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  "I think I just made her quota for the week," she said, laughing softly.

  Her laughter caressed his skin, her bright eyes warmed his gut. She was intoxicating and he realised then and there he discovered a new form of hell.

  He glanced at the boxes. "There's twelve bars in each box."

  She shrugged casually. "I'll just put them in the freezer and hand them out to my clients." She raised hopeful eyes at him. "Would you like a couple? There's hazelnut and caramel."

  Chocolates were the last thing on his mind as he ran his gaze over her slim form in tight jeans and a snug white T-shirt. "No, thank you." He paused, knowing what he was going to say next went against everything he vowed not to do. He didn't want to get close to her, but she was bewitching him more and more every time they spent together. "I'm going to the post office to drop this off. It's a partial of my manuscript."

  "Oh, you don't just email these days?"

  "I do, but I always follow up with a hard copy. Old habits die hard," he ended dryly. And if she knew how long he'd been writing, she'd understand. The first manuscript he wrote was with a quill pen. Her relieved smile pulled him out of his reverie.

  "Oh, so you've managed to make progress."

  "Yes, thanks to your help." He paused. "Would you like to come with me? I didn't get a chance to thank you for helping me with my book and I'd like to buy you lunch."

  She chewed her lower lip and seemed to mull it over. "I just made lunch."

  "Put it in the fridge. I can have that for dinner so you won't have to cook later."

  She walked to the hall table and placed the boxes on it. "I suppose I could do that."

  "You can put the closed sign on the door and we'll be back in a couple of hours."

  She laughed softly. "Okay. You convinced me, besides I could use a break. Just give me a second. I have to get my purse."

  As she went down the hall into her bedroom, his gaze fastened on her gently swaying backside.

  And he knew then and there he was in big trouble.

  * * * *

  Stella waited outside the post office for Gunnar, taking in the warm sunny weather and smiled at him when he came out.

  "Thanks again, Stella. I still can't believe I fixed that scene in a few short hours."

  She was warmed by his compliment. "You're the writer. I just gave you a reading."

  They made their way to the family-style restaurant down the block and she glanced up at him, striding casually by her side.

  "I hope you like pasta. This place makes the best lasagne."

  "Sounds great."

  She pulled a face. "I should warn you that you're having pasta for dinner, too."

  "I don't mind. I enjoy your cooking."

  Something in his tone made her look at him and she saw his handsome profile softened into a hint of a smile. He glanced at her and their gazes locked. Her stomach flipped at the flash of warmth in his eyes. The sound of a baby crying broke their connection.

  She looked at the harried woman pushing a baby carriage out of a shop. The baby was crying uncontrollably and Stella's heart melted at the sight of the-red cheeked, tear-stained infant.

  "Johnny, sweetie," she cooed as she stopped and lowered herself in front of the carriage. She glanced up at the baby's mother and smiled ruefully. "Still teething?"

  The woman looked beside herself. "Yes. It's been madness. I can't get anything done."

  Stella was already reaching for the baby. "Do you mind, Helen?"

  "Oh God, no."

  Gently, Stella lifted the wailing baby in her arms and rose, offering introductions as she rested her cheek on the baby's head.

  "Pleased to meet you, Helen," Gunnar said politely.

  The baby had already stopped crying and was sucking his thumb while Stella swayed gently from side to side, whispering softly, "It's okay, baby."

  Helen smiled for the first time. "You're a life saviour. He's been uncontrollable all morning." She gave Gunnar a relieved look. "Stella has a way with kids. I don't know how she does it, but every time Johnny goes off on a crying binge, she only has to hold him and he calms down."

  Gunnar gave Stella a hooded look. "You don't say."

  "I could hold Johnny all day. He's adorable." She looked down at the baby. He was gazing up at her with a clear, unblinking stare, his little mouth opening into a toothless grin. "Yeah, you're adorable and Auntie Stella loves you," she said, laughing softly when the baby gurgled with glee.

  Helen looked at her watch. "Oh, no. I'm running late."

