Her laughter died an abrupt death in her throat the instant she saw him. The tension returned, stiffening every muscle as her feet dragged to a stop.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she muttered under her breath, her heart lurching wildly against her chest.

Maggie pulled up beside her. Claire felt her curious stare scanning the side of her face.

“What is it?” she asked.

Claire couldn’t speak. Her attention focused on the maroon CJ-7 Jeep parked in the principal’s spot—on the man inside. The Jeep was a far cry from Principal Henderson’s Volvo. As was the stone-faced, hard-bodied man behind the wheel.

In the midmorning sunlight, Gideon March sat there like he had every right to park in the reserved space. Big as day and hardly inconspicuous in a vehicle that lacked doors and a roof. Not that his six-feet-plus frame was easy to conceal. A long, lean, denim-clad leg protruded from the Jeep, his Red Wing boot propped on the door frame as he watched her.

What if he got out of the Jeep?

What if he started spouting that ridiculous werewolf nonsense again?

What if—

“Who is that?” Maggie whispered in hushed, reverent tones.

Claire shook her head dumbly, her stare never wavering from him. A pair of sunglasses obscured his eyes, but she could feel them burning into her.

“Do you know him?” Maggie pressed.

Claire tore her gaze free, focusing on her car and the prospect of escape. Refuge.

“No.” Claire resumed walking, forcing herself not to panic and run.

“Well, honey, I think he knows you. Or the way he’s looking, he wants to.”

Claire’s gaze skittered back to him. Sunlight glinted off his dark blond hair. The nerves along her spine tingled. And not entirely in fear.

“We don’t know each other,” she insisted, her voice firm.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maggie smirked at her from over the roof of the car as Claire fumbled for the right key. “Forget about Cyril. You got a hunka hunka burning man over there ogling you.”

Claire slid inside the sanctuary of her car, feeling slightly safer now that she could no longer see him or feel his intense gaze. Once Maggie shut her door, Claire hit the lock button. A hysterical laugh bubbled up from the back of her throat. That wouldn’t stop him. Not if he wanted to get to her. He had no problem getting into her apartment, after all.

“Now it makes sense.” Maggie gave a small, knowing laugh.

Claire started the car and backed out, trying not to notice how her hands shook on the steering wheel. “What does?”

A car horn blared and she slammed on the brakes. Both women lurched against their seat belts.

“Claire!” Maggie shouted, hands slapping the dashboard.

Heart hammering, Claire’s gaze flew to the rearview mirror at the car she had almost hit. She waved apologetically at the woman glaring at her through the windshield.