Ellis smiled slowly. “On second thought, it can wait. You just answered a lot of my questions. Go to class. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay.” She grabbed her purse, whirled and ran for the car.
He wasn’t the only one who had just had some questions answered. Whatever else was going on here, Ellis definitely did not see her the way every other man in her life had seen her.
shortly after ten that morning, Ellis’s phone rang. He glanced at the code, winced and answered the call without any enthusiasm.
“What do you want, Lawson?”
“Wondered what the hell you were up to,” Lawson growled. “Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“Nice to know I’m missed.” He put aside the unpublished paper that Martin Belvedere had no doubt hoped to see immortalized in one of the respectable journals of sleep and dream research and sank back into the chair.
“Makes me nervous when you don’t check in while you’re on an assignment. You know I like to be kept informed.”
“You haven’t heard from me because I haven’t got anything to report,” Ellis said patiently. “Anything new on your end?”
Sphinx, curled on the sofa on the other side of the coffee table, stirred, stretched and regarded him with an unblinking stare.
“No, damnit. I’ve had Beth’s elves combing all the online dream research sites, looking for buried links to some other agency that might be using a phony public front to take in data. But so far, no luck.”
Ellis could hear the annoying ping, ping, ping of Lawson’s dumb desk toy on the other end of the line.
“Speaking of Beth,” he said. “Did she turn up anything on the local hit-and-run investigation?”
“Talked to her a few minutes ago,” Lawson replied. “She says the local cops haven’t even found the damned car, let alone the driver. Hit-and-runs are tough to crack unless there’s a tip. You know that.”
“What about Belvedere’s third mystery client?”
“Nothing there, either.” Outrage rumbled in Lawson’s words. “Whoever this guy is, he’s as well hidden as I am. That’s why I’m so damn sure he’s fed, like me. Maybe CIA. They’ve fooled around with the psychic stuff often enough in the past. Remember that remote viewing program they ran for a while? It’s not hard to imagine them getting involved in high-end dream research.”
Ellis took his feet off the coffee table. “Interesting.”
“What? That he might be CIA?”
“No, that he’s as good as you are when it comes to hiding his tracks.”
“Hell, everything I know I learned from Beth,” Lawson said.
“And you taught it to me.”
“So?”
“I wasn’t the only one you taught, Lawson.”
Lawson groaned. “You’re back to Vincent Scargill, aren’t you?”
“He was a fast learner. You said so yourself. In addition, he was good with computers. Remember those online games he was always playing? He knew more about the Internet than you and me put together. Probably even more than Beth does. The younger they are, the better they are with the newest technology. That’s how it works. Just ask any parent.”
“I know,” Lawson said wearily.
Ellis heard the irritating ping-ping-ping again and resisted the urge to grind his teeth.
“How about you?” Lawson asked finally. “What, exactly, are you doing out there in California?”
Ellis surveyed the mountains of old documents, notes and reports he had stacked and sorted by date around the living room. He had concluded that it would be best not to mention the six cartons of research files just yet. Once Lawson found out they existed, he wouldn’t rest until he got his hands on them.
“I’m just doing some paperwork,” Ellis said.
“Paperwork, huh?” Lawson sounded slightly relieved. “Call me if you get anything I can use.”
“Sure.”
Ellis ended the call, put the phone in his pocket and regarded Sphinx.
“I’m on the roller coaster,” he told the cat, “and it’s too late to get off.”
It wasn’t the great sex, he thought, although that had been very, very fine, indeed. Nevertheless, he was old enough to know that great sex was just that, great sex. It began and ended in the bedroom or some other convenient location.
Last night had been a whole lot more than great sex. Last night he had gone to bed with the woman who walked through his dreams.
24
ian Jarrow looked around the terrace café, taking in the clusters of instructors in their Kyler red blazers, the eager students and the large manual that sat on the table beside Isabel. He shook his head, his derision clear.
“I can’t believe you’re going to work at a place like this,” he said.
Isabel did her own quick sweep of her surroundings and was relieved to see there was no one sitting close enough to overhear the comment. That did not stop her from being annoyed by it, however. Farrell had worked hard to build Kyler, Inc. It had been his dream and he had made it real. No one had a right to knock someone else’s dream.
“The Kyler Method is a very effective technique for a lot of people,” she said sharply. “Just because you’re not into motivational theory, don’t assume that it doesn’t have any value.”
“Listen, no one is more motivated than I am today,” Ian stated. “Why the hell do you think I got into my car this morning and drove all the way here to Roxanna Beach just to talk to you?”
“Funny you should ask.” She took a bite out of her cucumber, dill and cheese sandwich. “I’ve been wondering about that.”
She had found him waiting for her when she emerged from a seminar room a few minutes before noon. He was pacing the lobby, glancing at his watch.
Her first reaction was pleased surprise at seeing a familiar face. Then she noticed his anxious, impatient expression.
“I gather you talked to Randolph Belvedere last night,” Ian said. “He offered to let you come back to your old job?”
“It was very nice of him,” she said.