  Stella felt a stab of disappointment. She would have loved to hold him a bit longer. Carefully, she placed him back in the carriage and buckled him in. "Now be a good boy for mommy. I love you, angel," she said softly. The baby's face puckered and his eyes welled with tears as he stared at Stella. "Don't cry, sweetie. I'll see you again real soon." She placed a gentle kiss on his downy soft head.

  Stella and Gunnar continued on their way soon after Helen left. She tossed him a quick, sideways glance, wondering why he seemed so pensive. And then it hit her. He was thinking of Tyler. Her heart swelled with feeling.

  "Penny for your thoughts," she said gently, glancing at his hard profile. He gave her a look she couldn't define.

  "I was wondering why you haven't married and started your own family."

  His question took her by surprise. "I guess I haven't found the right guy."

  "Do you want children one day?"

  "Yes." She felt a stab of regret. She wanted children, but couldn't imagine finding a man who could embrace her gifts and not feel threatened or frightened by them. She needed someone special, someone who didn't fear the unknown.

  They paused in front of the restaurant. Before he reached for the door, he looked down at her. "You would make a fine mother one day."

  His comment continued to warm her as they entered the restaurant and followed the hostess to their table. He pulled out her chair and took his seat.

  She opened the menu and tried to form her next words. "Do you want more children one day, Gunnar?" For some unexplainable reason, she really wanted to know.

  His expression darkened as his gaze flickered to her mouth. "Tyler was the best thing that ever happened to me. It wasn't planned, but when he came into my life it was the biggest gift I ever got."

  She was disappointed. "You're still young. You can start another family."

  "I'm older than I look," he relied dryly. "In any case, the answer is no. I don't want another family. My life is too…complicated. Besides, no one could ever replace Tyler."

  She gasped. "I'm sorry, Gunnar. I didn't imply--"

  "I know you didn't." He gave her a long look, his expression softening.

  She couldn't hold his gaze. There was something intimate in his expression and she felt a rush of nerves. God, she was acting like a teenager. Flustered, she took her napkin and placed it on her lap. When she looked back up at him, he was regarding her with interest.

  "Do I make you nervous?"

  His question surprised her. "Sometimes."

  "Why?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not…I haven't…I don't go out much. I suppose I'm a little out of practice."

  "You don't date?"

  "No."

  "A beautiful woman like you must have offers all the time."

  He thought she was beautiful. Her stomach jolted. "Actually, I don't."

  "Well, I'm glad you agreed to have lunch with me."

  "Me, too."

  They both ordered lasagne and as they ate, Stella felt herself relax. They chatted about his book and how he was ready to send out his initial draft and Stella felt another rush of pleasure that she'd helped him.

  The waitress removed their plates and returned with their coffee. Stella smiled her thanks when she heard a voice behind her and stiffened.

  Kendra Jones, the town's infamous divorcee. Infamous because she was clearly in search of husband number three and married men were not off limits for her.

  "Stella, fancy meeting you here. I haven't seen you since the town fair last year."

  And a year too soon, Stella thought. The strong whiff of Kendra's perfume nearly made her choke. She looked up at the divorcee's face and noted wryly she was staring openly and unabashedly at Gunnar, the gleam in her eyes unmistakable. Interest.

  "Kendra, this is Gunnar Eriksson. He's staying at the inn. Gunnar, this is Kendra Jones. She owns the nail salon on the corner."

  Gunnar rose partway in his seat, offering the woman a polite, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

  Stella flicked a quick gaze over the divorcee's appearance and noted the abundant cleavage, the tight capris, the shoulder length, honey blonde hair that looked like it just came out of a salon. She resisted the urge to look down at her own appearance in jeans and a T-shirt, hardly the hot, sexy image Kendra portrayed.

  A wave of jealousy surprised her and Stella swallowed the green-eyed monster. She really, really tried to think the best of everyone, but she couldn't with Kendra.

