Chapter 1

The mystery man moved his hand to Riley’s cheek, gently stroking her face before leaning closer to her. The warmth of his breath caressed her lips. Moving his other hand to her hair, he slipped off the band that secured her ponytail and set her long locks free. Tangling his fingers in her tresses, he guided her to his lips. The prickle from the stubble on his jaw brushed her cheek as he placed a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth just below her bottom lip. His signature...

Her stomach fluttered from the contact. When he drew away from her, she craved more. Staring into his green depths, she tried to memorize every feature of his face right down to the tiny mole just below his left earlobe. There was something familiar about the stranger who began visiting her a few nights ago.

Find me, he whispered just before fading away.

The vibration of Riley’s cellphone jolted her into a seated position. She looked around, searching for the stranger with the stunning green eyes. Why did he always leave so abruptly?

A dream.

She tried to focus. Three times this week she’d dreamt about the intriguing visitor. And each time, he told her to find him. She reached for her ringing phone and glanced at the caller ID.

Morning, Mom, she answered.

It’s 7:33, her mother said. Happy twenty-fifth birthday, baby girl.

I’m hardly a baby, but thank you. Riley Sparrow had hoped to sleep through her birthday. She had never been one for celebrating anyway.

I can’t believe it’s been a quarter of a century. It feels like yesterday.

Yeah, twenty-five.

Don’t start about not having a boyfriend or being married. You’re still young.

I suppose. Riley tried not to think about her lack of a love life but recently it had gotten harder since several of her high school friends were either married or engaged. How’s Dad?

He’s fine. He had an early meeting in the city but said he’d check in with you at lunch. I had to call you now.

I know, Mom, it’s a tradition. Her mother always called her at the precise minute Riley entered the world.

I wish you still lived at home. I’d bring you breakfast in bed on the exact moment you were born.

I miss that too.

After college and grad school, Riley chose to stay in New Jersey despite her parents’ disappointment. She’d spent the first half of her life there and six years at Princeton. The Garden state felt like the only home she’d ever really known.

Why don’t you come to Connecticut for a visit? Now that you’re a self-employed journalist, you can find the time.

I can’t. Riley glanced at the clock on her nightstand. I’m on deadline. I need to get this next draft to my editor by the end of the month or I’ll miss the publication date. Self-employed or not, the magazine doesn’t wait for me. I have to take a trip to Salem for some research.

Massachusetts?

The magazine is doing a feature on Salem and I’m working on a historical piece. I’m writing a fictional story to go with it. I think it’ll be fun. I’ve never written fiction before.

Hmm.

Don’t worry, I won’t tell Dad.

Well, it’s just — When her mother paused, Riley regretted telling her about the project. You know how he gets with all of that witch and warlock stuff.

This has nothing to do with his kooky roots and family history. It’s my job. I write about folklore and the past.

You couldn’t have volunteered to write something on vampires?

Riley laughed but ignored her mother’s statement. I’ll come up in November and maybe stay through December for the holidays. How does that sound? I can work from your house.

That would be wonderful. I miss you.

Same here, Mom. I’ll call you in a few days and we can work it all out.

Okay, sweetie. Happy birthday.

Thanks.

Love you.

Love you too. Riley ended the call as she sank back into the pillows and yawned. Her nights had been restless and her mornings unsettled ever since informally meeting her elusive stranger. Why was she giving this situation so much consideration?

She closed her eyes and thought about her dream man. His eyes had haunted her the past few days. They held great intensity, like they harbored so much pain. She wondered why he needed to be found. She’d never been this affected by a dream before. Normally she would dismiss such nonsense, but this was the first time she had any experience with recurring dreams. The concept intrigued her. Maybe after her deadlines were met for the magazine, she’d research the subject. One of her graduate professors at Princeton taught a course on the topic and was writing a book on it. Perhaps he would need a research assistant. One with firsthand experience.

Shaking out her palms, she rolled out of bed. The tingling sensation in her hands started a week ago and wasn’t showing any sign of going away. Perhaps all of that typing to meet her deadlines had triggered carpal tunnel syndrome. Not the best affliction for a writer. She’d have to make an appointment with her doctor to see what she recommended. In the meantime, she had to get herself in gear and start writing.

