Laurie Paige - When I Dream Of You

Jess looked more than a little interested. “Hmm, maybe he’s going to try to float her to the top. With two boats, you could probably pull her in to the dock if you get her up, even if the hole is below the waterline.”

“Oh, really?”

This possibility hadn’t occurred to Megan. However, it obviously had to her close-mouthed neighbor. Now all his “fishing” trips made sense. He was after the wreck, too, and she didn’t like his sneaky way of going about it.

But, in all fairness, his father had been involved. If he was searching, too, then maybe they should join forces. Later, when they found out the truth, or all that they could about the tragedy, then they could part ways and forget each other’s existence.

Uneasiness washed over her. Kyle Herriot might be a hard man to forget. Their lives were entangled on an elemental level that involved their families over two generations. Maybe it was unwise to add a third generation to the mix.

For the next hour, she and Jess and Kate discussed the known facts concerning the sailing incident, plus ways and means to bring the vessel to the surface so they could study it up close. Jess wanted to be in on the latter part.

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.

“I’ll get the photos to you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“I want to look the wreckage over first. Before we bring in anyone else.”

Megan didn’t tell him she already had the information, or that Jess already knew about Kyle’s suspicious fishing trips. “Compressors are dangerous for a lone diver. You can inhale carbon monoxide and pass out, if that’s how you’re going to get air while you’re underwater.”

He was surprised at her knowledge. “I have air tanks. I used to dive a lot during my college days.”

“Oh.”

“I’d rather not broadcast what we’re doing until we know more about it. I don’t want my mother upset if I can prevent it.”

“Were you going to hide the sailboat, assuming you bring it up?”

“We still have the boathouse. I’d put it there until I had a chance to talk to her upon her return. I don’t want to shock her…or the community,” he added, warning her that he wanted to keep the quest strictly between them.

“I see.” She stood and went to the dory. After pulling on the shirt, she turned to him. “You’ll need a wet suit to stay down any length of time. The water’s too cold to stay in for more than fifteen or twenty minutes.”

He’d figured he could stand the cold long enough to do what he needed. However he had a buddy in California who would ship him a wet suit, if he needed one.

“So, do we work together and pool resources?” she asked.

He couldn’t figure out an argument to dissuade her. There was also the fact that she could observe his every move. Stalling for time, he nodded. “Why not?” he said.

But if he moved fast, he could get what he wanted and get the sailboat to the boathouse before she realized what was happening.

“You’ll call me when you come out here?”

Suspicion was rampant in her expression. He smiled as guilelessly as he could. “Sure. You’re right. Two can work faster than one.” He realized he’d been too cheerful when she frowned in distrust.

“I can hear any boat coming this way,” she warned.

“So can I.” But only if the wind was in the right direction off the lake. She had the advantage of him on that point. Damnation.

Nodding, she untied the dory, tossed the line into the boat and hopped in with a push to start her off. In a minute she had the motor running and was headed toward home.

Releasing a deep breath, he stripped to his trunks and dived into the chilling water. That took care of the rampant hormones that plagued him in her presence.

He made it down to the wreck in a free dive, 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?”