Man of My Dreams

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  “Please tell me no one was hurt.”

  He looked her dead in the eye. “No one was hurt. It was close, though. I don’t know what happened. All of a sudden I heard the limb creaking, and your voice was in my head, repeating what you said the other day. I got everyone out of the way just before the limb fell.” He shook his head slowly. “It was huge. Came crashing down where we’d been standing. I have to tell you, Megan, if it hadn’t been for your warning, someone could have been seriously hurt. Or worse.”

  She sat there for a long moment, just staring at him. “You’re not just messing with me, are you?”

  He lifted his brows. “Why would I do that?”

  She lowered her head. Her father had pretended to believe her once, just to trick her into elaborating on what she had seen, so he could punish her for even more lies. And after her vision came true her mother had never forgiven her.

  “We went back this morning,” Sam was saying; she shook off her painful memories and focused on the present; “. . . to gather up the gear. Several trees had come down in our camping area. It was a real mess, Megan. Could’ve been a real disaster.”

  She let her lips pull into a smile. “I can’t believe it. All my life, it seems, I’ve been waiting for this gift to be . . . useful. Helpful in some way.”

  “It’s never been before?”

  She shook her head. “It . . . tried to be once. But I couldn’t make anyone listen.”

  He tipped his head, silently urging her to go on. But she shook her head firmly. “It doesn’t matter. Ever since then it’s been little things. I’d know when the phone was going to ring and who would be calling, or when the deliveryman was going to be late. I’d know which roads were going to be jammed with traffic and where to find a parking space. I knew Karen over there was going to get a puppy long before she ever thought about it, and I always know what people will order when they come into the shop.”

  “Doughnuts, right?”

  She smiled at him. “Hey, you’re psychic too?”

  “Well, just so you know, this time you did some good.”

  She sighed in relief. “You don’t know what that means to me. I’m so glad you kept your promise and let me know.”

  He nodded. She started to get up and he said, “So what now?”

  Frowning, Megan settled into her chair again. “What do you mean, what now?”

  “Well, I mean . . . this can’t be it. The end of it.”

  She tipped her head to one side.

  “Look, you said yourself you couldn’t understand the vision that resulted in us meeting that day. That you would have made the bank on time, if not for the vision messing with your head, so you drove too fast and ended up with me stopping you, right?”

  “Well, yeah. But—”

  “But what? You said it that day. Maybe we were supposed to meet. And we did, and you wound up saving a bunch of kids because of it.”

  She shook her head. “Not necessarily. You said you heard the limb creaking.”

  “Yeah, but no one else did. I’m not even sure I really heard it, or just thought I did because of what you had said.”

  “Okay, maybe.”

  He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since that limb fell. And the more I think about it, the more I think it would be stupid not to see where this thing might lead.”

  Shaking her head slowly, she said, “I don’t understand. What thing?”

  “Us. Working together.”

  She blinked precisely three times. “Tell me you’re talking about you coming to work for me at the bakery.”

  “I’m talking about you, working with me on crimes. One crime, in particular.”

  She closed her eyes. “Jeez, Sam, I’m nowhere near good enough for something that important.”

  “I think you are.”

  “Well, you think wrong. One time, I get a decent vision, and you want to turn it into . . .” She let her voice trail off, because she couldn’t resist asking, “What crime, in particular?”

  He lowered his head, she thought to hide a look of triumph, and a suspicion whispered through her brain. “A string of sexual attacks. All connected. The department is stumped.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “What are you leaving out?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m up for a promotion. If I can be instrumental in solving this thing it will be in the bag.”

  She frowned at him for a long moment, feeling deflated. She’d liked him, at first. Thought he was genuine. Maybe, being psychic, she should have picked up on the fact that he was looking to get ahead, willing to use her to do it. It hurt that the first person to believe in her gift had to be so small-minded.

  Pushing back her chair, she got to her feet.

  He reached out and clasped her hand.

  The flash hit her hard, snapping her head back with its impact, and sucking her out of her waking state, and into a vision that burned her brain with its brightness. Girls. No. Women. Two beautiful women, laughing and talking both at once, and him, Sam, right in the midst of them. And then there was something else. The dead woman, Sarah Dresden, the tattoo and the river.

  The vision released her as if dropping her from a great height. She hit the earth so hard it jarred her teeth.

  “Jesus, are you okay? Megan?”

  She opened her eyes, found herself sitting back in the chair where she’d started out. He wasn’t. He was kneeling close beside her, and across the room Karen was looking over the counter at her.

  “Who are they?” Megan asked. “The women, the two women?”

  He shook his head.

  “All S names. Sabrina and She—Shelly?”

  “Shelby. They’re my sisters.” He was looking at her as if she’d sprouted horns. “What did you see? Is something going to happen to them? Are they in trouble?”

  She shook her head slowly. “They’re fine. Who is your mother, anyway, Cleopatra?”

