Falling Awake

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  He unbuckled his seat belt and got out. Ignoring the light rain that dampened his hair, he tugged off his jacket and went around to the passenger side.

  When Isabel popped out of the front seat, the slanted hem of her sexy little black dress rode up high on her leg, giving him a discreet glimpse of thigh.

  His blood beat more heavily in his veins. He could feel the rising swell of his erection.

  Don’t get excited, Cutler. It was probably just an accident. Short skirts, low-slung cars, hell, these things happened. It was one of the reasons automobile designers engineered vehicles like this one.

  But what if she was deliberately flirting with him? He sure didn’t want to misread the signals here.

  He draped his jacket over her shoulders. Just doing the gentlemanly thing, he assured himself, trying to protect the lady’s dress from the inclement weather.

  “Run,” he advised. He didn’t know if he was telling her to flee from the rain or from him.

  “I won’t melt,” she promised.

  Lucky you, he thought. I just damn well might.

  Together they raced up the steps. Isabel reached into her purse for her key. He sensed her hesitating.

  Invite me inside. Just say the magic words.

  “It was a lovely evening. Thank you, Ellis.”

  “My pleasure.” He took the key from her hand and inserted it into the lock. “You know, we never did talk contracts.”

  She looked at him, baffled. “Contracts?”

  “I’m sure you have one for me to sign,” he said easily. He opened the door. “If you’ll give me a copy of your standard contract, I’ll go over it tonight. We can talk about any problem areas in the morning.”

  “I don’t actually have a standard contract yet.” She moved into the doorway and looked at him with a worried expression. “I haven’t really had time to think about setting up the legal side of my business. What with moving and training for my new job at Kyler, things have been rather chaotic for the past few days.”

  “No problem. We can talk about the formalities tomorrow.”

  He sensed her hesitating again, as though considering the risks of diving off a high board. At that moment Sphinx appeared, padding into the small hall to greet them.

  Isabel glanced down at the cat and then looked up quickly, resolve gleaming in her eyes.

  “Would you like a cup of tea before you drive back to the inn?” she asked.

  Anticipation flashed through him, as if he had just climbed aboard the front seat of the roller coaster. Unknown thrills awaited.

  “Sounds good,” he said, managing, just barely, to keep it polite and casual.

  He moved through the doorway before she could change her mind. She stepped back, set her purse on the hall table and started to move off in the direction of the kitchen.

  He reached out to retrieve his jacket. “I’ll take that for you.”

  She froze when he touched her shoulder. So did he. Beneath the thin knit fabric of her dress he could feel the heat of her skin and the soft, lushly rounded curve of her shoulder.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered.

  For what had to be the longest moment of his life, they stood, unmoving, in the close confines of the tiny foyer. He did not take his hand off the sensual curve of her shoulder. He wasn’t sure he could.

  She turned her head slightly and looked at his fingers. She contemplated them for a few seconds and then she met his eyes and smiled just a little.

  The invitation was unmistakable and irresistible. Gently he slid her glasses off her nose and set them on the hall table next to her purse. She blinked, as though he had removed a veil.

  Very deliberately he eased his jacket off her shoulders and dropped it beside the glasses.

  He wasn’t really undressing her, he thought, but somehow it felt as if that was what he was doing.

  He rested his hands lightly on either side of her throat and traced the outline of her delicate jaw with his thumbs. When he toyed with her gold earrings she flattened her palms lightly on the front of his shirt.

  “I’ve never had much luck with romantic relationships,” she said very seriously. “So this is probably not a good idea, especially since we’re going to be working together on a professional basis.”

  “I’ve never been real good at the relationship thing, either.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “What do you say we don’t jinx this by telling ourselves that this has to be the start of a long-term situation?”

  A wistful look came and went on her expressive face. With obvious reluctance, she moved her hands away from his chest and curled them around his wrists.

  “I’m not interested in a one-night stand,” she said very gently but very firmly.

  Nice going, you idiot. Now she thinks you’re just looking for a quick roll in the hay.

  “Neither am I.” He pulled her closer. “So what do you say we take this nice and slow? We go for a good night kiss. Nothing more. No commitments. No promises. No problems tomorrow if one of us decides not to mix business and pleasure.”

  Something that might have been relief mingled with regret and amusement lit her expression.

  “What do you call an arrangement like that?” she asked.

  “A free pass to a thrill ride.” He stroked her lower lip with one finger. It trembled at his touch and everything inside him clenched with need. “Good for one night and one night only.”

  “All right.”

  He covered her mouth with his before she could change her mind. The plan was to make the kiss slow, seductive and nonthreatening. The last thing he wanted to do was screw up big time with Tango Dancer.

  He sensed the caution in her but he could also feel her eagerness and curiosity. The knowledge that she was attracted to him sent a highly charged rush of energy through him. Whatever was going on here, it was working in both directions.

  He deepened the kiss. She responded with a soft, urgent little sound that just had to be the most erotic thing he had ever heard in his entire life. Her arms wound around his neck.

