stop as she shouldered the door open and stepped into the next room. Dev, in a

navy T-shirt and blue jeans, stood at the long kitchen counter with a white

butcher’s apron tied around her waist, covering platters of food with plastic

wrap.

“Dev?” Leslie said in surprise.

Dev set aside the carving knife that she’d been using to slice ham.

“Hi. How’s your dad?”

“He’s sedated, but stable. What are you doing?”

“Cleaning up after dinner.” Dev walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a

bottle of Heineken. She held it up in Leslie’s direction.

“Want one?”

“God, yes.” Leslie slumped onto a stool at the central island.

“They’re going to operate on him early tomorrow morning. My mother wanted

to be close tonight and got a room at a motel across the street from the

hospital.”

Dev opened two bottles, handed one to Leslie, and pulled a chair around the

table so she could sit facing her. “What did they say, exactly?”

Leslie shrugged. “What do they ever say? His leg is shattered and there’s a

hairline fracture of his pelvis. There might be some nerve damage.” Leslie’s

voice cracked and she covered her eyes. Her Þ ngers trembled.

“Hey,” Dev said gently, resting her hand on Leslie’s knee. “You look beat. Why

don’t I walk you down to your cabin so you can turn in.”

“No. I need to get some things together for my mother. I promised her I’d bring

them Þ rst thing tomorrow.” She scanned the kitchen.

• 98 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

“Besides, you need some help in here. God. You shouldn’t even be doing this.”

“Why not?” Dev said, feigning affront. She pointed to a row of typed pages afÞ

xed to the refrigerator with multicolored magnets shaped like Þ sh. “Your

mother has the menu laid out for every meal, every day of the week, and she

cooks ahead. It was easy enough to Þ nd everything and put it together.” She

grinned. “At least, no one complained. Yet.”

“There’s only, what, eight guests? In another week, there’ll be thirty. Are you

planning to give up your day job?” Hearing the sharp edge to her voice, Leslie

covered Dev’s hand and squeezed. “But thanks. If you hadn’t been here, my

mother would have had to stay, and she’d be out of her mind with worry.”

“It was no problem,” Dev said. “And I’m not volunteering for permanent KP.

I’m only good until we run out of the semi-prepared stuff. But your mother’s not

going to be able to manage by herself.”

“I know. I’m going to have to get some temporary help in here for her right

away.” Leslie set her beer aside and started to pace. “A cook, for sure. And

someone to run the boats and look after maintenance, because my father’s not

going to be able to do much for the rest of the season. And that damn truck has

to go. I had to stop twice to let the engine cool off.”

Dev sipped her beer and watched Leslie slide effortlessly from exhaustion and

distress into sharply focused control. It was impressive.

It was probably costly too, she imagined, physically and emotionally.

She wasn’t surprised that Leslie had a blood pressure problem.

“All that’s going to take more than a few days,” Dev pointed out.

“I can stay another week or two,” Leslie said, her expression distant as she

calculated what needed to be done and how she would manage that and the

work she wanted to do. “I was planning on being up here a few weeks anyhow.

If I need a little longer, I can keep working out of the local ofÞ ce while I get

things squared away here.”

“Uh,” Dev said carefully, “I sort of got the impression you were supposed to be

taking it easy while you were here. Not taking on another job.”

Leslie waved a hand impatiently. “I’m Þ ne. I haven’t had any problems since

I’ve been here.”

• 99 •

RADCLY fFE

“You did the day you arrived.”

“I’d just gotten out of the hospital and hadn’t had any sleep at all.” Leslie Þ xed

Dev with a pointed stare. “Not that it’s any of your business, Devon, but I

arranged for the damn tests they wanted me to have.”

Dev grinned. “Good.”

“Of course,” Leslie said, searching through the utility drawer for paper and a

pen, “I’ll have to reschedule those now.”

“Why?”

Leslie started making a list. “Because I’m supposed to get most of them

tomorrow afternoon, and that’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“You know, I don’t remember you being such a pain in the ass,”

Leslie muttered.

