Julianna froze, silhouetted by the moonlight against the back wall, the sudden noise stealing her breath away. “Unless you care to be shot this evening, I wouldn’t move from where you’re standing.” The deep voice was quiet but firm and it came from the shadows of the big bed. Julianna remained still as a statue, her mind awhirl. For a moment all was silent, but then she heard the bedsheets rustle and the mattress groan. She cast her eyes toward the bed, afraid to move even an inch. She could see from the man’s outline that he was now leaning against the headboard. His arm appeared to be resting on his upraised knee, but it was too dark to tell whether or not he was actually holding a gun. “You’re probably wondering if I do indeed have a gun,” he said nonchalantly, and Julianna had to suppress a gasp. How did he know? She closed her eyes and pursed her lips in annoyance at herself.
