by Radclyffe
won’t need one.”
“Oh,” Eileen said with studied casualness. She crossed to the counter and
poured coffee, then returned. “Rachel. That’s her name, isn’t it?”
• 177 •
RADCLY fFE
“Yes, Rachel Hawthorne.”
“And she’s your….I’m sorry. Is girlfriend correct?”
“We’re involved,” Leslie said. “She’s an attorney.”
“At your Þ rm?”
Leslie appreciated her mother’s effort, but she didn’t want to talk about Rachel
or their life. Still, she answered impassively, “No. Another Þ rm. She does
malpractice litigation.”
“I’m sure it’s not easy going up against the medical establishment.”
“Most of Rachel’s work is defending hospitals and pharmaceutical companies.”
Seeing her mother’s ß eeting expression of displeasure, quickly hidden, Leslie
said bitterly, “I guess neither one of us is on the side of the angels.”
Eileen sighed. “I know some of the things I said when you decided to practice
corporate law made it sound as if I don’t approve of what you do—”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Leslie snapped, her nerves uncharacteristically raw. God,
why did they have to get into this again tonight, when everything else in her life
was so out of control?
“I suppose I’d be happier if you were working for the ACLU or something—”
Leslie snorted and Eileen laughed quietly. “All right, never mind that. I think it’s
probably better that someone like you is doing what you do, rather than
someone with no social conscience at all. And I’ve always trusted your
judgment.”
“My judgment is the last thing you should trust.” Leslie was too tired and too
heartsick to regret what she said, although she knew she would later.
Startled, Eileen leaned forward on the counter and gently touched Leslie’s hand.
“Why do you say that? What’s wrong?”
Leslie shook her head and rubbed her hand over her forehead, closing her eyes
against the headache that had sprung up out of nowhere.
“Nothing. It’s not important.”
“Of course it’s important. I’ve had a long time to think about what happened
between us, Leslie,” Eileen said intently. “Something happened when you went
away to college. You shut down. Or shut me out. And I let you.”
“Mom,” Leslie said, “it’s not—”
“Is it Dev?”
• 178 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
Shocked, Leslie could only stare. Finally she found her voice.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because if I didn’t know about Rachel, I’d think you and Dev were lovers.”
Leslie’s jaw dropped. “Why?”
Eileen laughed and lifted her hands as if it were obvious. “Because of the way
you are together.”
“We aren’t any way at all together,” Leslie said vehemently. “Of course we’re
not lovers! I haven’t even seen Devon since two days before I left for college.”
Eileen’s eyes narrowed. “Why not? Why did you lose touch?”
“Because!” Leslie spun away and closed her eyes, appalled to feel tears slip
from between her lashes. Her legs shook, and she reached blindly for a nearby
stool. She slumped onto it and took several long deep breaths, centering herself,
reclaiming her control. Then she brushed quickly at her face and turned back to
face her mother. She spoke with no emotion, reciting facts. “I knew Dev in high
school. I was a year ahead of her, and I went away to school and that was the
last time I saw her.”
“I knew that part, Leslie. What I don’t know is the part you still don’t want to
tell me.”
Leslie tugged at her lower lip with her teeth, biting down until the pain helped her
focus. She could hold back her tears, but she couldn’t hold back the truth
anymore. “Mike found us kissing and he beat her up. He hurt her, and I let him.”
“Oh my God. Leslie.”
Leslie put her face in her hands and bowed her head. “I let him.
God. I let him.” She raised her head, her eyes Þ lled with misery. “Then Dev
had the accident on her bike and I went off to college and pretended it never
happened.”
“I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry you had to go through all that by yourself.”
Eileen rose and gave Leslie a quick hug. Then she rested her cheek against
Leslie’s hair, keeping her arm very lightly on Leslie’s shoulders. “I’d like to
murder Mike. I’m so sorry you and Dev were hurt.”
“Dev was hurt. I just ran.”
Eileen kissed the top of her head, then asked gently, “So you two were
girlfriends, back then?”
• 179 •
RADCLY fFE
“No,” Leslie said with a sigh. “Well, we were but we didn’t realize what was
happening between us until that night. And then I kind of freaked out, and it
took me years to Þ gure it all out.”
Eileen tilted Leslie’s chin up and studied her face. “What about now that you
and Dev are friends again?”
“I’m with Rachel. We’ve been seeing each other almost two years.”
“Do you two live together in Manhattan?” Eileen settled back on her stool.
“No.” Leslie shook her head, relieved not to be talking about Dev or the past
anymore. “We both have our own condos. Our schedules are so crazy, we
don’t see each other that much anyhow, so there’s really no point in living
together.”
“Well, making a life together isn’t always about how much time you spend in the
same place.”
