Piper wasn’t home. Her house was dark and silent. Her car sat in the driveway, a cute little red convertible.

Piper liked flash. She liked fun. She had a laugh that lit up a room. And when she looked at him, when her golden eyes locked on his…

He could see straight into her soul.

He’d been waiting on Piper for a long time. Waiting for someone like her to come into his life. Someone to quiet the demons inside. She’d been waiting for him, too. He knew it.

His gloved fingers trailed along the front of her car. Where had Piper gone? It was after midnight, no cops were around, and her home just sat, so cold and alone.

A slow anger churned inside of him.

Where the hell did you go, Piper?

And…

Who was she with?

Chapter Three

The stair creaked beneath her bare toes. Piper froze at the sound, then glanced quickly over her shoulder. The area at the top of the stairs was still dark. No sign of Eric.

Good. The last thing she wanted was for him to find her raiding his refrigerator. But, well, a woman had to do what a woman had to do.

She’d tried to go to sleep. But she’d just tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling. And then she’d realized that she hadn’t eaten since lunch. Hunger was keeping her awake. And fear. But she couldn’t do much about the fear, not right then.

The hunger, however, was a problem that she could tackle.

When she reached the landing, Piper peered to the left and then to the right. A tour of the house would have made things easier, but Piper figured she could blunder her way around. She opened the door to the right.

A lamp had been left on inside that room, and it spilled onto the massive book cases. Onto the desk. The leather chairs.

Eric’s office.

Her hand tightened on the doorknob. She could see a few picture frames on his desk. The whole room just looked so normal. Was that a football tossed in his chair? She was pretty sure he had some kind of framed baseball bat hanging on the wall.

Piper inched closer, narrowing her eyes so that she could see better. Ah, right. A bat from the Atlanta Braves. She took a few more steps toward the framed bat. Looked like he’d gotten the whole team to autograph it for him.

Figured.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped and whirled around, and her hip bumped into the side of his desk. When she hit it, one of the framed photographs tumbled off the edge and hit the floor with a hard thunk.