“What the hell?”

He sat up and looked down at the crumpled fabric in his hand. It took him a moment to realize that he was holding a silken sheet sewn into the shape of a Chloe-sized sack.

He rolled out of the sagging bed and got to his feet. The door that separated the adjoining rooms stood half open. Chloe was in the other room. She was sitting at the table in front of the computer busily making notes in a small notebook.

There was something very intimate about seeing her like this, first thing in the morning, he thought. She was wearing the pants she’d had on yesterday, but the top was different, a dark green turtleneck this time. It was obvious that she had showered. Her coppery hair was still damp. She had pulled it back behind her ears to dry. The motel’s limited assortment of amenities probably didn’t extend to hair dryers.

He smiled. She didn’t have the soft, warm, inviting air of a lover who had just gotten out of bed after hours of great sex. She looked like a determined investigator who was hard at work. But he was pretty sure he’d never seen a sexier woman in his life.

For a moment he just stood there, absorbing the sight of her, the sensation of her subtle feminine power, and remembering the bone-deep sense of intimacy that had connected them last night. He was aware of a compelling need to keep her close, keep her safe. But the shattering truth was that at the moment he was the biggest threat she faced. A guy who could kill with the energy of pure fear. How could that work? If he ever lost control . . .

She looked up. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied.

She gave him a critical head-to-toe survey and nodded once, evidently satisfied. “You look a lot better than you did yesterday or the day before.”

He rubbed his jaw, testing the stubble of a beard. “I haven’t checked a mirror yet, but I’ve got a hunch that I look like hell.”

Laughter glinted in her eyes. “Don’t worry, the slightly unshaved look is still in fashion.”

“I’ve got a shaver in my overnight kit.”

“Good thing we both came prepared to spend a night away from home,” she said lightly.

He did not return her smile. “I wasn’t fully prepared last night,” he said quietly. “In fact, you could say I never saw last night coming. I woke up in the middle of a sleepwalking episode and you were there, and then we were in bed. There was no thinking or planning involved.”

She didn’t get it right away. Then he saw understanding hit. She turned pink and was suddenly very busy with the computer.

“Yes, well, I’m sure there won’t be a problem. I mean, it was only the one time. What are the odds?”

“Probably not a good question to ask in Vegas.” He folded his arms and propped one shoulder against the door frame. “You’re not using anything?”

She cleared her throat. “Well, no. There hasn’t been any reason to use anything. I told you, I’ve moved on. I’m in a new phase.”

“Right. The celibate lifestyle thing.” He waited. “So how is that working for you?”

She turned very pink, gave him a frosty glare and angled her chin. “We were both flying on a lot of energy last night. There was a bed in the room. We’re both mature adults. Sometimes things just happen.”

“Even in the middle of a celibate lifestyle?”

“I think it’s time that you took a shower so we can go get some breakfast,” she said coolly.

“One more thing,” he said.

She looked wary. “What?”

He held up the silken sheet. “What’s with the little sleeping bag?”

At first he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she shrugged and turned back to the computer.

“It’s hard for me to sleep in bedding that has absorbed the dream psi of other people,” she said. “Silk acts as a partial barrier to that kind of energy. I never leave home without that sheet.”

“If you can barely stand to sleep in a bed that other people have slept in and if the energy given off by dreamers disturbs you, how did you manage to sleep with me?”

She went very still, staring hard at the computer screen. Her fingers froze in midair.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “It was different with you.”

He watched her for a long moment. “And if it turns out you’re pregnant?”

This time the silence lasted for an eternity. And then her hand fluttered lightly over her slim belly.

“That would be different, too,” she said finally. “I’ve always assumed that I would probably never have children.”

“And now?” He didn’t know why he was pushing her. She was right. The odds were good that she wasn’t pregnant. But for some reason he had to know.

She glanced at the carpet behind him and smiled a little as if whatever she saw there satisfied her. He knew she was looking at his psi prints.

“You would make an excellent father,” she stated.

She went back to work on the computer. Keys clicked madly.

He couldn’t think of anything to say. He was, according to all the definitions of the Arcane Society, half monster. He carried a genetic twist that would go down through future generations. And she thought he would make a terrific father?

Smiling a little, he went back into the other room and headed for the shower.