Dream Man

She heard the shower cut off, then water running in the basin as he shaved. She finished the preparations for breakfast: a dusting of powdered sugar on the waffles, fresh strawberries, and syrup that she had heated in the microwave. She was pouring the coffee when he came into the kitchen. He wore only a pair of pants, and she went weak in the knees at the sight of that broad, muscular chest. His hair was damp and his face was freshly scraped, with two small nicks decorating his jaw. She inhaled deeply, drawing in his moist, soapy, slightly musky male scent.

He smiled when he saw the meal awaiting him. “Waffles,” he said appreciatively. “I was expecting cereal.”

She laughed. “That’s what I usually eat.”

“I usually grab a doughnut, or a fast-food biscuit.” He sat down and began eating with obvious relish.

She clicked her tongue reprovingly. “All that fat and cholesterol.”

“That’s what Trammell says.”

“How long have you been partners?” She hadn’t been around Trammell much, but she had liked him. He reminded her of a panther, sleek and exotic, with the same kind of supple, dangerous strength.

“Nine years. We were on patrol together before we made detective, which we did at the same time.” Dane set to work on the waffles with obvious zeal.

“That’s longer than a lot of marriages last.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but if I’d had to sleep with him, it wouldn’t have lasted a day.”

“Have you ever been married?” She bit her lip as soon as the question was out. Her own privacy had been at such a premium for most of her life that she seldom asked any personal question. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

“Why?” He shrugged. “I don’t care if you ask. I’ve never been married, never been engaged.” He cleared his throat, evidently feeling that called for some explanation. “But I’m heterosexual.”

“I noticed,” she said dryly.

He grinned, his hazel gaze moving warmly over her. “For the record, I’m thirty-four. My folks live in Fort Lauderdale, and I have three brothers and two sisters, all of whom are married and have contributed to the population growth. Between the five of them, I have eighteen nieces and nephews, ranging in age from two to nineteen. When we all get together for holidays, it’s a zoo. All of them live in Florida, though we’re scattered all over the state. There are also the uncles and aunts and cousins, but we won’t go into them.” He watched her carefully as he outlined his large family, knowing that someone who had lived as Marlie had might find even the thought of all those relatives alarming. He had never before wanted to include any of his women friends in his private life, but everything was different with her. He hadn’t yet decided how it was different, but he accepted that it was.

Marlie tried to imagine that kind of extended family, but couldn’t. She had always been forced to keep relationships of any kind at a minimum, and though in the past six years that limitation hadn’t been necessary, still she had clung to it, reluctant to let herself be vulnerable in any way.

“My mother died in a fire when I was three,” she said. “Lightning struck our house. I don’t remember anything about it except this loud crack, louder than anything you can imagine, and even the air seemed to dissolve. A white light blotted out everything. A neighbor got me out of the house, and I was only slightly burned. My mother was in the part of the house that took the direct hit.”

“Thunderstorms must make you nervous,” he commented.

“They should, but they don’t. I’ve never been frightened of them, not even immediately afterwards.” She had had all of her waffle that she wanted, so she laid her fork down and picked up her coffee cup. “Lightning does some funny things. Dr. Ewell theorized that the enormous jolt of electricity somehow altered or enhanced my normal mental processes, making me more sensitive to the electrical energy given off by others. I was supposedly normal before, but afterward I became difficult, easily upset.”

“Maybe because you’d lost your mother.”

“Maybe. Who knows? I could have had the ability before, but simply wasn’t old enough to make myself understood. From what I was told, my mother was a quiet, serene sort of person, so maybe her presence kept me calm. At any rate, my father had a difficult time trying to raise me. The more frustrated and angry he became, the more I felt it. I had no idea of how to block him out. We were both very unhappy people.

“I was the area weirdo. When I started school I didn’t make any friends, but that was okay with me because it was just too exhausting. Then I found some toddler who had wandered off, and it was in the newspapers, and Dr. Ewell came to talk to my father. I went to the Institute to be tested, liked the peace and quiet of it, and stayed. My father and I were both relieved.”

“Where is he now?” Dane asked.

“Dead. He visited me regularly for a while, but it was uncomfortable for both of us. The visits became further and further apart. He remarried when I was fourteen, I think, and moved to South Dakota. I met his wife only once. She was nice enough, but very uneasy with me. She had two children from her first marriage, but she and Dad didn’t have any. He died of a massive stroke when I was twenty.”

“No other relatives?”

“A few aunts and uncles, and some cousins I’ve never met.”

She had essentially been alone since she’d been a child, he thought. No snuggling, no hugging. No giggling sleep-overs with friends during her teen years. He wondered if she had ever really been a child, if she had ever played. Probably not. There was something very adult about Marlie, a mental maturity that went far beyond her years. But despite her unorthodox childhood and, by necessity, very austere lifestyle, she was amazingly normal. Almost any eccentricity could have been justified by her upbringing, but she didn’t have any oddball habits or quirks.