See Me in Your Dreams

by Patricia Rosemoor

  The Gold Coast site was the first of three planned Chicago-area locations and was barely two weeks away from its grand opening – workmen were still seeing to critical details.

  Rosalind was aware of more than one male head turning in her direction as she and her father arrived at the ceramic-tiled area. The attention embarrassed her. She might look something like her notorious grandmother had at the same age, but she certainly was no Blonde Temptress.

  "Whirlpool...sauna...inhalation therapy rooms," she said as they passed a painter, who was adding another cloud to the sky-blue walls in the wet area. “The wooden planters will be filled with tropical greenery and a couple of tables will be equipped with colorful umbrellas."

  Her father was inspecting the freeform whirlpool that reminded Rosalind of a miniature lagoon. “I'm sure it'll be very lush and classy. Very you." His warm smile was catching.

  "You always know how to make me feel better."

  He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “You really shouldn't worry about old scandals, honey."

  "But I am worried," she admitted, her smile fading. “Thanks to Skelly McKenna."

  He was the one who'd dredged up the past.

  Therefore, Rosalind decided, he was the one who would have to fix things.

  SKELLY LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR, feet up on his black-lacquer desk. He was editing copy for the next day's show, wishing for a story to end all stories that he could personally bring home. His network had a new prime time magazine format show in the works, and he was under consideration for a promotion. The other candidates had one up on him because they were all part of legitimate news teams.

  Prime time.

  Respect.

  His father's approval.

  Skelly was wondering what they would feel like when his office door opened to reveal a welcome visitor – his cousin, Keelin McKenna.

  "Hey, cous, do all brides-to-be look as beautiful as you do?" He set his feet on the floor and rose to greet her with a big hug.

  "You're full o' the blarney, Skelly McKenna," Keelin said, her lilt more pronounced than usual.

  "Not this time."

  In truth, his Irish cousin looked radiant. Soft color flooded her cheeks. Her gray eyes sparkled. And her cloud of auburn hair appeared positively fiery against the yellow of the gauzy dress that floated around her, its long skirts brushing the tops of her ankle boots.

  "Tyler sends you his greetings."

  Tyler Leighton being Keelin's fiancé. He held out a chair for her opposite his own. “So how are things with Cheryl?" he asked of Tyler's daughter, who had gone through a terrible ordeal the week before.

  "She acts as though the kidnapping was nothing. But Tyler's taking no chances. The two have already started family therapy sessions together."

  "She's okay with the wedding? I mean, considering how fast it's all happening."

  Keelin was determined to stick to the schedule defined by what Skelly thought of as The McKenna Legacy – Moira's bequest to her grandchildren being lifelong happiness to be achieved by the thirty-third day after their thirty-third birthday. Not that Skelly believed in such prophecies.

  "It seems Cheryl has accepted me," Keelin was saying. “She's a very loving fourteen-year-old. And she's needed a woman in her life for a very long time."

  "She couldn't get a better stepmom, cous."

  "I shall try my best."

  Skelly shook his head. What a delightful surprise his sweet, soft cousin had turned out to be. She'd certainly taken his heart by storm. He hadn't even known her two weeks before, and now he felt as if they'd been fast friends forever.

  "So how are the plans for the wedding coming?"

  "Your sister is a wonder. She's helped me arrange everything."

  Skelly laughed. “Aileen does get things done when she sets her mind to it."

  "The only thing we still need is a best man."

  "I suppose Brock Olander is out of the question."

  Keelin heaved a sigh. “Tyler's business partnership with Brock is being dissolved even as we speak...or he would be here to ask you himself."

  "Ask me what?"

  "To be his best man, of course."

  Skelly started. “No of course about it. I was under the distinct impression that Tyler's got a pretty low opinion of tabloid journalists."

  "He considers you an exception after the restrained way you handled the follow-up story about Cheryl's kidnapping."

  "Listen, about that story – the network execs were pretty impressed. I'm being considered for a huge promotion. An anchor desk on a prime time magazine. Your cous may go legit yet."

  Keelin's smile lit the room. “Skelly, congratulations. If that's what you want."

  He'd never planned on working in tabloid news – the fates had merely pushed him in that direction. Not that he was ashamed of what he did, but he was ready for a change, and he had neither the guts nor the heart to resurrect old dreams.

  "It's the best opportunity I've ever had. You bet I want the job."

  "Then I'll pray you succeed."

  "Thanks. Now, about the best man thing. Are you sure you didn't coerce Tyler into the invitation?"

  "Oh, Skelly, Tyler will never forget all the help you gave me in trying to find his daughter. Asking you to be his best man comes directly from his heart. From both our hearts."

  "Then how can I refuse?"

  The cousins grinned at each other.

  "Good," Keelin said. “That's settled, then."

