The Summit. Kat Martin
to whisper in Autumn’s ear. “See that hunk over there working on the bicep machine?”
Autumn glanced that way. “I see him.” She had noticed him a couple of times before, but hadn’t really paid much attention.
“Well, what’s his name, honey? Is he married?”
“How would I know?”
Terri rolled her eyes. “Lord, you are impossible.”
They both stared at the hunk whose arms bulged with nicely shaped muscle as he strained on the weight machine. Josh made a noise in his throat, returning their attention to him.
“Well, I…um…guess I better get going. I’ll see you next weekend, Autumn.”
“Call me the end of the week and we’ll go over our trip plans.”
“Sounds good.”
“So, Josh…you wouldn’t happen to know that guy over there in the corner?” Terri asked.
Josh turned that way. “I don’t know him but I’ve seen his picture in the newspaper. He owns this building. That’s Ben McKenzie.”
Terri’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?”
Terri was openly salivating and Josh looked like he wanted to slash his wrists. “Like I said, I better get going.” With a last longing glance at Terri, he headed for the climbing gym.
Terri surveyed the room, the long rows of white-and-black exercise machines, rows of treadmills each with its own TV, and racks of heavy chrome barbells at the far end in front of a wall of mirrors.
“I’m ready if you are,” she said. “Why don’t we start over there?” She pointed toward the area where Ben McKenzie was now lying back on a black vinyl bench hoisting a barbell loaded with weights.
Autumn gave him a long, assessing glance. Terri was right. The man was amazing. Not only drop-dead gorgeous, but with a lean, athletic body that looked as if it were sculpted more from sports than lifting weights in a gym. He had thick dark-brown hair, nicely trimmed, a square jaw and dark brown eyes. He was wearing shorts and Reeboks. A tank top stretched over his powerful chest and she caught a glimpse of curly dark-brown chest hair.
“Nice, huh?” Terri said.
“Very nice.”
“Probably married with at least four kids.”
“At least.”
Terri sighed. “Wouldn’t it be great if he wasn’t?”
“I thought you were madly in lust with Todd.”
Terri cast her a glance. “I was thinking of you.”
Autumn laughed. “Sure you were.”
Terri just smiled. They started out in the bike room, riding only long enough to get Terri warmed up a little but not break into a sweat. From there they moved on to the Nautilus machines.
“I really was thinking of you,” Terri said as she shoved the handles in the air, working her arms and shoulders. “Now that I’ve hooked up with Todd, I’m not looking for anyone else.”
At least for now, that was probably true. Terri really was a good friend and she was always on the lookout for a man for Autumn. “Even if the hunk was single, a guy like that would have a horde of women chasing after him from dawn to dusk.”
“All too true,” Terri agreed regretfully.
They worked out for almost an hour—a record for Terri—then retired to the snack bar for thick berry smoothies. Terri planned to stay at home that night and order pizza. Todd, of course, was coming by to join her.
Autumn left the gym, went home and made herself a plate of leftovers from the chicken she had roasted for herself on Sunday. She carried her plate into the living room and curled up on the overstuffed sofa in front of the TV.
She had a class tomorrow morning so she went to bed early. She considered taking an Ambien, but didn’t like taking any sort of drug and she could hardly take sleeping pills forever.
Instead, she hoped the glass of white wine she’d had with her makeshift supper would help her fall asleep—and that tonight she wouldn’t dream.
It was raining, the air heavy with mist. Inside the house, it was warm, the kitchen steamy from the pot boiling on the stove. A group of three women moved together with practiced ease, working to prepare the evening meal. They were a family, Autumn thought somewhere in the depths of her mind. All of them were blond and fair, girls and women of various ages, the oldest, a woman in her late thirties, all of them pretty.
Autumn watched the women chop vegetables and roll out biscuit dough. They didn’t say much as they did their jobs and began to take down cups and dishes to set the kitchen table.
Autumn might have kept dreaming if the youngest of the women, a girl of eleven or twelve, hadn’t turned just then and looked straight at her. Autumn knew that face. She recognized the pretty oval shape, the soft blue eyes and long silky lashes, the pale blond hair drifting like corn silk around her narrow shoulders.
Those eyes were staring into hers and the pain in them jolted Autumn from a deep, hypnotic sleep.
Heart pounding, palms sweating, she bolted upright in bed. It was her! The girl named Molly! It was the little girl she had dreamed about before, only she was no longer a child but a girl approaching her teens. Autumn knew it deep in her bones.
Trembling, she swung her legs to the side of the bed.
It was nearly two-thirty but she was wide awake, her mouth dry and her heart beating too fast. Images of the dream rolled around in her head. Straightening her pink silk nightie, she padded into the bathroom and turned on the tap, shakily filled the glass next to the sink with water and took a long, calming drink.
Her mind spun, replaying the images she had seen. If this was the same girl—and Autumn was convinced it was—she was somewhere around eleven or twelve. How could that be?
She tried to recall the first series of dreams, when the child was much younger. Was there something in the dream that hinted at the time frame? Nothing she could recall. Still, if the child was five or six then and eleven or twelve now, the abduction—if that’s what it had been—would have had to have happened at least six years ago.
The whole thing was crazy. Certainly tonight’s dream was nothing at all like the nightmare she’d had in her teens and yet…
There was no use trying to sleep. Instead, she walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk and carried it over to the sofa. Pulling the soft wool afghan her grandmother had crocheted off the back of the couch, Autumn covered her legs, leaned back and let her mind sift through the dream.
Maybe the dream tonight was actually that. A real dream where everything’s just a fantasy.
Or maybe neither of them were real.
Autumn finished her milk and stretched out on the sofa. If she continued to dream, maybe she would see the girl as a full-grown woman, happy wherever she had finally ended up, and Autumn could stop worrying about her.
Maybe she was wrong and—unlike before—nothing bad had happened or was going to. Warm beneath the comforter, she finally fell asleep. When she did, she began to dream.
Three women worked in the kitchen, the little girl no longer a child, but taller, beginning to develop breasts, showing the first signs of becoming a woman. And when she looked at Autumn there was always so much pain in her eyes, Autumn awakened from the dream.
She lay there on the sofa, heart thumping madly, exhausted and even more worried. This was no simple dream. This was a message—just like it had been when she was fifteen.
She couldn’t ignore it the way she had before. She refused to sit around and let something terrible happen again. Dear God, if only she knew what to do.