of the bed, then yanked her Mickey Mouse T-shirt straight over her bikini panties. After getting into bed, she pulled the blankets up to her chin and squeezed her eyes tightly closed.
That Indian, she told herself, that absolutely gorgeous-beyond-belief man, was not in her bedroom because she was still asleep and dreaming. It was one of the most wide-awake-seeming dreams she’d ever had, but it was a dream, nonetheless. The alarm would go off at any moment now and she’d begin her daily routine on a perfectly normal Monday morning. Fine.
Several minutes passed as Kathy stayed ramrod stiff under the covers. Then she very tentatively opened one eye to sneak a peek at the clock.
“Oh, dear heaven,” she said, with a near-sob.
It was long past time for the alarm to ring because it had already rung!
She was awake. She was honest-to-goodness awake. The empty nail on the wall above her head seemed to scream at her that the pretty little three-inch Dream Catcher was no longer there, because it was now six feet around and holding fast to the most magnificent man she had ever seen.
Kathy Maxwell, she admonished herself, stop it. Just cut it out. This was not really happening, because things like this didn’t really happen. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for this nonsense, but, oh, mercy, she wished she knew what it was.
She eased herself slowly upward, hardly breathing, then crawled on her hands and knees toward the end of the bed.
There was, Kathy told herself, nothing on that floor but a section of brown carpet that needed vacuuming.
As she came to the foot of the bed, she closed her eyes, causing her to nearly fall off the end.
Slowly, very slowly, she opened her eyes. At that exact same moment, the Indian opened his eyes and looked directly at her.
“Aaak!” Kathy screamed.
She scrambled off the side of the bed and came to a stop at the man’s feet. He turned his head to stare at her, a frown knitting his dark brows.
“Oh. No. Oh, dear,” Kathy said in a voice that was more of a whimper. She hopped from one foot to the other, wringing her hands. “No, no, no.”
“A death dance?” the Indian said. “I’m dead. So be it.”
Kathy stopped in mid-hop, and leaned slightly forward. “My goodness, you have a marvelous voice. It’s so deep and rich. Well, that figures. You’re a big man and your voice is exactly right for your size. I suppose your tan is natural, what with your being a native American and…No! I’m not talking to you. I refuse to say another word, because you’re not really here. Are you getting this, mister?”
“I’m dead,” he said, then sighed. “I thought I had lived my life with honor befitting a Chiricahua Apache, but apparently I have angered the gods. I have been sentenced to spend my eternal beyond with a shrieking witch-woman.”
Kathy planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “That was very rude. I am not a shrieking witch-woman, for Pete’s sake. How would you feel if your Dream Catcher grew from three inches to six feet and plopped a guy from your dream on the floor in your bedroom? Huh? Answer that one. You’d be shook up, too.”
“Dream Catcher?” he repeated, glancing at the apparatus surrounding him. “Yes, this is a Dream Catcher, but I have never seen one this large. Why am I being held captive in this enormous Dream Catcher?”
“Beats me,” Kathy said, shrugging. She giggled, realizing at once that there was a hysterical edge to the sound. She pressed one hand to her forehead. “No fever. Drat. But, darn it, this is not happening. It just can’t be.”
The Indian began to shift, struggling to escape from the tight webbing surrounding the center circle where he was held fast.
“Don’t you move,” Kathy said. “I’m warning you, I’ll call the police, and the sheriff, and the fire department, and…and…I mean it, you stay right there.”
The Indian glowered at her and continued to wrestle with the Dream Catcher. Kathy inched backward until she thudded against the wall, then wrapped her hands around her elbows in a protective gesture.
She watched with wide eyes as the man worked his way free.
One part of her exhausted brain was terrified at the thought of what he might do to her.
Another section of her frazzled mind was mesmerized by the intriguingly sensuous and blatantly masculine play of the bunching muscles beneath his taut, tawny skin.
Yet another piece of her mind continued to deny that this bizarre scenario was taking place.
“Mmm,” the Indian said as he accomplished his goal. He rolled to his feet in a smooth, graceful motion, standing close to six feet tall.
“Don’t kill me,” Kathy said, her voice trembling. “Don’t scalp me. Don’t do anything, except go away.” She flapped her hands at him. “Shoo. Be gone. Disappear. Right now.”
“Woman,” he said gruffly, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “you talk too much. I must be dead. There’s no other explanation for this. Unless…” He narrowed his eyes. “It is possible, although I seriously doubt it, that you possess magical powers that you combined with those of the Dream Catcher. Indian legends and folklore should not be tampered with. Not ever.”
Kathy shook her head. “I don’t have any magical abilities. And I certainly didn’t tamper with the powers of the Dream Catcher.” She paused. “I hung the Dream Catcher above my bed, deciding its legend was enchanting. Then just before I fell asleep I was thinking about how wonderful it would be if a special man…I had a dream about…Oh, dear heaven. No, forget it. This whole thing is impossible.”
“I agree. Therefore, I am definitely dead.”
“No,” she said, sighing, “you’re not dead. I can’t explain this. I don’t really believe it, but…I wish you’d crawl back into that Dream Catcher and transport yourself to 1877 where you belong.”
“If I am not dead, if I am actually here, I would prefer not to be. But I do not possess the power to command a Dream Catcher.” He shook his head. “No, I refuse to believe this is happening.”
Kathy inched her way carefully around him to sink onto the edge of the bed.
“Look,” she said, “we agree that this really isn’t taking place, but repeating over and over that it can’t be true isn’t getting us anywhere. Let’s just stop for a minute and take the approach that it did happen. That’s probably very foolish, but I’m getting a tad desperate here.”
The Indian shrugged. “It is foolish, but I do not have a better idea right now.”
“Fine. We’ll just calm down and discuss this like mature adults. I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Kathy Maxwell. Do you have a name?”
“Dakota.”
“Dakota what?”
“Dakota what?” he repeated, obviously confused.
“Don’t
