Where Dreams Are Written

by M. L. Buchman

  Especially after talking through his marriage and divorce in such excruciating detail. That she still looked on him at all was a wonder.

  And he liked that intimacy, ignoring that it couldn’t last once they were ashore. For once they landed, she would again be the world’s most sought after supermodel—one blip did not destroy a career like hers no matter what she thought—and he would continue to be an unholy mess who couldn’t write.

  “So,” he started again, hoping he could recover his train of thought when faced with such breathtaking beauty. “You never did explain what upset you this morning.”

  “Non, I did not explain such a thing and now I shall not, not to such a cur.”

  “Why am I a cur now?”

  “Because you did not buy your own issue of the magazine. If you had, instead of mooching your wife’s copy, I might still have been in this year’s issue. Tant pis!”

  “Say what?”

  “ ‘Too bad!’ Loser.”

  “Can’t win for losing.”

  “Precisely. And you, my tall and handsome chien, have lost this round.”

  “At least you didn’t call me chienne.” Being called a bitch was never his first choice.

  “You may be a dog, Joshua, but you are definitely a very male one.”

  He could spar words with her forever, she made it so much fun. Though he’d definitely need to work on his high school French if they were going to spar in two languages.

  A glance over his shoulder showed the half hour crossing was about fifteen minutes gone.

  “Okay. From here to the shore is a quarter hour. If you answer the question, I promise I won’t ask again.”

  “Ever?”

  “At least not for tonight. Best offer I’ve got.”

  She grimaced and turned her back on him, leaving him to admire other features of her. With her hair back in its thick braid, the line of her neck was revealed. A trim waist his hands actually ached to touch again. And her curves continued not as emaciated waif, but rather as elegantly feminine.

  He was about to do something to let her off the hook when she spoke, it was soft enough he had to start forward to hear it over the brisk wind and the rumble of the ferry’s engines.

  “I was sitting with Perrin. And I knew what to do. I knew what she would need to be a huge success rather than be closed within a year without knowing what hit her. There is no third path, no safe middle ground. Her talent will have too much impact.”

  “Wonderful. Take the high road,” he spoke over her shoulder because she didn’t turn and he didn’t dare touch her.

  “You don’t understand, Joshua. I said that I knew what to do. She doesn’t. She couldn’t; not even if I were to explain it all. And she wouldn’t want to. But I could.”

  Josh waited. They were so close. He knew the shore was sliding near, but he didn’t look away; couldn’t risk her changing the topic.

  “But I don’t know this woman, the one who thinks she knows what it would take to launch Perrin. I know the model. Her I invented. Her I know how to control. I don’t know this other person. I don’t know her any better than…”

  She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

  He knew that the person she didn’t know was the one that was sweeping him off his feet—the one that was Melanie and not the model and business superwoman. He took her gently by the shoulders and turned her to face him. There were tears starting from her eyes.

  “Melanie.”

  She nodded uncertainly.

  He kissed her.

  She kissed him back, but there wasn’t any heat behind it, nor did he expect any. “What was that for?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  She scowled at him through her silent tears. He brushed them aside with gentle strokes of his thumb.

  “Melanie.”

  “Kiss me again and I just might get around to actually Tasering you.”

  “You are the most magnificent, powerful, exceptional woman I’ve ever met. The mere idea that you could lose yourself while you’re doing something you love is laughable. It’s so laughable and fallible that it takes you down from the ridiculously high pedestal you live on and makes you momentarily accessible to us mere mortals. When you’re down here, I get to kiss you.”

  “So,” Melanie blinked into the wind. “You’re saying I have to keep screwing up to get a kiss.”

  “It’s one way.”

  Melanie could see the shore fast approaching, the Seattle skyline once again towering above them.

  Melanie was no closer to making a decision about how to help Perrin. Working for her temporarily wouldn’t be enough. Stepping in and making sure Perrin was a success would be throwing away a career that Melanie had spent two decades building, and she wasn’t about to do that.

