The doorbell chimed.

She closed her eyes, as her knees trembled.

"I'll get it." Hanson walked out of the room.

Someone was rubbing her shoulders. "You okay, sweetie?" Kyle asked from behind her.

She opened her eyes and looked at him in the mirror, nodding, she answered. "Yeah, I think so."

His worried eyes met hers. "You sure?"

"Did I say anything?" she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her. "No, just went sheet white and your eyes went all round like they sometimes do." He kissed the top of her head. "Well, whatever you saw, forget it."

"I agree," Lake said, coming up next to them. "You're a knockout. So forget the worries and concerns." She handed her a little toy of a gold purse. "And go ride his Harley."

Kyle snorted.

Cora shook her head and breathed deep. Rogan was so real, or felt it. But it was rare she saw such clarity when awake. So did that mean what she saw was happening now? Or was it something, those rare times of what was to be?

"Sex. Harley." Lake took her hand and guided her to the door. "Forget the worries. Just remember we're having breakfast tomorrow." Then she stopped. "Actually, who knows. Make that lunch. We'll do lunch. I want to know all about it." Lake handed her a sweater-jacket thingy, which would be useless as far as Cora was concerned. It was ivory, crocheted with enough holes, she just looked at it.

"It's sexy, goes with the outfit and looks great." Lake shoved her out the door.

Cora looked back over her shoulder to Kyle who stood with hands in his pockets, frowning at her. "Help, please?"

A grin flashed across his face and he shooed her on. "Have fun, dear. And I agree with Lake. Safe sex and all that."

Rolling her eyes, she straightened her shoulders and walked out the door and down the short hallway to the living room.

Rogan stood talking to Hanson. Both turned as she walked into the room. Rogan stopped mid sentence, his eyes narrowed and she saw him breathe deep. His hair was still long, the shadow had been trimmed and shaved to a goatee, but it still gave him a rough look more than a straight-lined, cleaned-up appearance. Maybe she should have asked where they'd be going. But though he wore jeans, they were black, and the blue dress shirt was button down, the jacket a suit jacket and not the leather one he'd had on. Simple. Nothing fancy, but she figured dressed up for him. Those dark eyes zeroed in on her and raked her from her hair down over her go-without top, down her legs to stop at her sandals before slowly rising to her eyes. The look might as well been a heavy caress of his hand.

She fiddled with the strap of her purse. "Hi. You look nice."

One brow rose. "And you look fantastic."

Hanson smiled at her. "I told him he better treat you right or we'd trash his bike."

She smiled, ran a hand over her hair and strode to him. "Ignore them."

"You can't ignore family," Rogan said, walking towards her.

She tilted her head, looked at him, then at those around her and realized with a start he was right. "You're absolutely right."

Lake sighed and draped an arm around Kyle, sniffing. "Hear that, Kyle. Our little girl is finally going on a date. This is a momentous occasion. I think we should have brought the camera."

"No, the camcorder," Kyle said.

Hanson shook his head. "Go before they start into the safe sex lecture." He opened the door for them, and waited as they stepped into the outer hallway.

A door down the hall opened and Mrs. Kovoski glared at them. "Too much ruckus this time of evening." She scoffed. "Young people." Then she blinked, looked them up and down. "Hmph. You taking this one out?" She motioned to Cora with her silver walking cane.

Cora pulled the small sweater-thing on and wondered how Lake had found it in her closet because it wasn't hers.

"Yes ma'am." He walked to the stooped woman, who was in her late seventies, maybe eighties-Mrs. Kovoski always changed her age-and introduced himself. "Rogan Duran. And what is a lovely lady like you doing out here alone? You should have a date yourself."

Mrs. Kovoski narrowed her beady eyes on Rogan's and she snapped. "What makes you think I don't, young 'un?" But a smile played at the corner of her mouth and she smoothed a hand down her lavender and pink checkered blazer, which matched the polyester pink pants. "I'll have you know tonight is bingo at the citizen's center."

"And this young lady, I'll tell you, Rogan," said Hanson, coming to stand with them, "is just a man magnet. Beauty like hers and charm it's no wonder the men are always giving her gifts, flowers, coming to see her..."

"Who is it this week, Mrs. Kovoski?" Kyle asked her.

Mrs. Kovoski sniffed and raised her nose. "Well, if you must know, I'm going with Mavis. She and I are currently anti-men. Pain in the ass every last one of them. Think they can sit with you at bingo, looking at a bunch of numbers, eat across from you and bam, they want in your bed." She pushed her rhinestone-studded horn rims up and raked Rogan over with a look. "You thinking of taking this one to bed?"

He opened his mouth, frowned, then scratched the side of his head.

Mrs. Kovoski nodded and hphmed again. "Good. 'Bout time someone did."

"Mrs. Kovoski!" Cora wanted the floor to open and swallow her. Whole. Chewed, she didn't really care.

Mrs. Kovoski shook her head. "You make sure to get condoms. This day and age, and all that safe sex stuff. Never be too careful I say."

Without another word, Cora grabbed Rogan's hand and all but dragged him down the hallway and out the door. Great. She'd reached a new low. She was receiving sex advice from her eighty-year-old neighbor.

Chapter Thirteen.

