When I Dream Of You. Laurie Paige

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?”

      “No. I want to see them tonight. I’ll be right over.”

      “Tonight?”

      “Yeah. The moon is bright. I’ll be over in the boat in about ten minutes.”

      He didn’t ask if it was a convenient time for her. He just assumed it would be okay and hung up.

      Fuming, she put on some decaf coffee. Although she wasn’t feeling particularly neighborly, she still had about twenty pastry swans stuffed with whipped cream in the refrigerator. She’d offer him dessert.

      After kicking off her shoes, Megan flicked on the dock lights, then sat at the kitchen table and waited. When she heard the sounds of an engine, blood pounded with unexpected ferocity throughout her body.

      That was another concern to add to all the others. Nothing good had ever come of a Windom getting mixed up with a Herriot.