  She did know one thing though.

  So she threw herself at Joshua and drove him back against the thankfully stout railing hard enough for him to grunt. And then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him the best she knew how.

  Kissed him until the madness in her head quieted enough for her to relish the heat and the power of this man in her arms.

  Kissed him until she no longer feared she’d shatter and be dispersed to the four winds. Until she felt totally present and there was only the here and now and their shared need for each other.

  It was heady, breathtaking, and it left her torn between singing and laughter, both of which she only rarely did, and then did it alone—until Joshua had pulled the laughter out of her and into the open.

  Her singing? She’d keep that in the shower.

  Chapter 7

  As they were walking off the ferry, discussing dinner ideas, Melanie’s phone buzzed with a message. It was the first call in days and she scrabbled for it. Perhaps one of the models on the swimsuit shoot had broken a nail—she’d seen beginners panic for less—or had been eaten by a shark—she could always hope.

  But the text showed a local number.

  Meet us at 5- the Fabulous Five

  It was four thirty now. And she knew exactly who the four were and where they were meeting, the fifth puzzled her. She slowed to a halt at the top of the exit gangway where commuters were queuing up to board the ferry back to their island homes.

  All of the surety she’d felt moments before evaporated. Joshua noticed, of course. They were so in tune that their bodies practically hummed in harmony. Maybe she’d let a little of her singing out of the shower. Was Josh down with Tunstall or B.o.B,? Maybe he was more of a Taylor Swift-Carrie Underwood cute blond country-singer sort.

  Gods she was losing her mind.

  “Kiss me.”

  He only hesitated a moment. She thought something dark wandered across his thoughts, but it was gone by the time their lips met. The kiss grounded her but did little for her suddenly jittery stomach.

  “Merci. I think that you are on your own for dinner tonight, mon ami Joshua.”

  “Good news, my friend?” he nodded down to the phone she still clutched like a baseball ready to pitch across a mound or a plate or wherever they pitched such things.

  “Je ne sais pas.”

  “No idea? Do you want me to go with you?”

  “Non. Go write, find Russell, something like that.”

  She turned to go but he stopped her with strong hands until she looked at him.

  “Are you sure you will be okay?” The warmth and care… She wasn’t used to it. It was always just a ploy… By anyone, except for Joshua. How many more things would she think, “except for Joshua?”

  “No,” might as well be honest. “I’m not at all sure. But you tell me that I am invincible, oui?”

  “Damn straight!” he sounded far more assured than she felt.

  “Then I shall simply go and be incroyable!”

  “Of course you will. You already are incredible.” Then he swept her into a kiss that had her winding her arms and a leg about him and holding on to her newly discovered personal anchor.

  The round
of applause they received from the outbound commuters did little to boost her certainty, other than knowing she too had to go.

  “Russell, dude. Rescue me.” From myself! Josh thought loudly. I’m head over heels with a woman totally out of my league.

  “Hey, that you, Josh?” Russell answered over the phone.

  When Josh admitted that it was.

  “I really need a high-octane distraction.”

  “How about a high proof one?” Russell gave him directions to his place. He’d never been to Russell and Cassidy’s condo just a few blocks north of the Market in Belltown, but it was easy enough to find.

  When he arrived, Russell let him in and pointed toward the kitchen. “Grab a beer or something. We’re out on the deck.”

  Josh dropped his and Melanie’s shopping bags by the door, one of hers was bright pink and clearly from a dress shop.

  “Thinking of walking the other side?” Then Russell grimaced. “Sorry, forgot. Your ex. Not funny. Just come on through.”

  Josh found the fridge had two really smashing whites and he’d bet the cupboard had an exceptional red or twelve. Cassidy’s reputation as a wine entrepreneur was starting to surpass her reputation as one of the nation’s leading food-and-wine critics. Though they’d been friends for years, she still humbled the hell out of him. He took a Heineken.

  The condo boasted such an amazing view out the window, over a dozen stories up right on top of the hill overlooking the waterfront, that he didn’t notice the apartment at first.

