“I’m hoping to learn something,” Lee said with a small smile. “I registered at the last minute, but when I learned Hunter Brown would be here, I couldn’t resist.”

The frown in his eyes came and went too quickly to be noticed. He’d agreed to do the workshop only because it wouldn’t be publicized. Even the registrants wouldn’t know he’d be there, until the following morning. Just how, he wondered, had the little redhead with the Italian shoes and midnight eyes found out? He passed a truck. “Who?”

“Hunter Brown,” Lee repeated. “The novelist.”

Impulse took over again. “Is he any good?”

Surprised, Lee turned to study his profile. It was infinitely easier to look at him, she discovered, when those eyes weren’t focused on her. “You’ve never read any of his work?”

“Should I have?”

“I suppose that depends on whether you like to read with all the lights on and the doors locked. He writes horror fiction.”

If she’d looked more closely, she wouldn’t have missed the quick humor in his eyes. “Ghouls and fangs?”

“Not exactly,” she said after a moment. “Not that simple. If there’s something you’re afraid of, he’ll put it into words and make you wish him to the devil.”

Hunter laughed, greatly pleased. “So, you like to be scared?”

“No,” Lee said definitely.

“Then why do you read him?”

“I’ve asked myself that when I’m up at 3:00 a.m. finishing one of his books.” Lee shrugged as the Jeep slowed for the turn-off. “It’s irresistible. I think he must be a very odd man,” she murmured, half to herself. “Not quite, well, not quite like the rest of us.”

“Do you?” After a quick, sharp turn, he pulled up in front of the hotel, more interested in her than he’d planned to be. “But isn’t writing just words and imagination?”

“And sweat and blood,” she added, moving her shoulders again. “I just don’t see how it could be very comfortable to live with an imagination like Brown’s. I’d like to know how he feels about it.”

Amused, Hunter jumped out of the Jeep to retrieve her bags. “You’re going to ask him.”

“Yes.” Lee stepped down. “I am.”

For a moment, they stood on the sidewalk, silently. He looked at her with what might have been mild interest, but she sensed something more—something she shouldn’t have felt from a hotel driver after a ten-minute acquaintance. For the second time she wanted to shift and made herself stand still. Wasting no more words, Hunter turned toward the hotel, her bags in hand.