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well-lit studio.
    "Oh, you're a painter?"
    "Possibly."
    The agent hadn't been quite sure how to respond to that so he'd
    continued reciting the few other facts he had about the mansion on the
    cliff. "The furniture on the ground floor and the second level is quite old
    and hasn't been kept in repair. It will probably be dusty and somewhat
    rickety." He had glanced up from his notes, wondering if that had
    discouraged his client. "I'm sure I could find you a much more
    comfortable place on the coast, Miss Bond. Considering the amount of
    money you're prepared to spend for a month's residency, almost any of my
    owners would be more than happy to rent to you."
    "No, no, this place sounds perfect. I want something with atmosphere.
    Tell me about the tower."
    The agent had cleared his throat and gone back to his notes. "Other
    than the fact that it has one, I can't tell you too much about it. I've never
    actually seen the mansion, you realize. All I've got is some information the
    present owner supplied in a phone call. I believe he said that the tower
    had curving windows on the second level, however, and that there was a
    nice tiled room there."
    "Sounds perfect for writing."
    The agent had frowned in confusion. "You're a writer?"
    "Maybe."
    "I see. Well, there are several bedrooms on the second floor. The ground
    floor has the usual kitchen, library and parlors. It's quite a big place, you
    understand, Miss Bond. Huge, in fact. Are you sure you want to rent this
    much space?"
    "Yes."
    "And the owner didn't want to go to the expense of having it cleaned…"
    "That's okay."
    The agent had finally abandoned the task of trying to dissuade her.
    "Very well, here's the rental agreement." Cassie had signed without any
    hesitation.
    Now, in spite of the fog and rain, she was well pleased with her decision.
    Parking the car under the elegant porte cochere, she dug the house key out
    of her purse and climbed out to stand beneath the stone structure. She
    eyed the door ahead of her, head tilted to one side.
    "You know," she remarked to the sulking Ferrari, "all this place needs is
    Dracula opening the front door and the sense of atmosphere would be
    complete." Then her brows snapped together in irritation as she realized
    that she was visualizing Justin Drake standing in the carved doorway.
    Such images were more than a little disturbing on a night like this.
    Whatever had made her think of him?

    Two hours behind Cassie, the man she thought of as Dracula was
    experiencing no problems at all with his Ferrari. Justin Drake drove
    through the gathering storm with the same casual skill he did almost
    everything else. His excellent reflexes responded to the rapidly changing
    road conditions with speed and efficiency, leaving his mind free to
    consider once again the course of action he had undertaken.
    Cassandra Bond deserved what was going to happen to her, he told
    himself. Did she really think she could get away with blackmailing him?
    She had nerve, that was for sure, but she needed to be taught a lesson.
    People didn't corner Justin Drake and then proceed to issue orders the
    way Cassie had done, not without paying a price.
    He thought of her as she had appeared the night of Alison's party, the
    golden-brown hair amusingly disheveled and the beautiful makeup
    smudged. The gown had been expensive but she had wiped her palms on it
    as if she had been wearing a pair of jeans. The memory made his mouth
    twist into its parody of a smile and his dark eyes narrowed fractionally.
    Until he was introduced to Cassie, Justin would never have guessed she
    and Alison were related. Alison's blond hair was always in a perfect halo
    around her beautiful face, framing guileless blue eyes and a charming
    little nose. She wore her clothes and her breeding with grace and
    familiarity. Alison was a lovely creature who fitted into her wealthy social
    milieu perfectly. She was exactly what Justin had decided he wanted.
    It was infuriating to have been deprived