  "I do hope I see your around, Gunnar. Stop by my shop before you leave," the woman purred. "Oh, and Stella, you really should pop by for a manicure," she added. "You're long overdue for one." She left.

  Stella pursed her lips. "I think you have an admirer," she offered, trying to keep her tone casual.

  "She's not my type."

  "Oh." She tore her gaze from his and took a sip of her coffee. She was dying to ask him what was his type.

  Suddenly she realised he was leaving in eight days, and a gloom settled around her. "So, are you enjoying your stay in Vermont?"

  "From what I've seen of it, it's a nice place. Different from what I'm used to back home. I live in New York."

  She made a mental calculation how far apart they would be after he
left and her gloom deepened. "Brenna lives in New York. She loves it."

  "That's your sister who owns the hair styling salon, right? And Elissa owns the bookstore in Boston."

  He remembered. The thought pleased her. "Yes." She smiled. "When we were younger, it was always Brenna getting into one predicament after another. Elissa and I always had to clean up her messes." She paused. "My sisters are the only family I have left."

  "You miss them," he said quietly.

  "Very much, but we make it a point to get together as much as possible." She gave him an interested look. "Do you have any family? Parents, brothers, sisters?"

  "No one." His face hardened. "I've been alone for a long time."

  "I'm sorry." She couldn't imagine being alone. Even though she and her sisters lived far apart, she always felt a sense of comfort and security knowing she had family who cared about her. They were only a phone call away and she knew if she needed them, they'd drop what they were doing and come to see her.

  "It took me a long time to get used to it," he said.

  "You don't have to be alone anymore."

  "I choose to be alone."

  Everyone needed someone, she thought. Even if she knew she'd never find Mr. Right, at least she had her sisters. "You're afraid of loving someone and then losing them," she said gently, realising with a start she'd spoken out loud.

  His jaw hardened. "My track record isn't great. I've lost everyone around me. And when I lost Tyler, I decided I didn't want to go through that hell again." He regarded her with a deep, intent gaze. "Do your sisters have your gifts?"

  She stiffened, unprepared for his question. Her gifts were tame compared to what her sisters could do. "As a matter of fact, yes." She braced herself. "Brenna has the power of touch."

  "Touch?" He drew his brows together.

  Here goes, she thought. He was either going to believe her or think she was crazy. "Yes. If she touches you, she can read your thoughts."

  A shutter fell over his face, masking his emotions. "I see. And your other sister?"

  "She…she's a medium." She held her breath.

  Slowly he leaned back in his seat, his expression hardening. "She speaks to dead people," he remarked bluntly.

  Her defensive shackles rose. "She's an authentic medium. She…she can channel spirits."

  He remained silent for what seemed an eternity until he spoke, his tone curiously hoarse. "Do the ghosts talk back to her?"

  She knew where this was leading. He was thinking about his son. "Yes," she whispered.

  His mouth tensed. "I see."

  Stella didn't know what to do. She knew the second he asked her if Elissa could contact Tyler she would have to tell him the truth. That Elissa already did and discovered his son was not on the other side.

  "No one knows what really happened to my son," he began slowly. He had a distant look on his face.

  Stella knew he was caught in the past. That horrific, painful past when he was told his son had died.

  "After a couple of days, they'd found the car, but no bodies. Then a six month long search began and nothing turned up."

  "Gunnar," she began softly. "I have something to tell you. It's about Tyler."

  His gaze fastened on hers. "Yes?"

  "I…I spoke to Elissa yesterday and asked her to contact Tyler." She recoiled at the expression on his face. Brief flashes of grief, shock, anger.

  "Why did you do that?"

  "To help you. I thought if you knew he was okay it would help ease your grief. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

  His face was grim. "What did your sister discover?"

  Stella swallowed and for a split second, wondered if she should tell him the truth. She stared at his handsome face and released a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. Gunnar was the kind of man who faced the truth head on. "She couldn't find Tyler on the other side."

  His face paled as he clenched his fist on the table. "What are you saying?"

