Man of her Dreams. Debra Webb

lacked any length to speak of. Perhaps a four-inch blade. Foolish choice, in his opinion. “Contrary to popular thinking,” he said to the second fellow, “size does matter when choosing a weapon.”

      The taller one lunged for him. Aidan stepped aside in a flash of movement, allowing his adversary to hit the sidewalk face-first. The other made his move then, but he was too slow in addition to lacking a suitable weapon. Aidan grabbed his wrist, twisted viciously, snapping his arm with little effort. The pathetic excuse for a switchblade clinked to the ground seconds before its owner crumpled, howling in pain.

      “I’ll kill you!”

      The first man had regained his footing and was making another dive for Aidan. One swift kick and he was on his knees. A well-placed blow to the back of the head and he wouldn’t be getting up again this side of daybreak.

      Aidan walked away, leaving the one writhing in agony and the other unconscious.

      He decided that the crime statistics of this city couldn’t be trusted, which wasn’t an actual problem but more of a nuisance.

      Continuing along the tree-lined avenue, he watched for the side street that would take him to the eighteenth-century villa-turned-apartment building. The mansion sprawled around a lushly landscaped rear courtyard, which greatly increased its value, according to the real estate information he’d perused on the Internet.

      As he approached the building from the rear access, he didn’t fear being seen since he wore all black—shoes, slacks, shirt and the full-length duster. He reached into his duster’s interior pocket and removed the slide card required to open the electronic lock on the back gate. The technology worked much like the keycards on hotel rooms, only this one was a little more high-tech. Excellent security, unless one gained access to the necessary computer chip. Duplicates could be made of anything if one possessed the right technology. He had not needed to bother with a duplication since he had leased the only vacant apartment.

      Inside the enormous courtyard, Aidan paused to survey the area that apparently appealed to the wealthier of the species. Lush plantings, along with a large, ornate fountain, gave the space a tropical feel. Admittedly, the area presented a certain atmosphere of luxury. He turned his attention to the balconies overlooking the courtyard.

      Darby Shepard occupied the apartment on the third floor to the left of the building’s rear entrance. Despite having moved in only a couple of days ago, a box of blooming flowers tumbled over the lacy ironwork enclosing the balcony. He looked to the empty balcony to the right of hers. That one would lead to his temporary quarters.

      He studied the windows on either side of the French doors on her balcony and calculated that the window between their balconies looked directly into her bedroom. She would be sleeping there now. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, reaching toward her room. Yes, she slept. He sensed no movement of her mind.

      In his experience, even his elevated skill didn’t allow him to read a person’s every thought, especially if they blocked efficiently. He could, however, sense mood and emotion, even intent, quite easily. Thoughts were more difficult. Broadcasting was far easier than reading. She would block him the instant she sensed his awareness level, but he had years of training under his belt that she did not possess.

      He would be the stronger one.

      Not bothering with the interior stairwell that would lead to their apartments, he scaled the vine-covered trellis. He braced one foot on the edge of his balcony and the other on hers so that he could peer through the window of her bedroom.

      To his surprise the window wasn’t even closed, much less locked. He pushed the window inward a bit and surveyed her room. The bed stood across the room directly in front of his position. Her hair spilled across the white pillowcase. It looked longer than he’d expected. In the recent photos he’d seen, she’d worn it up in some fashion. But now it was down and splayed over the pillow next to her like a veil of silk. Her long legs looked golden against the white linens that barely draped her body.

      Eve was no longer the little girl he remembered. She looked very different…very attractive. His mouth parched as if he’d been many hours without drink. But he had not. This was a physical reaction to her beauty. Just as the hardening sensation in his muscles was. She was beautiful…even more so in repose. An almost overwhelming urge to touch her seared through him. But that would be a mistake.

      He watched her a while longer, then climbed onto his balcony and unlocked the French doors the old fashioned way—with a credit card.

      Sleep was essential for now. When daylight came, he would make his presence known to her. His profile was simple, a cover she would no doubt trust without second thought.

      He did not anticipate that Operation Prophecy would take long. Assessing her skill and memory imprint should be simple. He looked forward to learning about this new Eve.

      Aidan stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed.

      Sleep came quickly and so did his dreams.

      DARBY SAT bolt upright in bed. Her breath rushed in and out in labored gasps. Perspiration beaded on her skin.

      Dreaming…she’d only been dreaming.

      Of a man. Not the horrible man she’d led the police to, but another stranger.

      He’d stood in shadows but she’d felt him watching her. His gaze had moved over her skin like a lover’s caress. She shivered even now, wide awake. The darkness had prevented her from making out the details. But she sensed something familiar about him.

      But that wasn’t possible.

      She shivered again and her gaze locked onto the window.

      Had she left it open that far?

      Rubbing her arms against the sudden chill of the autumn night, Darby climbed out of bed and crossed the room. She peered out over the courtyard that had drawn her to this place. It was so beautiful. She’d always wanted to live in one of these old houses but didn’t see the need for the expense. After all, her parents’ home sat completely empty.

      But everything had changed now.

      She doubted it would ever be the same.

      The memory of the men in white lab coats made her shiver yet again, and this time she reached for the window’s lock. She had to train herself to be more careful now. She had to be aware of her surroundings at all times…aware of those around her at all times.

      With a wistful sigh, she turned away from the window and started back toward the bed. She paused midway, her attention inexplicably drawn to the wall that separated her apartment from the neighboring one.

      All her senses buzzed to life, drew her to that wall as if it were a flesh magnet.

      She moved closer…closer…until she could reach out and touch it. She gasped and drew away, as if the satiny white plaster had somehow burned her. Frowning, she pressed her hand there again, this time without drawing away. A kind of energy flowed through her, excited her on a startlingly primal level. The feeling made her giddy, made her afraid, somehow.

      Shaking off the foolish sensations, she climbed back into bed. Too early to start the day yet. With that thought came an uneasy feeling…it followed her back to her dreams.