Whispers by Erin Quinn Page A

the bad blood between them.
    He followed her to a door at the end of the hall where she stopped. The horse-dog waited at her feet, watching him with a cold and steady look.
    “ Gracie.” He reached out as he said her name, but the dog advanced with lightning speed and a low growl. Reilly took a hasty step back.
    “ Juliet,” Gracie reprimanded in a harsh whisper. “No. Friend. Friend.”
    She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Reilly’s middle in another of the meaningless hugs she’d given him earlier. The warmth of her body came through the light embrace and toyed with his overwrought senses. Her hair smelled of coconut, her skin of something sweet and seductive, a scent he knew he’d be thinking of long after she left. The tension in her body seemed to travel like a current to his and he wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight against him. She pulled back, looking at him with a mixture of hurt, anger and mystified yearning that he understood all too well.
    She let go and went into her room without a word. The horse-dog shot him another dirty look before following. Reilly remained where he was, staring at the painted door as it closed in his face.
    “ Christ,” he muttered in the darkness. He should just cut his losses and get the hell out of Dodge now, before he dug himself any deeper. But he wouldn’t. That much he knew for certain.
     
    ***
     
    GRANDMA Beck’s inner sanctum was one Gracie had rarely breached in the seventeen years of living here. Carolina Beck had been an intensely private woman, known by all, yet truly known by none, least of all her granddaughter. As Gracie closed and locked the door, she couldn’t help feeling like a trespasser. The room was freezing cold and after the sweltering heat of downstairs it brought gooseflesh to her arms and shivers through her body. She looked around for the vent, thinking this explained why the rest of the house hadn’t cooled. Obviously, all of the air dropped into this room and went no farther. Maybe if she closed the vent a little, it would force the cool air to the rest of the house. But the outlet had to be behind one of the heavy pieces of furniture, because she couldn’t find it anywhere else.
    Frowning, she gave up her search. Trying to keep her mind blank, she stripped and remade the bed, pausing for a moment with the old sheets in her hands. They smelled of Avon’s Skin So Soft lotion, which her grandmother had used since the beginning of time. The scent pulled her back to when she was young and Grandma Beck had held her and loved her. Tears blurred her eyes as she dumped the sheets in the laundry basket.
    The clock on Grandma Beck’s nightstand read three a.m. After making up the bed with a clean set of sheets she found in the linen closet, Gracie put on the oversized T-shirt and boxers she slept in and laid down. Juliet circled a few times, looked up sheepishly, and then tried her luck for the end of the bed. Exhausted and still reeling from the traumatizing day, Gracie didn’t scold her. Not tonight. Tonight she was grateful for the company.
    She reached for the small bedside lamp and paused, hand halfway to the dangling chain, as a trickle of unease slid down her spine. Juliet lifted her head and gave a low growl as Gracie let her gaze slowly track the room. Shadows bathed the corners in twilight and cast stark silhouettes against the bulky furniture. The rain continued to pound the roof and the thunder boomed at irregular intervals. But the room was as still as only the hours after midnight can be.
    And yet... She sat up, leaving the light on. Her skin pricked, her senses honed in to identify the source of her anxiety. It felt like ... She was being watched.
    Juliet’s growl trailed off, but she remained alert, her attention fixed on the corner by the window.
    “ What do you see?” Gracie breathed.
    She slipped from beneath the covers, shivering in the plunging cold of the room. Juliet got to her feet, too, but