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By Angela Knight

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Fitzroy," Archer said from the doorway. " "I need to talk to you a minute. " He shot Dana a hard look. " She slumped down in her chair with a sigh of disgust. Michael Fitzroy followed Archer into the interview room and shut the door. " He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Repeated psychic sessions always gave him a murderous headache. "They'll cooperate fully for the next forty-eight hours or so. " Fitzroy lifted a graying eyebrow. " Archer shrugged. "You can handle them. " Which should be a lot more fun.

Not now. She whirled back to him, eyes widening. "But I told you, I'm not going to use any of the vampire stuff. " "Too bad. " "Dana, I flushed Satterfield's plot by using psi on the WAB's founder and ordering him to recommend me to anybody planning something big. If you report this, Jonah Howard will get suspicious, and he won't let me get close enough to influence him again. " Well, it sounded plausible, anyway. In reality, Howard would have a hell of a time keeping Archer away no matter how suspicious he was.

It seemed to fill her vision. And the T-shirt fabric clung, so she could see all that fascinating masculine topography. Like the way the black material tented over the tiny nub of his left nipple. She wet her lips and resisted the impulse to look down, see if something else might be protruding beneath his jeans. "You shouldn't be afraid," he said, his velvet and whiskey voice curling around her senses. Archer lowered his head toward hers, his hair falling forward. Dana watched, hypnotized, as strand slipped over dark, gleaming strand, tumbling in slow motion against the stern rise of his cheek.

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