Somewhere I'll Find You by Linda Swain Page B

had once been to the big mansion. But if she had been enchanted by the cottage ’s outer appearance , its name, acquired after a swift call to the real estate agent listed on the bright, leaning sign on the front lawn, sold her. 
    Seaview , the agent had called it.  The name, Paige had thought, was as perfect as the rest of the house.   It sparked her writer ’ s imagination of seafaring pirates and the sound of the ocean pounding along the shore.   She had purchased it immediately, disregarding the agent’s warning that the structure had been empty for many years and probably was in need of more than a little handiwork.  It had been one of the most impulsive decisions that Paige had ever made, and she had yet to regret it.  The cottage had called out to her, she thought, and she had answered it gladly.
    It was to the cottage , rather than the house on Mulholland Drive, to which she had retreated upon discovering her fiancé’s infidelity with a young starlet.  In the broken-hearted weeks that followed, Paige had focused on shutting out all t hought of Richard from her mind; all of her emotions focused instead on restoring and decorating the house, drawing her inspiration from unexplainable images that came without warning.  By the time the house was once more habitable, she had a beautiful little retreat … that she shared with no one.
    That is , until now.  She was too tired to argue with him, t o o weary to point out , once again , that his presence wasn’t welcome. Instead, Paige focused on the panorama that flew past her.
    Finally, at Paige’s muttered direction, Michael turned into a drive next to a cottage with cedar-lined bay windows.  It was a fanciful home trimmed with spring flowers that burst into froths of color up the walk.
    “I would have thought that the mansion would be enough,” he murmured.
    “I needed a place where I could breathe … and be alone .  A place where I could work in peace. ”  Silently , she tugged the keys from her purse before walking to the brightly painted red door. “Welcome to Seaview ,” she grumbled , moving inside .  “It’s stil l in need of repair in some spo ts, so watch your step.”
    To Michael’s surprise, it was not the rustic cabin of his imaginings .  There were paintings on the walls, with thick carpets on the floor. Running his hand along a polished rail, Michael stepped down a short set of stairs leading to the living room.  With an ease he was far from feeling, he moved to the fireplace, setting the kindling to blaze.   Perhaps it’s because I’m tired, but … He shook his head.  I know this place …
    He couldn’t shake the feeling of d éjà vu as he moved about the room, his mind drifting with sensations that coiled around him like a mist.
    “Are there any kind of alarm systems that I should know of?” he questioned casually.
    “There’s never been a need, ” she muttered, dropping her purse on to a low table near the door.
    “It’s the twenty-first century.  Nowhere is safe anymore.” 
    To Paige’s ears, i t sounded as if he’d had personal experience with the fact, but that was absurd.  He didn’t look like a man who thought about anything more serious than where he’d find the next night ’s bed partner.  Apparently, looks can be d eceiving, to use the old saw …
    She shivered. Michael’s emotions were so palpable that they stopped her in her t racks.  Senses other than her eyes told her that he was a man who wou ld always get what he wanted.  He was a ma n comfortable with who he was; o ne with power, one comfortable with using it over others.  But now, he was off-balance, bewildered by the torrent of events he was having trouble understanding.  She jumped when he finally broke the silence between them.
    “This isn’t the first time you’ve lived here.”  Squatting down, his hand easily moved aside a fragment of stone, his voice a low growl. “I know this is where she hid things.”  Reaching inside