time, waiting for a courier to deliver Þ les to the ofÞ ce for the deps next week.”

She grimaced. “Sometimes I think the world is Þ lled with incompetents. No,

actually I know it is.”

“You really didn’t have to come all the way up here, Rach. I’ve booked a ß ight

back tomorrow afternoon.”

Rachel sipped her wine, her expression contained. “I’m on a nine o’clock ß ight

to Detroit tomorrow. I’ll be gone most of the week.”

“Oh,” Leslie said, oddly relieved. “Still, squeezing this stop in wasn’t necessary.”

“Well, I think it was.” Rachel’s voice was throaty as her eyes dropped to

Leslie’s mouth, then back to her eyes. “It’s been a hellacious month. I’ve been

putting in eighty-hour weeks, dealing with idiots for the most part, and I’ve got a

bit of a mineÞ eld ahead of me. Getting the asses of these CEOs at Pharmcore

out of the Þ re is going to take a bit of work.” She traced a Þ nger along the

edge of Leslie’s jaw. “I’ve missed you.”

Leslie forced a smile. She’d missed Rachel too. She’d missed discussing their

respective cases, devising strategy, celebrating victories. She’d missed Rachel’s

acerbic humor and her ceaseless energy. They understood one another’s need

to win, and she missed not needing to defend herself. What she hadn’t missed,

as she read the unmistakable message in Rachel’s eyes, were their intense, often

frantic sexual encounters. Rachel had always needed sex more than she did. It

was Rachel’s outlet, the way she vented her frustration and settled her nerves.

Leslie could always tell when Rachel was facing a difÞ cult trial because Rachel

wanted to see her more frequently. Then when they were together, Rachel was

physically more demanding, more aggressive. Leslie never minded, because she

often forgot about her own physical wants and having Rachel satisfy them, even

when she hadn’t realized she needed relief, was welcome.

“I’m sorry my visit turned out to be longer than I expected,” Leslie said, growing

more uncomfortable with her thoughts every second.

• 194 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

“It doesn’t matter,” Rachel said. “I probably wouldn’t have been able to see

you anyhow.” She emptied her wineglass and set it aside, then leaned forward,

her face shadowed as night closed in around them.

“I’ve been thinking of all the things I want to do with you for the last two hours.

Let’s go somewhere so I can show you.”

Leslie’s stomach dropped, and she felt an altogether unfamiliar sense of panic.

She wasn’t ready. She hadn’t made the transition from who she’d been the last

three weeks back into the woman she was with Rachel. She didn’t know

Rachel. No, that was wrong. Rachel hadn’t changed. Nothing had changed. She

just needed a little more time for them to fall back into the old rhythm, then it

would all make sense again. Her head pounded, and she had a ß eeting thought

that she was glad she had started the medication, because her heart was racing

out of control. “Rachel, I’m sorry. I promised my mother I’d help her make sure

everything was set down at the boathouse. The party is going to start in half an

hour. I can’t disappear.”

Rachel gave a faint murmur of protest, but her voice was teasing.

“You know when we haven’t seen each other for this long, it never takes me

half an hour.”

Leslie ß ushed, not from arousal, but because of its absence.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. She hadn’t wanted to run away this badly

since the night she’d realized that it wasn’t Mike she wanted to make love to,

but Dev. But she wasn’t seventeen anymore, and she couldn’t just run away

from her life. She tried for a playful tone. “Can you stand waiting a few more

hours?”

“I might be able to,” Rachel said slowly, casting one quick look around as she

moved. She leaned down over Leslie, bracing an arm on either side of her, Þ

ngers curled around the arms of the wicker chair.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “But I can’t promise I won’t have to drag you

off into some dark corner. I am terribly, terribly ready for you.”

The heat of Rachel’s body was like a furnace raging between them, and just as

Leslie felt the Þ rst brush of Rachel’s lips, the porch light came on and Rachel

hurriedly straightened. Leslie rose quickly at the sound of a door opening and

footsteps on the porch. When she turned, her mother stopped abruptly a few

feet away, her expression uncertain.