  He frowned even harder. “I don’t know what you—”

  “You all look like you belong in the movies. Your sisters are as gorgeous as you—uh—as you probably already know.” God, she hated the slightly stupid state in which that powerful vision had left her.

  He was crouching there on the floor, looking up at her, the concern in his eyes slowly being replaced by amusement. “You’re not too hard on the eyes yourself, Meg. You okay? Better now?” He gently pushed her hair behind her ear, and she was surprised at how intimate the small gesture seemed, how right it felt, and how hard she had to fight not to lift her hand to cover his, and press it to her cheek.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “You lied to me, though.”

  “I did not. I really am up for a promotion.”

  “But that’s not why you want to catch this guy. It’s not about the job at all. It’s about your sisters. They’re local, I take it?”

  “Local, single. Walk to their cars alone sometimes. Jog in the park. Used to, anyway.”

  “They even have S names. Just like Sarah Dresden.”

  He nodded.

  “Did all the victims?”

  “No. It’s coincidence. But it still drove it home for me. How it could just as easily happen to one of them,” he said. He averted his eyes. “The thought of that bastard going after one of my sisters—”

  She nodded. “You want to protect them. And you feel for the victims because you see them as someone’s sisters, too. You have a real empathy for them.”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure how much I’m going to like hanging out with a woman who can see through me that easily.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem, unless you have something to hide. Which you don’t. Not anymore, at least.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  She pursed her lips. “I heard on the news that Sarah Dresden’s body was found.”

  “So?”

  “But they didn’t say where.”

  He didn’t look at her. “We like to keep some in
formation private, Megan.”

  “But you already know that I know where she was found. You know I phoned your chief and told him where that body was located, and that she had a tattoo, and I’d lay odds she was wearing red sneakers too.”

  He licked his lips as he moved back to his seat. “I’m not allowed to tell you any of that.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. What I don’t know is why your chief denied everything I told him that day. Or why you’re really here with me now. Is it because you really believe I can help you with this case, or do you suspect me of something?”

  He lifted his head, met her eyes. “You were right about the body, the tattoo, the sneakers. The thing is she was found a couple of hours prior to your call. The chief isn’t convinced there wasn’t a leak.”

  “I see.”

  “Obviously I don’t suspect you of anything, Megan. I like you.”

  She searched his eyes, looking for the lie, and found sincerity there instead.

  “To be honest, I’m not entirely convinced you can help me on this case, but I’m willing to give it a try. If you are.”

  She lowered her head. “I don’t know how much help I’m going to be. But yeah, I’ll give it a try. I guess. Let me make some arrangements here. I can call some of my part-timers, see if they can take on full-time for a week. Will that be enough? A week?”

  “We can work around your schedule. When you have time, I’ll take you to some of the crime scenes, see if you can pick up on anything from them.”

  “Okay. All right. And maybe I could talk to some of the victims.”

  “He . . . hasn’t left any of his victims alive, Meg.”

  She closed her eyes. “How many have there been?”

  “You haven’t been following the case on the news?”

  She shook her head. “Not until this last one. Something about her . . .” She let her voice trail off with the thought.

  “Thirteen so far,” he told her.

  She shook her head sadly. A little voice asked her if this wasn’t exactly what she had always wanted. A big case, a chance to do some good. To prove herself.

  No, she thought. Not like this.

  But she knew she had to try. “So when do we begin?”

  “Tonight.”

  “So soon?”

  He smiled gently. “Tonight, I’m taking you out to dinner. To thank you for saving those kids, and maybe me along with them.”

  She held his gaze and wondered if maybe she had fulfilled that part of her premonition—that of saving him. She also wondered if he thought he was going to have to romance her a little in order to ensure her continued cooperation.

  She kind of hoped so.

  Chapter Four

  “SO you’re seeing her tonight?” the chief asked.

  “Yes, taking her to dinner as ordered, but like I said, I think you’re off base on this one.” Sam sipped his beer and reached for a handful of pretzels. They were off duty, having a beer after work at the Cock and Bull Tavern. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence.

  “Come on, Sam. You heard the tape of her call to the tipline.”

  “I heard it. I just don’t think it’s all that incriminating, considering . . .”

  “Considering what? Her so-called abilities aren’t for real, Sam. She warned you about a storm she could have heard about on the Weather Channel, you said so yourself. She’s no psychic. If she knows something about our boy, it’s personal knowledge, not some crap she’s getting from a crystal ball.”

  Sam lowered his head, shook it. “She’s a nice person, Ed.”

  “Yeah. Prisons are full of nice people.”

  Sam didn’t like what he was being asked to do, but he didn’t have a choice. It was his job as a detective with the small city’s police department. Pulling over speeders wasn’t. He’d been in that borrowed uniform and cruiser for three days before Megan Rose had finally fallen into his phony speed trap. And he would have pulled her over whether she’d been speeding or not, which blew her theory, about her “vision” causing their chance meeting, right out of the water. No, he didn’t believe she was some kind of psychic. He wasn’t beyond crediting her with a sharper than average intuition, though.

