When I Dream Of You. Laurie Paige

but couldn’t stay long. She was right; the cold was mind-numbing, too dangerous for a lone diver to attempt.

      So, he’d work with her as long as he had to…but whatever they found, the sailboat was his.

      On Monday evening, after her last riding class was over and the chores were finished, Megan debated with herself, then picked up the telephone and dialed Kyle’s number, after looking it up in the book. Her scalp prickled as she waited for the call to go through.

      He answered on the first ring.

      “This is Megan. I have the police photos and the file information, if you’re interested in seeing them,” she told him in formal tones. She was irritated with him.

      There was silence on the other end.

      “Hello?”

      “I’m here,” he said in that smooth voice that reminded her of summer breezes and long summer nights. “That was fast. I thought we’d agreed not to let others in on what we were doing until we knew more.”

      “I believe in acting once a decision has been made. As you apparently do, too. I saw you on the lake earlier.”

      Another pause. “I see.”

      “Did you do any diving this afternoon?” She wanted to let him know she was keeping an eye on him.

      “No.” His tone was a chill wind off the mountain. “I was checking out the rocks in the vicinity.”

      “I called you when I got information. I expect the same courtesy from you.” She was cool and crisp, businesslike.

      “Yeah, sure.” He sounded distracted.

      Maybe he had someone there with him and was impatient to get back to her. Feeling slightly guilty for bothering him and further irritated by the fact, she asked, “Do you want to come over tomorrow and see the photos?”

      “No. I want to see them tonight. I’ll be right over.”

      “Tonight?”

      “Yeah. The moon is bright. I’ll be over in the boat in about ten minutes.”

      He didn’t ask if it was a convenient time for her. He just assumed it would be okay and hung up.

      Fuming, she put on some decaf coffee. Although she wasn’t feeling particularly neighborly, she still had about twenty pastry swans stuffed with whipped cream in the refrigerator. She’d offer him dessert.

      After kicking off her shoes, Megan flicked on the dock lights, then sat at the kitchen table and waited. When she heard the sounds of an engine, blood pounded with unexpected ferocity throughout her body.

      That was another concern to add to all the others. Nothing good had ever come of a Windom getting mixed up with a Herriot.

       Chapter Four

       M egan answered the door on the first knock. “Come on in. I’ve made coffee. Would you like some cream-puff swans?”

      “Like those at the wedding?”

      “Yes.”

      “Yeah, that sounds good. I forgot about dinner.”

      That information put her into a dilemma. As a good neighbor, she should offer him something to eat. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to cook for him. With a grimace, she asked if he’d like some leftovers. “There’s about a dozen of those little sandwiches left.”

      “Any with the ham spread?”

      “Yes.”

      She placed all the remainders on a platter on the kitchen table, put out a plate, pointed out the microwave oven and told him to help himself.

      He did. When he’d finished, the finger sandwiches were gone, along with the pâté, stuffed olives and some kind of veal loaf, then he polished off the last of the cream-filled swans. He finished off the glass of milk she’d also offered.

      “That was good. Thanks.”

      “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

      “Please.” He put his dishes in the dishwasher while she poured two cups of coffee.

      She joined him at the table and removed the folder from the manila envelope. Laying it on the table in front of him, she said, “This is all the information Jess and I have collected from the official files and the newspapers.”

      “Nice to have relatives in the sheriff’s office, huh?”

      He didn’t cast any particular inflection on the words, so she wasn’t quite sure how to take the statement. Ignoring it, she was silent while he perused the reports. When he came to the photos, he studied each of them in detail.

      It was a few minutes after ten when he finished.

      “What do you think?” she asked, getting up to refill their cups.

      “You were right. The sailboat isn’t as far down as I thought. Maybe it won’t be an impossible task.”

      “To float it to the surface?”

      He gave her an appraising glance as if reassessing her intelligence. His expression was stony.

      “Jess thought maybe that was why you wanted the compressor, to float the Mary Dee to the top. He said with the two motorboats, we could probably pull her in.”

      “Oh, he did, did he? Did you discuss this with anyone else that I should know about?”

      “Well, Kate was here.”

      His lips thinned to a straight line. She returned his scowl with no expression whatsoever. Slowly his frown changed from anger to…she wasn’t sure what.

      “You drive me crazy when you do that,” he at last said.

      “What?”

      “Look at me like that. Your eyes are fathoms deep and mysterious, like a mossy pool hidden in the woods. You’re good at disguising your thoughts.”

      She blinked in mild shock at his words. “So are you.”

      His gaze continued to move over her, from her eyes downward to her mouth, where he lingered for a long moment, then a quick flick along her shirt, then back to her eyes.

      Heat slid gently up her neck and into her face. Her breath went jerky until she forced herself to breathe deeply several times. She stared at him, into eyes that seemed to be charcoal rather than silvery-gray tonight.