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superstores? She added a pair of black sweat pants and a gray t-shirt to the cart.
Legions of servants, Vanessa said, her voice wistful and yearning. One for your
hair, two just to dress you, one to fetch your coffee in the morning& She held up two
choices of men s underwear: shimmering black silk boxers and tight red bikinis. You
pick, Kate.
Gwen giggled.
Kate reached around Vanessa to choose instead a simple bag of tightie whities.
There s romantic, and then there s cheesy.
Vanessa looked again at her options, and put down the red bikinis. Alright, maybe
those were a bit much. She tossed the black silk boxers into the cart. But give the man a
choice.
A bag of white athletic socks followed the rest of the ensemble into the cart, and they
moved on to shoes.
Kate faced the racks of cheap white tennis shoes. I don t know his size.
Vanessa barely covered a giggle.
You re shameless, Gwen whispered, jostling her with an elbow.
Kate threw them both a stern look that dissolved into a grin.
I doubt you ll know his shoe size after tomorrow, either, Vanessa said practically,
and tossed a pair of size 8 s, 9 s and 10 s into the cart. It s a good thing men aren t
particular about their shoes.
Gwen tossed in a pair of 11 s. For good luck.
Giggling like teenagers, they left the men s wear aisles and headed for the grocery
section. Kate thought about the delicious hand-made pastries Paul had bought her. She
considered his demanding standards for coffee. I don t know if we can pull off the food
thing here.
After midnight, what choice do we have? Vanessa said. No all-night gourmet
takeout services here in Bonaventure.
Gwen patted Kate s shoulder. You ll be fine. There are universal food choices that
satisfy even the most educated palate after sex. Trust me.
Kate did, and wound up with a cart full of the crustiest bread available, olive oil,
Oreo cookies, a can of mixed nuts and two frozen pizzas. Kate added a dozen quart
containers of gourmet ice cream, exotic and complex in their ingredients.
That should do it. She glanced at her watch. Just enough time to make me
beautiful before dawn.
Gwen squeezed her hand. You re beautiful now.
With a cart full of fix-it-yourself romance, Kate did feel beautiful. But beautiful
enough to make Paul believe that their love was worth risking her life?
Chapter Sixteen
What the hell am I doing?
Kate pulled up to the curb in front of Paul s house. No lights shone in the windows
or on the porch. No sign of Sander. No sign of the & I can t even think the word, and I m
planning to take it home with me.
According to the Weather Channel, the sun would rise at 6:41 a.m. The clock on
Kate s dashboard glowed 6:01. She sat there, wrangling with fear, until the clock read
6:11. Am I more afraid, or am I more in love? The digital numbers morphed from 6:11 to
6:12. She forced herself out of the car and into the chilly remains of the night.
Cold fingers of air groped under her tan trench coat, up the line of her legs. Under
the trench, Kate wore one of Gwen s ethereal white cotton dresses. Inappropriate for the
weather, but Vanessa had insisted, saying it was only appropriate for a declaration of
love.
Yesterday s clouds had dwindled to a few gray strands wound among the last of the
pulsing stars. One gray wisp floated across the face of the almost full moon as she pushed
open the wrought iron gate. The world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for dawn.
No birds chattered, no breeze rattled fallen leaves. The gate squeaked as she pulled it shut
behind her.
Hello? she called softly. Paul? Her plan hinged on finding the demon in the
garden, because she assumed that somewhere inside the house was Sander Wald.
Sleeping, hopefully, and not watching from the window through a rifle scope or
something.
When calling for Paul got no response, she crept down the garden path. Demon?
No shadow lifted from the ground to greet her. She was both relieved and disappointed.
When she thought the demon was just Paul in another form, it seemed less horrible. The
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