When Dreams Cross Read Online Free PDF Page A

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