Page 118 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

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The chatter of the ET news channel sounded from the television.

Wearing only a robe, Jane sipped coffee at the breakfast table while Logan got ready for another day of work. Having eaten a breakfast of pancakes and fruit salad that Kitty had rustled up for them, Loki lay by her feet. She entertained him by wiggling her toes now and then so he could stalk them. It was a game that he never seemed to tire of.

It was a blissful morning that had begun at first light when Logan had woken her with his urgent need. Over the crashing waves and the pink sunlight that bathed their bodies, they had made love until both had been spent.

Everything was almost perfect.

She took another sip of coffee, allowing the heat to melt away the fears that lurked at the corners of her mind like a shadow.

Last night she had dreamed of the marina.

She had been standing in that same place as the cold wrapped around her like a snake. Ahead of her bobbed a moored yacht, though try as she might, she could not make out the name that was painted on its hull: a blur obscured the letters as if her mind had censored the word.

She heard voices, a desperate, pleading voice, then an answering one that seemed to carry no emotion. That second voice made her heart thump painfully, but she didn’t know what they were saying.

All the while, an icy fear seeped into her blood.

She felt as if she were being pulled toward that yacht, though every instinct in her body was telling her to run. Something terrible would happen on that boat. She couldn’t allow herself on it, yet even as her mind screamed at her to run away, she was being pulled closer.

Then suddenly, she was surrounded by black water.

It was in her lungs and over her head.

Lighting flashed, the heavens rumbled, but she was sinking. Drowning in that dark, dark water.

When Logan had woken her, she was still trapped in that nightmare.

Driven by a desperate need for it to go away, she had kissed him with an urgency that had startled him. But when she had straddled him and her hips began to rock against him, all thoughts had vanished.

There was only the two of them and the passion of the moment.

Jane was brought out of her thoughts when her own face flashed up on the television. There she was with Logan and Clare on their tour of the set yesterday. The three looked so happy, yet she was dismayed to hear one of the anchors comments.

“Well, there’s ‘natural’ and then there’s making a bit of an effort,” the other anchor said bitchily as a close up of Jane came onto the screen.

She set down her coffee, flushed with the shame their comments had caused.

She paused the show and studied her reflection on the screen. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, make-up kept bare with only mascara and some lipstick. Knowing that she had her appointment with the hypnotherapist, she hadn’t felt like plastering her face with make-up beforehand. Regardless, she thought she looked good — maybe even more than good. She glowed with the happiness of a woman in love. How could they not see that?

The cell phone Kitty had organized for her, vibrated on the table. As soon as she answered the call, Clare started speaking.

“I was just having some of my no-carb breakfast when these two idiots on my television started talking nonsense about my friend, so I thought I’d call in the hopes that she hadn’t seen it.”

“Do I really look that bad?”

“You looked lovely. They’re only picking on you to justify their salary: unfortunately, being nice in this town doesn’t pay half as well as being spiteful. You shouldn’t care what they think of you — you should only care about what you think of yourself, what Logan thinks of you.”

A muffled sound came over the phone. Clare spoke away from the handset.

“Coffee’s over there, help yourself. I’m just on a call.”

Jane checked the clock on the television display. It was still early, only seven thirty in the morning — far too early to be entertaining guests, unless they were still there from the night before.

“Is that your new man? Are you with him now?”

The laugh that came over the line carried more than a hint of embarrassment.

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