It was a man's voice. "Who is this?"

"Michael Buchanan. Is this Kate?"

Thank G.o.d she'd come to her senses. "What are you doing in Boston?"

"I'm on leave. I got in early, and I'm staying with Jordan until next weekend. Then I'll move over to Nathan's Bay. Mom and Dad will be home by then."

Michael had graduated from Annapolis and was training to become a Navy SEAL. He was a real daredevil, and of all the Buchanan brothers he was the most compet.i.tive.

"When are you coming back to Boston?" he asked. "I want a rematch."

"Why? You'll only lose again."

His laugh was just like Dylan's. "We'll see about that."

"Did you know Dylan's here?"

"Yes. Jordan told me he's helping you with a little problem."

A little problem? "Yes, that's right."

They talked for another minute. She promised to tell Dylan that Michael was home, and Michael promised to make Jordan call her back.

She'd just hung up the phone when Dylan came out of the bathroom. He'd put on his khaki shorts and was going downstairs to check on the police officers to make sure they were where they were supposed to be. Kate thought he was being a little obsessive-compulsive.

He didn't come back upstairs for a long time. Kate tried to go to sleep, but her mind wouldn't rest. She kept thinking about the "little" problem of figuring out who was trying to kill her. It had to be one of the MacKennas, but which one? Maybe all of them. Wouldn't that be something? Vanessa could be in on it, too. At this point anything was possible.

Chapter Thirty-three.

Kate had been tossing and turning for what seemed like hours when Dylan finally came to bed. It was well after midnight.

He didn't ask her if he could sleep with her. He simply took off his shorts and slid in next to her. He was awfully sure of himself, she thought, and she was about to tell him so when he pulled her into his arms.

"You awake, Pickle?"

"I'm too nervous about tomorrow to go to sleep."

"Good," he said. He lifted her hair off the back of her neck and began to nibble on her soft skin.

Shivers coursed down her legs, and she moved restlessly against him. "Why is it good?" she asked breathlessly.

"It's good because I won't have to wake you up to make love to you."

He might have said something more to her; she couldn't remember. The way he was touching her demanded her full attention, and forming a coherent thought simply became impossible.

Their lovemaking was different tonight, more pa.s.sionate, far more intense. And when at last they had both found fulfillment, he continued to hold her in his arms and stroke her back. His chin rested on top of her head, and every once in a while he would kiss her.

As soon as the haze of pa.s.sion lifted, she was miserable. She wanted to tell him how she felt, but she couldn't. Why? Because the quickest way to get him to disappear would be to admit that she wanted to be with him forever.

She did want that impossible dream with all her heart. How would he respond if she told him she wanted him forever? He'd probably pa.s.s out on her. She was actually able to summon up a smile as she thought about how crazy those three little words would make him.

Good thing she knew CPR.

Dylan turned over on his back and stared at the ceiling. "Kate, how come you want to get a loan? You did say that was what you were going to do. Were you joking?"

"No, I was serious. I need a loan to pay off a loan. It's a temporary solution that will buy me some time."

"You do know that as soon as you sign those papers tomorrow, you're going to be a millionaire, don't you?"

"Yes, I know," she said. "But I won't be a millionaire for long. When I go to the bank and fill out the application, I'll have to list the money as an a.s.set . . . a temporary a.s.set," she stressed.

He yawned. "They're gonna think you're nuts."

She snuggled up against him and whispered, "Maybe I am."

He didn't think she was too worried about the reputation of her mental state because she fell asleep less than a minute later. Dylan pulled the sheet up over them and tried to clear his mind so he could sleep. That proved to be impossible. He couldn't stop thinking about tomorrow and all the things that could go wrong.

Kate slept hard that night, but she didn't feel rested when she got out of bed the following morning. She so dreaded the day ahead of her. She hoped to heaven none of the MacKennas would come to the meeting. Bryce was probably still in the hospital, and she felt a little ashamed hoping he hadn't been released yet. Roger and Ewan were the biggest worries. She didn't think she had the stamina to put up with their vulgarity again, and if they began to slander her mother, she didn't know what she would do.

Dylan was downstairs in the kitchen talking to someone. She thought she heard Chief Drummond's voice, but she couldn't be sure.

Nine o'clock. She couldn't believe the time. She'd never slept this late before. No reason to rush, she decided. The meeting at Anderson's office wasn't until seven that evening, and she a.s.sumed that she and Dylan wouldn't leave Silver Springs until the middle of the afternoon.

Anderson wouldn't be back from the funeral until at least five, maybe later. For some unknown reason, Compton MacKenna had insisted that his funeral begin at precisely two o'clock in the afternoon. He'd written out a schedule of "events" and had even included the names of the mourners he wanted to speak on his behalf. Kate wondered if Compton had also written the eulogy.

She thought about that crazy old man while she showered and dressed for the trip. Just in case they had to stay the night in Savannah, she packed her overnighter again.

She carried the bag downstairs, left it in the foyer, and went into the kitchen.

"Good morning," she said.

