The sixth book in the Women of the Otherworld series, 2006

A huge debt of thanks is owed to my agent, Helen Heller, and my editors-Anne Groell at Bantam US, Anne Collins at Random House Canada, and Antonia Hodgson at Time Warner UK-for putting up with my endless fretting and fussing on this one. They were as patient and supportive as any writer could want…though I wouldn’t blame them if, at times, they wanted to throw me in a dimensional portal.

Thanks to my readers, Laura, Raina, and Xaviere for catching my gaffes, and saving me the embarrassment of answering “how come?” questions from confused readers.

Finally, this time around I want to give a shout-out to Xaviere Daumarie, the cover artist for all my online novellas and stories. In 2005, I did a short story a month, and she somehow managed to do a wonderful piece of original cover art for each…even when all she had to work with some months was “I haven’t written the story yet, but I think it’ll be something about…”

CLAYTON DOESN’T DO “UNOBTRUSIVE” WELL. NOT EVEN when he tries, and that afternoon, he was trying his damnedest. He was downwind of me, at least two hundred feet away, so I couldn’t smell him, see him or hear him. But I knew he was there.

As I stood under the oaks, I couldn’t suppress a twinge of resentment at the pressure his presence added to an already gut-twisting situation. Yes, I’d been the one to suggest the run, leaping up from the lunch table and declaring I was ready. He’d asked if he should stay inside-possibly the first time in our fifteen-year relationship that Clay had been willing to give me space. But I’d grabbed his hand and dragged him out with me. Now I was blaming him for being here. Not fair. But better than to admit that what I felt was not resentment but fear-fear that I would fail, and in failing I would disappoint him.