“Mom,” Leslie said in a rush. “This is Rachel. Rachel, my mother.”

• 195 •

RADCLY fFE

Eileen smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Eileen. It’s nice to meet you.”

“So nice to meet you too. Thank you for allowing me to barge in this way,”

Rachel said graciously. “It’s very beautiful here.”

“We think so too.” Eileen turned to Leslie. “Honey, you don’t need to he—”

“No, that’s Þ ne,” Leslie said hastily. “Really. I’ll just show Rachel the cabin so

she can change, and I’ll be right down to give you a hand.”

Leslie squeezed Rachel’s hand. “Okay?”

Rachel nodded. “Of course. I just need to get my overnight bag from the car.”

“You’ve been traveling all day. Stay here,” Leslie said. “Let me have your keys,

and I’ll get it.”

“Thank you, darling.” Rachel handed her the keys. “I packed light—I might not

have anything quite right for tonight.”

Leslie laughed. “You’re not required to wear jeans and hiking boots, I promise.”

“I’m ever so relieved.” Rachel smiled at Eileen, who appeared to be watching

the exchange with interest. “I’d be happy to do whatever I can to help with the

preparations too.”

“Absolutely not,” Eileen said with an emphatic shake of her head.

“You’re a guest. In fact, why don’t you come inside and I’ll introduce you to

Leslie’s father while I get a ß ashlight. Then I’ll walk you two down to the cabin

with the luggage.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Leslie said. “Rachel, I’ll be right back.”

Leslie hurried down the stairs, embarrassed to feel relieved that she and Rachel

would not be alone for a few more hours. Surely by the end of the evening, by

the time they were ready for bed, this disquieting sense of disorientation would

be gone. Because if it wasn’t, they were going to need to talk, and she wasn’t

even sure what she would say.

v

Dev sat on the front steps of her cabin listening to music and the sound of

laughter ß owing through the trees while she Þ nished her second beer. It was

eleven and she had put off going down to the boathouse for as long as she

could. She’d told Eileen she would put in an appearance, but that wasn’t the

real reason she stood up and started walking, making

• 196 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

her way down the wooded path by memory and moonlight. Leslie would be

there, and she wanted to see her.

Knowing it was a fool’s errand that would only end in pain, she asked herself

for the tenth time why she didn’t just call Natalie and spend the night with a

woman who wanted her. The excuses she’d used to keep Natalie at arm’s

length were wearing thin, even to her own ears. Refusing to explore a

relationship with Natalie wasn’t about being fair or unfair to Natalie. Natalie

hadn’t asked for anything more than friendship and shared pleasure. No,

refusing to become involved was about what it had always been about. It was

about wanting the one woman she just couldn’t have. Because Leslie was

always with someone else.

Dev jammed her hands in the pockets of her jeans, resisting the path she had

followed once to her own destruction. For the Þ rst time, she felt anger rather

than resignation ß are hot inside her.

She stopped on the ridge just above the boathouse, seeing it just as she had

seen it Þ fteen years before—light spilling out the door, people crowded around

the entrance, music ß oating from the open windows.

People drank, ß irted, loved, and she stood on the outside watching. She might

have come full circle, but she had arrived back at the beginning not as a

confused seventeen-year-old willing to give her heart away for a smile, but as a

woman who wanted more. Leslie was with someone else, and all Dev needed to

be free was to break the chain that held her to the past. There was one certain

way to do that. She shouldered through the crowd into the boathouse in search

of Leslie.

It only took her a minute to Þ nd her. Despite the dim light and the masses of

people, Dev’s gaze was drawn to her as if a beam of light, invisible to everyone

else, emanated from Leslie’s heart straight into her own. Rather than approach

her, Dev moved deeper into the shadows along the wall where she could watch

her without being seen.

A woman partially illuminated in moonlight stood beside Leslie, an arm curved

loosely around Leslie’s waist. There was no doubt about their relationship. The

woman held Leslie with an easy familiarity and subtle possessiveness.

Dev blinked as sweat ran into her eyes, but she couldn’t look away. She’d