Dreaming in Blue

by Olivia Starke

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Dreaming in Blue

  Copyright © 2012 by Olivia Starke

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-286-3

  Cover art by LFD Designs

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

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  Also by Olivia Starke

  The Edge

  Her Moonlight Lover

  Midnight Madness

  Zombie Lovin’

  Vegas is Dead, Baby

  Living is Overrated

  1Night Stand

  Familiar Desires

  Dreaming in Blue

  A 1Night Stand Story

  By

  Olivia Starke

  ~DEDICATION~

  As always, this is dedicated to my readers.

  Chapter One

  Blue, brilliant as life itself, stretched far as the eye could see. Greens colored the world beneath, unable to compete with the vivid cerulean that sang the warmth of summer winds. Sierra danced through the fields, twirling until dizzy beneath the puffy white clouds of summer. The child she had been overflowed with irrepressible happiness.

  Sierra Applegate awoke with the recurring dream lingering in her thoughts. Though darkness greeted her, brilliant color filled her, a sweet memory to carry through the day. She shut the alarm off and threw back her blankets, giving in to a languorous stretch, before climbing out of bed. She shoved her feet into fuzzy slippers while the old grandfather clock in the den chimed six a.m. A typical start to the day, but for once the evening would be hers—extra time she rarely scheduled for herself.

  She reviewed her daily tasks. Thirty minutes on the treadmill, a shower followed by a light breakfast, and an hour and a half to go over notes for the clients she would see. A neat and orderly system. Organization ran her life, a necessity with her lack of sight.

  Dressed in old sweats, she climbed on the treadmill, grabbed the remote, and flipped on the news channel. Butterflies fluttered in her gut, and she cranked the speed up to a slow jog for distraction. The CNN reporters droned in the background, but her thoughts drifted to Daniel T. McIntyre, her match from 1Night Stand. Joining the dating service had been her sister’s idea, but the idea of having sex with a near stranger made her stomach do flip flops. She hadn’t been on a date in years, telling herself her hectic schedule made it too hard to meet anyone she might like, but Madame Eve promised discretion and had an excellent reputation. So what can it hurt? It wasn’t as if she had to sleep with the man.

  Seeking sex for pleasure is completely acceptable between consenting adults. The same words she shared with clients suffering from sexual dysfunction. Saying and doing were two different things, though, and she’d never experienced a casual fling.

  The disruption of a real relationship was a huge mountain she didn’t want to climb. The last commitment she’d been a part of had unraveled two years before, leaving her scattered.

  Mike had ended it a week before their wedding. I care for you, but I don’t know that I’m ready to spend my life with you. The familiar sadness squeezed her chest. He’d become part of her foundation, and when he’d walked out, the organized world she’d relied so much on, had toppled. The monumental loss had been almost as staggering as losing her sight. But it no longer strangled her, and she was ready to take baby steps into the world of men again.

  “A one-night stand. I guess there’s a first time for everything.” She turned off the TV and treadmill. After she saw her clients, the Thompsons, she’d go with her sister for a luxurious manicure and pedicure. Though Sally would give her an earful on how she should behave during her date.

  Flirt, little sister. And drop the therapist routine or you’ll scare him away before dessert.

  She cringed. Dr. Sierra Applegate proved confident and poised when meeting new people, while Sierra the human found it challenging. His profile had said tall, athletic, with blue eyes. Sort of a generic description and appearances didn’t mean much to her. But blue eyes piqued her interest.

  Blue, the color she remembered most from childhood and the one that lingered in vivid dreams. It reminded her of the brightness of the endless Kansas sky, and the first boy she’d kissed. She indulged in the memory. The mischievous twinkle of Tommy’s azure gaze. He’d pulled her behind the a stack of hay bales at the county fair, shoving his prized bullfrog into her hand and planting a big, sloppy kiss on her lips before dashing away.

  The following winter, she’d lost her sight. A year of sweet mixed with bitter.

  Were Daniel’s eyes the same shade as Tommy’s? She decided they were. But would they have enough chemistry to get them to bed? For most, a spark of physical attraction came from the visual realm—nice symmetry, a certain body type. Without those things, she’d need more to get her hormones pumping. Intelligence and a good sense of humor. He’d have to be able to make her laugh to get her in the sack.

  Her years of celibacy goaded her. “I hope things work out tonight,” she muttered, heading for the shower.

  Daniel McIntyre stared in the foggy mirror. He closed his eyes, his hand growing unsteady with the razor. He placed it on the sink.

  “Daddy, you need to color your hair.”

  The soft voice drew him from his worry. Running his fingertips through the wet, graying strands at his temples, he shot his four-year-old daughter a smile.