“Nice, hell, he’s desperate to get you back. He called me right after he talked to you, gave me your new work address and more or less ordered me to come here today and convince you to go back to the center.”
“I’m sorry, Ian,” she said, trying to soften the blow. “I thought I made it clear to Randolph that I’m not coming back under any circumstances. I can’t imagine why he thought you would be able to influence me.”
He gave her a derisive look. “You know why he sent me after you. Obviously someone told him that we dated for a while and that we’re still good friends. He’s hoping you’ll listen to me.”
“I guess he misunderstood the nature of our relationship, hmm?”
She took another bite of her sandwich. It was delicious and she was surprisingly hungry. Probably the result of missing breakfast, she thought. The large, glistening dill pickle on the plate looked quite tasty, too.
Ian frowned, ignoring his ham sandwich, pickle and chips. “We are friends, Izzy.”
“Oh, sure,” she said quickly. “We’re definitely friends. By the way, did you hear about Gavin Hardy?”
“The computer guy? Yes.” Ian grimaced. “Word at the center is that he was killed in a hit-and-run accident somewhere near here.”
“It’s true.”
“What was he doing in Roxanna Beach?”
“He came to see me. He was trying to put together a stake to take to Vegas.”
“That’s right, he was a gambler, wasn’t he? Everyone said that he had a real problem.”
“Evidently.” She ate another bite of the sandwich.
“So.” Ian looked around again. “What’s the big attraction for you here in Roxanna Beach?”
“A new job. A new career plan.”
“You’re really going to work for your brother-in-law?”
“Only until I get my consulting business going.”
“What consulting business?”
&n
bsp; “I’ll be doing the same kind of thing I did for Martin Belvedere, except that I’m out on my own now.”
“Why not come back and do it at the center?”
“Lots of reasons.” She blushed and lowered her sandwich. “Also, if you must know, I’m sort of in a new relationship.”
It felt good to say that out loud.
Ian looked baffled. “How can you be in a new relationship? You’ve only been here in Roxanna Beach a few days. You haven’t had time to meet anyone.”
She picked up the pickle, surveyed the broad, firm, rounded tip and took a dainty bite. “He’s a client.”
“Izzy, this is crazy.”
“My life has changed somewhat since I left the center.”
He scowled. “You’re not acting like yourself. This isn’t you.”
“Got news for you, Ian, it is me.”
“But you loved your old job. You were happy at the center. It’s the right environment for you. By the way, did I tell you that Belvedere said that in addition to raising your salary, he’ll let you have a full-time assistant if you return immediately?”
“That’s nice,” she said around another mouthful of pickle. “But I’ve decided that I’d rather be my own boss.”
Ian narrowed his eyes. “It’s this new guy you’re seeing. He’s the problem here, isn’t he? What’s he like?”
She smiled and raised the phallic-shaped pickle to her lips. “I’m told he’s not my usual type.”
“That sounds like a good reason to step back from the relationship and evaluate it,” Ian said seriously.
“I have been evaluating it and I’ve come to some conclusions. I’ve decided that no one actually knows what my type is because I’ve been dating men who are not my type for so long that everyone just assumes that they actually are my type. See what I mean?”
“No.”
“The problem I’ve had with relationships in the past is that, because men like you found it so easy to talk to me about the important things in their lives, because they were so ready to have serious, in-depth conversations, because they were so ready to share their deepest feelings, I told myself that the relationships must be good because we communicated so well. You know how much emphasis everyone puts on communication these days.”
“Damnit, this isn’t what I came here to talk about.”
“Too bad, it’s what I want to talk about.”
Ian seemed fascinated in a horrified sort of way by the manner in which she was munching on the pickle. “What’s this all about, Izzy? Did you finally get laid? That’s it, isn’t it? Your new client got you into bed. Well, congratulations to him. But if I were you, I wouldn’t go making any long-term career plans based on a couple of orgasms.”
It wasn’t the crude words that jolted her, it was the pure male petulance, the accusation in his tone.
“It’s not like you’ve got any right to be judgmental here, Ian,” she shot back. “You’re the one who took me out to dinner one evening and told me that you didn’t think we had much of a future and that it would be a good thing for both of us to date other people. Remember?”
“It wasn’t as if you wanted to climb all over me, was it? Hell, every time I suggested we go away together or spend the night at my place, you came up with some weak excuse about having to work late at the office.”
“You’re blaming me for the fact that we broke up?”
“Why not? You’re the one who put the physical and emotional distance between us, Izzy. You’re the one who turned whatever we might have had together into a nice, safe, platonic friendship because that’s the way you wanted it.”
If he had whipped out a sorcerer’s wand and used it to generate a lightning bolt, she could not have been more thunderstruck. As it was, she was so dazed by the burst of insight that she almost dropped the partially eaten pickle.
“Huh.” She dug deeper, going for something more intellectual. “Huh.”
Ian regarded her with a sullen air. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a really weird expression on your face. Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She gave him her brightest, warmest smile. “Yes, I am, thanks to you.”
