“What do you see in your dream?”

“Nothing that looks like any kind of clue, that’s for sure. I see Grady Hastings, the crazy guy who broke in with the gun that day. He reaches out to me. Begs me to help him. I want to, but I don’t know how.”

Sam pulled her into his arms and wrapped her close and tight.

“Maybe there’s a lesson here,” he said.

“What would that lesson be?”

He dropped a kiss into her hair, and then he moved his mouth to her ear.

“Maybe neither of us should be sleeping alone,” he said.

She slipped her arms around his neck. “Do you think that sleeping together would stop the dreams?”

“Worked for me last night.” He kissed her throat. “What about you?”

“Well, I had the dream before we went to bed together. That’s what woke me up. But afterward, I went out like a light. I don’t remember any dreams.”

He nuzzled her throat. “What do you say we rerun the experiment again tonight and see if we get the same positive results?”

She smiled. “Is that the way you science guys talk when you want to get a lady into bed?”

“Depends. Is it working? If not, I’ll try another approach.”

“Don’t bother.” She brushed her mouth against his. “It’s working.”

The lovemaking was compelling and intense, just as it had been the first time, but there was something different about it tonight, Abby thought. Last night she had experienced what felt like a metaphysical as well as a physical intimacy at the height of her release. The short-lived sense of connection had been unlike anything she had ever experienced, but she had told herself it was a result of the paranormal energy involved. They had both been running a little hot last night.

The same alarming, enthralling sensation of psychical and physical intimacy swept through her again tonight. But this time when she shivered in Sam’s arms and wrapped herself around him while he powered through a shuddering climax, she knew that the connection was not temporary. Something much more permanent was going on with their resonating auras.

Her last coherent thought before she tumbled down into sleep was that even if she did not see Sam again for the rest of her life, the link between them would endure to the end.

She did not know whether to be thrilled or terrified.

23

Grady Hastings was enveloped in dream fog. He reached out to her. “Help me. You’re the only one who can save me.”

“Please, you must tell me what you want,” she said.

“Help me.”

She tried to grasp his hand, but she could not get close enough. She tried to walk toward him through the swirling fog of energy, but some unseen force stopped her.…

“ABBY, WAKE UP,” SAM SAID. HIS VOICE WAS QUIET BUT freighted with the weight of a command. “Can you hear me? You’re dreaming.”

Somewhere, a dog whined anxiously.

She came awake on the usual rush of energy, dismayed to find herself on her feet, almost halfway to the door. Sam was standing directly in front of her. He had both hands clamped around her shoulders. Newton pressed against her leg.

“Crap,” she said. “I did it again. My own fault this time. I forgot to set my alarm.”

“What alarm?”

“Gwen said I should set a psychic alarm so that I would go into the lucid dream state if I had the Grady Hastings dream again. She said that strong talents are especially good at manipulating lucid dreams, they just have to focus. She told me that if I took control of the dream I might be able to find out what my intuition is trying to tell me.”

“So much for my theory that sex before sleep would ensure that you didn’t dream,” Sam said.

“Guess it’s back to the drawing board.”

“Let’s not be too hasty here. We don’t want to abandon the experiment just because we had one failure.”

She looked at him. “I thought that doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome was the definition of insanity.”

“Ah, but sex is never exactly the same.” He pulled her into his arms. “Each time is different. I suggest that we keep rerunning the experiment until we get the right results.”

She leaned into him. “The dream was stronger tonight, Sam.”

He held her close against him. “Was there anything different about it?”

“No. But I have come to a conclusion.”

“What?”

“I don’t think there’s any deep, hidden meaning in my dream. I think the message my intuition is trying to send me is very simple and straightforward.”

“What is it?”

“We need to talk to Grady Hastings.”

24

ABBY AWOKE WITH A START, AWARE THAT SHE WAS ALONE IN the bed. Funny how fast you could become accustomed to sleeping with someone, she thought. She had slept alone all her life and had concluded that she liked it that way. Two nights with Sam had changed a lot of things.

A cold, wet nose pushed against her hand. She opened her eyes and found herself face–to–face with Newton. He was standing beside the bed, gazing at her with a fixed expression.

“Okay, okay, I’m awake. I thought I told you to forget that psychic-command thing.”

She pushed back the covers, sat up and rubbed Newton briskly. He chuffed a little, licked her hand and then, evidently satisfied that he had performed his duty, turned and trotted out the open door. She could tell that he was headed downstairs to the kitchen. The sounds and smells of breakfast wafted up from the floor below.

Sleeping with Sam definitely had a few perks, she thought. He was fixing breakfast for the second morning in a row. She could not recall the last time anyone had prepared breakfast for her. Tomorrow morning she would have to return the favor.

The summer dawn had arrived with rain, all in all, looking more like a midwinter dawn. Through the window she could see the steel-colored waters of the sea, but the neighboring islets and islands were lost in the mist.

She took a teal-colored cowl-neck pullover and a pair of gray trousers out of her suitcase and headed for the adjoining bathroom. She had not packed for an extended stay. On the next trip into Seattle, she would have to stop by her condo to check her mail and pick up some more clothes and necessities.

She grabbed her phone and checked her email. There was a new note from Nordstrom, announcing the advent of a summer sale, and a nice message from her very good friends at Zappos, telling her that new styles were available from one of her favorite brands of shoes. There were no new emails about the missing lab book or the upcoming auction.

Phone in hand, she went out into the hall. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and a hint of cinnamon warmed the atmosphere. When she arrived in the kitchen, she found Sam at the stove, spatula in hand. His hair was still damp from the shower. The very interesting dark shadow of a beard that she had noticed in the wee small hours of the night was gone. He was dressed in dark pants and a black pullover.

Newton was sitting on the floor, ears perked, watching Sam’s every move. He spared a moment to greet Abby again, and then returned to supervising the breakfast preparations.

Sam looked at Abby, eyes heating a little. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she said. “Did Newton get breakfast?”

She felt awkward, not exactly shy but not really comfortable with the intimacy of their relationship. This was unfamiliar territory, she reflected, more easily navigated at night than in the daylight. But if Sam had any problems with the rapidly evolving status of their relationship, he gave no indication of it. He was acting as if everything from the psi-infused sex to eating breakfast together was all quite normal.

“I fed Newton some of that fancy kibble you brought along,” Sam said. “I think that he would rather have a slice of the French toast that we’re going to eat.”