  “Why, pumpkin, don’t you like Daddy’s silver?”

  Alisha gave him a serious look from her seat on the closed lid of the toilet. “It means you’re getting old, like Grandpa.”

  Keeping a straight face, he leveled his gaze on hers. “And what’s wrong with getting old like Grandpa? I thought you loved him.”

  She kicked her little bare feet. “He smells like pretzels. I don’t want you to smell like pretzels.”

  Daniel bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing and scooped her into his arms, heading to the kitchen to make her breakfast. Dressed in a pink tutu and her favorite puppy dog pajamas, she was everything a little girl should be. Sweet, smiling, smart, and best of all, opinionated, a trait she’d inherited from her mother. Along with a wide, green-eyed gaze that never seemed to miss a thing.

  He kissed her nose and set her on the kitchen counter.

&n
bsp; “What’s for breakfast, pumpkin?”

  She tapped her chin, her slim eyebrows drawn together. “How about chocolate ice cream?”

  He feigned a stern look and played along. “Now, who eats chocolate ice cream for breakfast?”

  “Fairies and gnomes eat chocolate ice cream for breakfast. And french fries covered with fire ants.”

  He burst out laughing. Each morning, Alisha created something more imaginative to go with chocolate ice cream. Love and pride swelled in his heart, and he stroked her dark brown hair, the same color as his in his younger years.

  “Scrambled eggs and toast coming right up.”

  Tonight would be the first night he’d spent apart from his baby in three years. Guilt and unease settled over him.

  It’s time to step back into life, son. His father’s recent words echoed. Time to put the past where it belongs.

  Joining 1Night Stand had been an impetuous move, but he was still a man with a sex drive, even if he didn’t want a long term commitment. He’d never been a player, and a night of casual fun would be new for him, yet, he couldn’t imagine anyone taking the place of his late wife, Melissa.

  He’d been overprotective of his daughter since the loss of her mother, since he’d almost lost her, too. But his sister, Roseanne, capable mother of three, had offered to take her overnight. He set Alisha’s breakfast before her and ruffled her hair. She screwed her face up, before diving into the eggs, humming a song from Barney. God, he hated that purple dinosaur. But she loved the cartoon, and he couldn’t say no to her smile.

  Chapter Two

  “What are you wearing tonight?”

  Sierra leaned back in the comfortable chair, wiggling her toes in the jetted footbath.

  “I don’t know yet. I’m thinking my black dress.”

  Sally snorted. “I’m not letting you look like you’re going to a funeral, sis. How about that lovely blue silk blouse I bought you for Christmas. You’ve never worn it, and it cost a pretty penny. Plus, it’s perfect with your complexion.”

  Sierra concentrated on the pleasant sensation of the manicurist massaging lotion into her hand. The scent of lavender tickled her nose along with the odors of nail polishes and the clashing perfumes of patrons. She adjusted her oversized designer sunglasses higher on her nose.

  “I don’t know. It’s kind of revealing don’t you think?”

  Sally chuckled. “Seriously? You’re going on this date for a single reason, and I think you’ll want to be sexy as hell. Besides, Mom blessed only one of us with an amazing rack, so use it, dammit.”

  The manicurist paused, and Sierra’s cheeks heated. Her frank sister always found a way to embarrass her in public.

  “Why don’t you come over tonight and help me pick something out?”

  “Great, I’d planned on it anyway.”

  They fell into silence. Sierra relaxed, enjoying the pampering.

  “What color would you like for your toes, ma’am?” the pedicurist asked near the end of their session.

  She had foregone polish on her fingernails for the sake of professionalism, but her toes were another matter. Pink? Red?

  “Do you have something in blue? It’ll match what I’m wearing tonight.”

  “Yes, we do,” the girl said with a smile in her voice. “It’s a bright cheerful shade.”

  ***

  Sierra sat on the patio waiting for Daniel to arrive, listening to the chatter of the other restaurant patrons. Always thirty minutes early per the habit instilled by her parents, she toyed with the linen tablecloth, taking in smells of pasta and freshly-baked bread. Dressed in a white tulip skirt, the blue silk blouse, and open-toed high heels, she felt feminine and flirty for the first time in a long while. Sally had applied a little makeup, completing the look.

  She adjusted her sunglasses, praying she wouldn’t sweat through the expensive fabric of her top. The warm evening combined with her nerves threatened to get the best of her. She sipped a glass of red wine. No threat of a broken heart tonight, but she would be opening herself to rejection.

  Others don’t define who you are, Sierra. If you don’t hit it off, it’s not the end of the world. She’d lost touch with how it could be on the other side of counseling, and if nothing else, she could use this experience to help others. Approaching footfalls caught her attention, and her pulse kicked into overdrive.