“What?”
She leaped to her feet, circled the table and gave him a big hug. He did not move. She released him quickly, went back to her chair and sat down. Enthusiasm bubbled through her.
“What the hell?” Ian mumbled.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this conversation, Ian. You have enlightened me.”
Ian was looking increasingly uneasy. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s it.” She waved the pickle in a sweeping voilà gesture. “That’s what I’ve been missing in my self-analysis.”
“Uh, Izzy—”
“I thought I had it all figured out but I was lacking a piece of the puzzle. You just gave it to me. It’s perfectly obvious now.”
“It is?”
“You’re absolutely right. I should have seen the pattern myself.” She shook her head, amused at her own failure to grasp the big picture. “I guess it’s one of those cases of being able to diagnose everyone but yourself.”
“Pattern?” Ian repeated, wary now.
“It was my fault all along, every time.” She aimed the pickle at Ian. “Thanks to your observation, it’s clear to me that all of my previous attempts to construct healthy relationships with men have been doomed right from the start because I unconsciously squelched the possibility of romance and passion, to say nothing of love and commitment, in every instance from the outset.”
Ian cleared his throat. His gaze darted to a point behind her right shoulder. “Yes, well—”
“I see now that I developed a pattern of deliberately encouraging men to talk to me about their problems.” She nibbled on the pickle. Juice dripped. “That had the effect of making them instinctively switch gears.”
“Uh.” Ian glanced again from the pickle to the point beyond her shoulder and then he looked back at the pickle, riveted.
“You see, as soon as men started sharing their problems with me, they stopped seeing me as a potential lover and started viewing me as a buddy or a therapist. But that happened because I unconsciously manipulated that outcome early on in the relationships, long before another type of bond could be formed.”
A hunted expression crossed Ian’s face. He jerked his gaze off the pickle and stared at the space behind her chair. “Maybe we should discuss this some other time.”
“Sorry, I need to talk about it now.”
He put both hands on the table and started to get to his feet. “I’d better be on my way—”
She motioned forcefully with the pickle. “This is important, Ian. Sit down. You owe me that much.”
Ian sat.
“Lord knows, I listened to enough of your problems while we were dating,” she reminded him. “The least you can do is listen to me tell you about my epiphany. You know how it is with epiphanies. When you have one, you can’t resist sharing it.”
“I didn’t come here to talk about us,” Ian said quite forcefully. He was looking more and more agitated. “We’re supposed to be discussing your return to the center.”
“Later.” More pickle juice dripped onto the table. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed the corner of her lips. “By the way, I’m not discussing our relationship. That’s finished, remember? This is all about me. As I was saying, it’s clear that I deliberately manipulated all of my relationships, including ours, in such a way that there was no hope of long-term success.”
Ian’s gaze was flickering wildly back and forth between the half-eaten pickle and the region behind her chair.
“I don’t really see the point,” he said.
“The point is that I was the one who made sure that things stayed in the safe zone. I was never in any real danger of falling in love. And deep down that’s just the way I wanted it.”
“That’s very interesting,” Ian said weakly. “But—”
“I know what you’r
e about to say.” She held the pickle straight up to stop him. “You’re going to ask me why I wanted to play it safe. What motivated me to go out of my way to see to it that every relationship I ever had fizzled before it could grow into something deeper and more intimate.”
“Uh—”
“The answer is obvious to me now, thanks to you.”
“Well, hey, that’s great.” Ian shoved himself to his feet again. “Glad I could help. But I really did not come here to talk about your problems with relationships.”
“Don’t you want to hear why I’ve had those problems?”
“Not really.” He was trying very hard not to look at either the pickle or the space behind her chair. “I’ve got to be on my way. Long drive back to the center.”
“Don’t rush off on account of me,” Ellis said to Ian.
“Ellis.” Isabel turned in her chair. She smiled up at him. “I didn’t know you were here. Meet Ian Jarrow. He and I were colleagues at the center. Ian, this is Ellis Cutler. He’s my new client.”
There was no need to add the fact that Ellis was also her new lover. She could see from Ian’s nervous expression that he had already figured that out for himself.
“Jarrow.” Light flashed ominously on the lenses of Ellis’s dark glasses when he nodded at Ian.
“Cutler.” Ian stepped back as if he were afraid Ellis might bite. “Nice to meet you,” he said woodenly. “Izzy, I’ll call you.”
“Bye, Ian. Sorry for the wasted trip.” She ate another bite of pickle. Juice squirted. “Tell everyone back at the center that I said hello.”
“Sure.” Ian turned and hurried away.
Isabel looked at Ellis. “What are you doing here?”
Ellis watched her finish the pickle. “I thought I’d take a break from going through those files and have lunch with you. But it looks like you’ve already eaten.”
She examined the empty plate and the remains of the pickle. “No problem, I’m still hungry.”
“I like a woman with a healthy appetite.” He watched Ian vanish through the lobby doors. “Did Randolph Belvedere send him here to try to talk you into returning to the center?”