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above. On either sides of the fireplace were large windows and sliding
glass doors that led to an outdoor patio.
    “That,”
Jason said, his arm sweeping to our left, “is every chef’s dream.” He took a
few steps and motioned for me to follow him into the kitchen, which was
completely open to the rest of the room. There was an extensive, u-shaped bar
with a total of 15 barstools, five sitting under each of the three sections. On
the kitchen side of the black granite bars were two, eight-burner gas stove
tops, and in the center was a deep sink with dishwashers placed strategically
on either side. There was even more counter space, a second sink and tons of
cherry cabinets along the wall behind us. Two over-sized, stainless steel
refrigerators rounded out the kitchen.
    “This
is all so amazing,” I said with disbelief. Pointing to our right, I said, “That
is one extreme dining table, too. Those pine benches go on forever and it looks
like they could easily seat 20 people on each side. Does all this belong to
Jessica’s family?”
    He
laughed and said, “I forget how overwhelming it is the first time you see it.
It feels like you’re trespassing on the grounds of the rich and famous.” He
slapped the granite countertop. “The island is owned by the Nelsons, but the
Retreat and other amenities are kind of like community property between the
Guardians of the Bellingham Circle.”
    “Well,
somebody’s got buku bucks,” I commented as my eyes wandered to a cozy little
area off to the left corner of the room. A couple cream couches, a big, flat
screen T.V. and some other multi-media equipment crowded that space. A grand
piano sat nestled in the very far, right corner of the room. Lush green, indoor
house plants and numerous candles brought a warm, country feel to the first
floor.
    Clicking
his tongue, he said, “There is some individual wealth, but we also have certain
protocols we follow which brings in money occasionally.”
    “Huh?”
    “Like
if we ever profit in any way from our premonitions, we contribute that money
towards the Guardian fund, much of which goes to the Retreat.”
    “How
would you profit?” I asked with confusion.
    “Different
ways. Occasionally a vision leads to solving a case or finding a missing person
in which there was a monetary reward.”
    “Oh,”
I said, still rather mystified.
    “Down
that hallway past the dining table is where you’ll find the library, home
theatre, work-out, and game rooms. But down this one,” he pointed just past the
kitchen, “is where we have the other five guest rooms. The ones we reserve for
the Bellingham folks when we have large gatherings.” He grabbed my suitcase,
and I followed him down the corridor.
    “Most
of these rooms have several bunks and will sleep large numbers of people.
Here’s the closest bathroom,” he said and stopped to flip on a light switch,
revealing a good-sized room with double sinks. “But your room has its own, so
no worries.” He continued on a short distance and stopped again. “This bedroom
here on the right is where you’ll be staying.” As he swung open the door, he
pointed down the hall and said, “I’ll be two doors down on the right if you
ever need anything.”
    Yeah
right, like you as my midnight snack I thought. “Okay,” I said, suppressing a
smile and following him and my suitcase into the bedroom. Turning abruptly, he
bumped into me. “Oops, sorry.”
    Standing
only inches apart, and gazing into his incredible eyes, I felt the urge to
trace the long scratch on his cheek. “No problem.” Gently, I reached up and
touched the red mark. His cheek was a bit prickly, because he hadn’t shaved.
His breathing hitched, and he looked at me guardedly. Blood coursed through my
veins, warming my whole body. Logic reminded me a relationship with him was
impossible, but my heart beat faster, and desire egged me on. I’d promised
myself to live in the moment, at least for this week. And at this precise
moment