Beneath a veil of darkness, danger threatens to strike. An anti-terrorism agent with a warrior's body and a magnetic smile, Duncan Edge is working for T-FLAC's special paranormal unit on a mission to halt a lethal terrorist cell. Along the way, Duncan crosses paths with Serena Campbell, a woman of dazzling wizardry and astonishing beauty who Duncan suspects is being unwittingly used by terrorists for a vast murderous undertaking. But Serena will marshal every ounce of her energy, charms, and smarts to steer clear of Duncan, whose flirty yet disastrous childhood antics left her with a long-standing grudge. Now Duncan and Serena, charged with an ever-growing burning desire, need to set aside their past and prejudices. In their paranormal world, a dangerous force gathers strength, and time is running out for two people who must enter the darkness together and hope there's light on the other side. “No one does hot romance, ice-cold villains, and nonstop adventure better." –Mariah Stewart USA Today  bestselling author  Cherry Adair  has generated numerous awards for her innovative action-adventure novels, which include  On Thin Ice, Out of Sight, In Too Deep, Hide and Seek,  and  Kiss and Tell . A favorite of reviewers and fans alike, she lives in the Pacific Northwest. MONTANA   Zzzft. Thud!   A flash of orange lightning lit the room, followed by the sudden materialization of a man, dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the conference room table. He was soaking wet. Water runneled on the wood surface around him, then started to pour over the sides.   Duncan Edge merely raised a brow as he shifted his chair out of the way. The other five T-FLAC/psi operatives taking the meeting jumped to their feet at the unexpected interruption, grabbing up computers, paper, and assorted crap before everything was saturated.   “What the hell…?”   “Hey!”   “Holy shit!”   “Jay-zus!”   “Who the f—”   Shaking his head, Duncan prevented the water from cascading into his lap, or onto the floor, with a swift telekinetic thought. He knew the who and the why.   Serena Brightman.   One of her strongest powers was her mastery over water. Clearly she hadn’t changed. She still had a bad temper, still couldn’t control it. And still had to have the last damned word.   The woman was a menace.   “This is personal,” he told the others. “Take five.”   “Hell, take ten. Color me intrigued,” Connor Jordan told him affably, closing his computer and setting it on the credenza nearby. There were general murmurs of agreement from the others.   Great. Duncan had never allowed his personal life, such as it was, to filter into his professional life. But of course he’d never tried to help Serena before. No good deed goes unpunished. Now he had five freaking witnesses to his folly. Crap.   “He waited patiently as his man gasped for air like a beached whale, trying to regain use of his lungs. Understandable, since the guy had hit the solid wood of the table hard and fast. While he waited, Duncan retrieved the note pinned to Chang’s crumpled shirt.   “‘I believe this belongs to you,’” he read the curlicue handwriting out loud. Oh, yeah. He knew the who. Absently he touched the scar bisecting his left eyebrow. Damn woman had lost her temper that time, too. He’d almost been blinded by a flying pencil. “You gonna make it, buddy?” he asked the young half-wizard.   “S-she made me,” Chang managed, gray-faced and still spread-eagle in the middle of the polished koa wood table. He’d had the air knocked out of him. His pride, too, if Duncan knew Serena.   “Yeah. Figured that one out for myself,” he said dryly. “Told you she was sharp.” Too damn sharp, Duncan thought with a stab of irritation. He’d sent Chang, Jensen, and Prost in to watch her back. Serena had been a stubborn pain in Duncan’s ass since wizard grade school. But for some annoying reason he always needed to know where she was and what the hell she was doing.   “Apparently time and maturity hadn’t improved her temper or her stubbornness one iota. He hadn’t seen her in what—five? Six years? Not since some charity fund-raiser for the Foundation he’d been dragged to by a date whose name he now couldn’t remember. Odd, since he remembered with photographic clarity the backless emerald gown Serena had worn that night.   The glittering material had clung to every curvaceous inch of her body, but had left the upper swell of her creamy breasts and one long, long leg exposed. The leg men attending the black-tie function that night had salivated when they’d looked at her, the breast men had their tongues hanging out, and every straight man with a pulse had wanted her.   That was Serena.   Help her echoed in his head like a stuck record. He recognized Henry Morgan’s voice, weak though it was. His old mentor was not only Head of the Wizard Council, he also worked in some scientific capacity for the Campbell Foundation that Serena now ran. He’d been “calling” Duncan fo