Crescent Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,7

doors, flicked the lock, still trembling with the memory of a dream that hadn't seemed like a dream.

I couldn't blame myself for an erotic fantasy. I was a young, healthy woman who'd denied herself sex for four years. Suddenly confronted with a mysterious man, unlike any I'd ever known, I'd have been worried if I didn't dream of him.

Nevertheless, I was annoyed with myself - frustrated, sweaty. Too wide awake for this time of the night, I didn't relish what was to come.

Hours in the dark, lonely and guilty, because even though Simon was dead, within my dreams he'd been alive. Until tonight, when another man had taken his place.

I spun away from the window, and suddenly I couldn't breathe.

At the foot of my bed, stark against the creamy satin bedspread, lay the bright red flower I'd seen on the far shore of the swamp that afternoon.
Chapter 4

Not the same one. Couldn't be.

I stood near the window shaking my head, unreasonably spooked by a flower.

Well, maybe not unreasonably. I hadn't brought it here.

My gaze flicked around the room. There wasn't anywhere to hide, except -

I glanced at the floor, and the breath I'd been holding streamed out in relief. The wooden bed frame ended at the carpet. There was no "under the bed."

Slowly I crept toward the bathroom. Why I didn't just call security I'm still not sure. Perhaps I couldn't bring myself to say, "I found a flower. Save me!"

I'd left on the bathroom light as I always did when sleeping in a strange place. I hated walking into walls half-asleep.

The reflection in the vanity mirror revealed there was no one inside. Just as there was nothing in the closet. Which meant -

I turned toward the window.

The curtains, meant to block the sun so Mardi Gras partiers could sleep away the day, also blocked everything else. Unable to bear not knowing, I strode across the room and whipped them back.

Then stared past the empty balcony, studying the flickering neon across the street My room was on the fifth floor. How could anyone scale the hotel without being seen from below?

But would the drunks even notice? If they had, would they care or merely cheer? However, if they'd cheered, I'd have heard them.

"Damn," I muttered.

Someone had been here. But who? How? Why?

All questions for a time when the sun was shining. Too bad they kept me up for the rest of the night.

Dawn found me dressed and swilling coffee from the complimentary urn in the lobby. If I could have positioned my mouth directly beneath the spigot without undue notice, I would have. I was so tired.

I showed the concierge the address on my handy dandy sheet of paper. Contrary to the opinion of the sexy-voiced Cajun with an attitude, the concierge confirmed it as the location of a trustworthy guide service - CW Swamp Tours.

I retraced my route to the dock where a man waited on an airboat. "Deanna Malone?"

I guess he was waiting for me.

"Diana," I corrected, and he grinned.

I wished that he hadn't His teeth were nothing to write home about. They'd make a short letter, since there were so few left. A shame. He didn't appear a day over twenty.

"Mr. Tallient sent me."

The accent was Deep South - not a hint of France, and I missed it.

"I was here yesterday," I said.

His face, which resembled both Howdy Doody and Richie Cunningham, despite the bright white hair that shone beneath the morning sun like a reflector, crumpled with the effort of thought.

"Was I supposed to come yeste'day? I get confused."

Hell. I hoped he didn't get confused in the middle of the swamp.

"I met someone - " I began.

"No one but me comes to this place."

"Tall, dark." I left out "handsome," fearing I'd sound too much like Snow White. "Long hair."

My guide shrugged. "Don't bring no one to mind."

"Did Frank - Mr. Tallient - tell you what I need ...?"

I wondered if he was Adam Ruelle, except Ruelle was mysteriously missing. Besides, I doubted a man who had been raised in a mansion, however broken down, would let his teeth rot out of his head. Then again, I could be wrong.

"What's your name?"

"Charlie Wagner. Tallient said you wanted to look for the wolf."

"Have you seen one?"

Charlie's gaze slid from mine. "Can't say as I have."

I found his choice of words interesting. He couldn't say. Didn't mean he hadn't seen it

"You gonna meet me here at dusk?" he asked.

"Dusk?" The last time I'd come at dusk I'd nearly been