Hannah usually loved the solitude of mornings on the New Mexico farm. The daily rituals of scattering chicken feed, collecting eggs and running the dog were a source of comfort, a way to -recover from the tragic event in Albuquerque that had brought her here a few years ago. But recently a strange feeling had come over her. She had the uncanny sense that someone was watching her every move.
Sweet little Hannah. She wasn't so little any-more. Was she still sweet? Kane couldn't control the irrepressible memories of their first and only kiss as he watched her work the farm. "Come back when you grow up," he'd told her. That was ten years ago, and judging from her long, honey blond hair and round curves, Hannah was a woman now--a woman who needed him, her silent protector.
Alone on the farm with just the chickens and an aging Rottweiler named Diogee, Hannah wasn't sure what to do. The sheriff was sympathetic, but he couldn't spend all his time at her place. And no one could explain the noises she heard on the property at night. Hannah was beginning to think she was losing her mind.
Kismet Romance #147, May, 1993.