  He drank his fill and was still thirsty. He managed to drag his mouth away from hers long enough to kiss her smooth throat. She shivered, gave a small gasp and dug her fingertips into his shoulders.

  The tantalizing scent of her body and the faint, herbal fragrance of her hair were addictive. Sliding his palms down the length of her back, he savored the warm, sleek curves of her body through the clingy material of her dress. A vision of how she would look and feel naked in a bed made him groan aloud.

  She stiffened. “Ellis?”

  “It’s okay.” He slipped the gold earrings slowly, carefully out of her ears. “I have a vivid imagination where you’re concerned, that’s all. I’ve spent a lot of time during the past few months wondering what it would be like to hold you like this.”

  “You’ve thought about us kissing?” she whispered, blushing furiously.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, my.” She buried her face against his shoulder. “I suppose it’s only natural that we would be curious about each other.”

  He caught her chin on his forefinger and urged her to look at him. “Are you telling me that you’ve imagined this moment, too?”

  Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were fever-bright. “I’ve spent a lot of nights working on your dreams, Ellis Cutler. Naturally I was curious.”

  He studied her intently. “Are you equally curious about all of your dream clients?”

  “No. Not the way I was about you. I wanted to know if the real you would be anything like the you I imagined when I worked on your dreams.”

  “Come to any conclusions?”

  She framed his face with her hands and brushed her lips lightly across his. “Yes. You are exactly as I knew you would be.”

  He looked into her incredible eyes and wondered if he would ever be able to pull himself free of the spell she was weaving around him.

  “You and I know better than most people that dreams can’t be trus
ted,” he made himself say.

  “There is truth in dreams. You just have to know how to look for it.” She raised her brows, amused. “That’s why you hire me, remember?”

  He told himself it would be a huge mistake to take what was happening between them seriously. Isabel’s elevated interest in him had a lot to do with the fact that he was a Level Five, just as she was. She had admitted that she longed to meet someone else who dreamed the way she did. It was probably inevitable that she would allow herself to be intrigued, perhaps even a bit enthralled, by the first man she met who knew what it meant to go into an extreme dream state.

  He kissed her again, wrapping her close. She melted into him.

  The roller coaster was moving faster now, heading into a dangerous turn.

  But he suddenly realized he did not want to be an experiment for her. He did not want to be used as an experience meant to satisfy her curiosity about what it would be like to have sex with another Level Five.

  Reluctantly he raised his head and eased her away from him.

  “I think I’d better leave now.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about contracts that will protect you.”

  An enigmatic expression veiled her eyes. She stepped back and coolly clasped her hands behind her back.

  “Protect me from who?” she asked softly. “You?”

  “A lady who can do what you do shouldn’t take chances with strangers.” He picked up his jacket, hooked it over his shoulder and opened the door. “Good night, Isabel.”

  She trailed after him, watching him cross the porch and go down the steps. Sphinx made another appearance. She reached down and scooped him up in her arms. The big cat’s purr was loud in the night.

  “Ellis?”

  He paused on the last step and looked at her. She was a sultry silhouette framed by the low light of the foyer lamp.

  “Yeah?” He waited, wondering what he would do if she invited him back inside. He knew he wouldn’t have the will to walk out a second time that night.

  She rubbed the place behind one of Sphinx’s ears. “Drive carefully.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said. “Lock your door.”

  She obeyed without protest. He waited until he heard the sound of the dead bolt sliding home before he walked to the Maserati and got behind the wheel.

  He drove away from the welcoming glow of Isabel’s porch light, keenly aware of the empty seat beside him. He thought about the unfamiliar kind of need that the kiss had unleashed inside him. Taking Isabel to bed a few times wasn’t going to fix this problem. This was more than sex, and that meant it was very dangerous. He could control his dreams, but he had learned that real life was a crapshoot.

  Tonight’s free pass was the only one Tango Dancer was going to get. He couldn’t afford to give her another. It would cost him too much.

  13

  isabel dreamed . . .

  She reclines on an elegantly curved Regency-style sofa covered in dark blue velvet and trimmed with gold tassels. The only lamp in the lavishly decorated room illuminates the place where she waits for Dream Man. Her nightgown is made of pale candlelight-colored satin. It is cut very short. The hem barely covers the swell of her buttocks. The neckline plunges between her breasts.

  A door opens and Dream Man enters the room. She cannot see him clearly yet but she knows it is him. She has invited him into her dreams on a regular basis for several months now. The routine is familiar.

  She senses that there is something different about him tonight, however. It bothers her that she cannot immediately comprehend what it is.

  Then it comes to her. She does not know what he will be wearing this evening.

  This is not how it is supposed to be.

  On every other night she has always known how he will be dressed. These are her own private, erotic Level Five fantasies. She controls every aspect of them.

  In the past she has always taken great care to set the stage before slipping into one of these extreme dreams. She has always taken the time to dress the man of her dreams in some glamorous, romantic style: a highwayman’s dashing cloak and mask, perhaps, or early-nineteenth-century breeches, jacket, polished boots and an intricately tied cravat. When she was in the mood for an after-the-ball scenario, she usually opted for a formal tuxedo, pleated white shirt and bow tie.

