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around enough agents and on enough missions to recognize that high stakes elevated her hormone levels. But under normal circumstances she’d still find Kane interesting. His slight accent and warm tone were seductive. And those dimples. She’d always been a sucker for dimples.
    However, she’d never, ever, been turned on by violence or force. The choice had to be hers.
    As she drove to her house at the end of the road, she realized he’d left the car to teach her she needed him. The incident on the stairwell could have been coincidence, but the dizzying sensations had nowoccurred twice, both times when they’d been apart. She shuddered, unwilling to experience them again. Clearly he’d done something to her but that didn’t mean she would surrender to his every demand.
    Driving through the gate, for the first time, she regretted the privacy of her home. Set back from the road, the location gave her a solitude she usually cherished. Tonight the isolation would work against her. No one would notice the lights burning late. No one would glimpse a strange man through the twelve-foot windows.
    Fallon debated whether to trip the security alarm that would summon the police. While the police could stop him from whatever he intended to do with her, suppose the cops separated them and she became ill? No one would believe her. They’d lock her away and she’d suffer horribly. She shuddered. She’d have to deal with this man by herself, figure out how he was making her ill and find a way to stop him.
    After opening the garage door with her automatic opener, she turned off the car, and disarmed the security system. She walked into the black-and-white kitchen with its array of plants, herbs and potted flowers to warm the decor. “Home, sweet home.”
    A home with all the amenities, a screened pool, cathedral ceilings and a phone in every room—including the bathrooms. She’d use her first opportunity to telephone the Agency and notify them of her situation. But would anyone in their right mind believe her?
    She gestured toward the entertainment centerin the den. “The television’s in there. I’ll just go freshen up.”
    She rounded the corner and walked into the bathroom. After closing the door, she flipped on the light. Believing she was alone, Fallon turned and discovered Kane had zapped himself into the bathroom.
    Startled, she gasped. “Why don’t you give me a little warning before you do that?”
    Kane leaned against the bathroom’s far wall and held her telephone, the disconnected cord dangling in one hand, his cocky grin telling her that he enjoyed playing games. “I’ll collect the rest of these so you won’t be tempted.”
    “Why? Because telling someone about you would be inconvenient?”
    “I’m glad you understand.” His austere features broke into a wide smile that revealed straight teeth. In the bright bathroom, she saw that his eyes weren’t black, but a deep sapphire-blue. Their gazes met for a moment, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he found her attempt to goad him humorous. She couldn’t seem to help appreciating his intelligence and the calm way he dealt with her defiance.
    Even worse, she was enjoying the electric connection between them that felt more like flirtation than anything dangerous. When he strolled out the door, she refused to shrink back against the sink to avoid contact. His hand lightly brushed her hip, causing pure heat to shoot up into her chest and down to her toes. She clenched the counter for support, determined not to reveal how much his casual touch hadaffected her, then slumped when she was finally alone.
    She had to get a grip. He was not someone she’d chosen to bring home. He’d inserted himself into her night and she had yet to determine how much of a threat he was. She imagined him walking—no, popping—from room to room, disconnecting every phone. She couldn’t summon help and couldn’t leave without becoming desperately ill. She was a prisoner, stuck with a