Certainly no sign of that, she thought, noting the movement of his finely cut mouth. He was a very handsome man, with dark, nearly black hair and eyes somewhere between green and hazel. He wore a dress shirt but no jacket, and he'd unbuttoned the top button of the shirt beneath the loosened knot of his tie. A long day, Tara supposed. As he continued to chat with Daniel, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.

"So," he said after a time. "Let's talk a little about these problems you're having."

Daniel cut Tara a look. He'd been briefed ahead of time on what he'd supposedly done to warrant the intervention of a professional.

She bit her lip, hoping he wouldn't suddenly decide to rebel.

"Yeah, okay," he said.

"This says you've been having trouble with your friends. Lashing out at them, calling them names."

"Yeah, and I hit a couple."

Tara suppressed a smile. He was going to cooperate, and with flying colors, too, apparently. "I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this is inappropriate behavior."

Gray's tone was neutral.

"No, sir."

"So can you tell me why you do it?"

Daniel shrugged. "They just piss me off, I guess."

"Does it have anything to do with your not being able to go outside?

Are you feeling frustrated about that?"

Daniel's mouth curled at one corner. "I've been living inside a long time, Dr. DeAngelo. I guess I'm pretty much used to it by now."

"Then have there been any changes recently?"

"Yeah, my dad left. That was tough."

"You still see him, though, correct?"

"Yeah. He's a good guy, I guess."

Tara saw the curl in his mouth deepen. He was enjoying this.

She'd discovered most vampires got a thrill out of extemporaneously inventing their personal histories. It amused them. Even Julian seemed to get revved when he had a good line going.

Confident that Daniel he could carry the conversation at least for a while, she relaxed in her chair.

And suddenly remembered the dream.

Had it really been Gray DeAngelo kissing her? With his soft mouth and fondling tongue? Thinking back, the voice hadn't seemed quite like the voice she was hearing question Daniel about his relationship with his father. But somehow it had been the same.

Uncomfortable, she shifted in her chair, trying not to stare at the doctor. What had they been talking about in that ridiculous dream?

Something about being brave. What had they been doing that they needed to be brave? She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Ms. Summers."

Tara started. He'd called her name more than once, she suddenly realized. "I'm sorry," she said. "I drifted off there, for a minute."

The doctor smiled, but she didn't miss the small spark of disapproval in his eyes. She should be ashamed of herself, she thought, not listening to her own son in this kind of a serious situation.

"I'd like to speak to you alone for a few minutes," the doctor told her, "just to finish things off for the day."

"Of course." She looked at Daniel. "Can you wait for me in the lobby? You can finish your magazine."

"Sure." Daniel trudged off, equal parts obedience and reluctance.

Watching him go, Tara wondered how much of that was an act put on for the doctor and how much was simply Daniel being himself. It was hard to tell with him.

"I think we've gotten a good start," Dr. DeAngelo said when Daniel had pulled the door shut behind him. "For our next session I'd like to try a little light hypnosis, get him used to the procedure before we try to isolate any trauma."

"That sounds reasonable."

"Whatever's bothering Daniel, I'd bet it's on a deeper level than current events between you and your husband. He seems at ease with his relationship with his father, and equally at ease with you. What do you know about his history before you adopted him?"

"He was abused. He doesn't like to talk about it. I think that's probably what we need to look at. I'm not sure he remembers everything that was done to him-or that he acknowledges what he does remember."

The doctor nodded. "I think that's probably a good guess." He hesitated, eyeing her just a bit too closely. "This isn't exactly kosher in my profession, but would you like to have a cup of coffee with me tomorrow? Maybe while Daniel's in school?" Tara blinked, surprised. The dream rushed in for a moment, even more intense than it had been while it was happening. She could almost feel his breath against her lips. "I'm not sure, Dr. DeAngelo."

He gave a sheepish smile. "Forgive me for being forward. You're not really my patient, so I thought it might not be too untoward." He hesitated, then looked right into her eyes. The contact startled her. "To be honest, since you walked into this office I've been having the strangest feeling of deja vu."

That startled her even more. "Well . . . as long as we're being honest, I've sort of been sensing the same thing. We haven't met before, have we?"

"Not that I'm aware of. But I've always made it a policy to figure these things out when they happen to me." He shrugged. "Sort of a therapist thing, I guess."

"So you're not really asking me on a date."

"No. Just for coffee. Some chat. Would that be okay?"

She couldn't deny the attraction. Had it been only that, nothing more than the primal pull of hormones, she would have refused. But it was more. She had the undeniable sense she knew him. "Yes. That'd be fine. There's a coffee shop around the corner from my building.

Would that be good?"

"That'd be fine."

She wrote directions on a piece of paper, said goodnight to Dr.

DeAngelo, then went to retrieve Daniel.

"I'm hungry," he said when they reached the sidewalk.

"Okay, go. I'll meet you at home."