  There was their ferry, already headed back across the water.

  “Did that really happen?” he asked the empty living room.

  The condo didn’t answer.

  If he were in any condition to judge, he’d say that he’d just had the best date of his life, but he knew he was still awash in the aftereffects of Melanie’s final embrace and did his best to push the thought aside. He could still feel her kiss burning on his lips.

  He was in so much trouble here.

  When he finally focused back on the condo, it was almost a comedy. Clearly, it had been purchased and decorated by Cassidy. Her taste was elegant and understated: pale greens and soft golds set on a base of white carpet. Except for a big, dark-blue recliner with a stack of books spilling off the table beside it. A very high-end camera dangled precariously from the edge of a low shelf.

  Apparently the neck strap was too enticing for a small black cat with a ridiculous amount of hair for such a pristine apartment, who was deeply snarled in the strap in a fight to the death. Josh managed to nudge the camera back to safety without strangling the cat.

  Art covered the walls. Most of it was clearly Russell’s photography, except for a line of small photos over the couch. A dozen pictures of sailboats and lighthouses. The last picture was of the two of them getting married at the Mukilteo Light. Josh remembered that; it had been a hell of a party. He’d gone with Constance and… Crap!

  He shoved the memory aside and moved quickly out onto the balcony. There was a set of iron chairs and small side tables. Enough room for four guys to sit comfortably and watch the busy waterfront like gods on high. It was bright, the sun was shifting west, though still a ways from setting. He kept his sunglasses on.

  There were two other guys there. He didn’t know them, though one looked vaguely familiar.

  “Angelo’s cooking tonight. This one’s Bill Cullen, Perrin’s other half,” Russell waved a hand at a man to match Josh’s six feet, but he was a big-boned guy without an ounce of fat. Josh wouldn’t want to wrestle him. A tall, lean, older man—more patrician—was introduced as, “Hogan Stanford who is still trying to prove he’s worthy of Mama Maria.”

  “Six months since we were married, Russell. You have to let a fellow sailor into safe harbor sometime.”

  “No, I don’t.” By Russell’s smug and relaxed attitude it was clear that he long since had. “Marrying Mama Maria is not a get into jail free card.”

  “A cell I plan to stay in forever.”

  “Good thing,” Russell drank his beer, “or Angelo and I will have to kill you.”

  “C’mon man.” Bill tossed in his own two cents. “You think Maria would leave even a tiny piece of him for us to kill off? Wouldn’t happen. That woman is scary. She threatened me about treating Perrin right the first time we met. Actually threatened me.” He shivered as if a chill had just washed over his soul.

  “She made me breakfast the first time we met,” Hogan looked immensely pleased.

  Russell covered his ears, “Na-na-na-na. Don’t want to be hearing that shit, man. Can’t believe that Mama Maria slept with you on your first date. Just not right. Na-na-na-na.”

  By Hogan’s grin, Josh could see that there was a web of half-truths that the man had been feeding Russell for some time, and would probably get away with continuing for some time more. That’s when he figured out why Hogan was familiar.

  “You’re the shelter cook. Down in Pioneer Square.”

  “I am. Volunteer there five days a week. Why—oh, you’re the early riser in Maria’s building.” Then Josh saw Hogan aim a wicked smile at Russell while he was looking out at the water. “Yep! I know that building well. Maria and I—”

  Russell again covered his ears, “Na-na-na-na. Shit, Josh, don’t encourage the man. To hear him tell it, they probably had sex on the kitchen floor. He and Mama Maria. Just such a bad image.”

  Hogan’s suddenly soft smile indicated that may have just been the first fact Russell had gotten right.

  Josh could get to like this. He settled into a chair between Russell and Hogan. This was exactly what he needed. A night with the boys to get his libido back in check.

  Then Bill leaned forward to look at him around Russell, “I’d be careful, Josh. I hear Russell is even more protective of Melanie than he was of Maria.”

