Dream Man Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE SENSATIONAL NOVELS OF NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR LINDA HOWARD

  DREAM MAN

  “Linda Howard makes our senses come alive…. She knows what romance readers want, and dares to be different.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  “Sexy, very hard to put down.”

  —The Newport Daily News (RI)

  “The incomparable Linda Howard brings high-voltage power and hard-edged sensuality to this emotional roller coaster of a novel, which is sure to keep readers riveted until the final nailbiting conclusion. They don’t get much better than this.”

  —Romantic Times

  KILL AND TELL

  “Linda Howard meshes hot sex, emotional impact, and gripping tension in this perfect example of what romantic suspense ought to be.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “An emotion-packed, suspenseful ride…. [Linda Howard’s] sensual stories will make your heart beat a little faster. Romantic suspense has never been better. Linda Howard proves that romance and danger are a heady combination.”

  —Literary Times

  “Linda Howard is a superbly original storyteller.”

  —Iris Johansen, New York Times bestselling author of Dead Aim

  OPEN SEASON

  “A perfect mystery for a late summer weekend. It’s part romance with a dollop of suspense.”

  —The Globe & Mail (Toronto)

  “This book is a masterpiece. Howard hooks us with a devastating opening prologue, then paints such visual pictures of her characters that they live.”

  —Rendezvous

  “The irrepressible Daisy Minor has a way of freshening everything.”

  —The Palm Beach Post

  “A modern-day version of the fairy tale about the ugly duckling that grows into a magnificent swan….”

  —The Orlando Sentinel (FL)

  MR. PERFECT

  “A frolicsome mystery….Jaine Bright lives up to her name: she’s as bright—and explosive—as a firecracker.”

  —People

  “Mr. Perfect really scores…. Part romance novel, part psychological thriller, [it] is both a frightening and funny look at the plight of the modern woman searching for an ideal mate.”

  —New York Post

  “There is nothing quite like a sexy and suspenseful story by the amazing Linda Howard! … Funny, exciting, gripping, and sensuous…. One of her all-time best!”

  —Romantic Times

  ALL THE QUEEN’S MEN

  “A high-suspense romance…. Howard’s trademark darkly sensual style and intense, layered plot will delight her fans.”

  —Booklist

  “A fascinating novel of suspense and sensual tension.”

  —Rendezvous

  “[A] sexy thriller…. Another explosive hit.”

  —Romantic Times

  NOW YOU SEE HER

  “Steamy romance morphs into murder mystery….”

  —People

  “An eerie, passionate, and thrilling tale….”

  —Romantic Times

  SON OF THE MORNING

  “[A] romantic time-travel thriller with a fascinating premise … gripping passages and steamy sex.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  SHADES OF TWILIGHT

  “Ms. Howard is an extraordinary talent…. [Her] unforgettable novels [are] richly flavored with scintillating sensuality and high-voltage suspense.”

  —Romantic Times

  AFTER THE NIGHT

  “After the Night has it all…. Intense romance and mounting tension.”

  —People

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  This is dedicated to Joyce, Liz, Marilyn, Beverly, Cheri, and Kathy, for their encouragement and participation. To Gary, for taking care of me all those long months when I could barely walk. To Robin, for the pep talks. To Claire, for her patience. To Iris and Catherine and Fayrene and Kay, for the support. Thanks, guys.

  1

  IT WAS ELEVEN-THIRTY WHEN MARLIE KEEN LEFT THE Cinemaplex with the rest of the Friday night moviegoers. The movie had been a good one, a lighthearted romp that had made her laugh aloud several times and left her in a cheerful mood. As she walked briskly to her car, she thought she could tell which movie people had seen by how they were acting now. It wasn’t that difficult; the couples who were holding hands, or even exchanging kisses in the parking lot, had obviously seen the sexy romance. The aggressive bunch of teenage boys had seen the latest martial arts thriller. The well-dressed young professionals who were in earnest discussions had seen the latest Thelma and Louise imitation. Marlie was glad she had chosen the comedy.

  It was as she was driving home on the brightly lit expressway that it hit her: She felt good. The best she had felt in years. Six years, to be precise.

  In startled retrospect, she realized that she had been at peace for several months now, but she had been so caught up in the sedative routine of the life she had built here that she hadn’t noticed. For a long time she had simply existed, going through the motions, but time had done its slow work and eventually she had healed, like an amputee recovering from the loss of a limb and learning to cope, then to enjoy life again. Her loss had been mental rather than physical, and unlike an amputee, she had prayed through dark, endless nights that she never recover that part of herself. At some point in the past six years, she had stopped living in dread that the knowing would return, and simply gotten on with her life.

  She liked being normal. She liked being able to go to movies the way normal people did, liked being able to sit in a crowd; she hadn’t been able to do that before. Several years ago, when she had realized it was actually possible, she had turned into a movie junkie for a while, visually gorging on the films that she thought were safe. For a long time any degree of violence was unbearable, but for the past couple of years she had been able to watch the occasional thriller, though they weren’t her favorite type. To her surprise, she hadn’t yet been able to watch any sex scenes; she would have thought that violence would have been immeasurably more difficult for her to handle, maybe even impossible, but instead it was the portrayal of intimacy that gave her problems. Dr. Ewell had been fond of saying that no one should ever lay bets on the human psyche, and she was amused to find he was right. The violence in her life had been traumatic, devastating, while the sex had been merely unpleasant, but it was the “love” scenes that still had her squeezing her eyes shut until it was over.

  She exited off the expressway onto a four-lane street, and of course was caught by the traffic light at the bottom of the exit ramp. The radio was tuned to an easy-listening station and she inhaled deeply, feeling the slow music and the lingering lightheartedness of the movie combine in a delicious, physical sense of contentment—

  —the knife flashed down, gleaming dully. A sodden, muffled THUNK! as it struck. The blade rose again, dripping red—

  Marlie jerked back, an unconscious physical denial of the horribly real image that had just flashed in her mind. “No,” she moaned softly to herself. She could hear her own breathing, sharp and gasping.

  “No,” she said again, though she already knew the protest was useless. Her hands were clenched on the steering wheel, white-knuckled, and even that wasn’t enough to stop the trembling that started at her feet and went all the way up. Dimly she watched her hands start shaking as the spasms intensified.

  —Black, gloating pleasure. Triumph. Contempt—

  It was happ