When Dreams Cross, Page 3

  Andi, he thought, remembering how he’d hated that name when he’d met her in college so many years ago. He wondered if he would have fallen so hopelessly in love with her if he’d known at the outset that she was the daughter of the Andrew Sherman. But she, knowing his feelings toward the upper class, had led him to believe she was just another middle-class daughter attending a middle-class college. That deception had been her first mistake. For when he’d discovered who she really was, the seeds of distrust sprouted and grew. But he hadn’t been shallow enough or biased enough to let her go for that. He couldn’t help recalling the heartrending pull he’d felt toward her regardless of the way her social position had changed things. Despite who she was, he had loved her. That had been his mistake.

  He turned back the page on his sketch pad and tried with his pencil to recall the almond shape of eyes the color of willow leaves, and the way the light had danced in them today, blatantly revealing the moisture that she hadn’t been able to hide. He sketched the soft lines of her nose and the full lips beneath them that he had seen stretched taut with anger on more than one occasion. They had been like that the last time, when he’d made their breakup permanent. She had not groveled or begged when he’d left her then. Instead she had wrapped herself in that cold armor she still wore today. With tears in her eyes, she had made it clear that there were “other fish in the sea,” and now he wondered if she’d found anyone else in those eight years. Of course, he told himself. She was not the type to waste away over what might have been. The image of Andi with someone else made his fingers curl into a fist, and his instinctual reaction filled him with unaccountable dread.

  His pencil left her face and called up memories of her hair, long, blonde, and silky, shimmering with a multitude of colors when the sun hit it just right. That hair had been part of the power she’d had over him. Thank heaven she had worn it pulled back today.

  His eyelids grew heavier as the frustrations released themselves through his pencil, and he studied the sketch, wondering if he’d been responsible for turning her into a strong, beautiful glacier who threatened to freeze or drown anyone who came near. She hadn’t been cold when he’d known her before. She had been full of warmth then, and so sweet …

  His eyes drifted shut and the tension seeped from his body. His pencil traced a soft line around the edges of her lips before his hand fell limp as sleep overcame him.

  Andi pulled her car into the driveway next to the old frame house where his parents had lived before they died. She’d half expected a zany sign out front, a Beware of Troll warning, or a picture on the door of Khaki in her karate gear, poised for spiritual warfare. Instead, there was nothing to set this house apart from the other ordinary houses on the street, and she wondered if Justin lived in the house he used as a studio.

  It seemed impossible that she had lived in the same town with him for two years and not known he was here. But then, Promised Land was so isolated, and she had remained in its cocoon since its plans had begun. It had kept her safe somehow, promising her that life could be everything God intended if only she worked hard enough to make it that way and kept her focus.

  The sun was falling behind the paint-peeled structure, and she checked her watch. Five-thirty. It had taken her all day to work out her fury and depression, as well as the alternate terms her board of directors had agreed to so that she could approach Justin Pierce a second time. It hadn’t taken much probing to discover why he was so wary of her offer. He had been on his way to success a few years ago when someone very much like her had double-crossed him. They had gotten exclusive rights to his characters, then hired most of his staff out from under him and written him out of the picture. Khaki’s Krewe was a new set of characters with a new staff. In light of the circumstances, she didn’t blame him for his suspicious attitude. And he had reason to suspect the Sherman name. He had been double-crossed and lied about by her father, and Justin had heard much about her father’s ruthless business dealings before he was saved. He probably thought that ruthlessness was genetic. If she was going to work with him, she would have to give a lot more than she’d planned.

  When no one answered the front door, Andi left the creaky porch and looked down the side of the house for another entrance. A screen door drew her, and when she had reached it she saw that the door behind it was open as if in invitation. She knocked on the frame, waited, knocked again. When no one came, she cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through the black screen. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Justin asleep on the couch, a pencil in his hand and a forgotten sketch pad on his lap.

  Quietly she opened the screen door and stepped into the studio. For a moment, she stood looking at him, stunned at how good it felt to let her eyes linger over him without that pride between them.

  Unbidden memories brought bitter tears to her eyes. She had long ago forgiven her father for his mistake, and her mother for her passive acquiescence, made out of love for their only child. They had never understood that the extremity of their care had helped to rob their daughter of the only man she had ever loved. But that was in the past. Her parents had both come to know Christ at a revival service she’d brought them to several years ago, and she knew that they would never attempt anything so dishonest or manipulative again. Still, her father’s offer of a payoff had not been what killed their relationship. It had been her own willingness to believe the worst about Justin.

  Breathing a shuddering sigh, she stepped further into the room, smiling at the drawings of Khaki Kangaroo and some of the other characters on the walls sketched from different angles. Clay models of the characters topped some of the shelves above inclined tables cluttered with papers. She went to the storyboard on the wall next to the couch where Justin lay sleeping. The pictures representing each action in the scene gave her a clear idea of the gag the characters were pulling on the troll. Silently she laughed. Justin’s talent had always been brilliant.

