When I Dream Of You

Megan promised him that if she succeeded, he would be the first to know. After all, Bunny had been his beloved older sister, the one who had practically raised him while his mom had had to work to support the family. His father had been an alcoholic and drifter.

After driving them home in the old station wagon, Megan returned to her house. Its loneliness rushed out to greet her when she entered the door to the mud room off the kitchen. Seeing the envelope on the counter, she picked it up and hid it in a kitchen drawer.

The key to her past might lie in that envelope. She realized she was ready to face it, whatever it might be.

The air was hot and listless on Sunday afternoon when Kyle turned the key on the powerboat. The engine caught, and he eased out on the mirror-smooth surface of the lake. With the engine at half throttle—because he hoped not to attract his neighbor’s attention—he pointed the bow toward the far end of the cool waters.

He wasn’t having much luck in finding the wreck. He’d searched the dark depths in a grid pattern, but a whole week had been spent in futile exploration.

Had he known who’d done the original diving, he would look them up, but he didn’t. He could ask the sheriff, who had been the investigating officer on the case at the time, but the sheriff might mention it to Shannon, a former cop, who would surely mention it to her cousin, Megan.

He didn’t want any interference from the Windom side of the lake.

Following his grid plan, he slowed when he came to the boundary of the last search area.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

Another boat was three hundred yards away, anchored next to a huge slab of granite that jutted from the water like a monolith to some ancient god. Angling around, he glided over to it.

“Hey,” he called.

His voice echoed off the cliffs at the edge of the lake and came back to him. With an irritated curse, he pulled alongside the slab. He tossed the anchor out, then tied a line around a handy boulder. He climbed out of the boat and walked along the granite slab to the other boat that had a small motor mounted on the recently replaced transom.

Looking over the old dory for clues to its ownership, he spied a cooler and a backpack. Sneakers and socks lay on the bottom of the fishing boat. A long-sleeved shirt lay on the plank seat. They were on the small side.

Probably a boy exploring on his own. What was Kate’s stepson’s name? Jeremy. Yeah. Jeremy Fargo. But he’d never seen the boy out without other members of his family.

Where the hell was the person?

Bubbles preceded an answer to that question. A head broke the surface of the water. Through a snorkeling mask, Megan Windom’s eyes locked with his.

She removed the mask. “Speak of the devil,” she murmured, “and look who’s here.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, ignoring her snide attempt at humor.

Without answering, she kicked her way over to the slab, then tossed the mask and flippers out before climbing up on the granite. “Mm, this feels good. The rock is warm.”

Heat pulsed through him when she stretched out and closed her eyes against the sun. She was dressed in a one-piece swimsuit, high-cut on the sides. Her legs went from here to forever, long, lean and shapely. There were faint tan lines at her ankles and high on her thighs.

The heat became an inferno. He was aware of the tight discomfort of his swim trunks under his jeans. The reaction increased his annoyance.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

She opened her eyes a slit. Shading them with an arm over her forehead, she studied him for a long minute. “I’m doing what you suspect,” she said coolly.

He wondered if that was true. Without admitting anything, he drawled, “Then we’re both out for a leisurely cruise of the lake.”

“Right. The way you’ve been all week.”

So she’d known of his prior trips. Damn. Looking into her frank and somewhat hostile gaze, he made an instant decision. “I’m looking for the wreck.”

“The sailboat?” she said with only a slight questioning inflection.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “To reclaim what once belonged to my family. I’m thinking of restoring it.”

“You want to study it,” she corrected, her tone as icy as a winter wind off the mountains. Her gaze challenged him to deny it.

There was an honesty in her that he hadn’t expected. It forced him to answer just as candidly. “The thought had occurred to me.”

Instead of objecting, she became introspective. “Jess is interested, too. Bunny was his sister.”

“Jimmy was my father. The boat was his.” He figured that gave him first priority.

“Bunny was my mother.”

“There is that,” he conceded.

She was silent for a long minute, then said, “Okay, I’ll work with you.”

This was a development he hadn’t foreseen. He didn’t want any interference. “No way.”

“It’ll save you time.”

“How?”

She smiled. “I know where the wreck is.”

Glancing at the water, he returned the smile. “So do I…now. What brings you out here at this late date?”

“Curiosity,” she said easily. “I want to see whatever there is to see.”

He realized the same feelings drove her that drove him. But to work together? It was a volatile mixture in more ways than one.

“Why are you searching now?” she asked. “It’s been a long time.”

He decided on maximum honesty. “Your grandfather is gone. My mother’s on a trip. I figured no one else would care or object to my prowling around.”

“What are your plans?”

“Do some diving, locate the wreck and see what the chances are of bringing it up. The water is deepest here, around a hundred feet.”

“The boat is on a shelf. It didn’t go to the bottom.”

That was news to him. He gave her a sharp perusal. “How do you know so much?”

“Jess and I studied all the reports. The sheriff’s divers took some photos. Shannon got us copies.”

“I see.”

What he saw was more complications. He hadn’t planned on anyone else horning in. He wished he hadn’t been quite so open with his attractive neighbor. Working with her, if she really did insist on participating, was another twist he didn’t need in his life.