“Why?”

“You know, I don’t remember you being such a pain in the ass,”

Leslie muttered.

“Neither were you.”

Leslie gave her a sidelong glare, but she smiled. “My father’s going to be

operated on tomorrow and I’ll need to stay with my mother in the morning.

Then I have to deal with this place.”

“My schedule’s ß exible. I can keep an eye on things here.”

“You must have your own work to do.”

“I was going out to the islands the day after tomorrow, but I can postpone that a

few days. I’ve got plenty of work to do around here.”

Dev got up to Þ nish slicing the leftover ham. “At least until things are more

settled with your dad. I don’t mind, really.”

Leslie sighed. “It would help a lot.”

“One stipulation.”

“I don’t usually make deals.” Leslie folded her arms and regarded Dev

appraisingly. “But I suppose you can try.”

Dev leaned against the counter and met Leslie’s gaze steadily.

Seeing the calculation and unmistakable power in Leslie’s eyes, Dev

appreciated for the Þ rst time that this was not the woman of her memories.

Like Dev, Leslie had changed. Every now and then Dev caught a glimpse of the

girl she had known, when a little bit of humor broke through her steely control or

when compassion softened her unyielding reserve. When they’d been young,

Dev had been attracted to Leslie’s softness and her gentle innocence. Now she

found her strength every bit as appealing, if quite a bit more irritating.

“You get the tests tomorrow,” Dev said.

• 100 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

“Dev—” Leslie started to protest, exasperated, then considered how much help

Dev had been. And how much her concern touched her.

“Okay, look. If I can, I will.”

“Good enough.” Dev opened the refrigerator and slid the tray of sliced meat

onto the bottom shelf. “I was thinking of scrambled eggs and the rest of this ham

for breakfast. What do you think?”

Leslie laughed. “I think you’re crazy.”

Dev grinned. “See? Some things don’t change.”

v

As Leslie undressed for bed, too tired even to shower, she remembered the

conversation in the kitchen.

Some things don’t change.

She marveled at just how much everything had changed. How much Dev,

especially, had changed. Dev was so much less angry now, and sure of herself in

ways she’d never been as a teenager. Physically, she moved with conÞ dence,

and she clearly owned her sexuality. It didn’t take seeing her with Natalie to

know that. The image of Dev standing in the kitchen just hours ago with that

foolish apron slung around her muscular hips or sprawled in a chair on the porch

with a cup of coffee in her hand gave Leslie a hungry feeling in the pit of her

stomach. Dev was sexy without even trying.

But then, she’d always been sexy, although Leslie hadn’t consciously

acknowledged that. Looking back, she appreciated how intriguing Dev had

been as a teenager, with her dark moods and rebellious dress and refusal to

conform. She realized just how attracted she’d been to Dev and what she’d

done when awareness had crashed in upon her in one hot, wild instant. She ß

ushed with embarrassment.

Dev was far more forgiving of her actions back then than she was. There were

times like tonight when the burden of guilt felt as if it might crush her. As she lay

down, exhausted but too keyed up to close her eyes, she wondered who Dev

saw when she looked at her.

• 101 •

• 102 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

CHAPTER TWELVE

At Þ ve thirty the next morning, Leslie made her way up the path to the lodge

just as the sun broke over the horizon.

She stopped before climbing the steps and turned to watch the morning dance

across the glassy surface of the lake. Orange and magenta streaked the sky and

reß ected off the blue water so brightly she shielded her eyes with one hand.

She’d seen it thousands of times growing up and hadn’t thought of the silent

beauty for years, but it hadn’t lost its power to enchant her.

“It never gets old, does it?” Dev said quietly from the shadows of the porch.

She walked forward to lean against the railing.

“I’m not sure why not,” Leslie said almost to herself. “Maybe because I’ve

never seen a painting or a photograph as beautiful.”

“No, it’s not something we can capture or re-create. I guess that makes it

special.” Dev watched as the emerging sun highlighted the angles and planes of

Leslie’s face that had not been there in the softness of youth. Her hair glinted

with gold; her eyes mirrored the crystal blue waters. She was beautiful now, as

she had been then, unique and familiar as the dawn.

Leslie hesitated on the top step, struck by the pensive note in Dev’s voice. The

expression on her face was hard to decipher. She looked a little sad, but her

eyes were warm as they caressed—that was how it felt, caressed—her. Leslie

shivered, unable to look away and not wanting Dev to, either. She hadn’t

expected to see Dev so early and wondered if Dev had gone back to her cabin

at all the night before.

Then she noticed that Dev had changed from her jeans and T-shirt into khaki

pants, a dark shirt, and work boots. She looked solid and steady and Leslie felt

oddly comforted.

• 103 •

RADCLY fFE

“You always did make me feel safe.”

When Dev jerked, Leslie realized she’d spoken aloud.

“Did I?” Dev asked quietly. “I always had the impression that everyone thought

I was kind of scary. Or maybe just a little crazy.”

