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angry if she woke him up?
    Maybe he would if she expected him to drive her home. But she didn’t. She only wanted more of what he used to give her—a night of the most exciting sex imaginable. The Isaac she knew wouldn’t object to putting his talents to work, injured or no. After she’d stopped frequenting his place but before she married David, he’d called her many times, always in the middle of the night—just to get her attention, to remind her that he was waiting, willing and hoping she’d come back.
    It’d taken her ten years. But here she was.

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    W hen Claire opened her eyes and saw the sun creeping around the corners of her blinds, she pulled her extra pillow over her head. It couldn’t be morning. Not yet.
    “Claire? You going to answer or not?”
    Claire wished she could ignore the voice at her front door. Once she got up, she’d have to come to full awareness, and with full awareness she’d be faced with the memory of what she’d done last night. After ten years, she’d gone back to Isaac’s house, and his bed. But instead of being fulfilled, instead of feeling as satisfied as she once had, she battled regret—just as she’d expected. Served her right.
    Why had she given in after so long? She’d known he wasn’t what she wanted, that he could never be the kind of companion David had been.
    Shit…
    Bang. Bang. Bang.
    There went the door again. She had to deal with her sister whether she felt like it or not. Leanne knew she was home.
    “What do you want?” Claire remained where she was and, for a change, didn’t bother to soften her voice.
    “It’d be nice to know you survived the night, for one thing,” her sister yelled back. “I was supposed to check on you every few hours, remember?”
    Had she even tried? Or had she gotten drunk and passed out?
    Claire was willing to bet Leanne hadn’t thought of her until this morning.
    Her sister’s negligence might’ve hurt, except that Claire was used to it. All the care and attention between the two of them went in the other direction—from her to Leanne. As the baby of the family, Leanne was used to being coddled, and the sledding accident had only exacerbated that, all but cementing Claire as the one who would forever compromise, give, tolerate, cajole.
    “I’m alive,” Claire responded. “You can go home. You’re off the hook.”
    “That’s it?” Leanne’s surprise almost made Claire chuckle. “You’re not coming to the door?”
    “I have a head injury, remember?”
    “Does that mean you’re not working today?”
    Scooting closer to the nightstand, she checked the alarm clock. Eight-thirty. Her first appointment was at ten, and then she was booked solid until six, with a half-hour lunch break.
    Considering the size of her headache, she couldn’t stand on her feet all day. She didn’t want to field the questions she’d be asked, either. No doubt word of the incident had spread. Maybe it’d even been reported in the paper, like every other call to the sheriff’s department, including the minor ones. “I’ll have to cancel.”
    “Okay, well…” Leanne didn’t seem to know what to do with herself. It wasn’t enough of an excuse that Claire was hurt; Leanne was used to Claire being at her beck and call, whether it was convenient or not.
    Remembering Isaac’s mouth on her breast—and elsewhere—Claire barely stifled a groan. She was an idiot. But sleeping with her ex-lover wasn’t her only problem. What about the man who’d attacked her at the cabin? She had no idea who he was or what he’d wanted.
    The lost files and the information she’d picked up from what she’d managed to read complicated things further…?.
    The warning from her subconscious had been correct. This wasn’t a good morning. But she might as well confront it head-on.
    “Wait a second,” she called out.
    “I’m still here,” Leanne said.
    Frowning because of everything that’d passed between them last night,