The sexy blond-haired stranger from her early morning dreams would have to take a backseat. Maybe she needed to try a dating service. When had she become so desperate that she’d taken to obsessing over fantasy men?

When all my friends found their Prince Charming. That’s when.

A WEEK LATER, RILEY returned home from her two day trip to Salem armed with enough research on witches, witch hunts, and spells to write three full novels. While Massachusetts proved successful, she was happy to be home. She missed her cottage a few blocks from the Princeton campus and longed to sleep in her own bed. She hadn’t slept well in the hotel at all. The plush, queen-sized bed provided comfort but her nightly visitor had become more vocal. Even now, twelve hours since waking, she could hear his deep, commanding voice with clarity. That morning when he left her with his usual request to find him, he’d told her that he was a long way from 1963. Riley spent the entire day trying to figure out why her subconscious mind would not only send her a handsome stranger to fall for, but implant a date over fifty years ago into her head. It wasn’t as if she was writing an article on the JFK assassination. Why wouldn’t she dream of the Salem Witch trials? That would seem more appropriate.

Does any of this make sense? Why am I even trying to decipher this?

While away from home, her imaginary man had been making more physical contact during his visits too. She liked the way his touch lingered on her skin when she woke each morning even if it was replaced with the nuisance of that strange sensation in her hands. She longed to feel his lips against hers for more than the customary few seconds he left her with before waking.

Get a grip, girl! It’s a dream.

After getting a quick bite to eat, she drew herself a warm bath. A good night’s sleep in her own bed would be the perfect cure from the long days she’d spent in Salem. Tomorrow she could work on the article from the comfort of her own study. The obsession with the dreams had to stop. She needed to focus on her job. That was what paid the bills. Well, that and the generosity of her parents in the way of a trust fund.

She stripped out of her yoga pants and tank top and climbed into the large bathtub. When she renovated the bathroom, she had to have the elaborate claw-foot tub. It had been pricey and her father tried to talk her out of it, but Riley stood her ground. When she gave her dad the pouty lips, he’d given in completely.

Money had never been an issue for her. Both of her parents came from wealthy families. They had met at Yale Law. They started their own firm shortly after graduating and had become successful through the years. Riley had always been a writer. Growing up in the age of the internet made research more than a hobby. In grad school, she’d found success working with several professors who admired her attention to detail. They encouraged her to pursue a career in historical writing. When an opening became available for her to freelance for a company that published state research guides for tourists, she jumped at the chance. With her parents support and the sizable trust fund, she set out to pursue her dreams. Now with her career in full swing, she wished she had someone to share it with. Being a writer was a lonely business. Her days were full of research but her evenings were empty.

She closed her eyes and let the heated water engulf her tired muscles. Resting her head against the bath pillow, she cleared her mind. The steam seeped out from the bubbles and swirled around the room. Soon the mirror and windows were fogged and a scented mist surrounded the bathroom, creating a relaxing atmosphere. A week’s worth of sleepless nights had taken their toll and Riley drifted off.

The squeak of the faucet and the silence that followed distracted her tranquil thoughts. She opened her eyes to find him sitting on the edge of the tub looking at her. For a moment, a bout of self-consciousness came over her . She glanced down and discovered her body covered in thick, white bubbles. He couldn’t see anything but the tops of her shoulders, neck, and face.

Sorry, he said. I was afraid the water would overflow.

Am I awake?

He shook his head. She noted his green eyes sparkled even in the dim lighting of the bathroom.

Well, then how—

It’s complicated. His thin, pink lips formed a small smile. I can’t explain now.

Why not?

There isn’t enough time to make you understand while you’re in your current state. We need much more time. You can get that for us.

Are you real or am I crazy?

I’m very real, just stuck between realms. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. He slid off the side of the tub and knelt down on the floor. I’m afraid I can’t stay very long. I keep trying to figure out how to increase the length of my visits but nothing seems to work. I’ve been trying for a long time.

I don’t know you.

You will. He reached for the clip in her hair. May I?

She nodded.

