“I come from the area, too. Lots of people do. Including Megan and Rebecca Travers.”

“You know what I’m saying.”

“I do. But James Cahill is from Oregon. His parents moved there after he was born, I believe.”

“But the Cahill family is from San Francisco, originally, and it’s where the family fortune was amassed. Maybe we should follow the money.”

“Instead of the women?”

“One always leads to the other,” she said with an edge of sarcasm.

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 24

The dream was so real.

He was with Rebecca. They were lying on the warm shores of a lake, the area deserted, no people, palm trees lining a beach of glittering sand. Far in the distance, on the horizon, was a boat of some kind, a small speck that grew larger as Rebecca started kissing him and nuzzling his ear.

His cock stirred, his erection coming to life as he responded. Her lips were warm and pliant, and he moaned, closing his eyes for a second before opening them and seeing that the boat was nearer, a ship by the size of it, steaming into the bay, moving quickly, black and massive.

Along with arousal, James felt a frisson of fear slide down his spine—there was something wrong here, and just as that thought occurred, the ship hit the shore and the beach started sloughing away to a ravine as dark and cold as a winter’s night, and he, clinging to Rebecca, began to fall.

Still she kissed him, oblivious to the danger, to the fact that they were falling into the great, gaping maw of—

She slid her legs around his, beginning to move, and he caught her rhythm while the earth shattered around them.

He moaned.

Spasmed.

His eyes flew open.

Sophia was astride him again.

James grabbed her hips, forced himself not to throw her off him. The room was semi-dark, and her eyes were shut, her head thrown backward, blond hair falling past her shoulders. Her back was arched, her naked breasts shining with perspiration, her nipples protruding. “Oh, God,” she whispered hoarsely. “James, oh, oh, ohhh . . .” And then she stiffened and cried out in ecstasy or pain or a little of both.

Dear God, he thought, why did she keep slipping into bed with him? How did this keep happening? Why didn’t he wake up? How did she get in and—

She fell forward and lay atop him, breathing hard.

“Sophia, what’re you doing here?” He dropped his hands from her hips.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Loving you.”

“This can’t keep happening.”

“Sure it can,” she said, her warm breath ruffling the hairs on his chest. “I came back for my bracelet, and I saw you and couldn’t resist.”

“You have a key?”

“From the main desk.”

Of course. Because she sometimes worked the front desk and had access to the computer and all the skills needed to make a second key card.