  Well, she thought resolutely, she would have to wake him. It was better to speak with him on his own turf, and since no one else was around, this could be a good opportunity. Besides, there wasn’t much time to waste. The park would be opening soon, and they would have to begin working immediately if they were going to incorporate this last-minute addition. She lowered herself onto the couch beside him, careful not to surprise him into wakefulness, and whispered, “Justin.”

  He stirred slightly but didn’t awaken, so she touched his arm. Still there was no response. She studied his face, so serene and relaxed, different from the way it had seemed this morning, but much the same as it had been all those years ago. A shadow of stubble darkened his jaw, and his lips were parted slightly, slow rhythmic breathing whispering through them. His black hair fell into his face, and a strand was caught in the thick dark lashes curling away from his cheek. Without thinking, she raised her hand and pushed the hair from his eye, her fingertips following the soft arch of his brow, the touch again making her aware that her feelings had never died. His face turned into her fingers then, lips brushing lightly against the heel of her hand as he readjusted his head.

  The movement stopped her heart, suspended her breath, but she didn’t remove her hand. His face was warm with sleep, rough to the touch, and she let her fingers follow the hard, carved lines of his jaw. The impact of sensations bursting through her heart surprised her. Had she been so lonely that a simple touch could confuse her so completely?

  Pulling back, she turned sideways on the couch and rested an elbow on the cushions behind her, propping her head as she gazed on the handsome, sleeping man. She had been attracted to men since him, and many had been attracted to her. But since her father’s accident there had been no one, for she spent every moment that she wasn’t working sitting at his hospital bedside, praying for the moment he would come out of his coma and see that she had carried out the plans for the dream that had become her own. Until now, she hadn’t been aware of her need for the touch, the response, of another human being. Sudden loneliness filled
and enveloped her.

  Unwilling to wake him just yet, she let her eyes linger on his face, on the sound of his breathing, on the man he was without the barriers of pride and memory.

  A loud sigh pushed through Justin’s lips, and he shifted slightly. The sketch pad that had been lying facedown on his lap slid off and hit the floor.

  She jumped.

  Closing her eyes and holding her breath until she realized the sound hadn’t disturbed him, Andi tried to think rationally. She should run as far away from him as she could. She should send a representative to make her offer, and make sure that their business dealings brought them together as little as possible. But somehow, she couldn’t make herself get up and leave. She was caught in a net he didn’t even know he had cast.

  She looked down at the sketch pad, which had fallen face down, and wondered what he’d been working on. Quietly, she leaned over and picked it up, turned it over …

  Her heart jolted as her own face stared back at her. Had he been sitting here thinking of her? Sketching her? She studied the rendition, amazed that he hadn’t given her horns or a witch’s hat, blackened a tooth or drawn a wart or mustache. It was a sweet likeness of her, with sparkling eyes and a coy smile …

  Her heart raced as she set the pad back on the floor, face-down, so he’d never know she had seen it. Biting her lip, she willed the gnawing in her heart to stop until she could get a proper distance between them and convince herself she didn’t still love him … that he didn’t still love her.

  She laid her hand on the couch behind him and watched him, knowing instinctively that she couldn’t let him slip away again. She was stronger now, more careful to guard her feelings. She would never let him know of the turmoil he caused within her. But the same God who had allowed them to be torn apart had used a cartoon to hurl them back together. She needed those cartoon characters, and he needed Promised Land. Somehow she would make him see that.

  The first step would have to be waking him without letting him know that she’d had a glimpse into his thoughts. Carefully, she got up, made her way across the floor, and slipped out the door. Then she took a deep breath and rapped hard on the wooden door frame. “Hello,” she called in her loudest voice, shoving her shaking hands into her pockets. “Is anybody home? Justin?”

  The pounding penetrated Justin’s sleep, and the voice, urgent and loud, pulled him from the depths of it.

  “Justin? Justin?”

  He opened his eyes and saw the woman silhouetted against the bright daylight behind her. He squinted as if he didn’t believe she was real. Slowly his eyes focused and widened, and he pulled himself up. “I’m coming,” he said. He went to the door, his hand shading his eyes from the light as he opened it and let her in. “What time is it?”

  Andi checked her watch. “Six o’clock.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered, his hand ruffling his hair distractedly. “I fell asleep.” Her penetrating eyes reminded him of the sketch pad he had drawn her picture on, and he went back to the couch and saw that it had fallen on the floor. He picked it up and set it on a table facedown. “I have to work tonight. It’s good that you woke me.”

  He offered Andi a seat on the couch with a wave of his hand, then lowered himself back down, rubbing his eyes.

  “When’s the last time you slept?” she asked.

  He thought a moment, glancing askance at the guarded concern in her eyes, his head leaning indolently against the cushions. “Uh, yesterday morning, I think. Yeah, I got about three hours.” His gaze settled on her hands, clamped so tightly that white marks cut through her tan. “What brings you here?” he asked in a voice without that familiar trace of sarcasm. “I thought you decided my cartoons weren’t worth the trouble.”