“Neither were you.”

Leslie gave her a sidelong glare, but she smiled. “My father’s going to be

operated on tomorrow and I’ll need to stay with my mother in the morning.

Then I have to deal with this place.”

“My schedule’s ß exible. I can keep an eye on things here.”

“You must have your own work to do.”

“I was going out to the islands the day after tomorrow, but I can postpone that a

few days. I’ve got plenty of work to do around here.”

Dev got up to Þ nish slicing the leftover ham. “At least until things are more

settled with your dad. I don’t mind, really.”

Leslie sighed. “It would help a lot.”

“One stipulation.”

“I don’t usually make deals.” Leslie folded her arms and regarded Dev

appraisingly. “But I suppose you can try.”

Dev leaned against the counter and met Leslie’s gaze steadily.

Seeing the calculation and unmistakable power in Leslie’s eyes, Dev

appreciated for the Þ rst time that this was not the woman of her memories.

Like Dev, Leslie had changed. Every now and then Dev caught a glimpse of the

girl she had known, when a little bit of humor broke through her steely control or

when compassion softened her unyielding reserve. When they’d been young,

Dev had been attracted to Leslie’s softness and her gentle innocence. Now she

found her strength every bit as appealing, if quite a bit more irritating.

“You get the tests tomorrow,” Dev said.

• 100 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

“Dev—” Leslie started to protest, exasperated, then considered how much help

Dev had been. And how much her concern touched her.

“Okay, look. If I can, I will.”

“Good enough.” Dev opened the refrigerator and slid the tray of sliced meat

onto the bottom shelf. “I was thinking of scrambled eggs and the rest of this ham

for breakfast. What do you think?”

Leslie laughed. “I think you’re crazy.”

Dev grinned. “See? Some things don’t change.”

v

As Leslie undressed for bed, too tired even to shower, she remembered the

conversation in the kitchen.

Some things don’t change.

She marveled at just how much everything had changed. How much Dev,

especially, had changed. Dev was so much less angry now, and sure of herself in

ways she’d never been as a teenager. Physically, she moved with conÞ dence,

and she clearly owned her sexuality. It didn’t take seeing her with Natalie to

know that. The image of Dev standing in the kitchen just hours ago with that

foolish apron slung around her muscular hips or sprawled in a chair on the porch

with a cup of coffee in her hand gave Leslie a hungry feeling in the pit of her

stomach. Dev was sexy without even trying.

But then, she’d always been sexy, although Leslie hadn’t consciously

acknowledged that. Looking back, she appreciated how intriguing Dev had

been as a teenager, with her dark moods and rebellious dress and refusal to

conform. She realized just how attracted she’d been to Dev and what she’d

done when awareness had crashed in upon her in one hot, wild instant. She ß

ushed with embarrassment.

Dev was far more forgiving of her actions back then than she was. There were

times like tonight when the burden of guilt felt as if it might crush her. As she lay

down, exhausted but too keyed up to close her eyes, she wondered who Dev

saw when she looked at her.

• 101 •

• 102 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

CHAPTER TWELVE

At Þ ve thirty the next morning, Leslie made her way up the path to the lodge

just as the sun broke over the horizon.

She stopped before climbing the steps and turned to watch the morning dance

across the glassy surface of the lake. Orange and magenta streaked the sky and

reß ected off the blue water so brightly she shielded her eyes with one hand.

She’d seen it thousands of times growing up and hadn’t thought of the silent

beauty for years, but it hadn’t lost its power to enchant her.

“It never gets old, does it?” Dev said quietly from the shadows of the porch.

She walked forward to lean against the railing.

“I’m not sure why not,” Leslie said almost to herself. “Maybe because I’ve

never seen a painting or a photograph as beautiful.”

“No, it’s not something we can capture or re-create. I guess that makes it

special.” Dev watched as the emerging sun highlighted the angles and planes of

Leslie’s face that had not been there in the softness of youth. Her hair glinted

with gold; her eyes mirrored the crystal blue waters. She was beautiful now, as