“We’re not that kind of couple.” Leslie frowned, realizing how that sounded,
even though it was true. “We both have our own lives, Mom. We respect each
other’s work. We enjoy each other. Things are Þ ne just the way they are.”
“I see,” Eileen said gently. “Well, it will be nice to meet her.”
“Thanks,” Leslie said, aware just how inadequate her summary of her
relationship with Rachel must have sounded. But she’d been truthful. What does
that say about my life?
v
“Soup’s on!” Natalie called.
Tucking a faded blue-checked ß annel shirt into her oldest pair of jeans, Dev
made her way slowly out of the bedroom to Þ nd Natalie, barefoot in a white
silk T-shirt and black slacks, spooning tomato soup into bowls. A Þ re crackled
in the Þ replace and a tray of cheese and French bread sat on the coffee table in
front of the sofa. A bottle of white wine completed the picture.
“That looks great, thanks,” Dev said, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She hadn’t been able to make it any farther than the sofa when she got home
that morning, and she’d still been asleep when Natalie arrived, announcing her
intentions to make dinner. Dev hadn’t wanted company, but Natalie had come
out in the pouring rain so she’d smiled and let her in. Now, showered and Þ
nally warm, she took in the
• 180 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
room and realized that Natalie might be interested in more than dinner.
Natalie’s silk T was just sheer enough to reveal a hint of dusky nipples on her
decidedly braless breasts. She wore her dark hair down, a
nd Dev caught the
hint of an earthy perfume. Natalie looked and smelled like walking sex.
“How’s your leg?” Natalie carried the bowls to the coffee table, set one down in
front of Dev, and curled up next to her with the other bowl balanced in her lap.
“Not bad,” Dev said, sipping the soup. “This was nice of you.”
“You looked like hell this morning. If I hadn’t had to get the rest of our
marooned campers off the islands, I wouldn’t have left you here alone today.”
“I would have been pretty lousy company. I crashed the minute I walked in and
didn’t move until you knocked on the front door.”
Natalie shrugged, smiling softly. “I can think of worse things to do than watching
you sleep.”
Carefully, Dev set her bowl down. She liked Natalie a lot. Natalie was not only
smart and capable, she was sexy as all get out. A month ago, Dev had seriously
considered a night with her, maybe even a pleasant summer interlude. Now all
she could think about was Leslie.
All she’d been able to think about since the moment she’d seen her at the train
station had been Leslie. She could still smell her hair, still feel her body stretched
along hers, still feel her everywhere. She hurt so much inside she wanted to fall
on her knees and beg for everything to be different. Christ, what a fool.
“Why does it bother you that I want to go to bed with you?”
Natalie asked, putting her own bowl aside.
“That’s direct.” Dev grinned shakily. “I like that about you.”
Natalie stretched one leg out and curled her toes into Dev’s right calf. Then she
slowly ran her foot up and down Dev’s jean-clad leg.
“I’ve wanted to get you into bed since the Þ rst time I saw you standing in the
lake with water up to your waist. And unless I’m way off base, no one else is
warming your bed.”
Hitching her leg partway onto the couch, Dev turned sideways so she could
meet Natalie’s gaze. She caught her breath when Natalie slid her foot along the
top of her thigh and between her legs. When Natalie’s heel nudged the seam in
her jeans, Dev stiffened.
“Tell me that doesn’t feel good.” Natalie’s voice was throaty and low, her eyes
soft and sultry.
• 181 •
RADCLY fFE
Dev wrapped her Þ ngers around Natalie’s ankle and moved her foot away an
inch. She was tired and weary at heart, but her body still screamed for release
after the hours of arousal the night before, and Natalie was very good at
seduction. “I’m not dead, Natalie. You’re a beautiful woman and you’re making
me more than a little bit crazy.”
Natalie drew her leg away, slid closer on the couch, and put her hand where her
foot had been—high on the inside of Dev’s thigh. She squeezed the tight muscle,
released, then squeezed again. Dev gasped.
“Let me make you feel good. I know what you need. Let me slide my Þ ngers
—”
“Natalie,” Dev said, her voice rough, her stomach tight. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“Dev, for God’s sake, I can tell you want me. What is it you think I want that
you’re so worried about?” Natalie moved her hand from Dev’s thigh to her
cheek, stroking her face. “All I want is to share what we both want to share. I’m
not asking for anything else.”
“I know, I believe you.” Dev leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling, her
breath coming in painful spurts. It had taken so long to feel anything for any
other woman, and she didn’t often give in to physical attraction. Too many times
she’d been left feeling empty. She turned her head and met Natalie’s troubled,
questioning gaze. “I can’t make love to you because I…I…”
“Because you’re in love with Leslie Harris.”
Dev closed her eyes as the pain washed through her. Natalie leaned forward
and gently kissed her on the mouth. Natalie’s lips were soft, moist, warm. Her
full, Þ rm breasts pressed against Dev’s arm.
