“No one?” Georgie repeated. “You don’t look like it was no one. You’ve gone from being flushed to ghostly.”

“Well it was someone,” Megan said. “But I don’t know who. I’ve had a few silent calls recently.” She shrugged. “Kids messing about, probably. Got hold of my number and keep hitting redial.”

“Mmm.” Brendon reached for a file that held information on the next season’s shoe order. “Odd letters and silent calls, just as well I’m moving in for the evening.”

Megan couldn’t deny that she was pleased Brendon was staying. The phone call and the letter had freaked her out a bit. Why would anyone use such passive, unproductive methods to get her attention? It just gave her the creeps.

Unless of course that was the intention—to creep her out.

Chapter Fourteen

The grip on her ankles dug to the bone, her toes were elongating, drifting into flames. Her heart beat so fast she feared for its survival and she couldn’t catch her breath. All the time Dylan stared at her, his blue eyes penetrating to her soul like shards of ancient ice chipped from a glacier. The contrast of hot and cold, icicle and flame made her struggle all the more.

She had to get out of there.

She woke.

Her plush velvet curtains were the first thing she saw. The sunlight was pouring around them creating bright, skinny fingers over the wall. She sucked in a breath and willed herself not to leap from the bed—it wasn’t a pit leading to Hell, it was just a mattress with Giovanna Valere bedding, nothing scary at all. Nothing that was going to gobble her up for all of time.

“Get a grip,” she muttered. Her forehead was damp and the T-shirt she’d slept in clung to her breasts and back. “You’ve got a big day. No time for crazy dreams or paranoia.”

She stood and walked to the bathroom. Her legs were a little weak as she climbed into the shower, her heart still beating rapidly.

Within a few minutes of standing beneath the warm water, though, she felt better. She had a lot to do. With Brendon’s help the evening before, she now had her presentation all planned out. She was doing a feature on bridal shoes as that’s where her mind had been focused of late. She had several designs to show off. She’d be fine, she knew her subject inside out, and Ralph, well, he was a pussycat, she was sure of it. Plus she’d felt confident in front of the camera. It was just one man after all, holding a piece of recording equipment. If she forgot about the several million viewers on the other side of the lens, it was easy-peasy.