Another summer storm was headed toward Eclipse Bay. Not a yippy little terrier of a storm like the one that had scampered through town last night and left everything damp. This one promised to be a real monster. It prowled and paced, sucking up energy from the sea while it waited for the cover of darkness.

Octavia stopped at the far end of the short stretch of beach and stood looking out over the quietly seething water. The tide was out. The brooding sensation was back.

A couple of days ago she had convinced herself that leaving Eclipse Bay at the end of the season was the right thing to do. Now she was not so certain. The strange feeling that she could not depart until she had accomplished whatever it was that she had come here to do had descended on her again.

Was her imagination going into high gear? Or was she already coming up with excuses to delay the day she walked away from Eclipse Bay and Nick and Carson Harte?

A shiver went through her. This was not good. This was risky rationalization and she did not do risky stuff. According to Claudia, the tendency to play it safe and not take chances was a major failing. She could still hear her aunt's words ringing in her head.

You know what I want you to do after I'm gone? I want you to go out and raise a little hell. Live it up. Take some chances. Life is too damned short as it is. You want to get to my age and have nothing interesting to look back on?

Okay, so she'd taken a mini-chance last night and what did she have to show for it? She'd cooked dinner for Nick Harte. Big deal. She'd kicked him out of the cottage before she'd even discovered whether or not he was sufficiently interested in having mad, passionate sex with her to bother to give her The Talk.

Playing it safe.

She had set out to walk off the restlessness after getting home from the gallery, but the exercise wasn't working as therapy. It was tempting to blame her mood on the advancing storm, but she knew there were other factors at work. One of them was the memory of the tension she had witnessed between Nick and Jeremy earlier that day.

Why was she allowing the thinly veiled hostility that had shimmered between those two get to her? It wasn't her problem if they had issues. She had her own issues. She had a business to sell. That sort of enterprise required planning and care. And then there was the move away from Eclipse Bay to engineer. For starters, she had to make arrangements to ship all of the stuff she had brought here. What on earth had made her bring so many of her personal treasures to the cottage? She should have left them at her apartment in Portland.

But the apartment in the city had always had a temporary feel. She had not been tempted to try to settle in there. It was her cottage here in Eclipse Bay that she had tried to turn into a home.

Lots of issues.'

Nick Harte.

Yes, indeed. Nick Harte was a big issue.

What was it about him that drew her? He was not her type. She had more in common with Jeremy Seaton, when you got right down to it.

This was getting her nowhere. Brooding was a waste of time and energy and it never, in her experience, resulted in good outcomes. The negative feelings simply fed on themselves and got heavier and more bleak.

It was time to get a grip. Take charge. Act responsibly.

She turned and started determinedly back along the beach.

She had almost reached the bottom of the cliff path when the overwhelming, primordial knowledge that she was not alone jangled her senses.

She looked up quickly and caught her breath when she saw Nick standing at the top of the bluff. The ominous early twilight generated by the oncoming storm etched him in mystery. His dark hair was ruffled by the growling wind. His black windbreaker was open, revealing the black pullover and jeans he wore underneath. Top bad there wasn't a photographer around, she thought. This shot would have been perfect for the back cover photo on one of his books.

For a timeless moment it was as if she'd been frozen by some powerful force, unable to move, barely able to breathe. But an acute awareness arced through her, raising the small hairs on the back of her arms. She ought to be getting used to the sensation, she thought. Nick Harte had this effect on her a lot.

With an effort, she forced herself to move through the oddly charged atmosphere and started up the cliff path. She climbed carefully, conscious of how the wind was whipping her long, white skirt around her legs.

"Looks like the weather people missed the call on this storm," Nick said when she reached the top. He glanced toward the looming chaos that threatened on the horizon. "Going to be a lot stronger than they predicted."

"Yes." She held her hair out of her face. "What are you doing here, Nick?"

"I brought dinner." His tone was casual to the point of careless, but his eyes were anything but casual. A dangerous energy crackled there in the blue depths. "Unless you've got other plans?"

She'd had some plans, she thought. But none of them sounded nearly as interesting as dinner with Nick. Or as reckless.

"You cooked dinner?" she asked, buying herself a little time to analyze the situation before she did something really, really risky like invite him into her cottage.

His mouth curved in a rakish grin that showed some teeth.

"Now, why would I sweat over a hot stove all afternoon when I've acquired a brother-in-law who owns and operates a restaurant?"

She found herself smiling in spite of the invisible lightning in the air. "Good question."

"I brought a picnic basket that is stuffed to the hilt with some of Rafe's finest delicacies. Interested?"

Live it up. Take some chances. Life is too damn short…

She breathed deep, inhaling the intoxicating vapors of the oncoming storm. "Are you kidding? If Rafe did the cooking, I'm more than interested. I'm enthralled."

"You know, I always knew that guy would turn out to be useful someday, even if he is a Madison."

"Where's Carson?"

"At Dreamscape."

"Handy built-in baby-sitting setup you've got there."

"I figure I'm doing Rafe and Hannah a favor by giving them a little hands-on practice."

She tilted her head a little. "Do they need practice?"

"Yeah. They're expecting. But don't say anything, okay? They're still in the process of notifying everyone in the family."

"A baby." A sweet, vicarious joy rushed through her. "That's wonderful. How exciting. When?"

"Uh, you'll have to ask Hannah. I forgot to check the date."

"How could you forget to ask when the baby is due?"

"I forgot, okay? So sue me."

"Men."

"Hey, I brought dinner. I think that's pushing the envelope of the SG thing far enough, don't you?"

"SG thing?"

"Sensitive Guy."

She arranged the contents of the picnic basket on the glass-topped dining room table while Nick built a fire. Rafe had outdone himself, she thought. There was an array of appetizing dishes including a beautiful vegetable pate, curried potato salad studded with fresh green peas, cold asparagus spears dressed in hollandaise sauce, little savory pastries filled with shrimp, and cold soba noodles steeped in a ginger-flavored marinade. There were also homemade pickles, Greek olives, and crusty bread from the Incandescent Body. A bottle of pinot noir bearing the label of an exclusive Oregon vintner rounded out the menu. Dessert consisted of tiny raspberry tarts.

"Oh, my," she murmured appreciatively. "This is lovely. Absolutely spectacular. And to think that I was going to fix a plain green salad for dinner. Rafe is amazing."

"Enough about Rafe," Nick said. He struck a match and held it to the kindling. "Let's talk about me."

"What about you?"

"I want full credit for selecting the wine."