  Impulsively, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his fist. "Please don't be upset with me. I wanted to help you."

  "I know. What did she say?"

  She stared down at her hand over his. He'd loosened his fist and she curled her fingers around his. Slowly, she raised her gaze and met his. "Gunnar, if Tyler is not on the other side, then where is he?"

  Their silence was deafening and she fixed her gaze on the muscle clicking maddeningly along his jaw.

  "Could she be mistaken?"

  She shook her head. "She was certain your son hasn't crossed over," she said gently.

  His eyes glistened as his gaze held hers captive. "Do you realise what you're saying? Do you understand what you're implying?" He swallowed hard.

  "I'm sorry if this is a shock, but we can't ignore the possibility."

  He swore roughly under his breath and removed his hand from hers. Pushing back from the table, he staggered to his feet. "No. There is no possibility. Miracles don't happen to me." He glanced at his watch. "We'd better get going."

  She rose as he placed money on the table and followed him outside. She'd made a mess of things. She should have waited until she'd confirmed the shocking reality that Tyler might still be alive before she told Gunnar. Guilt weighed her heart at the brief flash of hope she'd seen surface in his eyes before a shutter fell and turned his expression to granite.

  As they reached the car, she spotted Derek across the street. She was about to wave hello at him and stiffened, frowning at his expression. He was staring at Gunnar and his usually pleasant, youthful good looks were twisted into a malevolent glare.

  A low, deep growl rose from Gunnar and she snapped her gaze at him, gasping. He was staring back at Derek, his eyes steely, his face dangerously grim.

  Stella was stunned, their emotional moment in the restaurant forgotten.

  Gunnar opened her door and helped her in his car as she stole a quick glance at Derek, but he was gone. Seconds later, the car dipped under Gunnar's weight.

  His energy pummelled her senses. It was cold, brutal, almost as though he could kill someone.

  Chapter Seven

  She knew she was dreaming and tried desperately to wake up.

  She saw Tyler in a dark room, sitting on a small bed, sobbing. She wanted to rescue him, but couldn't. Then her dream changed and she saw Derek, but he wasn't nice and sweet. He was evil, cruel, as he raised a hand ready to deliver a blow to her face. She screamed and tried to run, but couldn't move. And then Gunnar appeared, looking dangerous and crazed, a fiercely protective glint in his eyes as he grabbed Derek by the collar and jerked him away from her.

  Gunnar threw him a few feet away, snarling, "Stay away from my woman."

  Then Stella and Gunnar were alone and he was holding her, kissing her, telling her everything was going to be all right, as their clothes melted away and he lowered her over a bed.

  "You're mine," he growled as he entered her, filling her, and she screamed.

  Stella gasped as she opened her eyes and gazed up at Gunnar looking down at her with a concerned look on his face. Dazed, she glanced around and saw she had fallen asleep on the couch.

  "You were having a bad dream. I heard you cry out in your sleep," he said.

  She took a moment to catch her breath. The dream was still vivid in her mind as she recalled his strong, warm skin on hers. "What time is it?"

  "It's almost midnight."

  She shot him a surprised look. "You've been working all this time?" After they returned from the restaurant, she'd hardly seen him except when he came downstairs to eat.

  "Yes."

  She wondered if he had stayed away all day because of his writing or because of what she'd told him about Elissa. Guilt flared up again in her chest.

  "I'm sorry about earlier, Gunnar. I didn't mean to reawaken your pain--" She stopped as he raised a hand.

  "I know you meant well. I…" he paused, "I guess I'm having a hard time believing it. If Elissa is wrong…" his voice trailed, leaving her no doubt what he thought.

  If Elissa was wrong, he'd be reliving Tyler's death all over again. Her heart ached for him. "I understand," she said softly.

  She began to rise from the couch and moaned at the flash of searing pain on her lower back. "This couch is great for sitting, but not for sleeping. My back is killing me." She winced. "Ow."

  Deep concern darkened his features. "Why don't you turn over? I'll give you a back rub."