  "So who's going to give the bride away?"

  Skelly assumed Keelin hadn't yet informed her family in Ireland that she was about to be married. Their aunt's rebellious marriage to a man who wasn't Catholic had caused the beginning of a thirty-some-year rift in the family – a rift Keelin was determined to heal. Skelly knew Keelin feared her father's reaction when he learned that she, too, chose true love above the religious strictures of her church. Not that she herself would ever be anything but Catholic.

  "I called them, Skelly. It took a great deal of courage, but I could not marry without them knowing."

  "And?"

  A small cloud passed over her visage. “Da didn't take it well. And even if he did, he's in no shape to be traveling. My mother will stay to take care of him, but she wants what's best for me. Curran's most valuable horse is racing next weekend, so he cannot come, either. Flanna will be here, though, as my maid of honor."

  His sweet cousin certainly had the courage of a giant. “So you're giving yourself away?"

  "Truth be told...I've asked Uncle Raymond to escort me. I thought him the appropriate choice to stand in for Da."

  Especially since his father and hers and Aunt Rose were triplets. “Good. Maybe giving you away will soften him up for the reunion idea."

  Keelin grinned again. “What better thing to ask as my wedding gift?"

  "What a clever con artist," he said admiringly.

  She sobered. “Only because I want our families to be reunited, for Da and Uncle Raymond and Aunt Rose to forgive one another and be truly happy."

  Skelly knew the impetus for Keelin's quest had been his Uncle James's heart attack. Keelin had told him her father had asked for Raymond and Rose on what he'd thought was his deathbed. The man must be as stubborn as his own parent, though, for once he knew he would survive, James had denied wanting any such thing. Healer of the spirit as well as the body, Keelin had been compelled to act, in secret, of course. She'd told her family she was coming to the United States on business when really she'd come to see Raymond and Rose.

  Skelly suspected Keelin would have a lot to account for to her father, her judgment day being not too far off. He only hoped her life didn't blow up in her face. If history were to repeat itself...the consequences didn't bear considering.

  Besides, she would at least have Tyler, Skelly reminded himself. “I'm happy for you, cous."

  "Thank you, Skelly. Now I must go. I promised to take Cheryl shopping. She insists I need a new look, though
I cannot for the life of me fathom what is wrong with the one I have." Still smiling, she shrugged and stood. “Tyler will ring you with the details about the wedding. And Skelly...about Moira's legacy...”

  "What about it?"

  "Believe in it, Skelly. You cannot have much time, either. If I remember correctly, your birthday didn't fall far behind mine."

  Though he had recently turned thirty-three himself, Skelly merely laughed. As if he had time to worry about romance when a career opportunity was on the line. “I'll keep my antennae out for Ms. Right."

  "You do that. You deserve a woman who can make you happy."

  Giving him a swift kiss on his cheek, Keelin swept out the door, leaving Skelly staring after her. What an innocent his cousin was. What a wishful thinker. Her meeting Tyler right now had been sheer luck, nothing more. No hocus-pocus. No magic. Just dumb luck that it had happened within their grandmother's time frame.

  Even as he stared at the copy he was supposed to be editing, Skelly couldn't quite put Keelin's admonishment from his mind. He'd never put much thought into finding Ms. Right. He'd been too busy working, building a career. He'd assumed it would happen to him some day, though he'd never put a timetable to starting a family life. But suddenly he wondered if he were missing something.

  Keelin's happiness made him feel...empty.

  Another knock at the door made him think she'd forgotten something. “That you, cous? C'mon in."

  When the door opened to reveal the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on, Skelly went slack-jawed with a sense of dèjá vú.

  "Skelly McKenna?" No uncertainty in her husky-voiced query.

  "That'd be me."

  "Good." She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

  Silver-blond hair pulled back in a soft twist revealed perfect features, sky blue eyes dusted by dark lashes, and a tiny mole punctuating the left corner of her luscious mouth. Dressed in a powder blue business suit, the skirt short enough to reveal the extraordinary length of her legs, she was a knockout.

  And too incredibly familiar for her appearance to be coincidence...

  When she held out her perfectly manicured hand and said, “Rosalind Van Straaten," he wasn't in the least surprised.

  "Lily Lang's granddaughter," he mused. “What can I do for you?"

  "Retract your story."

  She was certainly direct, he'd give her that. “Retract the truth. Hmm, now there's an interesting concept."

  With a placid smile, she said, “I'm not certain you would know the truth if it bit you."

  Smothering a laugh, Skelly sat and indicated Rosalind should do the same. She stood where she was, feet seeming rooted to the spot, and crossed her arms over her chest. Those baby-blues were glaring at him.

  "All right, what do you take issue with?" he asked. “My calling your grandmother The Blonde Temptress? Documenting the troubles between her and your grandfather? Or recapping the murder, her conviction and subsequent flight?"

