Page 23 of When She Dreams

The estate had been constructed on a large chunk of property situated above the rugged cliffs just outside Burning Cove. Some of the smaller structures that had probably once housed caretakers and household staff were still awaiting renovations. It was clear the new owners had poured cash into the main building, a couple of guest villas, and the vast gardens.

The proportions inside the lobby of the Institute were on a grand scale. Every doorway and window was oversized, arched, and framed in dark wood. Massive wrought iron chandeliers hung from heavy wooden beams. The floor was covered in warm terra-cotta tiles. The area rugs were done in deep, rich Mediterranean colors. Sam knew he was no expert on art, but the paintings hanging on the plastered walls looked expensive.

Maggie had brightened immediately when he’d joined her in the hall outside their hotel rooms wearing the white jacket and the bow tie and the rest of the evening outfit. She had looked so relieved he had immediately decided not to mention that every item, including the gold cuff links, was a leftover from his doomed marriage. Like the coatrack.

Elizabeth had done her best to try to make him blend in with L.A. society. She had failed. It wasn’t her fault. He had known from the start he would never be more than an observer in her world, and a disinterested one at that. The more he had observed, the less he had wanted to become a part of the upper-class social set in which Elizabeth moved.

It struck him that being here with Maggie was different. He was comfortable standing in the alcove with her for a couple of reasons. The first was that she wasn’t asking him to become something he wasn’t. She had been concerned about the evening jacket only because she thought it constituted the camouflage he needed to go undercover for the investigation.

So yes, she was enthusiastic when it came to telling him how to do his job, but he had no problem with that. He already knew how to do his job. He found it entertaining to have her instruct him in the art of investigation. Okay, it was also irritating. Why did it amuse him? One of the mysteries of the universe, probably. Make that one of the mysteries of Maggie Lodge.

As for the second reason why he was happy to stand here with her—well, he wasn’t sure what it was yet, but there was another reason, of that he was positive.

Her own camouflage this evening was entirely satisfactory, as far as he was concerned. She wore an emerald-green number with short, fluttery sleeves. The dress was demure in front and cut low in back, and it clung to her feline curves. The silky fabric flowed over her hips and stopped just short of her very nice ankles and green evening sandals.

Her hair was parted in the center and clipped back behind her ears with a couple of combs. It fell in soft waves to her shoulders. Her jewelry was limited to a pair of simple gold earrings and a tiny evening bag studded with gold sequins. Classy. He would have been content to stand in the alcove with her all evening, sipping champagne and studying the crowd.

Studying the crowd.

That was it—the second reason why he liked being here with Maggie. She was an outsider—an observer—like him. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he trusted his intuition. Maybe, deep down, they actually had a few things in common. But probably not.

“Guilfoyle may be a fake psychic selling dreams, but judging by the size of this crowd, it’s obvious he’s got a real talent for promotion,” he said.

Maggie sipped a little champagne, but she did not take her attention off the people milling around the grand room. He knew she was searching the faces of those around them, trying to spot the woman who was posing as her employer.

“I told you, Guilfoyle has some interesting theories and techniques,” she said. “That’s why I originally planned to attend this conference.”

Sam watched Arthur and Dolores Guilfoyle play the role of gracious hosts at the entrance of the lobby. They made a handsome, glamorous couple. Dolores was a striking, sophisticated blonde. She wore a pale pink gown that glittered with what must have been a million pale pink sequins. Long pink gloves, a dainty pink bag, and a lot of jewelry completed the outfit.

Arthur had the dark eyes and chiseled profile of a leading man. He deployed a polished charm that seemed to work as well on men as it did on women. His black-and-white evening clothes fit his tall, lean frame with a perfection that could be achieved only through hand-tailoring. His dark, collar-length hair was brushed back from a dramatic widow’s peak and gleamed with just the right amount of oil.

In addition to the Guilfoyles, four attractive young people—two male and two female—circulated around the room offering champagne and a warm welcome. They wore name tags identifying them as dream guides. They all looked as if they had been borrowed from a movie studio for the evening.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with Guilfoyle’s eyes?” Sam asked in low tones.

“His eyes?” Maggie was obviously surprised by the question. “No, what makes you ask that?”

“I noticed a weird look in them when he kissed your hand.”

“Oh, right.” Maggie smiled. “Mr. Guilfoyle possesses what is called a smoldering gaze.”

“I thought maybe he had a vision problem. Does the smoldering thing work on you?”

“Under other circumstances, I might find it entertaining, but I have other interests at the moment.”

“You take this dream research stuff seriously, don’t you?”

Maggie shot him a steely smile. “Yes. I do.”

“Why?”

She blinked. Apparently she had not expected the question. A cool, considering expression lit her eyes.

“I told you, I frequently have lucid dreams, so naturally I’m very interested in the research that is going on in that field.”

It sounded like the truth, but not the whole truth. He was used to dealing in half-truths. You got a lot of experience with them when you worked in law enforcement. They came from victims, suspects, and witnesses. Now that he was in the investigation business, it looked like he would be getting them from clients.

“I understand your interest is personal,” he said. “I was just wondering—”

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