She smelled like rain, she smelled like life. And Dev hurt so much. She wanted
to keep her eyes closed and let Leslie open her shirt, unbutton her jeans, and
stroke her sorrows into pleasure. She wanted Leslie to…
Leslie. She wanted Leslie. She opened her eyes. “Yes. Because I love Leslie.”
“She’s not here, Dev,” Natalie said, her gentleness softening the sting in her
words. “I don’t know why she isn’t, but the reasons don’t really matter. What
matters is that you’re here alone, hurting, and I want to be with you. We’ll both
feel better, I promise.”
“I can’t,” Dev groaned. “I can’t make love with you if I’m thinking about her.
I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Natalie leaned back, her Þ ngers slowly stroking Dev’s arm. “Don’t worry. You
won’t be thinking about her when you’re with me.” She
• 182 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
smiled, a slow, lazy, conÞ dent smile. “I know it, and one of these days, you’re
going to know it too.” She leaned close again and nipped at Dev’s chin, then
kissed the spot she’d bitten. “And when you do, Dev, I’ll be waiting. And I
promise you a night you’ll never forget.”
Dev laughed, but her eyes were serious. “It doesn’t bother you?
Knowing the way I feel about Les?”
“Of course it bothers me,” Natalie said, her eyes blazing. “It bothers me a hell of
a lot that you’re so torn up. And it bothers me that I want you to distraction and
can’t have you. Yet.” She blew out a breath.
“But I can be patient. And I’ve got you for the whole summer.”
• 183 •
• 184 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
When Leslie walked into the lodge the next morning, Dev and Natalie were
having breakfast in the dining room. Natalie wore her park uniform, and Leslie
wondered if she had brought it with her the night before or had gone home
sometime in the evening. The rain had Þ nally stopped just before dawn, but it
wouldn’t have been an enjoyable walk back to the parking lot last night. Natalie
probably stayed with Dev. In the tiny cabin. With only one bed. Leslie gritted
her teeth, shook her head no when Dev gestured to the empty chair at their
table, and pushed through into the kitchen.
The cook they’d hired was cleaning up after breakfast, and Leslie could hear
her mother and father talking out on the screened-in porch.
She poured a cup of coffee and joined them.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Daddy. How are you feeling?”
“Like a turtle ß ipped over on its back in the middle of the Northway,” her
father grumped. His crutches were propped against the chair, where he sat with
his casted leg supported on an embroidered footstool that looked barely
capable of supporting the weight. “I can’t get down to the dock on these
crutches, especially not after all this rain.”
“Is there anything you need me to do?” Leslie asked, leaning her hip against the
end of the couch and sipping her coffee. “I’m going to bring the boat in this
morning.”
“That should be Þ ne,” her father said. “We’ll make arrangements for someone
/> to take guests out and back the rest of the summer.” He glanced at Eileen, then
at Leslie. “The doctors said eight weeks in this damn cast.”
• 185 •
RADCLY fFE
“Eight weeks, minimum,” her mother interjected. “You can’t rush these things,
Paul.”
“I was wondering, Les,” he said hesitantly, “if you might be able to come up
Labor Day weekend and give your mother a hand closing up.”
“I can handle it, Paul,” Eileen said, a hint of reproach in her voice.
“Leslie’s busy enough with her own work. I don’t want her to think she’s going
to need to work here every time she comes home.”
When Leslie thought of how much went into the end of the season closing, her Þ
rst reaction was to beg off, pleading too full a schedule.
The cabins and all the rooms would need to be inventoried and items marked
for replacement or repair, the boathouse would have to be winterized, and the
boat and equipment overhauled in preparation for dry-docking, just for starters.
Supervising the process, let alone doing it, was an enormous load. Still, it was
going to be a rough summer for her mother, and no matter how much extra help
she hired, there were some things that couldn’t be left to employees. She really
should come home to help. And Dev had said she’d be here all summer. That
fact made the decision easy.
“I’ll come. It’s no problem.” Leslie knew it was crazy to come back while Dev
was here, especially since she’d already decided to leave right after the Fourth
of July celebration just so she wouldn’t have to see Dev anymore. But she
couldn’t help herself. Whenever she thought of going back to Manhattan, back
to her life, she felt both relief and sorrow. She was comfortable—more than
comfortable, she was satisÞ ed with the life she’d made for herself. It would be
good to immerse herself in work again. Not to be constantly assaulted by conß
icting desires. Not to be faced with the guilt of wanting Dev so desperately. But
when she imagined actually leaving, of never seeing Dev again, she wanted to
cry. By Labor Day, she’d have control of her life again. She’d be able to see
Dev and put their relationship—their friendship—into perspective. Yes, it would
be much better that way.
“It’ll be fun.”
Eileen laughed. “Then you don’t remember what it’s like very well.”
