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massive chandelier was typical of the over-the-top design features that were incorporated into all the public spaces and classrooms at the headquarters of Kyler, Inc. Isabel knew that her brother-in-law, Farrell Kyler, president and CEO of the motivational seminar company, had spared no expense when he commissioned the architect and designer to construct the campus.
    The crowd thinned out quickly. She realized that she was the last person still sitting in a seat. She could not delay this any longer.
    She picked up her notebook and pen and dropped them into her shoulder bag. Very deliberately she adjusted her glasses on her nose and slowly rose to her feet.
    Maybe he would be gone by the time she got to the entrance of the auditorium.
    Maybe the sun would not rise tomorrow.
    She made her way to the end of the row of seats without looking toward the door. But when she reached the aisle, she had no choice but to look straight ahead.
    He was waiting, one shoulder propped against the wall, arms folded, watching her come toward him. He wore a dark blue shirt that was open at the collar, the cuffs rolled up on strong forearms. The shirt was paired with charcoal gray trousers. Both had the close fit and elegant, masculine drape that only came with hand tailoring.
    She was acutely aware of her own attire, which consisted of a Kyler red jacket, complete with a little crest on the left breast,and a pair of Kyler tan trousers. She was a walking ad for the Kyler Method.
    When she was a few steps away he straightened and lowered his arms. Technically, he was not exactly blocking the exit, she thought. But it certainly appeared that way.
    “Isabel Wright?”
    She took a deep, steadying breath. His voice was as interesting as sin and, in the wrong hands, probably twice as dangerous.
    “Yes.” She gave him the Desperately Professional Smile she had tried to perfect at the Center for Sleep Research. “Have we met?”
    His answering smile was not much more than a faint curve of his hard mouth but there was an intimate, knowing quality to it that sent a frisson of excitement along every nerve ending in her body.
    “Ellis Cutler,” he said. “I believe you knew me as Client Number Two when you were associated with the Belvedere Center for Sleep Research.”
    Dream Man.
    The world stopped for a couple of seconds. So did her breathing. This was Dream Man.
    She managed to hold out her hand. “How do you do?”
    Ellis’s fingers closed around hers, firm and strong. She sensed the power in him but she also knew that it was under cool and complete control. Just like in his dreams, she thought.
    “Sorry to show up here unannounced,” he said. “Took me a while to track you down after we found out you’d left the center.”

    “We?”
    He raised his brows. “Client Number One was also interested in locating you.”
    “I see.”
    “I’d like to talk to you. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
    It was all very polite and innocuous. He was even trying to quietly reassure her by offering to have the conversation in a public venue. Nevertheless, she had a hunch that he would not politely and innocuously disappear if she refused to speak with him.
    “Certainly.” She tightened her grip on the shoulder bag and kept the Desperately Professional Smile in place. “There’s a café outside on the terrace. It has a nice view of the beach.”
    “Sounds good.” He took his sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on.
    They made their way through the high-ceilinged lobby. The large space was lightly crowded with a sprinkling of late arrivals checking in for the week-long series of seminars. Isabel could feel a few curious glances coming from the staff at the reception desk. She ignored them. They were, she was quite sure, aimed at her companion, not her. Ellis Cutler appeared to be oblivious to the attention they were drawing but she was pretty sure he was aware of everything that was going on around them.
    “Got to say I was a little surprised