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She looked at Derek, sitting on the sofa beside her. Mara sat on the sofa across from them, holding hands with a handsome man. Was it her husband? Had they been introduced? If so, Sheree couldn’t remember his name.
“Are you sure you have to leave?” Mara asked, leaning forward. “We’ve loved having you here.”
“Thank you,” Sheree said, rising, “but I think I should get home.”
“I’ll drive you,” Derek said.
“I do hope you’ll come visit us again,” Mara said.
Sheree nodded.
“Are you ready?” Derek asked, taking her by the hand. “Your bag’s in the car.”
“My bag. Yes.” She smiled faintly. “Thank you for having me.”
Derek slid a glance at Sheree as he drove down the winding road that led to the freeway. Sheree stared out the window, her purse in her lap, a slight frown puckering her brow.
“Did you have a good time today?” he asked.
“What? Oh, yes. Your sister and her husband are very nice. I’m afraid I don’t remember his name.”
“Logan.”
“Yes. Logan. They seem very happy together.”
Derek nodded. He didn’t know any mortal couples, but the couples in his family were all very much in love. Whether it was just another perk of being a vampire or the men all had a knack for picking the right women to spend their lives with, he couldn’t say. “Are your parents happy?”
“Not like your sister and her husband seem to be. Oh, don’t get me wrong. My folks don’t fight or anything, but, well . . .” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Maybe all couples get that way after they’ve been married a long time. I suppose eventually you run out of things to say to each other.”
He shrugged. Mara and Logan had known each other for centuries, but they hadn’t run out of conversation yet.
“Are you an only child?”
“Yeah.” He pulled off the freeway, stopped at a red light. It would have been nice to have had a brother. He had always envied Rane and Rafe their closeness. “You?”
“Yes. My mother had several miscarriages before I came along. She didn’t want to try again.”
When they reached her house, Derek killed the engine, then draped his arm over the back of her seat. “Here we are.”
“Thank you for bringing me home. I don’t remember . . . did I thank you for scaring away the bad guys?”
“No thanks necessary.” She didn’t know it, he thought, stifling a grin, but the bad guy she needed to worry about was sitting across from her.
Sheree put her hand on the door, glanced at her house, and let her hand fall back into her lap. “Would you mind walking me in?”
“Of course not.” As he got out of the car, he grabbed her bag from the backseat, then opened her door and reached for her hand. It was trembling.
“I’m sorry,” she said as they walked up the porch steps. “I thought I was braver than this.”
“Hey, we’re all afraid from time to time.”
“Really?” She pulled her keys from her handbag and unlocked the door, then glanced over her shoulder, one brow arched. “What are you afraid of?”
Reaching around her, he pushed the door open and stepped across the threshold, tugging her inside behind him. “There’s nobody here.”
She turned on the lights in the living room. “How can you be so sure?”
“The house feels empty.”
She wasn’t a scaredy-cat, but there was something niggling at the back of her mind. Something besides the robbery that had happened last night, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. It left her feeling unsettled. Why couldn’t she remember?
“Sheree, are you all right?”
“Not really.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Would you . . . never mind.”
“Do you want me to stay the night?” he asked quietly.
She stared up at him. Was she that transparent?
“I will if you want me to.”
“I’m just being silly. I’m sure those robbers won’t come back again, but . . .”
Derek dropped her bag on the floor, then closed the door. “I’ll crash on the couch.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Sheree glanced at her watch. It wasn’t late but she was suddenly very tired. “I think I’ll go up to bed.”
Derek nodded. “Get some rest. Things will look better tomorrow.”
Impulsively, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
He watched her pick up her bag and climb the stairs to her bedroom. She was going to remember, he mused. She was going to poke and prod the depths of her memory until she uncovered the truth of what had happened last night. And then all hell was going to break loose.
He chuckled softly as he heeled off his boots and stretched out on the sofa. He didn’t know how she would react when she learned the truth, but it was sure to be a hell of a ride.
In her room, Sheree locked the door. She wanted to rest in a tub of warm bubbles, but she felt funny taking a bath with a man in the house. She took a quick shower instead, slipped into a pair of comfy sweats—no cute PJs tonight—and climbed into bed.
It was too early to go to sleep, so she picked up the book on the nightstand and began to read, but she couldn’t concentrate on the story. What was she forgetting? And why couldn’t she remember?
Setting the book aside, she thought about the events of the last few days. First, Derek had rescued her from the two men who had accosted her at the Den. Except in movies, she had never seen anyone move as fast as he had. He had claimed he didn’t know who the men were, and she certainly had no idea.
Sheree had no recollection of what had happened at her house last night, except for what Derek had told her: two men had broken into her home and Derek had chased them away. She frowned. She didn’t remember Derek coming to see her, didn’t really remember anyone breaking in. Had it been such a traumatic event that she had blocked it out? It was possible, but . . . she frowned as the image of a dead man flashed before her eyes, and with it, the remembered scent of blood and death. But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?
Feeling a headache coming on, she turned off the lamp, and scooted under the covers. The darkness closed in on her and it took all the courage she possessed to keep from reaching for the light. Lying there, she took slow, deep breaths. There was nothing to be afraid of. Regardless of what the newspaper said, there were no vampires. Everything that had happened in the last three days could be explained rationally . . . if only she could remember.
