• 169 •

RADCLY fFE

A few guests clustered around the Þ replace in the great room, reading

newspapers or books, or watching the Weather Channel on TV. Leslie led

Natalie and Dev back toward the kitchen.

“Mom? Dad?” she called as she pushed through the swinging doors.

“Leslie?” her mother answered eagerly, appearing in the doorway of the

adjoining family room. Beyond her, Leslie’s father was stretched out on the

couch with a newspaper on his lap, his casted leg propped on pillows. “Thank

God you’re back.”

Leslie gave her mother a quick hug, then leaned down to kiss her father. “Hi,

Daddy. How are you feeling?”

“A damn sight better now that you’re home. Rough trip?”

“Sort of. The boat’s okay, but we left it at the island. Sorry.”

He shook his head. “Better that than you trying to get back in this stuff.”

Eileen smiled at Natalie and Dev. “The three of you look like you could use hot

showers, dry clothes, and something to eat.”

“I need to get back out there, so I’ll have to pass on the Þ rst two,”

Natalie said, “but I’ll take you up on the food.”

Eileen hooked her arm through Natalie’s. “Come on in the kitchen.

And thank you for bringing my daughter home.”

“Don’t mention it,” Natalie said, disappearing through the doorway with Eileen.

“You doing okay?” Leslie said quietly as she and Dev followed at a slower

pace. Dev’s face was white and her eyes smudged with fatigue.

“Yeah. Just beat.” Dev made a conscious effort not to limp, but with each

passing hour her lower back and hip had gotten tighter to the point that every

step sent a jolt of Þ re down her leg. The last time it had been this bad, she’d

been sampling intestinal parasites from Þ sh in the Finger Lakes in November.

There’d been an early snow, and it had been twenty degrees on the dock where

she’d knelt for three hours gutting the Þ sh and opening their GI tracts. She’d

managed to Þ nish collecting the specimens, but she’d paid for it with two days

in bed.

“You look like you can barely move.” Dev’s hurting was so apparent that Leslie

ached just watching her walk. Knowing she was helpless to ease Dev’s pain

was so frustrating that she almost felt physically ill herself.

• 170 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

“I’ll be okay once I get warmed up and take a couple ibuprofen,”

Dev said, trying to sound upbeat.

Leslie doubted that a few hundred milligrams of Motrin was going to touch

Dev’s pain, but she said nothing. She pulled a tall stool from against the wall

toward the center island so Dev could sit on it. Her mother and Natalie were

discussing the storm while her mother poured coffee into big white ceramic

mugs. “Get some weight off your leg at least.” She grabbed two mugs and

carried them back to the island.

“Here.”

“Thanks. What about you,” Dev asked quietly, sipping the hot coffee gratefully.

“You’ve barely slept in two days. Are you feeling okay?”

Leslie’s Þ rst reaction was to protest that she was Þ ne, but she stopped herself

from making the stock reply. Dev had asked, and she deserved an answer. “I

feel like crap, but mostly because I’m wet and cold and hungry.” She grinned

weakly and decided she should leave out the part about being indescribably

horny, which was even more distressing than all the other things put together. It

was bad enough she’d woken up aroused. Even the biting wind and drenching

rain and Natalie’s possessive attitude toward Dev hadn’t been able to put a

damper on it. And every time she looked at Dev, she remembered how good it

had been with Dev’s body against hers all night. She tried not to look at Dev’s

mouth because whenever she did, the ß uttering sensation inside started up, and

it had nothing to do with her heart problems.

“Things have been pretty stressful.” Dev watched Leslie’s eyes darken from

blue to indigo. She was beautiful, even sleepless and bedraggled.

“Stressful. Jesus, what an understatement.” Leslie wanted to laugh, but she

didn’t want to draw attention to them. She knew they only had a few more

minutes of privacy. “I had one tiny episode yesterday, but it was so short it

doesn’t even count.” She glanced at her mother to make sure she wasn’t

listening. “The doctors who did the tests said that the medication should be

enough. I intend to take it, because I don’t have time for any more of this

nonsense.”

“Good.” Dev squeezed Leslie’s hand, and gently released it.