Dylan was drying his hands. He draped the towel on his shoulder as he walked toward her. He kissed her with a good deal of gusto, and when he moved back, he was pleased with her reaction. She was actually blushing.

He pulled a chair out from the table, kissed her again but so quickly this time she wasn't at all ready, and then gently forced her to sit.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked. "I'll fix it for you."

"Toast would be nice. Who were you talking to? I thought I heard Chief Drummond."

"You did hear him," he said. "He just left. White or wheat?"

"I can make my own breakfast."

"You're getting wheat."

He didn't ask her if she wanted orange juice. He poured a gla.s.s and put it on the table in front of her.

"As soon as you finish breakfast, we need to get on the road."

He was leaning against the counter facing her, one ankle crossed over the other, looking absolutely gorgeous, and she was suddenly feeling overwhelmed by him.

The toast popped up. "Here we go."

He put the dry toast on a plate and handed it to her. Cooking obviously wasn't one of his talents. She picked up a slice and tore a corner off.

"Why are you in such a rush?" she asked. "We have plenty of time."

"There's been a change in plans."

"What change in what plan?"

"We had a plan, and we changed it," he explained. "Come on, Kate. Eat your breakfast. Did you pack a bag for tonight?"

"Yes. It's in the foyer."

"I'll put it in the car," he said, and as he walked out of the kitchen, he ordered, "eat."

The second he was out of sight, she dumped the toast in the disposal, gulped the orange juice, and rinsed the plate and the gla.s.s.

The kitchen sink looked brand-new. Dylan had obviously scrubbed it. He may not be much of a chef, but he certainly knew how to clean. He'd be a good man to have around . . . for all sorts of reasons.

She ran upstairs to get her purse and laptop. She hadn't had a chance to answer her e-mails in heaven knew how long, and she hoped there would be time this afternoon or this evening after the meeting. She slipped the laptop behind the cushioned divider in her briefcase and went back downstairs.

Chief Drummond was getting into his car. He had parked his Jeep behind Dylan's rental in the drive.

"You should have told me he was waiting. I would have hurried."

"I asked you to hurry," Dylan responded.

"That was different."

He wasn't going to try to figure out what she meant. "The chief wanted to go over the car just to make sure there weren't any surprises waiting for us."

"You mean like a bomb?" she asked but didn't wait for an answer. "Did he find anything?"

"No. We're okay."

"Is he coming with us?"

"No," he answered. "But he wrote out instructions. We're going to be taking some roads that aren't on any map."

Kate had grown up in Silver Springs and thought she knew the area better than anyone, and she'd driven to Savannah too many times to count, but several of the back roads Dylan took she had to admit she'd never seen before. Some of them weren't roads at all. They were gravel ruts.

The drive was scenic, and every now and then Dylan would point out something he found fascinating. He loved the weeping willows and the wildflowers growing in cl.u.s.ters in untended fields. He didn't know what any of them were called and was impressed that she did.

"How could you ever want to leave this?" he asked. "It's beautiful here."

"I won't be leaving for a long time . . . if ever. I think I'm meant to stay here."

"I could do it. I could live here."

She didn't want to get her hopes up that he might stay in her life, and so she tried to think of all the reasons he should leave.

"You'd be bored."

"I don't think so."

"You'd miss Boston. There's such energy there."

"Yes, I would miss Boston," he agreed. "But I'm ready for a change. Besides, Charleston is just down the road from Silver Springs, and it has all the big-city advantages and problems. You want energy, drive there. I certainly wouldn't miss the traffic," he added. "I wonder what the crime rate is in Silver Springs."

"Before or after I moved back home?"

"Okay, we made it," he said. "Read the sign. We're officially in Savannah."

Kate a.s.sumed they were going to meet at one of the Savannah precincts.

"I don't want to sit in a police station until the meeting," she said. "Couldn't we go on to Anderson's office? I could get some work done while I wait."

"Good idea," he said.

Fifteen minutes later he was pulling up in front of Smith and Wesson. "You were planning on driving here anyway, weren't you? Does Nate know?"

"Yes, he does."

"We can just walk in?"

As she asked the question, two police officers exited the building and waited for Dylan and Kate to get out of the car. Yet another officer came from across the street. "You can leave the car here," he said. "I'll make sure no one touches it."

Dylan turned the motor off but left the keys in the ignition. He followed Kate inside, and once the door was shut behind him, he said, "Which one of you checked the building?"

"The bomb squad just left. The place is clean," one of the officers said. "We've got a man watching the door and a couple of security guards, one inside and one out back. The two of us are a.s.signed to you. Where do you want us?"

"Right here in the entry is good. Who's in the building now?"

"Almost everyone is either at a funeral or on vacation. The receptionist's here, and so is Smith's a.s.sistant, a guy named Terrance. He's upstairs in Smith's office. You want him out, we'll get him out."

"He can stay."

Terrance must have heard all the commotion. He came rushing downstairs. "Miss MacKenna, I'm afraid Mr. Smith isn't here just yet. The funeral-"

"I know," she interrupted. "We're quite early. I was wondering if I might have a desk to use. I'd like to do some work until Anderson returns."