Exhaling a raspy breath, she cautiously went down the stairs. She didn't want to awaken Dan. How could she explain what she was doing? How could she say she was following a ghostly whim?

She shook her head. No, she didn't think she could tell him that. Dan had his feet firmly planted on terra firma. No ghosts, no vampires, no Hollywood hype stuff, that's what he'd said. Well, she didn't know about vampires, but dear God in heaven, whether he wanted to admit it or not, Angel Rock Ridge housed ghosts. At least one anyway. One with a strange sense of humor. Mr. Rochester's impersonation of Shakespeare's Hamlet! She shook her head again.

Reaching the entryway, she walked into the living room. A cold wind rushed up her bare arms and legs, causing a shiver. She ignored the discomfort. The familiar spectral light pulsed from the hearth in the fireplace. Maybe the ghost wanted to show her the hidden device to the secret passageway. Maybe she'd learn the mystery of this strange, forbidding house.

Intent on the blaze from behind the chain mail covering, she tiptoed closer.

"Going somewhere, princess?"

She almost screamed. Spinning around, she pressed her hand against her chest to prevent her heart from escaping. Clad only in his faded blue jeans, Dan stood next to her. His muscled chest was thick with curly, dark hairs that swirled down past the snap of his jeans.

Flushing, she hastily looked up at his face. "You scared me!"

His hardened gaze roamed the length of her body, lingering on her breasts and exposed thighs. She wanted to tug at the bottom of her chemise, but twenty-four inches worth of material would only stretch so far.

"What are you doing down here?" He grabbed her upper arm and tightened his grip.

"I...I--" She turned toward the fireplace, but the light had gone out. Evidently, the ghost had left her to deal with Dan by herself. "I thought maybe I could find the switch for the secret passage." Her excuse sounded inane, even to her ears.

"And then what did you intend to do?" As he narrowed his gaze, his body tensed. He didn't trust her. She knew it as if he'd spoken out loud and his suspicion hurt.

She pulled away from him. "You needn't have worried. I would've told you. I wouldn't have gone in by myself." That was certainly true. She wouldn't have entered a dank, shadowy tunnel no matter how friendly the ghost.

He grabbed her again, this time holding both shoulders. "This isn't some Nancy Drew mystery, Jocelyn. This is dangerous business. Dammit, people have gotten killed." He bit back his words as if he regretted saying them. Staring into her eyes, he searched her--long and hard.

Her skin tingled under the firm pressure of his hands. She felt drawn to him--more than she had with any man before. Her breath came in shallow gulps. She licked her lips. Who cared about danger? Who cared about unexplained mysteries? Right now, all she could think about was Dan's rich, full lips and the promise of rapture in his eyes.

Groaning, he lowered his lips onto hers and savagely plunged his tongue deep into her mouth. His taste drove her wild. She clung to him as if she were drowning, delighting in the fevered marauding of his hands, in the rough bristles of his mustache. His kisses were uncontrolled and fierce, brimmed with pent-up longing and unbridled passion. His need for her was so great, it fanned her own growing desire. She'd never given herself so completely, so absolutely.

When his hands slipped under the delicate material of her chemise and caressed her back, her knees turned to rubber. Catching her before she fell, he pressed his palms up along her ribcage and found the softness of her breasts.

As he trailed his thumb over her hard, erect nipples, he murmured, "Jocelyn, you're so beautiful."

God help her, but she wanted him. She wanted him more than anything. And he wanted her. With a flick of his wrist, he removed the cumbersome chemise. His gray eyes darkened at the sight of her nearly naked form. At first gently cradling her, he then slid his hands down into her panties, cupping her buttocks. He roughly pulled her to him.

She rubbed against his bare chest and hardened masculinity. She felt hot--so hot--as if her very soul were scorched. More...more...she needed more of this man--all of him. Flattening against him, she dug her fingers into his shoulders. "Dan, oh Dan, let's--"

She made the mistake of opening her eyes. They weren't alone. On the low ledge of the fireplace, Velma stood, her pale green-eyed gaze fixed on Dan's back. How in the world did she get in? Through the fireplace?