See Me in Your Dreams (29 page)

"A lovely
thought."

"Moira
was a lovely woman."

"And has
an even lovelier granddaughter."

With
that,
Tyler
kissed her so lovingly that
Keelin realized that the dreams born in her own heart had already come true.

Read
an excerpt from Book
2 in
The McKenna
Legacy: TELL ME NO LIES

Tell Me No
Lies

Prologue

LILY LANG STARED OUT at the fog blanketing the river valley
as the church clock below struck eleven. With a shrug of her shoulders, her
dinner dress slithered down her full hips and puddled around her sling-backed
high heels.

A fog of unhappiness was choking the very breath from her.

How had it come to this? Her life was in the dumper. Her
divorce from Noah was to be finalized within the week. No matter how much she
still loved him, she couldn't put it off any longer. His monstrous jealousy was
too frightening. And news of the public fight she'd had with Frank earlier that
evening was undoubtedly already spreading like wildfire.

What else would she expect? The citizens of her home town
had always been hypercritical of her, no matter how highly she was regarded by
the rest of the country.

Maybe she never should have left
Hollywood
.

But if she'd never left, Claudia wouldn't have been born.

Thinking about the pretty, shy daughter who – to her
constant amazement – was a budding young woman, brought a bittersweet smile to
her lips, anguish to her heart. Noah had threatened that unless she gave up on
what he called her
crazy divorce idea,
he
would seek sole custody of their only child. With his old family money and
social position, no doubt he would succeed. He would name every man she'd ever
been seen with during their several separations. And the courts would believe
the worst of her, even as he did.
Even as the town did.

Once notorious, always notorious.

Who was she to be a role model for an impressionable
thirteen year old?

Claudia's mother, that's who, Lily reminded herself.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she crossed to the dresser
in the dark, finding her brush and stroking the long tresses for which she'd
become known. Her nearly waist-length silver-blond hair was not only her vanity
but had made her famous.

Perhaps if it hadn't...

Lily threw the brush down to the dresser. She needed a good
cry. She deserved one. About to indulge herself, she went all wide-eyed instead
when a sharp noise emanated from below.

A
gunshot?

Heart pounding, she rushed to the bedroom door and threw it
open even as a second shot rang out.

Fingers curling into the hand-carved landing rail, her mouth
too dry to call out, Lily looked down to the first floor. She could see nothing
from where she stood. The staircase and foyer below were as dark as her bedroom
had been. Only half-considering the advisability of facing someone with a
loaded weapon dressed as she was in a satin slip, Lily tore down the stairs,
her treacherous heels making her stumble as she neared the bottom.

Catching hold of the banister to steady herself, she noted a
light shone from beneath the pocket doors of the front parlor.

Holding her breath, Lily crept forward and listened
intently. Through the wooden panels, she could hear nothing but the tortured
sound of choked sobs. With shaking hands, she slid open the double doors...

...unprepared for the horrific sight on the other side...

Chapter One

Chicago

"THIRTY YEARS AGO TODAY, Lily Lang, better known as
The Blonde
Temptress
to her fans, escaped the Dwight
Correctional Center for Women."

Rosalind Van
Straaten paced before the television set. “Can you believe this atrocity?"
she asked her father, who calmly sat watching from the cream-on-cream sofa in
the day spa's office. “After all these years, someone had to go and dig up the
old scandal."

That
someone being Skelly McKenna of
The Whole
Story
, a televised tabloid news program.
His office
had contacted her, requesting an interview – one she had turned down in no
uncertain terms – so at least she had been forewarned. She glared at the image
of the too-good-looking, too-assured dark-haired man.

"People
don't care how old a story is," Rip Van Straaten said, “as long as it's
juicy."

"A pleasant if not great talent, Hollywood starlet Lily
Lang earned her fame and nickname during World War II, when she became a poster
girl for our boys overseas."

The on-screen
shot was the infamous black and white photograph of a stunning blonde reclining
on a chaise, satin tap shorts and a sequined halter top hugging her lush
curves.
Her waist-length hair curled along the right side of her
face and waterfalled over her shoulder.
A mole at the left corner of her
mouth punctuated full lips that were parted, as if in invitation to a kiss.

"Amazing
how very much you look like your grandmother," her father mused,
irritating Rosalind further.

"
Sh
-h!"

"After the war, Lily returned to her home state of
Illinois
only to reveal that she had married Lieutenant Noah Lang in
a secret ceremony before he was shipped off in 1943. Lily retired from movie
stardom and with her Winnetka-based husband, founded a hair product and
cosmetics empire – none other than
Temptress."

"I can't
believe it!" Rosalind cried. “Not only is he dragging our family through
the muck again, but his spotlighting the company is bound to ruin my day spa
before it has a chance to get off the ground."