“Aren’t you supposed to quit coffee too?”

Leslie’s face went cold. “Don’t push it, Devon.”

Dev laughed quietly, and Leslie Þ nally smiled.

• 171 •

RADCLY fFE

“Is this storm going to ruin the work you were doing on the island?” Leslie

asked, because she wanted to change the subject and also because she cared.

She knew how important Dev’s work was to her.

“I got just about everything I need.”

“I’m glad.”

“Here you go,” Eileen said, setting a plate of buttermilk biscuits in the center of

the island.

Natalie grabbed one and leaned against the counter next to Dev.

“How are you doing?”

“Better,” Dev said.

“You three help yourselves to anything else you need,” Eileen said. “I’m going to

check on Paul and make sure the guests are taken care of.” She rested her hand

on Leslie’s shoulder. “I almost forgot.

Your friend Rachel from New York called here when she didn’t get an answer

on your cell.”

Leslie grew still. Dev stiffened beside her, and Natalie’s face took on an

interested expression. “Okay. Thanks.”

“She sounded worried when I told her about the storm, so you should probably

call her pretty soon.”

“I will, Mom,” Leslie said tightly.

“Do you need her number? She left her cell and her—”

“I have them.”

Eileen hesitated, then dropped her hand from Leslie’s shoulder.

“Natalie, you be careful out there today.”

“I will. Thanks.” Natalie waited until Eileen left the room, then asked

nonchalantly, “Girlfriend?”

Leslie gave Natalie a long, appraising look. The question could be passed off as

casual conversation, but she knew it wasn’t. “Something like that.” She rose,

walked to the sink, and poured the last of her coffee down the drain. Then she

looked at Dev. “Are you going to be okay getting down to your cabin?”

“I’ll walk her down,” Natalie said, “when she’s done with her coffee.”

“Fine. Thanks for the ride home,” Leslie said tersely. She left them there,

grabbed her rain jacket, and strode out into the downpour, oblivious to the

discomfort as she stalked through the woods. Four more days and this entire

surreal interlude would all be behind her.

• 172 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

When she reached her cabin she headed directly to her bathroom, pulling off her

rain jacket and dropping it over the back of a wooden chair as she went. She

closed the door, turned on the hot water in the shower, and began to remove

her clothes. Dev’s clothes, she thought as she bent to unlace Dev’s boots.

Dev’s shirt, Dev’s pants, Dev’s hands—her kisses, her mouth, God, oh God,

her mouth. How good Dev’s mouth had felt skimming down her stomach.

Closing her eyes, Leslie leaned back against the counter, slipping her hand inside

Dev’s jeans. Her skin was cold, but she was hot between her legs. And wet.

And oh so hard and aching. With a soft moan she stroked the ache, but it only

grew more Þ erce. She pressed harder, willing the wanting away, and groaned

at the pleasure. Her legs shook and she gripped the counter with her free arm,

her hand circling faster beneath the soaked denim.

Oh God, it felt so good and she wanted it to stop. She didn’t want this, this

terrible longing.

“Oh please,” she gasped, her head falling back, orgasm shimmering through her.

She couldn’t want this. She couldn’t. Her will snapped as her climax surged

and she cried out softly, bending nearly double with the pleasure. “Yes. Oh

yes.”

When the wracking tremors subsided enough for her to straighten, Leslie turned

unsteadily and braced her arms on the counter, panting.

While the last tendrils of orgasm washed through her, she stared at her reß

ection in the mirror, shocked by the sated expression in her bruised eyes and ß

ushed face. Oh God, who are you?

v

After her shower, Leslie fell naked into bed and slept for nine hours.

When she woke a little before seven in the evening, she felt hollowed out, far

emptier than mere hunger could account for. She ignored the feeling as she

reached for her phone and pressed the familiar number on speed dial without

even looking.

“This is Rachel Hawthorne. I’m not available right now, so please leave—”

Leslie cut the connection and stared at the ceiling. She wondered how Dev was

doing, if her leg was better, if she was going to be able to make it up to the

lodge for dinner. Maybe she should go up, Þ x her a plate, and take it down to