  “I don’t want your opinion on this, Sam. I just want you to do your job.”

  “How did this end up being my job, anyway?” he asked the chief. “Was I chosen for my skill, my instincts, my record?”

  Ed slapped his shoulder. “Your record—with women, that is. The ladies love you, Sam. God only knows why.” He winked good-naturedly. “One-Night Sam, right? Once I found out she was in your age range and unmarried, I knew you were our best chance of tripping her up, getting her to tell us how she really knew the things she did.” He tipped his head to one side.

  “That’s about what I figured.” He sighed.

  “Come on, Sam. It’s in the line of duty, how bad can it be?”

  Sam shrugged, thinking it wouldn’t be bad at all. Just kind of cruel. But there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Ed Skinner, and he thought Ed knew it. That was probably a big part of the reason Ed had chosen him for this job. “How far do you expect me to take this thing, anyway?”

  “As far as you have to, Sam. Date her, bed her, wed her if you have to, just get the information.”

  Sam rolled his eyes. Ed was being sarcastic. About the “wed her” part, at least. “All right. I’ll stay on it. But you jot it down somewhere that I did so under protest, and that I’m convinced she’s harmless and completely innocent. I know I’m right about this.”

  “You’re psychic, too, huh?”

  Sam made a face.

  Ed shrugged. “Well, hell, maybe she is innocent. If that’s the case, then you’ll just get her to tell you who the killer is by using her powers.”

  SHE changed clothes three times while waiting for Sam to arrive to pick her up. The first choice, a slinky red dress, was too sexy. The second, an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse with jeans, was too casual. She finally settled on the standby little black dress, added an ivory lace shawl, and stood in front of the mirror wondering if she should put her hair up or leave it down.

  The doorbell rang.

  She swore and glanced at the clock. “Hell.” He’d said six; it was only ten of.

  Oh, well, she would just have to do. She went to the door, opened it wide.

  He frowned at her. “Don’t you think you ought to ask who’s there before opening your door? Given the situation, I mean?”

  She frowned right back at him, stepped back, and closed the door.

  He chuckled softly, but he played along, and promptly rang the doorbell again.

  “Who is it?” she called.

  “It’s Sam. Your date for the evening.”

  “How do I know it’s really you?”

  “You’re psychic, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She opened the door again. “Now perhaps you’d like to try again with your uh . . . greeting?”

  He blinked, then he got it. He stepped back and looked slowly down her, all the way to her toes, and back up again to her eyes. “Wow,” he said. “You look incredible.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  “I mean it.”

  She smiled. “So where are you taking me?”

  “That’s a surprise. Got everything?”

  “Um-hm.”

  He crooked an elbow, and she took it, pulled the door closed behind her, and double-checked the lock. He led her to his car, a hot-looking black Mustang, and opened the door for her. “Buckle up, now,” he said when she got in.

  “Buckle up, hell. I want to drive.”

  He smiled at her. “I’ve seen you drive.”

  She rolled her eyes at his little joke, then said, “You need to get the oil changed. It’s past due.”

  He frowned and glanced down at his odometer. “Hey, you’re right.”

  She shrugged. He closed her door and went around to his own side to get behind the wheel. And then he drove her to the best res
taurant in town, fed her a meal that was so sumptuous it should have been illegal, and insisted on ordering a single dessert they could share.

  As she spooned bites of luscious brownie sundae into her mouth, he watched her from the other side of the table. He picked up the white cloth napkin and dabbed something from the corner of her mouth, and said, “I think pulling you over that day was one of the best moves I’ve ever made.”

  She averted her eyes and felt her face color. “You’re not getting any tonight, Sam. You can stop shoveling it on.”

  “I’m not expecting any tonight. And I’m not shoveling anything but the truth. I like you, Megan.”

  “Well, what’s not to like?”

  “Nothing I can find.”

  She put her spoon down, pushed the fishbowl-sized dessert away. “I can’t hold any more of that.”

  “Me neither. I think we’d both do well to walk some of this meal off, don’t you?” As he spoke, he waved at the waiter, who immediately appeared to take his credit card.

  “You want to go walking?”

  “Sure. The town park is just a block from here. It’s a beautiful night.”

  “God, I haven’t gone walking in the park since . . . since all this started.”

  “The attacks, you mean.”

  She nodded. Then smiled at him. “I’ll be safe enough with my own cop in tow.”

  “Damn straight you will. How are you set for footwear?”

  “Pumps,” she said with a frown.

  “You must like me, if you broke out the heels.”

  “You do have sisters, don’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, I only went for the two-inch ones. It is a first date, after all.”

  He grinned at her, flashing the dimple that made her stomach flip-flop. “Maybe next time you’ll wear the stilettos?”

  “You play your cards right, cowboy, I might even wear the open toes.”

  He sucked air through his teeth and pressed a hand to his chest.

  She laughed out loud.

  “My sister Shelby left a pair of flip-flops in my car,” he said. “One size fits most.”