  “Sure,” Russell nodded. “Melanie needs more protecting than Maria. But what does she have to do with this?” He went to take a drag on his beer.

  Bill’s smile was wicked, “Perrin says that Melanie and Josh here are shacking up together in Angelo and Maria’s condo.”

  What the hell? Josh had never met him before and he was getting thrown under the bus by the man?

  Russell choked on his beer, hacking and sending spray everywhere—over his jeans, even dribbling down his chin. “You what?!” he thundered loud enough to be heard on the ferry now halfway across the Sound.

  Josh wondered if he was about to die from a dozen-story fall.

  Hogan tapped his beer bottle against the one Joshua had yet to raise to his lips, then leaned in and whispered as Russell continued to splutter, “Welcome to the club, my boy.”

  Melanie arrived at Cutters Crabhouse with her heart still skipping every third beat. She should have brought Joshua for support, but that wouldn’t be appropriate. Besides, since when did Melanie need someone else’s support? Still, a part of her admitted, his little pep talk about how she could do anything should give her heart. Did give her some. But would it be enough to face the Fabulous Five?

  The bar was already hopping though it wasn’t quite five o’clock yet. An upscale urban hangout with an amazing view of Pike Place Market and the southern Seattle waterfront, it would be packed and roaring with the after work crowd within the hour. Her history in Seattle had been cluttered with this place.

  Her first trip here had included a dinner with Russell in the main restaurant beyond the bar, set against one of the best views in all Seattle. That was back when— She shuddered from the thought and lost some of her confidence. That was the weekend she had fallen in love with him and then broken up with him. Her heart had been an impregnable fortress ever since… Right up to Joshua. And she was too busy at the moment to decide whether or not he was somehow gaining entrance past that protection.

  Her last visit had included lunch with Perrin, and it was where she’d first met Joshua. At that table, close by the window, now occupied by a pair of couples clearly enjoying themselves. She hadn’t paid
too much attention to him at that meal, but she would take strength from their having been here together, even in a group.

  Though Melanie had arrived early, four of The Fabulous Five were already there. And waiting. She lurked a moment in the shadows, dropping her heart rate by sheer willpower as she assessed them. While she did so, she pulled out her French braid to let her hair flow free. She would find strength in arriving as Melanie the model. She finger-combed the worst of the twists free until it should billow properly. No time to retreat and brush it out.

  The four women stood out in the chi-chi bar with its dark wood tables, tall chairs, and amazing view just beyond the glass. The afternoon sun streamed in through a softening screen and lit the four women so that they glowed like a runway show frozen in time.

  Russell’s wife Cassidy Knowles, the founder of the Washington Wine Cooperative, already a growing force in the national and international marketing of Puget Sound wines. She’d dressed in her classic black slacks and turtleneck, her brunette hair spilling to her shoulders. They really needed to do an intervention and get some color into her wardrobe; she definitely had the figure for it.

  Jo Parrano, who had married Angelo last fall, should have been a model. Her native-Alaskan dark hair and skin, and her voluptuous curves accented by one of Perrin’s custom powersuits clearly identified her as one of the most powerful women in Seattle.

  Maria was dressed perfectly, as she always was. She understood color and flow. She was both beautiful and clearly the calm center, the true anchor of the group. If she could age the way Maria was, she’d be thrilled. It was patently ridiculous as Maria was almost a foot shorter than Melanie, but she was living proof that life began at fifty.

  Perrin sat beside the still empty fifth chair and, as always, was a study in fashion. Her hair was golden rather than the dye jobs she used to sport. She wore a dress of jet black velvet. It had one sleeve that started as a fingerless glove. At her shoulder, it broke into two waves that draped and cascaded down her slender figure so dramatically it would have made her face hard to focus on—the eyes just wanted to travel right down to the short slit-reveal at her calves. Except, the other shoulder and arm were bare and relieved the eye of its downward journey. Rather than losing the pale-skinned woman in the dramatic dress, she shone.