"Don't
complain. Free publicity."

"Publicity's
fine, Father.
Notoriety's not."

"While
Temptress
flourished, the Lang marriage did not,"
Skelly McKenna went
on, his expression serious, as though he had a personal stake in the union.
“After years of upheaval, the Langs first
separated in 1959. Lily took their daughter Claudia, then nine, back to her
home town of
Galena
."

Rosalind
clenched her jaw and only hoped no one had been distasteful enough to suggest
her mother tune in. Claudia Van Straaten never talked about that time in her
life, acted as if nothing untoward had ever happened.

"Lily and Noah tried reconciling several times, but
four years later in 1959, divorce was imminent on that fateful day when State
Senator Frank Sullivan entered the Langs' Galena home for the last time."

Rosalind
stared at the photograph of the politician and his aide, a young man whose face
was strikingly familiar. When the image dissolved to lurid shots of a bloody
Sullivan sprawled across the parlor floor, she glanced away, unable to stomach
the sight.

"Frank Sullivan was shot to death just before
midnight
. Lily Lang herself called the authorities and confessed to
the heinous murder of her latest lover."

Her
grandfather had told Rosalind that despite the confession, his Lily had been
innocent. And she'd always done her best to believe him. Rosalind didn't want
to have any doubts for his or her mother's sake. Or for her own, she had to
admit. Even though she'd only heard from her grandmother a few time in her life
– and that years before – she felt an inexplicable bond with the now elderly
woman.

"Her sentence...life
imprisonment.
Lily accepted
her punishment without objection. But on the third anniversary of her
incarceration,
The Blonde Temptress
staged
a daring escape. Working in the laundry, she stole a black and white striped
dress that belonged to one of the employees. She waited until dusk, at which
time she went over the twelve-foot fence topped with barbed wire, changed into
the dress and wrapped a scarf around her famous hair.

"So disguised,
The Blonde Temptress
hitchhiked a ride, the then unsuspecting
driver of the car taking her nearly one hundred miles south of the
prison."

Rosalind again
focused on the so-called reporter, wondering if he derived real satisfaction
from digging up muck that could still hurt several people she loved.

What kind of a
human being was this smooth-tongued devil who played word games with other
peoples' lives for ratings and profits? A three decade old murder was
entertainment, not hard news. Did he have a conscience – would he even care if
he realized he might be re-opening old wounds? Why couldn't he have left them
in peace?

"The escape was executed thirty years ago, and to this
day, Lily Lang has eluded authorities..."

Rosalind took
the satisfaction of zapping off the television on a close-up of Skelly
McKenna's pretty face. “This could kill Grandfather," she
said,
her voice shaky.

"Noah's a
crusty old devil."

"With
a bad heart."

"He'll
survive."

"And
what about Mother?"

"I'm
certain whatever Claudia thinks, she will keep her opinion to herself."

The change of
inflection in his tone wounded Rosalind. An only child, she wanted to be part
of a real family, an impossible wish when her parents had slept in separate
bedrooms, lived separate lives, for as long as she could remember. They were
achingly polite to one another. They never argued, for heaven's sake. But they
might as well be strangers.

The only time
Claudia Van Straaten seemed to remember she had a husband was when she
accompanied him to obligatory business functions. Rosalind knew her father had
seen other women from time to time, and, as much as she hated the very notion
of infidelity, she could hardly blame him.

She sank down
into the chair behind her desk.
“How to handle this?"

"I'd
advise you ignore the whole thing. If anyone brings it up, tell them
it's
ancient history, nothing to do with you. Say it with a
smile. No one will hold this against you, sweetheart. Or against your pet
project here. So cheer up and take me on that tour you promised."

Rosalind knew
her father was trying to distract her. A warm, supportive man, always quick to
smile or laugh, he was the very opposite of her mother.

Humoring him,
she rose and crossed to the door, forcing a half-smile. “Sure. Let's start with
the wet areas." She led the way, her pride in her accomplishment wiping
away her distress for the moment.

Taking her
into the business the day after she'd earned her M.B.A., Rip Van Straaten had
made Rosalind his personal assistant so she could quickly learn
Temptress
inside and out. The company
gave them more than a comfortable living, but she'd soon realized her father
was far better at employee relations than innovation. He hadn't made any
significant changes in product lines or services since her grandfather had
retired.

Young and
ambitious, Rosalind had decided the day spa was the very thing to move the
company into the future. The new venture would give her a chance to expand
Temptress
, to build a niche that was
uniquely hers. Her concept was to make pampering accessible even to women of
moderate means. Services would range from hair and nail care to facials,
various massage encounters to eucalyptus inhalation and water therapy. The
beauty products used in the spa would of course be manufactured by
Temptress
.

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.