  But she cannot remember what she specified for this evening. She cannot even recall making the decision to have him come to her tonight.

  A strange panic ruffles her nerves.

  Dream Man walks toward her through the shadows. Her pulse beats more quickly. He has not yet touched her but already she can feel the heavy pull of desire deep in her body.

  Alarm bells sound. She knows that she should pay attention to the warning. The fact that she does not know how her midnight lover will be dressed tonight is important.

  The alarm bells are louder now, more insistent.

  Dream Man comes closer. There is a strange inevitability about this whole thing that is really starting to worry her. Maybe she should end the performance now. She tries to rise from the sofa but she cannot move.

  He is approaching swiftly. One more stride will bring him into the pale pool of light that spills across the sofa.

  At last she catches a glimpse of his face and sees how he is dressed. Shock reverberates through her. Now she knows for certain that she is not in control of this dream . . .

  She surfed into full wakefulness on the crest of an adrenaline wave.

  She sat straight up in bed, trembling. Perspiration dampened her cotton nightgown. She was breathing much too quickly and she was intensely aware of her own pulse.

  Sphinx loomed over her, his broad head silhouetted against the pale glow of the night-light in the hall. She could see the glitter of his eyes.

  “I’m okay.” She realized he was somewhat agitated and raised her hand to stroke him reassuringly.

  The phone beside the bed rang, jarring her. She recognized the sound as the alarm bell she had heard in the dream. Swallowing hard, she reached past Sphinx to grab the receiver. Without her glasses, she was forced to squint a little to read the large, glowing green numbers on the face of the clock. Twelve thirty-seven.

  Her first worried thought was that the voice on the other end of the line would likely be Leila’s reporting an emergency in the family.

  “Hello?” She realized that she sounded hoarse and anxious.

  “Isabel?” Her name came out slurred. Ishabel.

  Definitely not Leila. The voice was familiar but she was still disoriented from the unplanned dream. She could hear very loud rock music in the background.

  “It’s me, Gavin Hardy. Your old buddy from IT at the Belvedere Center.” Gavin raised his voice to be heard above the music. “You haven’t forgotten me already, have you?”

  “I don’t understand.” She pulled her disordered senses together with an effort and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “What on earth are you calling about at this hour of the night? Where are you?”

  “Right here in Roxanna Beach,” Gavin said. “I’m sitting in a bar across the street from the motel where I’m staying.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “Had a few beers. I needed to do something to kill the time while I waited for you to answer your damn phone. Where’ve you been all evening?”

  “I went out to dinner and turned off my phone.”

  “So that was it. Tried to call you every fifteen minutes from about seven o’clock on until ten or so. I started to wonder if maybe I had the wrong number. Finally gave up and came over here to get something to eat before trying again. Man, am I glad to hear your voice.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m swell now that I’ve finally got ahold of you.”

  “You’re not driving, are you?”

  He snorted. “That’s the Isabel we all knew back at the center. Just can’t help worrying about folks and handing out the good advice, can you? Relax, like I said, th
e bar is right across the street from the motel. I walked over. I’m not driving so I won’t run down any of the fine, upstanding citizens of Roxanna Beach on my way back to the room.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Came to see you.” This time the see came out shee. “Got a little present for you.” He lowered his voice. “But I’m afraid I gotta charge you for it. Sorry about that. If I could afford to give it to you for free, I’d do it. Believe me. You’re a real sweetheart, Isabel.”

  “I’m changing my ways,” she warned.

  “Nah. You couldn’t do that.”

  “Gavin, try to stay on topic here. Why did you come all this way to see me and why are you calling at such a late hour?”

  The music swelled into a driving crescendo, blotting out some of Gavin’s words.

  “. . . on my way to Vegas. Problem is, I owe some people there some money. My new blackjack system didn’t work quite the way I thought it would last time I was in town.”

  “I can hardly hear you.”

  “. . . like I was saying, I’ve tweaked the program a bit and I’m pretty sure it will fly this time. But I gotta pay off my old gambling debts before they’ll let me back into any of the big games, see?”

  “No. I don’t. What do your gambling debts have to do with me?”

  “I need to raise some cash,” Gavin said loudly. “That’s why I’m calling you. I’ve got something to sell that I think you might find valuable. You’re my only hope, ’cause I sure don’t know anyone else who wants this information.”

  “What information?”

  “Contact numbers for old man Belvedere’s three special anonymous clients.” Gavin was almost shouting now.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Serious as a heart attack. Figured since you were the one who did most of the work for those accounts, you might want to get in touch and tell ’em you’re, like, you know, freelance now.”

  “Wait, did you say that there were three anonymous clients?”

  “Yep.”

  “I only worked for two clients. I never knew there was a third.”

  “Neither did I and I thought I knew all of the old man’s secrets. What happened was, right after he tossed you out on your ear, Randolph Belvedere told me to destroy all the files on his old man’s office computer. Took me a while to get to it on account of the bastard was giving orders like crazy for the first few days after he took over. I had to, like, prioritize, you know?”