Rogan watched her walk in front of him, the way those pants molded her ass, and the way her halter shirt left the top of her back exposed. At least, he'd caught sight of exposed bare back until she'd pulled on a short, sweater thingy that seemed more for show than warmth. Her hair was curled and partially pulled up, leaving just a glimpse of the curve of her shoulder and neck. He leaned over her to get the extra helmet he'd purchased. She was pressed in the front against his bike, her back to him. He couldn't help but breathe deep. Her vanilla scent even heavier than normal. While he had the chance, he whispered, "You do look fantastic." He kissed that bit of exposed skin along the column of the neck.

She shivered and he wished, for a moment, that he'd rented a car.

"Do you mind the bike?" he asked.

She turned and looked back and up at him over her shoulder. "No. I wanted to ride it again. It was great."

He smiled and nodded. "I figured as much." It seemed a shame to ruin such lovely curls, but helmets were helmets. He mumbled a sorry.

She laughed. "Don't worry."

He tugged the helmet on and leaned in to kiss her. She tasted as sweet as he remembered and he wished like hell he'd planned this better. Then the scene in the hallway burst into his brain and he smiled.

Shaking his head, he helped her onto the bike and missed seeing her smooth leg beneath the skirt she'd worn last night.

Climbing on, he revved the bike up, laughing with her as it rumbled to life.

Minutes later they pulled up in front of a Mexican food restaurant the B&B owner claimed was the best in town without being ostentatious or catering to the four star, golf club crowd.

The building was to code, or what he'd been terming as code in his mind. Stucco, arched windows and no tall neon signs.

Actually, it kept things...neat, he decided.

Leal's beckoned, spices and roasting, grilled meats wafting on the evening breeze.

"Oh," she said behind him. "How did you know?"

He climbed off. "Know what?"

"This is my favorite place." Her eyes twinkled up at him. For a moment he paused, something dark and unwanted moving over him. What if his coming here had put her in danger? Was he following the girls, or did they sometimes follow him.

He had no idea what was going on anymore, wasn't even going to try and figure it out. One thing he was certain of, he was sticking close to Ms. Cora O'Donnell and not just because of her eyes.

The interior of the restaurant fit with the exterior, southwest themed and simplistic styles. He rather liked it.

"Leal's is touted as one of the best places in town. Or at least that's what the brochure laying on my dresser claims."

She grinned and nodded. "It's right. The prices are great and won't break someone's checkbook and the atmosphere is wonderful. Irene and Lo run the best place in town."

Once seated she didn't even open the menu. He did, grinning at her over the top of it. "Eat here a lot, do you?"

She shrugged and crunched into a chip loaded with salsa. "My favorite. Why mess with a good thing?"

He closed the menu. "So what's good?"

"Everything."

Rogan ran his gaze over her again. The waiter came back and their orders were placed. He leaned back and said, "Okay, tell me something."

She sipped her water. "Like what?"

He shrugged. "Two things. One that everyone knows about you and the other that no one knows."

"Ah, a secret. But if I told you it wouldn't be a secret."

"True, but then we'd get an awkward moment out of the way. Nothing serious if you don't want."

She thought for a moment. "Okay, I like stars. Shapes, little stupid things to hang on the wall, little twinkling star wind chimes. I like stars."

He nodded. "I like Harleys."

Her chuckle danced out between them.

"As for a secret..." Her gaze dropped to the tabletop and she picked on the edge of her napkin. When she looked at him, he couldn't help but see the fear shift in the blue depths.

"What?" he asked, leaning up to grab her hand.

She shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing." Then she shrugged and shook her head. "What the hell. Sometimes I see things."

Okay. He frowned. "Like out your window?"

"Like in my mind."

The psychic thing. He sighed. "I'll admit this is all very new to me. Very strange. But at the same time, it's very believed in. So I don't disbelieve it. I've gone on what's called hunches before. What gave me that? Some sort of sixth sense? Or what? I don't know." He took a deep breath. For whatever reason, he wanted to know more about this woman. Not just superficial stuff. Not just to screw. He wanted to know her. He didn't know who would be more shocked if he admitted that. Him or her. So he kept that bit to myself.

"What do you see?"

Her face leached of color. "You don't want to know."

With his thumb, he lightly rubbed the back of her hand. "Yes I do. And from what I've read some people see things that were, that are and what will be. Some a variation thereof. So which category do you fall into?"

For a long moment she just stared at him. "I'm clairvoyant. For the most part I sometimes see things that are happening." She frowned again at the tabletop and propped her chin in her other hand.

He sighed. "I'd love to ask you all sorts of questions, but I already pushed for that one, so I guess I'll just have to be patient."

"For what?"

"For you to tell me whatever you feel like telling me?"

"Memory serves I already told you to leave me alone and go away."

He smiled, reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, sometimes I listen and sometimes I follow those hunches."

Her eyes dropped to his mouth. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. Heady spices of cumin, peppers and roasting meat filled the air. Latin music thrummed through the night.

"Where are you from?" she asked.

"I told you, Washington."

She tilted her head and studied him with those wicked eyes. "Yes, but big city boys like you who ride Harleys are usually running from something or looking for something else, otherwise you'd be driving a perfectly good silver or black Volkswagen to your job that you love."

He couldn't argue. "Maybe I'm looking for a change."

She leaned on the table, her elbows resting on the edge. "You're looking for something."

He looked away, relieved to see the waiter beside them with their entrees. For the rest of dinner, he steered the conversation to safer topics. Like weather, local interests, activities, favorite music, movies. Halfway through the meal, she decided to take off her little, non-existent jacket. Rogan took a long drink of his water.

"What?" she asked.

"You look great."

A small smile played at the edge of her mouth. "Really?" She tilted her head to the side. "How great?"