  She sighed. “You know they’re worth it. So my board of directors has been working all day to come up with a compromise an offer that even you can’t refuse.”

  “A compromise?” A crooked smile played across his face. “Yes,” she said wearily, “I’m willing to compromise in this case. Are you?”

  Justin looked down at his knees and rubbed his face again. “That depends on what I have to give up.”

  “I don’t see either of us giving up anything if we can put our past behind us and work together instead of against each other,” she said.

  He nodded, wishing flashes of the Andi he once knew wouldn’t keep surfacing in her eyes, bringing back old feelings despite the chilling aura surrounding her. “I’m listening.”

  Andi glanced through the door leading further into the house. “Could we talk over coffee? You look like you could use a cup.”

  “Good idea,” he said, standing up. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

  “It happens to the best of us, Justin. You should try it on a more regular basis, though.”

  Brushing past her, he caught her pleasant scent—the long-forgotten scent of a cool breeze across a flowered meadow—as he led her toward the kitchen. The fragrance was familiar … too familiar.

  He forced himself to block that scent from his mind and led her into the cluttered kitchen. Andi leaned against the kitchen door and watched him spoon the coffee into the pot. Justin plugged in the coffeepot and turned to the table. He pulled out a chair for her. Dropping her gaze, she sat down. He sat across from her and leaned his elbows on the table, hands covering his face.

  The coffeepot finished perking, and Justin got up and filled two cups, absently fixing hers the way she had once liked it. He caught himself, then handed her the cup. “Do you still take two spoonsful of sugar?”

  She nodded.

  Little slips, little slips, he thought. That was how he would lose himself again. He sipped his coffee, watched the steam curling out of it. Bringing his eyes back to hers, he cleared his throat. “So, what’s your proposal?”

  Andi leaned her elbows on the table and looked into his blue eyes. “I’d like to buy Pierce Productions.”

  Justin laughed suddenly. “Is that all? Where do I sign?”

  Bristling at the sarcasm, Andi tried again. “I expected that reaction, but Justin, give it a chance. For once, just listen.”

  Attempting to control his amusement, Justin pursed his lips. “For what it’s worth,” he said in mock acquiescence, “you have my undivided attention.”

  Andi wet her lips and blew out a frustrated sigh. “I want to make Pierce Productions a part of Promised Land,” she said. “You could keep some of the stock and still run the company.”

  “Under your supervision,” he tacked on for her, his eyes still sparkling with amused disbelief.

  “Only technically,” she said. “You’d have the backing of Promised Land no matter what you did with your cartoons. And nothing would conflict with our interests because we would be …”

  “In control,” he provided. “Reaping the profits.”

  “Profits much higher than you would ever come close to ‘reaping’ without us,” she pointed out. “Promised Land could give you a reputation and credibility. Being under our umbrella could give you infinite opportunities.”

  “But let’s not forget,” Justin said, raising a finger, “that Promised Land is under the umbrella of Sherman Enterprises. I’d just be a minute part of the empire.”

  “Not true,” Andi said, unwilling to show her hand but realizing it was the only way to win. “Promised Land is not owned by Sherman Enterprises. I own most of the stock in this company. Some of the major stockholders sold out after Dad’s accident, and I bought as much as I could. Don’t you see that if I bought your company I’d have its best interests at heart? If you succeeded, I’d succeed. And if one of us failed, it would very likely pull the other down. And you know the chances of Promised Land failing.”

  “Actually,” he said, “there have been a hundred times when everybody in town has thought Promised Land would fail. Your fights with the city are almost legendary.”

  “That’s propaganda,” she said. “There are people here who have vendettas and will do whatever they can to ke
ep Promised Land from opening. But I’ve stood up to them, and I always win. Promised Land won’t fail, and neither will Pierce Productions if we join forces.”

  Justin’s amusement faded as the offer grew more attractive. “Pierce Productions may not be much,” he said solemnly, “but it’s mine. I haven’t struggled to keep it going all these years just to hand it over to someone else.”

  Andi pulled a note pad out of her purse and jotted down her first offer. “Does that sound like ‘handing it over’?”

  Justin read the amount and swallowed. “It doesn’t make any difference,” he said, resenting the temptation. “I won’t work under someone else. I’m not inflexible when it comes to my cartoons, but I’m used to having the last word.”

  Andi scribbled out the refused offer, then brought her eyes back to Justin, who was watching her with growing interest. “What if I made you president of Pierce Productions, with the stipulation that you could never be fired or demoted in any way and that all creative and management decisions must be approved by you?”

  A wry grin crinkled his eyes again, but this time it held less sarcasm. “I already have that.”

  “But that’s all you have,” Andi said. “With Promised Land’s budget you could stretch to the limits of your imagination. You’d have freedom to do anything you wanted, Justin.” Sitting back, she waited.

  Justin hoped his reeling thoughts weren’t apparent on his face. “You have to realize what would be involved here,” he said. “For me to make a move like that, I’d want to take my business a lot farther than I’ve been able to in the past.”