Once he’d freed her hair from its confines, he smoothed the damp locks out with his hand. I like when you wear it down. It’s so pretty. He continued to stroke her hair. You’re just as beautiful as I remember.

How do you know me? She shifted her position to face him. She breathed in his crisp scent. He smelled of spice, maybe a hint of cinnamon. So familiar...

I... He looked lost in a distant memory.

I have to go.

You keep leaving me. I don’t like it. Each time he left, he took a small piece of her with him.

That’s why you need to find me. He leaned forward. I know you can. You’re very powerful. He brushed his lips against her mouth. A rush of warmth coursed through her when his lips connected with hers. Find me, Riley. He kissed the corner of her mouth, lingering a second longer than usual. She took the opportunity to run her tongue along his soft lips. Find me now.

How? She wanted more than anything to find this man. What do I need to do?

Tucker... he whispered.

What?

Riley slipped off the bath pillow and under the cold water. She quickly sat up and looked around. The bubbles had evaporated into the freezing water. Her skin shriveled like a raisin. How long had she been out? She had no recollection of turning off the faucet but thankfully she had or the bathroom would have flooded.

Did she turn the water off? Or did...

I must be crazy.

She thought for a moment. Her mystery man had left her a big clue tonight. Now she needed to figure out what Tucker Sparrow had to do with any of this. It looked as if she would be paying a visit to a man she hadn’t seen in a decade.

Chapter 2

Riley dreaded the walk up the stone path to the Victorian mansion set on the cliff of the quaint Jersey shore town. The house held so many wonderful memories, but now anything good associated with the old place faded into the background. When she stared up at the porch, visions of the falling-out on a cool October day cluttered her thoughts. What had caused the feud between her father and grandfather never came to the forefront. Her parents hadn’t spoken of that day or any of the events leading up to it. Riley never saw her grandfather again.

Now, ten years later, she found herself back at her childhood home. A deep ache settled in her core when she thought about having to go away. She’d managed to bury the devastation of her leaving on the eve of her fifteenth birthday. Her parents had packed up in the middle of the night and drove to Connecticut. She remembered her grandfather watching from the large window of his study. The memory boiled to the surface, but Riley wouldn’t let it break free. She managed to let it simmer without question. Her parents had their reasons, and she wasn’t there to discuss them. Tucker didn’t come after her. How much could she have meant to him?

As she reached to ring the doorbell, she wondered what power the attractive stranger held over her to make her come back here. When she thought about him, that odd sensation tingled in her palms. She closed her hands, willing the pins and needles to go away. She’d have her answers in a few minutes, and then she could put this insanity behind her.

Just as she was about to ring the bell again, the door opened. Riley took a step back, but never removed her gaze from the turquoise eyes that stared back at her. They were the same unique shade as hers.

I knew you’d come. The older gentleman smiled. I told myself, eventually you’d come back.

Grandfather, Riley whispered. You look the same.

It was as if he hadn’t aged, and although he had passed his seventy-eighth birthday three months ago, he didn’t look a day over fifty. She smiled when she realized just how much her own father resembled him.

You’ve grown into a beautiful woman. He nodded in approval. I’m happy you’re here.

Why does it feel like you were expecting me?

Because I was. He widened the door as far as it would go and motioned for her to come inside. I wasn’t sure when but the pull of your birthright is too strong for you not to do the right thing. I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away. I’ve been waiting.

That’s not why I’m here. She stepped into the foyer, taking in the scent of the wood burning stove. Sitting by the old hearth listening to her grandfather tell stories of the generations of Sparrows that came before had influenced her passion for history.

Really? He followed her into the house. You’re not the least bit curious why your hands are acting up?

How did you... She looked down at her palms, hoping the vibration would stop. It’s just an allergic reaction to something. Probably mold in my basement. Benadryl usually helps.

It’s not an allergic reaction. He shook his head as he walked down the hall to the family room. I see you’ve picked up some of my son’s skepticism when it comes to our heritage. I’m not surprised he’s influenced you over the years. When you were here you were so open to who we are.

We don’t talk about you or what happened here.

He took a seat in his large recliner just as he always had. The chair didn’t seem as massive to her anymore. Riley felt compelled to sit in the window seat across