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placed it safely on the
counter. He reached for the bowl inside the cabinet and the whisk
brush from the holder.
    The usually capable Julie looked disoriented as she searched for
silverware and sought to make sense of an unfamiliar kitchen.
    He pushed the chair out. “Sit down and relax. I’ll do breakfast.
Pretend you’re in a restaurant.”
    She opened her mouth to protest. He flashed a stern look and she
complied. While he whisked the eggs, his peripheral vision caught
the back-and-forth swinging movement of her long legs. Dade leaned
closer to the marble counter, so she couldn’t see the bulge
developing in a certain portion of his anatomy.
    He rounded up some orange juice and toast then presented the finished
product. Instead of slowly appreciating Dade’s handiwork, they both
gulped down breakfast, as if the hounds of hell were after them.
    “Well, let’s get back and try to make sense of things,” he
said, gathering up the plates off the table.
    “It is Sunday. If you want, we could goto
the service at St. Peter’s, downtown. They’re usually short,”
Julie said.
    “All right. We could use some divine intervention.”
    Church might be just the ticket to get his mind off of Julie and back
on the right track.
    Her lips curved into a surprised smile. “And I thought I knew
everything about you, tough guy.”
     
    * * *
     
    Since Julie had announced she was leaving and Nora had wreaked her
havoc, Dade’s world had shifted into uncharted territory. Kneeling
at Mass on a Sunday morning with Julie beside him, however, somehow
seemed right, kind of domestic, as if she were his wife. The liturgy
was familiar, yet different, since this time he shared it with her.
It gave him kind of a warm feeling. This had to be one of the things
Todd missed now that Laura was gone. The thought was sobering.
    As customary, along with the rest of the congregation, he and Julie
shook hands after the Lord’s Prayer. The moment felt sacred, not
sexual, as if he were pledging his life to her. Dade swallowed a lump
in his throat.
    Maybe marriage wouldn’t be so bad. Of course, it would mean
spending time away from the firm and not making as much money, but
the sacrifice might be worth it with the right woman, someone like
Julie. It was something to think about.

 
     
    Chapter Seven
     
    Tyler grit his teeth, remembering the day before, when he’d stood
before the assemblage of dullards who didn’t share a brain amongst
them. They weren’t the reason for his workshop. They could burn in
hell for all he cared.
    He didn’t understand it. He’d seen the excited look in her eyes.
She’d known what he’d offered and had seemed to want it.
Something or, more accurately, someone had to be interfering.
Probably that partner of hers who constantly infringed on her free
time.
    His mind whirled from the impatience of the stalk. He craved
fulfillment, yet he, like the less worthy, must jump through hoops to
attain his goal.
    No one would stand him up. The more he thought of it, the angrier he
got. For all he knew, she might even be making love to her partner
right this minute.
    The fool didn’t deserve her. Julie McGuire was meant to be his.
He’d make sure she had no choice, but for the time being he’d
have to leave her to her own devices. He had a publisher to appease
and a story to finish.
    Squaring his shoulders, Tyler prepared himself to enter the other
dimension. His fingers swept over the keyboard as he commanded the
blurred thoughts into focus. He no longer sat in his luxurious
penthouse on Chicago’s Michigan Avenue, but instead, stood five
miles away in the modest, chintz-covered living room of a Lincoln
Park townhouse.
     
    * * *
     
    Clutching the pick tightly, he crept through the semi-lit hallway
into the kitchen. The house was silent, except for the ticking of the
cow-shaped clock directly over the sink. Its hands showed nine
fifty-one.
    A cinnamon-like aroma wafted from the cabinets. Pressing the gloved
finger over