Wrapped in a terry cloth robe, she grabbed her t-shirt and headed for the bedroom, intent on tucking the garment under her pillow for use the next night. Casually folding the make-shift night shirt, her hands stilled as she stared at the front. That was strange. Two distinctly wrinkled spots stood out on the front, right where her breasts would be. Huh? She frowned and ran her fingers over the area, recalling her dream from the previous night. Her imaginary lover had suckled her through the t-shirt, but it hadn’t been real so how...? A blush washed over her face. Had she been groping herself in her dreams? That would explain the wrinkled material...sort of... Gnawing on her lip, she wondered what other explanation there could possibly be, but none came to mind. The idea that a man had appeared in her room and made love to her while she slept was utterly ridiculous.
Giving her head a shake, she finished putting the t-shirt away and made her bed, then went in search of her coffee. The wonderful smell of fresh caffeine was floating through the small cabin, perking up her senses and further activating her brain. Leaning against the counter, she contemplated her day.
She’d have to contact Aldrich and let him know that she had found where Taylor lived, but hadn’t yet made an appointment to interview him. That was the truth. Her contact with the man yesterday didn’t need to be part of the report.
Mentally, she gave herself another kick for trying to sneak onto the man’s property. It had been foolish and amateurish, more suited to a cheap spy novel than a journalist who had a paying client. Being impulsive had always been her downfall and she kept hoping that with age, she’d finally learn to control herself, thus avoiding incidents like yesterday. So far, maturity wasn’t helping.
Maybe she could blame her mother, she chuckled. The woman wasn’t there to defend herself and she had been flighty in her day—and still was, if the truth be told. Mel loved her mother dearly, but the woman was in the habit of just picking up and moving with no warning, simply because something had caught her fancy. Usually it was a man, but sometimes it was a charitable cause, something she’d seen on a travel show or the need to undertake a new career like pottery or bee-keeping. While she’d been young, her mother had tried to curb her gypsy ways, but once Mel was grown, the restlessness had returned.
Mel understood. She had the same feeling herself to a lesser extent; always looking for the one thing that would ‘fit’ and fill what seemed to be a void inside her. She hadn’t found it in any of her previous relationships or jobs, and hoped this current endeavour was the right one.
Her mother was still searching for meaning in her life, presently living in Florida with a man named Fred, and doing something with seashells—Mel didn’t really understand the enterprise and knew better than to ask. The explanation would be long and complicated yet leave her with no clearer understanding for the telling.
Sometimes Mel wondered if her mother would have been more settled, if her father had stayed around. Of course, that hadn’t happened. Her mother had merely been a week-long fling for the man. He hadn’t left a number or an address and probably didn’t even know or care that he had a daughter.
It didn’t really matter to Mel though. Her mother had raised her by herself and they’d survived, just the two of them. There had been no grandparents to lend a hand, but friends had rallied around and Mel had grown up surrounded by her mother’s good friends that became her honorary aunts and uncles. Frowning, she realized she hadn’t seen some of those people in almost a year. Maybe when this job finished, she’d make time for a visit...
Mulling the idea over in her head, Mel dressed and prepared to head into town in search of a phone to call Aldrich. Afterwards, she’d try to contact Taylor again, by more conventional means this time. With any luck, he wouldn’t be the kind to hold a grudge...
Chapter 8
For some reason, Mel found herself driving by Ryne’s property, rather than heading straight to town. She hadn’t consciously decided to do it, but had been day-dreaming about nothing in particular and the car seemed to have a mind of its own. Once she realized where she was, she resolved to drive right on by, even as her foot was depressing the brake pedal and her hand was shifting the car into park.
She sat in the idling car, staring at the locked gates and chewing on her lip, not at all sure why she was here. A repeat of yesterday was definitely not in the cards, so what would she gain by staring at the locked gate? Nothing really, but something drew her to this place. Could it be the fact that Ryne was behind the gates. Possibly. There was the hint of mystery that seemed to surround the man, and she’d always loved solving puzzles. What was so important about this man that Greyson was paying her to get information on him? Was it just his photographs or was there something else? And why was Ryne so obsessive about his privacy? A padlocked gate, a half mile long driveway, living in the middle of nowhere in an out of the way town that few people had ever heard of... It all seemed a bit excessive to someone such as herself, who’d lived most of her life in the city surrounded by people. Maybe, if she ever got to interview the man, she’d get some answers to those questions.