Owen didn't know which was worse, the pounding on the door or the pounding in his head. He rolled over and squinted against the sun blazing through the window. Another knock. "Just a minute!"

He swung his feet to the floor, then tripped. He was naked and standing on top of his jeans and boxers. How did that happen? He never slept in the buff unless he had a bed partner. Remnants of the night before clouded his brain. The dream. A woman.

Before he gave it any more thought, the door banged opened, and Dante rushed in. "Why aren't you answering your door? Your phone?" He cocked his head. "And why the hell are you naked?" He glanced toward the bathroom, then lowered his voice. "You have a visitor?"

Owen grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around his waist. "No."

"Then what? You been doing the five-knuckle shuffle?"

Owen fixed him with a glare. "No."

Dante threw up his hands in surrender. "I wouldn't blame you. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

"I told you I wasn't getting myself off. I had a dream."

Dante pursed his lips. "A wet dream?"

"Yeah, Ass. A fucking wet dream. So no reason for you to worry anymore about me needing a woman. The one I conjured up was damn good."

"Oh yeah? Look like anyone we know?"

"She wasn't Silbie if that's what you're getting at, even though—" Owen didn't want to admit in his mind's eye he'd make her into Silbie. It happened every time he dreamed of a woman. No matter her physical features, she became the only woman he ever loved.

"Even though what?"

Owen sat on the edge of the bed, hung his head, and rubbed the back of his neck. "She seemed so real. Didn't look anything like Silbie. Long curly red hair. Back full of tats. And she had this sultry voice. Oh, and she was French. Pretty sure she talked dirty to me."

Dante roared with laughter. "Holy shit. The only thing I ever remembered from my wet dreams were big tits."

Owen was done talking about the subject. At least in the dream, he'd performed like a stud, taking her four times before he'd been rendered practically unconscious. The last time he'd had that kind of action had been the night before he left for active duty. With Silbie.

He heaved a breath, pushed the painful memories away, and stared at his brother. "Why were you trying to beat down my door? Something happen?"

"I have a meeting downtown. Thought you might want to go with me. We can swing by the new office. The grand opening is scheduled in two weeks. I'm hoping you'll check it out. On the way back, we can pick up Dash. Unless—"

"Unless what?"

"You're too worn out from your nocturnal nookie." Dante laughed again.

Owen threaded his feet through his boxers and pulled them on as he stood. He walked toward the bathroom and spoke over his shoulder. "What are you? Twelve?"

"Just need a bit of comic relief. Bea had a bad night. She'll feel better once I get her back to Parkers Prairie. You going downtown with me or not?"

"Yeah, I'll go." If Owen stayed in his hotel room, he'd be haunted by the dream, and that's the last thing he needed. The less he thought about it, the better.

"Hey," Dante said. "You're absolutely sure it was a dream? Or, are you just saying that because you don't want me to know you finally hooked up with someone?"

"Why would I lie? I don't give a shit what you think."

"Well then, you have a bigger problem."

"What?"

"This proves it wasn't a wet dream."

Owen turned to face him.

Between Dante's fingers, dangled a long strand of auburn hair.

Owen zeroed in on the strand, then jerked it from his hand. "What the hell? She was real?" He stared at the hair as if he'd made a scientific discovery. "I can't believe it. Maybe this came from one of the maids."

"I don't recall seeing anyone with long red hair," Dante said.

"What about transference? You know, got on my clothes somewhere, and I brought it in."

Dante's face pinched. "Why are trying to rationalize this? So you hooked up with a real woman. That's progress. You're too damn old to be having wet dreams anyway so this is good news. What's your problem?"

"I'll tell you what. With a dream, I have no questions. It all came from my screwed-up head. But, if last night really happened, then I don't know what the hell is going on. How'd she get in? Why leave without a word? Why didn't she insist I use protection?" He nailed Dante with a cold gaze. "Cut the shit. You sent in an escort, didn't you?"

"No, bro. Calm down. Why the hell would I try and facilitate you having sex?"

"Because you've told me over and over, I need a woman. It makes sense. You have a card key to my room. You know my schedule. Hell, you probably even had the groomer keep Dash overnight."

Dante drew his face into a hard line. "I don't deny I'm happy about this, but I had nothing to do with it. If you never want to fuck another woman, then I'm fine with that. But, cutting yourself off from the world—sitting in this room all goddamn day is not the way for you to get better. I don't have to be a shrink to know that."

"You swear you didn't hire her?"

Dante grumbled incoherently. "It pisses me off that you think I did, but yeah, if it makes you feel better, I swear."

"In that case, I need to find her."

He stared dumbfounded at Owen. "Why? There's plenty of other women out there, or was she that good?"

"She was better than good—but, something's not right. It didn't seem random."

Dante glanced around the room. "Anything missing? Even though I can't think of anything you have worth stealing."

Owen reached for his jeans, pulled the wallet from the back pocket, and inspected it. "Cash. Credit cards. Driver's license. All here."

"Then maybe she's an alien. Beamed herself into the room." Dante chuckled. "Planted a microchip to study you. Have you checked your pecker?"

"What's with you today?"

Dante shrugged. "Seems you want to come up with a conspiracy theory, so there you have one. Come on, Owen, it is what it is. She was down to fuck. Hell, women get horny just like guys."

"I get what you're saying, and maybe I'm paranoid, but she even said our meeting wasn't a coincidence. At the time, I thought my brain was writing the script, but now, I'm not so sure. I want to look at the security footage to find out if she lied about my door being open."

"We'll do it this afternoon. First, we need to head downtown. Bea's sitter leaves at one."

Owen looked past his brother into the bright sunlight streaming in from the window, then back at him. "Her illness is more serious than you let on, isn't it?"

Dante bit his bottom lip, and his eyes filled with tears. "Yeah. A lot more serious."

Silbie rolled over and groaned. She wasn't sure what ached more, her gums from wearing the prosthetic teeth, or her muscles from last night's activities.  So much for yoga keeping her flexible. However, the first and only other time she and Owen made love had involved some interesting positions. She smiled at the memory, then frowned. Last night he'd put up little resistance. But then he'd called her Silbie. At least he'd been thinking of her, while her alter ego seduced him.

The situation was confusing until the last thing he'd said before going to sleep. She'd mentioned they'd not used protection, and he'd replied it wasn't necessary—because she wasn't real. That had thrown a major kink into her plan. If he believed he'd hallucinated the whole thing, then he'd never look for her.

With some quick thinking, she'd yanked out a few strands of hair, and placed them on the pillow. Only a blind man would miss them. Given the whiskey on his breath, he may have been blind drunk or was it drunk blind? Didn't matter. She needed to know if he'd follow the clues and there was only one way to find out what his next move would be.

She glanced at her watch and scooted out of bed. Nine here, seven in California. Not too early to call Jo. When she answered, she didn't give Silbie a chance to say anything before she launched her interrogation.

After covering the highlights of the evening, Silbie made her request. "Call that private investigator friend of yours."

"Are you sure you want to do that? If your boy finds out you're having him watched, you may never get him back."

"I just need to know if he searches for the mystery woman. Once I know, I won't need the PI's services any longer. The plan has gone off perfectly until now. I'm not willing to risk it falling apart simply because Owen thinks he hallucinated the whole thing."

Jolene sighed on the other end of the line. "Is this worth all the trouble?"

"Owen's worth it," she confirmed. Of course he was.

Owen's trying to track down the mystery woman that might not even be real (as far as he knows) and Silbie's back on track.

TEASER: "She's moved on. Time for me to do the same."