  “Sierra?”

  Instant sizzle leapt through her blood stream. She loved it when a man had a deep bass voice. She set the glass on the table a little too hard, and the wine splashed onto her wrist and fingers.

  “Uh, yes.” She swiped her damp hand over the tablecloth, feeling the fool, before extending it. She forced a professional tone. “I’m Sierra. You must be Daniel.”

  A warm strong hand enveloped hers, lingering a moment. When he let her go, she missed the contact and had to lace her fingers together to keep from reaching for him once more.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Sierra. You’re more beautiful in person.”

  Her cheeks heated, her heart fluttering. It’d been a while since she’d received such a compliment.

  “I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you.” She inhaled, his cologne drifting to her. “Hints of cedar,” she said.

  “Pardon?”

  “I’m sorry. Your cologne has hints of cedar. It’s a mnemonic device I use to remember names. Though after tonight, I’ll probably remember your name. I mean, er, dinner….”

  She balled her hands in her lap and prayed he wouldn’t catch onto her social awkwardness spiraling out of control.

  “That’s the first time a woman has complimented my aftershave. Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

  He smiled—she could hear it in his voice. More than anything, she wanted to explore his face with her fingers to see how he looked. Did his eyes crinkle at the corners? Did his chin dimple?

  “Are you ready to order?” the server asked.

  “Pasta primavera,” Daniel said.

  Sierra nodded passing her useless menu to the waitress. They hadn’t had one in braille—she’d asked the hostess who’d seated her. “Sounds good.”

  “Tell me more about yourself, Sierra.”

  His words sent warm shivers over her skin, like climbing into a hot bath on a cold day. She took a moment to absorb its unexpected affect. Her nipples peaked, and she folded her arms across her breasts, hiding the telltale show of arousal.

  “Not much to tell that isn’t in my profile. I’m a counselor, a self-help author, and I teach couples’ symposiums on how to deal with common relationship issues.”

  “Impressive.”

  Low toned, the one word conjured up all kinds of naughty thoughts. How she’d love him whispering in just that tone all the things he wanted to do to her. The idea made her squirm and she crossed her legs, willing away the tightness in her pussy.

  “Do you have a PhD?”

  Sierra smiled. “Yes, I do.”

  “So, should I be calling you Dr. Applegate?”

  She laughed. “Please don’t, doctor is so stuffy. I understand you’re a firefighter?”

  “Retired.”

  At his quick reply, Sierra bit her bottom lip, fighting the professional urge to coax more out.

  “I teach fire science classes for the most part, when I’m not being a dad.”

  Dad? She swallowed—she’d missed that part of his profile. She should’ve paid attention to the details and not just fantasized about how he’d be in bed.

  She finished off her wine, struggling to keep the evening light. After all, this wouldn’t be the start of a real relationship, which could upend her structured life. His fatherhood meant little to her. No reason to make things complicated.

  Chapter Three

  Daniel struggled to keep his attention plastered on Sierra’s face and not the cleavage exposed by the low cut of her top. He’d read she had brown eyes, and he wished she’d remove her sunglasses. The sun had dipped beneath the horizon; no reason to wear the silly thi
ngs. When he’d shaken her hand, he’d wanted to keep hold of it, loving the feel of her soft skin. He caught the sideways glances of restaurant customers as he got to know his date, but he was used to the curious looks. She seemed unbothered by his appearance. Perhaps being a therapist had trained her to be impassive.

  Regardless, chemistry built—at least on his end. Her sharp intellect challenged a few of his opinions, and she laughed when he shared humorous anecdotes. Things were going well, much to his relief. Over six years had passed since he’d been on a first date; maybe he wouldn’t make a complete ass of himself.

  By the time their meal arrived, his desire for food had fled. Forcing his horniness into abeyance, he shoved his fork into the pasta, determined to be a gentleman.

  The server placed another glass of red wine next to Sierra’s plate before refilling his iced tea. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I noticed you didn’t have silverware. Here you go.”

  Sierra reached, palm up. “I’m sorry, I’m blind. Can you place it on my hand?”

  His fork clattered to his plate and it took several moments before he had the good sense to snap his jaw shut. Insecurity charged into him like a mad bull. Were his scars so disfiguring that Madame Eve found it necessary to set him up with a blind woman? He had a notion to send her one hell of a nasty email.

  Sierra cocked her head.

  “Is something the matter, Daniel?”

  “I-I, uh, I’m okay.”

  “Didn’t you know?”

  He stared at his pasta. He’d given her profile only a cursory look. He’d focused on her photos, fearing to learn too much about her. They would spend a single night together, and he’d wanted to keep his distance, not ready to open himself to more than a night of casual sex.