He had taken just one step too far into the alley. The moon hung low over the old Spanish town, and somewhere water dripped from a balcony. Then she appeared—motionless, as if she had waited for centuries. Velvet-red lips, a gaze between longing and warning. The air smelled of wine, smoke, and ancient wood. Her smile was impossible to read—too soft for danger, too sharp for chance. For a heartbeat he thought she might speak, but the only thing that moved was the shadow behind her.