Carla Cassidy - Manhunt

She wouldn’t mind having the love of a good man in her life, but that wasn’t likely to happen as long as she lived here in Cherokee Corners. Too many of the eligible bachelors in town were either frightened by her or thought her crazy.

Besides, she didn’t have time for romance. Between running the bed-and-breakfast and the ice-cream parlor, she barely had time to breathe. Things were especially busy this time of year, when the late-August heat made the thought of a banana split or a sundae particularly attractive and tourists filled the town.

Things would slow down in a couple of weeks when school began again. The kids of the town would disappear back into classrooms and the tourists would return home until next summer.

“I’ll be right back,” Alyssa said. “I’ve got to get more sprinkles from the storeroom.”

“While you’re doing that I’ll make sure all the tables and chairs are clean,” Mary replied.

Alyssa smiled her thanks, then entered the storeroom and began the hunt for the candied sprinkles amid the other stock. As she searched she heard the tinkling bell over the ice-cream-parlor door announce the arrival of the first customer of the day.

“Good afternoon.” Mary’s voice rang out with her usual cheerfulness. Good afternoon to you, too.” The deep, smooth male voice was unfamiliar to Alyssa.

“What can I get for you? Our special this week is our Brownie Delight for only ninety-nine cents,” Mary said as Alyssa located the plastic jug of candy sprinkles.

“Actually, I’m not here for ice cream. My name is Nick Mead and I just arrived in town. Ruby from the café across the square sent me over here. I need a room.”

At that moment Alyssa stepped out of the store room and had her first look at the man inquiring about a room. Shock held her rooted in place. A rushing wind resounded in her ears as the plastic jug of candy slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.

“We have no rooms available.” She heard the voice above the roar of the wind and recognized it as her own.

“Alyssa…remember, the Carlsons checked out late last night. The blue room is available,” Mary said.

Words of protest refused to rise to Alyssa’s lips as Nick Mead’s intense blue eyes gazed at her curiously.

All she knew was an incredible need to escape from his gaze, from his very presence. “You take care of it, Mary.” With the roar of dangerous winds still deafening her, Alyssa left the jug of sprinkles lying where it had fallen and escaped through the door that led to her private living quarters.

She went directly to the sofa and sank down, afraid her trembling legs wouldn’t hold her up a moment longer. The vision. She grabbed a strand of her long dark hair and worried it between two fingers, trying to shove away the thought of the recurring vision she’d been having for the past month or so.

She’d suffered with visions all her life but none had been as vivid, as disturbing as the one that had recently haunted her, the one that had included a man who looked exactly like the one who had just walked into her establishment.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, lost in a haze of stunned shock, when a light tap on her door pulled her from her nightmarish reverie. “Come in,” she called.

The door opened and Mary peeked her head in, concern wrinkling her forehead. “Are you okay?”

For a split second Alyssa wanted to tell Mary exactly what tormented her, but she’d told nobody about the terrifying, horrible visions she’d been experiencing. She now tried to shove those images aside and focus on her friend.

She forced a smile to her lips. “I’m fine. I don’t know what happened in there. I was suddenly very light-headed and dizzy.”

“Have you eaten anything at all today?” Mary sighed audibly as Alyssa shook her head. “I swear, Alyssa, you’re up before dawn every morning cooking breakfast to take care of your guests, but you never take the time to take care of yourself.”

“I’ll fix something now,” Alyssa said. “I’m just giving myself a minute or two to get my feet back under me again.”

“Take your time. I’ve got everything under control,” Mary assured her. “I got Mr. Mead settled in the blue room. I don’t know if you noticed or not before you got all wobbly, but that man is definitely lust-after material.” Mary winked, wiggled her fingers in a goodbye gesture, then closed the door and left Alyssa alone.

Alyssa closed her eyes and drew a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. She still felt cold and shaky and knew it was the residual effects of experiencing complete and utter shock. Nick Mead. She now knew his name. Mary had said he was “lust-after material” but she didn’t have to tell Alyssa that. Although she was a virtual stranger to Nick Mead, he was intimately familiar to her.

For the last month she’d had visions of making love to a stranger, a handsome man with dark hair and ice-blue eyes. She knew exactly how his lips made demands when he kissed, knew the white-hot heat his caressing fingers could evoke. She knew the rhythm of his hips against her own as they made hot, frantic love.

She knew all this and yet she hadn’t known his name until now, had never met him before today. For the past month she’d been haunted by visions of the handsome Nick Mead, visions that came from some unidentifiable force, visions that almost invariably came true.

She had no idea what force had brought him here to Cherokee Corners, but she didn’t want him here. She didn’t want him in town and she certainly didn’t want him under her roof. Danger…her brain screamed. His appearance here, the reality of him, made her head ache with dread.

But he was here…in Cherokee Corners, a guest in her bed-and-breakfast. Maybe he would only stay the night then be gone with the morning dawn.

Struggling up to her feet, a momentary wave of hope winged through her at this thought. If he left first thing in the morning, then it was quite possible she wouldn’t see him or talk to him again and maybe her terrible visions of him would cease.

An icy chill once again clutched her as she thought of the visions that had haunted her for the past month. The visions of making love to him wasn’t what frightened her, but each time, the vision ended with her stabbing him in the chest…stabbing him over and over again.

As Nick unpacked his suitcase and hung his clothes in the armoire and dresser in the charming room decorated in various shades of blue, his thoughts weren’t on his surroundings but rather on the woman he’d seen briefly downstairs.

The antithesis of Dorrie, who had been sunshine and light, Alyssa Whitefeather had seemed like a woman cloaked in darkness.

Long, black hair had spilled down over her shoulders and her skin tones had been dusky, the cinnamon tones of Native American blood. High cheekbones had further attested to her heritage. Her eyes, dark blue, had been a shock, startling with their unexpected hue.

She’d been wearing a shapeless light blue sundress but it had been easy to tell that beneath the flowing material she was thin, but not without feminine curves.

As he took his toiletries into the adjoining bathroom, he couldn’t help but contemplate the expression that had taken over her lovely features in the instant she’d gazed at him.

Shock…stunned disbelief…it was as if she’d seen a ghost when she’d looked at him.

He stacked his personal items on the sink countertop. Shaving cream, razor, cologne, deodorant and a large bottle of aspirin marked the territory as his own for the duration of his stay, a stay he’d told Mary would be indefinite.

Maybe he looked like an old boyfriend who’d dumped her, or a cheating ex-husband. He knew for sure he’d never seen her before in his life. Nick had a knack for remembering faces. He wasn’t always great with names, but faces he never forgot and he was positive he’d never seen Alyssa Whitefeather before in his life.