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Dancer?”
    “Very far away.” He looked thoughtful. “And the energy was Dancer energy, but different. Perhaps I felt it though your tie. It may be the reason your connection with Harrison faltered.”
    Marguerite clenched her fist, muscles tensing all over again. Only a very powerful Dancer could help Harrison break the bonding curse. She knew of none with that much power.  
    “I contacted London,” Luc continued. “Harrison left the city over a week ago.”
    Damn the limitations of the first tie, which told her none of Harrison’s actions. “Where is he?”  
    “He’s gone to the States. To a town in Michigan.”
    She made her decision quickly. “We leave for Michigan as soon as can be arranged.”
     
    J ulie stopped by the grocery store after church the following Sunday to stock up on as many of Tasha’s favorite foods as she could find. If she kept her daughter’s mouth full, maybe Tash wouldn’t spend the entire dinner discussing her grandmother. This was, admittedly, a coward’s strategy. A true social worker would encourage Tash to talk out her feelings. Tash, however, being a true social worker’s daughter, didn’t need the encouragement. Julie added a gallon of cookie-dough ice cream to the cart, Tash’s absolute favorite.
    She parked in her driveway and walked around to the trunk. How to get the bulging plastic bags into the house in the fewest trips?  
    The handles of the four lightest bags went around her left wrist and she hooked the handle of a gallon of milk with her fingers. Two bigger bags fit around her right wrist and she cradled the twelve-pack of diet root beer in her right arm. The case of water would have to stay in the trunk for now. She staggered back from the car and realized she didn’t have a way to close the trunk. She’d have to put something down.
    A large hand reached from behind her and lowered her trunk lid. “Can I help?”
    “Harrison!” Harrison had become the hit of the neighborhood. In the last week, several neighbors had had him over for tea. If he planned to stay for any length of time, the local Starbucks might be in serious trouble. “You move very quietly.”
    “So I’ve been told. Your hands are turning purple.”  
    She looked down. Her hands were purple and quickly turning numb. “You’re right. Better get these groceries in the house. Thanks for closing the trunk.” She hurried up the front walk, only to stop before the front door, stymied as to how to open it.
    “Do you have a key?” He stood behind her.
    “It’s not locked.” She couldn’t see his face but she felt his disapproval.
      “Crime is on the rise everywhere. It’s dangerous not to secure your home.”  
    Julie glanced over her shoulder and met his steady gaze. “You’re right. I’ll start locking the door from now on.” Especially since he now knew she kept it open. Her hands had passed the tingly stage and were going numb. “Would you open my door, please?”
    He reached past her, his knuckles brushing her bare arm, and turned the brass knob. She rushed inside, almost ran through the small living room, and dropped the bags on the kitchen counter. Instant relief. She flexed her wrists a few times to get the blood flowing.
    Harrison stood in the arched doorway that led from the living room to the kitchen. Today he wore khakis and a brown shirt, making them look more formal than they were. Even though he leaned a shoulder against the door frame, he had a presence that made her stand up straighter.  
    She smoothed her dark blue capris and tugged at the sleeveless white shirt she’d changed into after church. The early October weather was unseasonably warm. She’d tamed her hair and even put on makeup. She wasn’t always a slob. She could hold her own with this man. Maybe.
    “Making two trips would have been more sensible,” he commented, nodding toward her hands.
    “Next time I’ll do that.” Of course she wouldn’t.  
    “You’re lying.” His eyes watched