She watched him disappear with her usual trepidation. Then, with a sigh, she turned and walked in the opposite direction, toward home.

Three.

At seven the next morning, sitting at a table with a latte and a blueberry scone, Gray still wasn't sure being here was a good idea.

When Tara walked in, saw him, and smiled, he was almost positive it wasn't.

True, she wasn't his patient, but close enough. He didn't like to play fast and loose with the rules, particularly those he'd made for himself. And his own rules definitely disallowed involvement with a patient's mother.

Still, he found his attention drawn to her as she bought her coffee and approached his table. Her blonde hair, cut in a neat, chin-length style, bobbed prettily as she walked. Her blue eyes shone when she smiled.

But not the way they should have. They were bright with friendliness, but something inside him felt that was not enough. The light there should be colored by love.

And the eyes should be green.

He shook his head a little as she sat down, bewildered by the images in his head. Images that tried persistently to overlay the reality in front of him.

Tara settled across from him and frowned delicately. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He schooled his features, wondering what kind of ridiculous expression they had held. "Just a little tired."

"Oh, me, too. Daniel had me up half the night." She broke off, as if she'd said something she hadn't meant to say. Then, in a different, less certain voice, she added, "You know. Bad dreams."

"That's not unusual. In fact, it's something I would expect to see more of as treatment progresses. I'm a bit surprised it's started so soon, though." Tara's frown deepened. "So what causes them?"

"Sometimes the subconscious starts working on problems we can only brush on in therapy sessions. I'd like you to ask Daniel to start a dream journal. We can take a look at the imagery and see what his brain is trying to tell him."

"Okay. I'll tell him."

Gray settled into his chair, tapping his scone. Tara hadn't bought anything to eat, he noticed. "Ms. Summers, I'm sure you understand, but I want to stress anyway, that you and Daniel have to be in this for the long haul."

"Call me Tara." She sipped her coffee, watching him over the rim of the cardboard cup. The look in her eyes wasn't quite seductive, wasn't quite coy, but seemed to be trying to hide elements of both.

"Did you really invite me here to talk about Daniel? Or is that your way of justifying it to yourself?"

Gray shifted uncomfortably. Honesty, he thought, was probably the best idea at this point. "Maybe a little of both."

Her smile was a little wistful, and she tilted her head, looking at him. "So. The deja vu thing. What do you think it's about?"

"It's not that unusual," he said stonily. But the strength of it-that was unusual.

"What do you think it means? You do past-life regression hypnosis, don't you? Maybe we knew each other in another life."

He shrugged, reluctant to entertain the idea, even though it was, technically, his specialty. "I suppose it's possible."

"Is that something you'd be interested in exploring?"

Her teasing expression brought out the wicked in him. "I don't know. Is that the kind of therapy you'd be willing to pay for?"

"At your rates? I don't think so."

"Maybe that ex-husband of yours could finance it."

He immediately regretted the joke as her expression sobered. "I don't think he would see it as a wise investment." She paused, frowning thoughtfully. "Don't you think it's a bit strange, though, that I came to you for help with Daniel, and then we both feel this connection?"

"Yes, I do."

"Has anything like this ever happened to you before?"

"No, I can't say that it has."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

The question caught him off guard. "Maybe I should ask you to do a dream journal."

She flushed. Just as he'd suspected she would. He nodded smugly.

"That's what I thought. The whole past-life thing is a big joke to you.

But I've been doing this for a long time, and I've seen some pretty strange things. If we start looking into it, you'd better be prepared for what you might find."

Her gaze hardened. "Ditto, Dr. DeAngelo."

He quirked an eyebrow. The color of her eyes might be different from those eyes he remembered, but the sparks flying from them at that moment looked eerily familiar. "You think I might not like what I learn about you?"

"Yes. And about Daniel, too." She scooped up her coffee and, with one last flash of her eyes, left him.

Odd, he thought, and returned to his scone.

Tara spent the rest of the day wishing she'd kept her mouth shut.

She had no idea what had possessed her, besides sheer anger at Gray DeAngelo's nerve. Something about the connection between them, and finding out he was aware of it, too, had rattled her badly. Badly enough that she'd opened her big mouth and said things she shouldn't have said. There was no point putting ideas in his head, after all, especially about Daniel.

There was also no point, she supposed, in dwelling on things she couldn't do anything about. She'd said what she'd said, and couldn't take the words back. Maybe she could just blame it on sexual tension.

Or PMS. Or lack of breakfast. Regardless, there had to be some way to smooth things over.

When she went to his office that evening, though, there didn't seem to be a need for any smoothing. Dr. DeAngelo immediately started to work with Daniel, putting him into a light hypnotic state to be sure he was comfortable with the procedure. Tara watched with interest.

"Do you remember the first time you saw your mom?" The doctor's voice was soft, in keeping with the atmosphere he'd created in the room.

Tara was almost afraid to breathe. Easy questions, she thought.