LITMIR.BIZ

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      The fire was alive, fueled by dry timbers and a chemical dreamed up in a lab thousands of miles away. Jeff was familiar with the smell, the heat and the destruction. He hated the fire. It showed no mercy. At times he would swear he heard it laughing as it destroyed.

      It was only after he’d gone into the center square of the village that he became aware of the sounds. The crack of timbers breaking as they were consumed, the gunshot sound of glass exploding, the screams of the villagers. The soft crying of a lost child.

      He knew this village. Every building, every person. He knew that just beyond the rise in the path was the river. He could walk through the fire again and again and never be touched. Because this village was a part of him, a creation of his mind and he was drawn to it night after night. No matter how he fought against the dream, it pulled him in, sucking him toward hell as surely as the fire crept toward the truck at the edge of the square and caught it in its grasp.

      A sharp cry caught his attention. He turned and saw a teenage girl running from a burning building. A support beam creaked and tipped, then fell toward her. Jeff saw it happen in slow motion. He took one step, then another. He reached for the girl, determined to pull her to safety. He put out his hand.

      She reached toward him in response. Slowly, achingly slowly, she raised her head until she could see him. Then her mouth opened wider and she screamed as he’d never heard another human being scream before. Sheer, soul-numbing terror.

      She jerked away from him and ran toward the river. The support beam tumbled to the ground, narrowly missing her as she fled. Jeff took a step after her. Only then did he notice that all the villagers were racing away from him. They pointed and screamed, acting as if he were a threat worse than the fire.

      An aching coldness filled him. Unable to stop himself, he walked toward the river, toward the small pool fed by the flowing water. Fire raged all around him, but he remained untouched by the destruction. People ran past him, screaming, darting out of his way. A mother raced by, a toddler in her arms. The small child cried when he saw Jeff, then ducked his head into the curve of his mother’s neck.

      They ran and ran until he was alone. Alone and standing by the pool. And even though he didn’t want to look, he couldn’t help himself. He knelt by the still water and waited for the smoke to clear enough for him to see his reflection.

      Then he knew why they ran, why they screamed in terror. He wasn’t a man. Instead of his face, he saw the cold metal features of a mechanical creature. A robot. A metal being not even remotely alive. Fire danced over him, but he couldn’t feel it. Nor did it hurt him. He couldn’t be burned or damaged in any way. He could only terrify…

      Jeff woke in a cold sweat, the way he did every night after the dream. There was no moment of confusion. From the second consciousness returned, he knew exactly where he was and what had happened. He also knew he wouldn’t sleep for several hours.

      He rose and, in deference to his company, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. Then he left his bedroom, prepared to wander through the house like a ghost. Silent, alone, living in the shadows. He tried not to think about the dream, but he was, as usual, unsuccessful. He knew what it meant—that he didn’t see himself as human. That he considered himself little more than a machine of destruction. But knowing the truth of the message wasn’t enough to make it stop.

      As he moved down the hall, he felt a change in the night air. Not a disturbance, just something…different. He could sense the presence of his guests.

      Unable to stop himself, he headed in the direction of their rooms. Maggie’s door was partially closed. He stood in the hallway and looked in on her.

      She slept in the center of the double bed, a small figure guarded by her menagerie of stuffed animals. She was curled up, the blankets tucked around her, sleeping soundly, breathing evenly. A dark curl brushed against her cheek.

      He remembered her trust, the sound of her laughter, her delight at the speakerphone in his car. She was a magical child, he thought gruffly, as he noticed one of her fluffy cats had tumbled to the ground. Silently he stepped into her room and put the toy back on the bed. Then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he moved through the connecting bathroom and into Ashley’s room.

      Her sleep was more troubled than her daughter’s. She moved under the covers. Her face was slightly flushed, but when he touched her forehead, he didn’t feel any heat.

      Who was this woman with no family and such dire circumstances? From what he could observe, she was bright and capable. What had happened to bring her to the place where she needed to depend upon his good graces?

      Knowing he wasn’t going to get any answers, he left her room and walked downstairs. In the living room he walked to the windows and stared out into the night. For the first time since he’d moved into the house, he wasn’t alone. How strange. He was always alone. No one came here. Certainly no one had spent the night. When there were women, he visited them. He had an animal’s need to protect its territory. Yet he had been the one to invite Ashley and her daughter here in the first place. What did that mean?

      He asked the question and received no answer. So he moved into his study where he turned on his computer. Ashley Churchill intrigued him. So he would find out what he needed with his special programs and secret information. When all was revealed to him she would cease to be anything but a woman and then he could easily let her go.

      Chapter Four

      The normally silent morning was filled with changes. Jeff stood in his kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee made in a coffeemaker he hadn’t known he owned until he went looking for it a half hour before. Generally he simply got up, showered, dressed and left for the office. He was usually the first one in the building and made coffee when he arrived. He felt strange still being at home when it was almost seven-thirty.

      From upstairs came the sound of movement and laughter. Brenda had shown up promptly at seven and was getting Maggie ready for preschool. Jeff glanced at his watch and realized he should check on Ashley before they left. He needed to make sure she would be all right on her own during the day.

      He set his coffee mug on the counter then headed for the stairs. Sleep had taken longer than usual to reclaim him the previous night. He’d been unable to forget he had guests in his house. He couldn’t decide if their presence was good, bad or simply different.

      He paused outside of Ashley’s door and knocked once. A muffled voice invited him to enter. He stepped inside and found Ashley sitting on the edge of her bed. She looked sleepy and flushed. Her hair was mussed and weariness tugged at her mouth, but she held clothes in her arms as if she planned on getting dressed and starting her day.

      “How do you feel?” he asked.

      “Great. Much better. Thanks.”

      She was such a lousy liar, he nearly smiled. “Sell it somewhere else. You look dead on your feet and you’re not even standing.”

      She brushed her hair off her face. “I have to get up. Maggie has school and so do I. She needs to get dressed and have breakfast. I have my own classes to attend. Plus, you’ve already been so kind. I don’t want to impose any longer.”

      Determination stiffened her small frame. She raised her chin slightly, in a gesture of defiance that reminded him of a kitten spitting at a wolf. It looked great and accomplished nothing, except possibly amusing the wolf.

      Instead of answering Ashley directly, he called for Brenda to join him.

      Brenda bustled into the room. His assistant, a fifty-something blonde of medium height, was dressed in tailored slacks and a silk blouse. She looked efficient and ran his office with the precision and attention to detail of a neurosurgeon at work.

      She walked to Ashley and held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Brenda Maitlin. You must be Ashley. Your daughter is such a sweetheart. And you look like death, honey.”

      Ashley had responded to Brenda’s greeting by shaking hands with the woman. As Jeff watched, his

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