Amanda Stevens - Confessions of the Heart

Everything about Anna’s surgery and transplant had been almost textbook perfect. Michael had been so pleased by how readily her body had accepted the new organ and how quickly overall she’d recovered. Except for taking her daily meds, Anna had started to believe she could have a normal life again.

But Michael’s murder and the organ rejection, coming on the same day, had been two devastating setbacks that had shaken Anna to her core. Both had been grim reminders of how fragile her world had become. Nothing was ever going to be normal for her again, and for the first time since the transplant, she’d begun to question whether or not it had been worth it.

Then, on the same day she came home from the hospital, she received a call from Tom Bellows. He’d discovered the identity of her donor. Her name was Katherine Sprague, a thirty-nine-year-old author and teacher who’d died of a gunshot wound to the head, leaving behind a daughter, a husband and a sister, all of whom still lived in San Miguel, a small town about thirty miles south of San Antonio.

But even more distressing than hearing about the family Katherine Sprague had left behind was the news of how she’d died. She’d put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger. Anna was alive because of another woman’s utter despair.

Over the next few days, Katherine Sprague’s suicide continued to haunt Anna. For hours on end, she pored over the notes Tom had faxed her regarding his investigation. She ordered all of Katherine Sprague’s novels and read each of them in one sitting. She scoured the Internet for every scrap of information she could find. The research gave her something to focus on other than her own health problems and Michael’s death. It gave her a purpose, a mission. It gave her a mountain.

But Anna also knew that her natural curiosity and interest in her donor’s life was quickly becoming an obsession. She couldn’t put Katherine’s death to rest no matter how hard she tried.

And so she’d decided to come to San Miguel. Not to confront Katherine’s family with the reality of her transplant, but to, in some subtle way, touch Katherine’s life the way she’d touched Anna’s.

She shivered despite the intense heat. She’d never particularly believed in destiny or fate, but she couldn’t deny the connection she felt to the dead woman, or the strange pull she experienced as she stared up at Katherine Sprague’s sprawling Romanesque-style mansion with its arched windows and towering palm trees.

Located on the edge of town, the house was perched atop a small hill that provided a sweeping view of the San Miguel River. The spacious grounds were lush and colorful, but even with the exotic ambience—or maybe because of it—the mansion had a brooding quality, a faint air of isolation even though the nearest neighbor was just down the street.

There was something about that house…

Anna could almost feel the whisper of its secrets along her backbone.

Before she lost her nerve, she hurried up the paved walkway, climbed the steps to the wide stone veranda, and rang the front doorbell. Perspiration dampened her blouse as she waited for her first encounter with Katherine’s family.

A man answered the door. He was tall and well built, with broad shoulders, dark hair and piercing gray eyes that seemed to gaze at Anna with more than a fair amount of suspicion.

But the impression might simply have been her own conscience, she decided, trying to calm her nerves.

He was dressed in dark clothing that provided very little contrast to the deep shadows in the hallway behind him. For a moment, he appeared little more than a shadow himself.

Except for those eyes…

Anna’s breath quickened, and she experienced an odd sense of déjà vu as she gazed up at him.

Then the moment was over as he inquired impatiently, “Yes?”

Anna cleared her throat. “I’m—my name is Anna Sebastian. I’m here to see Gwen Draven. I believe she’s expecting me.”

“She lives in one of the guest cottages around back, but she’s not there.” His tone was blunt, still impatient. Not the least bit inviting. “She said something about running an errand. I guess she forgot she had an appointment.” His gaze swept over her, and Anna winced inwardly at what he must see. A woman who, at thirty-four, should have been in the prime of her life, but instead was too thin, too pale, too fragile-looking to be considered attractive.

She’d pulled her blond hair back in the same French twist she’d worn for ages, a style that had once made her look cool and sophisticated, she’d been told. Now the severe fashion only highlighted her gauntness. Her eyes were shadowed underneath, and some of the medications made her hands tremble. At least, she tried to convince herself that was the reason for her sudden nervousness.

The man’s gaze moved back up to her face. There was something in his eyes, an emotion she couldn’t quite define, that spiked Anna’s adrenaline to a dangerous level, leaving her a little light-headed.

She put a hand on the doorframe for support.

“Are you all right?” he asked with a scowl. “You don’t look well.”

“It’s the heat—” She broke off as he shifted his position in the doorway, and a shaft of light fell across his face. For the first time Anna saw the scar, and her adrenaline surged once again, causing her heart to pound uncomfortably.

She knew him! He was the man from the elevator, the one who had captured her attention that day in the Chase Tower. The man she’d dreamed about so intimately…

Oh, my God!

Anna tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help herself. Finding him here, in Katherine Sprague’s house, jolted her.

“Maybe you’d better come inside and wait for Gwen.” His tone had warmed slightly even though Anna knew he’d been aware of her reaction. And he undoubtedly thought it was because of his appearance.

“I—I don’t want to impose.” Anna was stunned to find herself stammering. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so disconcerted.

“And I don’t want you passing out on my doorstep.” He stepped back and motioned her inside. “We can hear Gwen’s car in the drive when she gets home. Come in,” he insisted when Anna still hesitated. “I won’t bite.” And then, as she moved past him, she could have sworn she heard him mutter, “Not before sundown anyway.”

Anna waited in the dim, cool hallway as he closed the door, and then she followed him into a large living area off to the right. The room was done in autumn tones of browns and greens with an occasional splash of red thrown in for contrast. Strange wooden masks lined the walls, adding to the exotic flavor of the décor, as did the dramatic touches of animal prints in plush throws and pillows. The furniture and floors were a gleaming mahogany, but the plastered walls, high-beamed ceilings, and filtered light from a row of shuttered French doors kept it just short of oppressive. Anna actually found it cool and restful after the blistering heat of outdoors.

“My name is Ben Porter.” He motioned her toward a seat. “I’m Gwen’s brother-in-law.”

“How do you do?” Anna recognized his name from Tom’s research. He was an ex-cop who’d married Katherine Sprague just a few months before she died.

Anna wanted to believe her reaction to the man had everything to do with the rather bizarre coincidence of finding him here, but even that day in the elevator, when he’d barely glanced in her direction, he’d sparked something inside her. She’d told herself the scar on his face had drawn her attention, aroused her curiosity, but she wondered suddenly if it was something more.

And this house.

It was dark and foreboding, with its heavy furniture and shuttered windows, and yet there was something enticing about it just the same. Some mysterious pull that made Anna want to explore all of its deep, dark secrets.