A Song in the Night — Sara Mitchell

"Who are you?" she whispered, her eyes full of wariness, of dread. "What are you?" He sighed, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "I'm an architect,' he admitted quietly. Claire blanched. "And all this time you've been prowling around my house--spying!--looking for all the flaws, no doubt." Her voice trembled with mingled hurt and anger. "I'm surprised you even condescended to ask a lowly little home designer out for a meal. Did it give you a thrill to--" "You know better than that," he cut across her diatribe, and although his voice was no raised, the authoritative ring Silenced her. "I stopped at the house because I was interested in the design--it's an unusual one I hadn't seen before... I found the house, and then you, to be intriguing, and I wanted to see more of both..."