Last night was different.

Leona was still trying to analyze and organize her emotions the next morning when she and Oliver, accompanied by an enthusiastic Roxy, who had reappeared at dawn, went downstairs to breakfast. Yes, the sex had been amazing—unlike anything she had ever experienced. Eye-opening. She hadn’t even needed the vibrator that was still sitting in her bedroom drawer in Illusion Town.

She had not had to fake anything with Oliver. Instead, she had been free to throw herself into the storm. In the end, there had been something beyond the physical involved. She would never forget that moment of breathtaking, incredibly intimate resonance. The word transcendent was overused but it was difficult to come up with another description for what had happened. The sense of a shared connection, however brief, was unique. Different.

The downside of discovering real passion was that, statistically speaking, it was extremely unlikely she would encounter another man who stirred her senses the way Oliver had. Maybe this was what Molly had discovered with Joshua.

On balance, there was no doubt that last night had been a life-changing event—at least for her—and not just because of the sex. He had given her a new perspective on the old sense of guilt she had harbored all these years. Her younger self hadn’t failed to act when Molly was taken. She had launched what had proven to be a successful rescue. The moms had assured her that she had done what needed to be done, but somehow it sounded different coming from Oliver. It sounded logical.

When they reached the entrance of the small dining room, she gave Oliver a sidelong glance, once again trying to read his reactions to what had happened between them during the night. Once again, she was forced to abandon the attempt. He had awakened one hundred percent focused on the problem of Vortex and the upcoming interview with Norton Thacker. He was a man who understood priorities.

Until now, she had not realized how annoying priorities could be.

Edith Fenwick was pouring coffee for the paranormal investigators. Darla Price and Baxter Richey were seated at a table near the window. They waved a good-natured greeting.

“Good morning, you two,” Darla sang out. “Any manifestation sightings last night in your room?”

“Afraid not,” Leona said.

“Oh,” Darla said, disappointed. “That’s too bad.”

“What about cold spots?” Baxter added, ever hopeful.

“Things were definitely not cold in that room last night,” Oliver said, with more than a trace of masculine satisfaction.

Leona gave him a repressive look. He ignored it.

“Make yourselves at home,” Edith said. She bustled forward with the coffeepot. “I was just telling the other guests that you are all going to be here for a while. The bridge got washed away last night.”

Leona chilled. “The storm didn’t seem that bad.”

“No,” Oliver said. “It didn’t.”

He did not appear surprised, Leona realized.

“Doesn’t take much to wash out that old bridge,” Edith said. “We lose it a couple of times every year. Don’t worry, it will get fixed in a few days. Coffee?”

“Thanks,” Leona said.

She sat down at one of the round tables. Oliver took the chair across from her. Roxy wriggled out of Leona’s grasp and perched on the back of a vacant chair.

“Help yourself to the buffet.” Edith poured coffee and smiled benignly at Roxy. “What do dust bunnies eat?”

“I think the real question is, what don’t they eat?” Leona said. “Roxy will be fine. I’ll fix a plate for her from whatever is on the buffet, if that’s okay.”

“There will be an extra charge,” Edith warned.

“No problem,” Leona said.

“All right, then,” Edith said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Oliver picked up his coffee and looked across the small room at Baxter. “Find any more evidence of Vincent Lee Vance’s late-night visit?”

“We did, as a matter of fact,” Baxter said, clearly elated. “The rez-screen in room three-oh-eight also came on. The door was unlocked so we took the liberty of checking inside. I hope that was okay, Ms. Fenwick? We didn’t touch anything.”

Edith Fenwick snorted. “Don’t worry about it, but I can tell you right now you wasted your time. Those old rez-screens act up a lot at night. You can’t blame it on Vance’s ghost. The problem is Margo Gibbs.”

“Who’s Margo Gibbs?” Darla asked.

“She runs the station at the end of Main Street. She installed the rez-screens here at the inn. Must have done something to them that allows her to rez them remotely whenever she takes a notion—which is whenever she takes a notion to scare the tourists. The rest of us put up with it because channel one is the only rez-screen entertainment available in these parts.”

Baxter looked crestfallen. Darla remained skeptical.

“Are you sure that’s why the rez-screens came on last night?” she asked.

“Margo drinks.” Edith grunted. “A lot. Says she likes to give visitors a little thrill. Claims they came to town to see a ghost, so she gives ’em one. She knew there were some guests here at the inn last night, so she must have cranked up that old Vincent Lee Vance video. Sorry it woke you up.”

Evidently unconvinced or maybe just optimistic, Baxter and Darla went back to their meals.

Edith looked at Leona and Oliver. “This is your day to visit Thacker, isn’t it? Remember what I said yesterday—you’ll want to take a real close look at whatever he tries to sell you.”

“We appreciate the advice,” Oliver said.

Leona rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get breakfast.”

Oliver stood, too. “Good idea.”

Evidently realizing where they were headed, Roxy bounced up onto Leona’s shoulder. From her perch she surveyed the muffins, eggs, toast, cereal, and fruit on the buffet. She chortled encouragingly when Leona selected a muffin.

“Okay,” Leona said. “One for you, too.”

Roxy chortled again.

“Right,” Leona said. “Two for you.”

Roxy chortled.

“Choose something else,” Leona said in low tones. “We can’t take all of them. The other guests might want some more.” She continued on down the buffet table. “How about some eggs?”

Roxy chortled approval.

By the time they reached the end of the buffet table, there was a small mountain of food on Roxy’s plate.

“It will be interesting to see if she actually finishes all that,” Oliver remarked.

Roxy cleaned the plate. When she was done, she chortled, bounced off the table, and fluttered across the dining room. She disappeared into the kitchen.

“Uh-oh,” Leona said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

She jumped to her feet and hurried to the kitchen doorway. Edith was at the back door with Roxy, who was chortling.

“I’m not sure if I should let you outside,” Edith said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Let me check with Dr. Griffin.”

“It’s okay,” Leona said, relieved that Roxy wasn’t running wild in the kitchen. “Dust bunnies like to explore. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Edith said.

She opened the door. With a farewell chortle, Roxy tumbled outside and vanished.

“Thanks,” Leona said.

She went back into the dining room and sat down at the table. “Crisis averted.”

“For now,” Oliver said.

“I wasn’t worried.”

“You were worried.”

“Maybe a little.” Leona lowered her voice. “What about the bridge? Aren’t you concerned about the fact that it’s washed out? You heard Edith. We could be stuck here for a few days.”

“Now, that,” Oliver said, “may be something to worry about.”