She closed her eyes, soothed by the steady stroking of his hand over her hair. “So she’s standing there, looking out at the water. You’ve got the surf, the breeze, gulls. The writer paints a good picture, so I’m seeing it.

“Then I’m not just seeing it in my head, in the words on the page. But I don’t even realize everything shifted, that I’m inside the image in my own head. That’s the scariest part. You don’t know.”

She rubbed her hands over her face. “I’ve got to get up.” She tossed the throw aside and stood, then as an afterthought tightened the loose belt of her robe. “I was on the beach. Not just thinking about the beach, not just seeing it. I was there. I could smell the water, and flowers. Lilies, there were pots of white lilies. Didn’t seem the least bit strange that I was all of a sudden walking over the sand, feeling the sun, the breeze. My feet are bare, my toes are painted, I’m tanned and I’m wearing this long silk thing, just a wrap. I can feel it fluttering around my legs.”

“I bet you looked terrific.”

She glanced over at him, and for the first time since he’d come in, the dimples winked into her cheeks. “You’re trying to keep me from freaking again.”

“That’s a definite yes, but I still bet you looked terrific.”

“Sure I did. It was my fantasy. My own, personal tropical island. Perfect weather, blue sea, white sand, and solitude. I was even thinking, as I walked the beach, how foolish I’d been to ever worry about responsibilities. I could do or have anything I wanted.”

“What did you want, Dane?”

“At that moment? Just to be alone, I guess, not to worry about anything. Not to think how upset I was that the evil Joan had manipulated me out of a job I really loved, and how I’m a little scared about starting Act Two of the Life of Dana.”

“That’s human. That’s normal.”

“It is.” She glanced back at him—big, handsome Jordan Hawke watching her with those deep blue eyes. He understood she wasn’t looking for meaningless words of comfort or sympathy.

“It is,” she repeated, as soothed by his understanding as she’d been by his hands. “I walked toward this grove of palm and fruit trees. I picked a mango. I could taste it,” she paused, touching her fingers to her lips. “Basically, I just walked along thinking, boy, this is the life. But it wasn’t the life, it wasn’t my life. And it’s not what I want, not really.”

She came back to the couch, afraid her legs might go weak again when she told the rest. “That’s the thought that came into my head—and then I heard voices. Off in the distance, but familiar. And I thought, this isn’t real. It’s just a trick. That’s when it happened. Oh, God.” As her chest tightened again, she pressed her fists between her br**sts. “Oh, God.”

“Easy now.” He closed his hands over hers, squeezing lightly until she met his eyes. “Take your time.”

“Storm came in. That’s a mild word for it. When I realized it wasn’t real, the world went to hell. Wind, rain, dark, and the cold. Jesus, Jordan, it was so cold. I starting running. I knew I had to get away, because I wasn’t alone after all. He was there, and he was coming for me. I got back to the beach, but the ocean was insane. Walls of black water, fifty, sixty feet high. I fell. I felt him over me, around me. That cold. And the pain. Horrible, tearing pain.”

Her voice was breaking. She couldn’t stop it. “He was ripping out my soul. I knew I’d rather face anything but that, so I jumped into the sea.”

“Come here. Come here, you’re shaking again.” He gathered her close.

“I woke up, or came back, whatever it is. In the tub, strangling for air. The bathwater had gone cold. I don’t know how long I’d been out of it, Jordan. I don’t know how long he had me.”

“He didn’t have you. He didn’t,” he insisted when she shook her head. Gently, he eased her back so he could see her face. “A part of you, that’s all. He can’t get the whole, because he can’t see the whole. A fantasy, like you said. That’s how he works. And he can’t push you into it so deep that a part of your mind doesn’t surface again and question. And know.”

“Maybe not. But he sure knows how to go for the gut. I’ve never been that scared.”

“Once you move past that into pissed-off, you’ll feel better.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I want a drink,” she decided and pushed away from him.

“You want water?” He realized she was coming back fast when the question had her curling her lip at him.

“I want a beer. I never had my bath beer.” She rose, seemed to hesitate. “You want one?”

Still watching her, he laid his fingers on his own wrist as if checking for a pulse. “Yeah.”

He liked the way she snickered at him before she walked away. It was a normal sound, a Dana sound. There’d been nothing normal in the way she’d collapsed on him.

If he hadn’t come by . . . but he had, he reminded himself. He was here, she wasn’t alone. And she’d gotten through it.

He got to his feet, took his first real look around her place. Pure Dana, he thought. Strong color, comfortable furniture, and books.

He wandered after her, leaned on the wall. More books, he noted. Who but Dana would keep Nietzsche in the kitchen? “First time I’ve been in your place.”

She kept her back to him as she opened two beers. “You wouldn’t have gotten in this time if I hadn’t been wigged.”

“Despite that lack of welcome, I like it. Suits you, Stretch. And because it does, I don’t suppose you’d consider bunking at Flynn’s for the next little while. I can take my stuff over to Brad’s and hang there if that’s a factor.”

She turned back slowly. “Are you being accommodating because I was hysterical?”

“I’m being accommodating because I want you to feel safe. To be safe.”

“No need to put yourself out.”

“I care about you.” He shifted, blocking her exit before she could move past him. There was a quick flash of rage over his face, almost as quickly banked.

Where had that been hiding? she wondered. And how did he tuck it away again?

“I care, Dana. Just for a minute, one damn minute, set aside the way things ended up. We cared about each other, and if you’d feel safer at Flynn’s, I’ll get out of your way.”