looked like every man's fantasy come to life.

'nere was just so much restraint a man could be expected to have, and she was pushing his.

"Come here."

He beckoned to her.

Caitlin approached almost shyly, wanting to be with him, wanting to be away.

The sofa was rumpled.

She had made it up for him, placing a blanket on top of the cushions and then covering it with a sheet.

Blanket and sheet were now bunched together in a heap to the side,

partially dripping down to the floor.

Apparently he wasn't having any better luck sleeping than she was.

Caitlin pushed the tangled heap to the far end of the sofa.

She felt guilty, making him sleep out here.

By all rights he should be in his own bed, in his own home.

"Not very comfortable, is it?"

He shrugged indifferently.

"I've slept on a lot worse surfaces. This is fine."