  "Yes."

  Skelly threw up his hands. “But all of the above is true."

  "Tarnished truth," she argued. “And you didn't have to rehash any of it. Besides, you don't really know what happened in the Galena house that night."

  "I do my research."

  "No one ever proved my grandmother killed anyone."

  "They didn't have to. She voluntarily confessed."

  "That's not the same as the authorities looking into Sullivan's death. They took her at her word."

  "Sounds reasonable to me. Why should they have turned elsewhere? And what motive would Lily Lang have had to lie when her freedom was on the line?"

  "I don't know." The husky voice was tight with emotion. “We all have our own motivations for doing what we do. Yours is money, isn't it?"

  Skelly suspected he should be insulted, but he couldn't quite work up the steam. He was too intrigued by Rosalind Van Straaten. “I get paid for what I do."

  "Doing another piece on my grandmother...one more favorable than the last...at least offering reasonable doubt as to her guilt...how much would that take?"

  His eyebrows shot up. “You're trying to bribe me! “he said with mock-indignation.

  She made an impatient sound. “I'm simply offering to pay you for what you do. What do you care what copy you read as long as someone writes the check?"

  Now he was insulted. He didn't fabricate stories. He didn't knowingly perpetuate lies. “Let me see if I have this straight," he said, fighting his clenching jaw muscles. “You want to pay me to whitewash your family's dirty laundry."

  Though she flushed, Rosalind persisted. “How much?"

  "Not interested, Roz." He deliberately allowed his gaze to wander up the length of her long legs. “Taking money from you wouldn't be ethical."

  Her berry-tinted mouth gaped. She drew herself up to her full height. “Your telecast wasn't ethical."

  "I didn't embellish on the facts. They've all appeared in print for everyone to read."

  "But how much personal research did you do?"

  "The murder happened more than thirty years ago–"

  "Exactly!"

  "So I did what I could," he continued. “Used documented knowledge. Oh...and I had my assistant contact you, as well as others germane to the case. I'm sure you'll remember you turned down her request for an interview with me. No one wanted to talk."

  She paled and sat in the chair he'd offered earlier. “Who else did you contact? Surely not my mother."

  "Your own mother didn't tell you about our offer? Curious. What about your grandfather?"

  Her breathing was as unnatural as her color. She didn't answer immediately. She appeared almost ill...and as if the wheels in her head were wildly spinning.

  Finally, as if to convince herself as well as him, she said, “Undoubtedly they thought to spare me."

  His momentary irritation with her fled. “I don't understand. You weren't even born when this all happened. What's your stake?"

  Her blue eyes widened. “My family's reputation and standing in the community is my stake. And what about the innocent people involved here? My grandfather and mother are flesh-and-blood human beings, you know, and they have been hurt enough."

  Her eyes had to be the most beautiful in the world, Skelly thought, mesmerized by their transparency. In them, he read pride. Resentment. Determination.

  She wasn't going to let him alone until he agreed to do something – but why? To soothe some emotional hurt he might have caused? She wasn't the naive type. She couldn't believe that journalists based professional decisions on personal feelings – not even on their own. Could be she knew something he didn't about the case...

  A thought that intrigued him.

  The brass had been impressed with his personal involvement with the Cheryl Leighton case. That had led to his being considered for the promotion. He'd been wishing for a ripe story and this could be it. Should he grab the opportunity and it panned out, his career would get another boost and in a direction that might make him happier...might even make his father proud.

  Skelly decided he might enjoy being badgered by Rosalind Van Straaten. Contrary to her assumption as to his character, he couldn't be bribed. Though he worked in a segment of the television industry that sometimes played fast and loose with hard news, The Whole Story never knowingly ran an untruth.

  Besides, he had his own brand of integrity.

  "Give me something significant to run with," he said, “and I'll consider doing a follow-up."

  "That's your job. You're the reporter. For once in your life, give your audience the real 'whole story.' Give them the unvarnished truth."

  Rather a version of the truth that she wanted to hear, Skelly thought cynically.

  Skelly figured he was in a win-win situation. He might get the story that would make his career. And if not, at least he would spend some quality time with a woman who was as interestingly strong-willed as she was beautiful. Both attributes turned him on.

  "I'm a reasonabl
e man." He stared into that stunning face, and a weird feeling washed through him. Part of him wished The McKenna Legacy was more than fiction even as the cynic in him resisted believing it might be. Keelin had gotten to him good with her not-so-subtle romantic prodding. “I'll dig for the truth, but only if you'll cooperate."

  "How?" Her expression grew immediately cautious.

  "You'll have to work with me. And not censor me. That could very well mean opening your family and its past to even more unfavorable public scrutiny."