Jenna Ryan - Dream Weaver

For the first time, Meliana detected the smell of scorched wood. Her gaze traveled around the open yard to the shed. “You think the rose guy burned the shed and disabled your truck, don’t you?”

“I think it’s very likely.”

“So do I.” The knots in her stomach tightened. “He’s watching me, Johnny, and he doesn’t like you. You need to stay here, and let Julie do what she can in Chicago.”

“I know cops, Mel.” He closed in on her, but was thankfully too dirty to touch. “Julie’s a cog in a big regulation wheel. She won’t be able to do much, no matter how good her intentions. Flowers and petty theft don’t amount to a great deal in the eyes of the police.”

“Julie’s a friend.”

“I’m your husband.”

She lifted her hair from her neck so the lake air could reach her skin. “We’re separated, Johnny, and you’re not supposed to be involved in any kind of investigation right now. On a more dangerous note, you’re also supposed to be discreet about any action you undertake, in case someone you were involved with as John Garcia did happen to make you.”

He used a knuckle to tip her chin up. “You’ve been talking to Blackburn, haven’t you?”

“Not about you.” She let her hair fall. “I watched you change over time, from the man I married to a man I stopped recognizing as my husband. I didn’t grow up in a bubble, Johnny. I’ve seen people get sucked into bad situations. With you, I saw an evolution. It wasn’t healthy, and it certainly wasn’t pretty. You seem so much better these days. I don’t want you to slide backward.”

“I won’t.”

“You could. John Garcia’s a part of you now. You created a persona, and for two years it became your reality. You lived it, breathed it, worked it. When they pulled you out, the FBI considered putting you in a witness protection program. They would have if you hadn’t been so adamant that your cover hadn’t been blown.”

“I didn’t think it had.”

“But now you’re not sure. Enrique Jago might be out there looking for revenge. And what would he do? He’d stalk me. He’d distract you. He’d make you look in my direction when really it’s you he wants.”

Johnny lowered his lashes. He was silent for a moment. Then, with his mouth mere inches from hers, he said, “This stuff’s coming off the top of your head, isn’t it?”

Absurd amusement rose in her throat. It had to be his delivery coupled with his speculative expression. He’d always been able to make her laugh at the most inappropriate moments.

“This isn’t funny, Johnny.” Although she had invented most of what she’d said on the fly. Suddenly, though, she couldn’t remember why or think of anything other than the fact that she wanted to jump him.

The knuckle under her chin slid along her jaw until all of Johnny’s fingers were wrapped around her neck. “Tell me again how I get sucked into bad situations.”

She felt a shiver work its way upward from her belly. “You’re the worst possible situation for me, Johnny. We agreed on that six months ago.”

His lips grazed hers. “And your point is?”

Impulse kicked in. Knocking reason aside, Meliana grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him against her. “I hate you, Johnny Grand.”

“Me, too,” he said and, angling his mouth over hers, began to devour.

SHE WOULD HAVE GONE UP to the loft bedroom with him, and he would have taken her there in a second, but both dogs began to bark, and the headlights that swept over them preceded the blast of a horn.

“Okay, you two, knock it off,” Julie called out the car window. “You’ve got visitors, and one of them had her most recent date interrupted by a friend whose underwear got scoffed.”

Johnny hated to think what he’d have done at that moment had his other persona been in place. But he was Johnny Grand, making out with his wife in the front yard of their summer home. A snarl was the nastiest reaction he could manage, and only Meliana heard it.

He saw her silvery eyes twinkle as she whacked his hands away. “He got me all dirty,” she said to Julie, then added a softer “Though I could have handled getting a lot dirtier” for him.

Johnny ground his teeth. He was grateful he’d worn loose-fitting pants. He swung to face the car, saw two doors open and scowled. “What are you doing here, Lightfoot?”

“Don’t sweat it. I bumped into Julie at the hospital after Mel left. We got to talking about roses, silk stockings and e-mail threats, so I tagged along.”

Meliana gave Charlie’s cheek a peck. “Are you going to feel out Johnny’s computer?”

“It’d be a first. As it happens, I’m also on the lookout for somewhere to hold a series of clinics I’m having, examining the effects of a tranquil environment on the super-stressed mind.”

“Already been done a hundred times,” Johnny said.

Charlie tapped his temple. “Not my way, it hasn’t. Any ideas for a group of, say, fifteen, Mel?”

“There’s the Blue Lake Inn or Reddings on the Lake—that’s a motel. Or you could rent a house. Lots of people here own large properties that they rent out in the off-season. That’d be about now, actually.”

“Sounds good.” Charlie nodded past her. “Why’s Johnny all dirty?”

Julie lifted her head. “I smell burned wood.”

Johnny started forward. “It’s been a long day. I’ll close up my truck. Mel can explain.”

“Mel can tell them what happened,” Meliana agreed. “She can’t really explain.” She pushed the dogs toward the house. “I’ll make coffee, Charlie, and show you the computer while Johnny cleans up.”

“I’ll make coffee,” Johnny mimicked, heading for his truck. “We’ll have a party. Charlie can feel up Johnny’s computer. Oh, hell,” he swore as another set of headlights bounced along the road toward him. “Why not invite everyone we know.”

Zack braked and climbed out. “You look as ticked as I feel.” He wiped his hands on an old towel.

“You look dirtier than me,” Johnny countered. He slammed the hood of his truck. “Is there a problem in town?”

“Five vehicles got rolled into Stokes’ Bog last night. Phil and I have been there since dawn helping to haul them out. We managed four, the fifth’s stuck on something. And you wonder why I’d rather be a paramedic. How’s your busted pipe?”

“Capped.” Because he didn’t feel like picking them up and it wasn’t supposed to rain, Johnny kicked his tools under the SUV.

Zack leaned on the top of his car door. “Sounds like you’ve had a lousy day, too. I was hoping for a beer.”

Johnny had been hoping for a whole lot more than that. “Mel’s here.” He searched his pockets for his keys. “And some friends from the city.”

“Rain check, then.” Zack raised a hand at Meliana, who’d come onto the porch. “How are things?” he called out.

“Busy,” she called back.

Julie appeared behind her. Johnny saw the poke she gave Meliana, and the action eased his foul mood. “You might as well come in, Zack, and save Mel the trouble of persuading you.”

“Hey, I don’t mind being persuaded. Who’s the blonde?”

“Julie Denton. City cop. Not married.”

“My mother’ll be pleased to hear it.” Zack whipped down the towel he’d draped over one grimy shoulder and tossed it into the cruiser. “I figured this day had to improve at some point.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Johnny agreed. Then groaned as the house, indeed the entire lakefront yard, went black.

THE POWER FAILURE LASTED fifteen minutes. Meliana and Charlie sat cross-legged on the sofa and by candlelight watched the other three argue about the source of the problem.

Johnny assumed it was the breaker box, the obvious choice. Zack figured the outage might involve the whole lakefront area, and Julie mentioned the word sabotage.