Leslie Harris saw no sign of a smile in those eyes now, not that she would have
expected one. Annoyed at the uncharacteristic slip in her concentration and
where her thoughts had taken her, she kept her expression neutral as she rapidly
regrouped. The fragments of a past that felt as if it belonged to someone else
melted away like frost on a windowpane, leaving nothing behind but an
unnoticed trail of tears.
Then she was herself again, calculating and in control. “Hello, Dev.”
“Hi, Les,” Dev said.
“My guess is this isn’t a coincidence.” Leslie suspected her displeasure showed
in her voice, because Dev shrugged apologetically.
“Your mother’s Jeep is on the fritz, and since I’m staying at the lodge, I offered
to pick you up. Sorry.”
“No, I appreciate it. Thanks.” Unconsciously, Leslie studied her the way she
would a prospective witness, searching for the whole truth, the real story. It
disturbed her when she couldn’t read anything in Dev’s face. “I hope you didn’t
go out of your way.”
“No. I was in the area.” Dev lifted Leslie’s suitcase. “My truck’s over here.”
“Would you mind waiting just a minute while I get a cup of coffee in the station?
Whatever they were trying to pass off as coffee on the train was undrinkable.”
“Sure. That black Chevy is mine.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“A Coke would be great. Thanks.”
God, this is going to be an interminable ride home, Leslie thought as she
stood in line at the coffee bar. Maybe I should rethink my plans for this visit
if we might run into each other again.
“Large black coffee and a Coke, please,” Leslie said automatically while
checking her BlackBerry for messages. She didn’t give a second thought to the
fact that she was supposed to limit her coffee consumption. Upon her release
from the hospital the previous afternoon, part of the discharge instructions had
been no caffeine—along with an admonition to avoid chocolate, get plenty of
rest, reduce her stress level, and schedule the follow-up tests as soon as
possible. She’d also been given a prescription for a blood pressure med and
verapamil, which was supposed to keep her heart rate from rising too rapidly.
Thus far, her only form of compliance had been to limit her morning coffee to
three cups instead of ? ve.
• 40 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
The fact was, she felt perfectly ? ne.
By the time she’d gotten home the night before, she’d decided that the severity
of the entire episode had been vastly exaggerated. Whatever had happened
could easily be chalked up to a few days of excessive stress and poor eating
habits. Since she’d already cleared her calendar, and she’d still be able to work
while upstate, she decided to go through with her plans to spend a week or two
with her parents. Other than that, as far as she was concerned it was back to
business as usual.
As she carried the drinks to the truck, she observed Dev through the window. If
they had passed in the parking lot, Leslie wasn’t sure she would have
recognized her, although she certainly would have given her an appreciative
glance. Her hair was still on the shaggy side, but Dev had ? lled out and grown
another inch or two, and she’d been taller than Leslie even in high school. Back
then Dev had been wiry and wild, and now she was broad shouldered and
muscular looking in her white button-down-collar shirt and black jeans. It
wasn’t just Dev’s body that had changed. They had once shared effortless
communication, but now all she felt was a distant reserve. That was good,
because the last thing she wanted was a trip down memory lane.
“Here you go.” Leslie passed the Coke across the passenger compartment
before grasping the handle above the door and climbing into the truck. Her skirt
rode up to mid-thigh before she had a chance to pull it down, but she noticed
out of the corner of her eye that Dev stared straight ahead out the windshield.
Leslie was slightly and quite irrationally annoyed at being pointedly ignored, not
that she wanted Dev to pay that kind of attention to her.
“Thanks.” Dev slotted the Coke into the cup holder on the dash and started the
truck. She pulled out of the parking lot, rapidly maneuvered the bypasses
around Albany and Troy, and headed north on Interstate 87.
Fifteen minutes passed in silence before Dev said, “Your mother tells me you’re
a lawyer.”
“Yes. I’m a partner in a law ? rm in Manhattan.”
“Partner already. You must’ve worked your ass off,” Dev said, duly impressed.
“Not really,” Leslie said, unbuttoning her blazer as the cab warmed up in the late
afternoon sun. She wore an off-white silk shell beneath it, conscious of the fact
that a hint of her lace bra showed through when her blazer was open. Whereas
Dev felt like a stranger— was a
• 41 •
RADCLY fFE
stranger—Leslie was acutely conscious of her presence. Even if she had known
nothing about her, Leslie would have assumed she was a lesbian. Dev was
undeniably attractive in a rough, earthy kind of way.
But the last thing in the world she wanted was for Dev Weber to have the
slightest indication that she found her attractive.
Dev looked in Leslie’s direction for the ? rst time, her expression one of mild
disbelief at Leslie’s easy dismissal of her accomplishments.
Dev’s glance drifted down, taking in Leslie’s long legs, sleek beneath her sheer
silk stockings, and the swell of her breasts beneath silk and lace. Leslie had
turned into the beautiful woman that the lovely teenager had foreshadowed.
Maybe it was the unexpected juxtaposition of the woman upon her memory of
the girl, because Dev ventured into territory she had never meant to revisit.
“What happened to landscape architecture?”
Taken by surprise at the question very few people in her life knew her well
enough to ask, Leslie laughed harshly. “I haven’t thought of that in ages. It was
just one of those things that kids think they want before they know anything
about life. Once I got to college, everything changed.”
No, Dev wanted to say, it changed long before that. But then she realized that
was just her truth, not Leslie’s.
“So you like what you’re doing?” Dev asked, hoping to ? ll the time with safe
conversation until they reached the lake and could politely go their separate
ways once more.
“I don’t know that I’d say I like it,” Leslie said, “but it’s satisfying.”
She grinned. “I like winning cases. So what about you? Are you running the
store for your parents now?”