“I never did. You know that.” Leslie wanted to tell her how she always felt

braver when she was with Dev. As if Dev’s differentness allowed Leslie to be

just a little bit different too. To be someone other than the girl all her friends and

even her parents expected her to be.

But she didn’t say anything, because she couldn’t go back there now. It made

her sad. It made her wish for things she couldn’t have and didn’t have time for.

And there were things she had to do. “I forgot some of the things I need to bring

to my mother. I wasn’t at my sharpest last night.”

“There’s coffee,” Dev said, walking inside with Leslie. “That might help.”

“Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Some. Enough. You?” The lights had been out in Leslie’s cabin when Dev had

passed it on the way to her own the night before. For one crazy instant she’d

considered walking up the path and tapping on Leslie’s door. What she would

have said if Leslie had answered, she wasn’t sure. Now, in the light of day, she

was glad she hadn’t. The pull of the past was powerful, but it was obvious that

Leslie had no desire to revisit it. And neither should she.

“I slept on and off,” Leslie said. She looked around the dining room and saw

that Dev had already set out plates and utensils and that the big coffee urn was

full. She grasped Dev’s arm. “This is terriÞ c. I can’t thank you enough. I

should’ve thought to come up and do this myself…”

She wasn’t thinking clearly at all and wondered why not. It was true that her

unexpected illness and this impromptu visit had totally disrupted her normal

routine—she hadn’t been to the gym, hadn’t had a decent meal, hadn’t had a full

night’s sleep in days, no, a week now.

Still, when she’d been involved in a particularly difÞ cult trial there had been

long stretches when she hadn’t slept or eaten or exercised, and she’d never lost

her focus. Never forgot things. Never found her mind wandering into the past or

musing about things she couldn’t change or control.

• 104 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

“I just got here, Les. Besides, you need to get to the hospital.

We’ve already discussed this, remember?”

“Why are you doing this, Dev?”

The question surprised Dev. Leslie so rarely revealed the slightest bit of

vulnerability. Her armor was very effectively established by her elegantly

understated blouse and slacks, her designer shoes, her expensive haircut and her

subtle but perfect makeup. But Dev wasn’t looking at any of those things. She

was looking at the shadows beneath Leslie’s blue eyes and remembering the

way her hands had trembled the night before.

“The easy answer would be because I used to be in love with you.”

Leslie’s laughter was part shock and part embarrassed pleasure.

“I’m afraid to hear the hard answer, then.”

Dev shrugged and slid her hands into her back pockets, unconsciously canting

her hips forward the way she used to when she was feeling insecure and wanted

to act tough. “I know all that’s in the past, but I can’t help feeling that we’re still

friends. And that’s what friends do, isn’t it.”

Leslie rested her palm against Dev’s chest and leaned close to kiss her on the

cheek. “I guess it is. Thank you.”

Dev stood completely still as Leslie turned and disappeared up the wide curving

staircase to the second ß oor, where her parents had their bedroom. If

everything between them was in the past, why did being near Leslie still make

her feel better and worse than anything she’d ever experienced, all at the same

time?

Since she didn’t know the answer, and doubted she ever would, she settled for

doing something that did make sense. She went to the kitchen to make breakfast

for ten.

v

“You don’t have to stay here all morning,” Eileen said to Leslie when Leslie

returned to the surgical waiting area for the fourth time after stepping outside to

make a phone call.

“Sorry,” Leslie muttered as she sat down beside her mother in the surprisingly

comfortable chair. The waiting room was carpeted, with

• 105 •

RADCLY fFE

small seating areas arranged so that families could have some privacy.

She and her mother sat alone in the far corner next to several windows that

looked out over a small landscaped seating area with trees and stone benches.

The smokers congregated there. “Just a couple of things I need to take care of

at the ofÞ ce.”

“I guess you can never really go on vacation.”

“If I didn’t take care of things,” Leslie said, crossing her legs and resting her

head against the back of the chair, “they’d just be there waiting for me. The

problems don’t go away just because I’m not there.”

“No.” Eileen sighed. “The ostrich approach is tempting, but I’ve never known it

to work.”

Leslie laughed. “True on both counts.”

“I mean it, though. I can call you when the doctors come out. It’s likely to be at

least another hour.”

“I’d rather stay.” Leslie looked at her watch. Her tests were scheduled for three

that afternoon, across the street at the outpatient medical building. Unfortunately,

she would probably be able to get there in plenty of time. She felt ridiculous

wasting several hours when she felt perfectly healthy. Other than the

embarrassing episode she’d had in front of Dev the day she’d arrived, she’d

only had one other very brief period of the irregular ß uttering sensation in her

chest—just after she got out of bed that morning. It couldn’t have lasted more

than twenty seconds. In fact, it was over so quickly she wasn’t certain it’d been

anything at all. “Are you planning to stay here tonight too?”

“It depends on how your father’s doing. I thought I might, especially with the

truck acting up.”

“That problem is going to be solved very quickly. If I have time this afternoon

I’m going to put it out of its misery. Do you think Daddy wants another Jeep?”

“I think we should probably wait to ask him. I’m not certain we’ve budgeted for

a new truck this year.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Leslie said.