As he spoke, he took her hand and carried it to his middle, pressing her fingers against the hot, rigid shaft straining behind the fly of his jeans.
She had made him come before, and he suspected she felt as if she was doing something wrong. To prove he wasn’t going to force her into anything, he lay with his eyes half closed and his arms at his sides, watching her through a screen of lashes.
With hands that weren’t quite steady she unzipped his pants. Tugging down the waistband of his shorts, she freed him from the knit fabric, her gaze fixed on his distended, reddened flesh.
When she wrapped her hand around his cock, he sighed out his thanks. He had showed her what he liked. She did that now, quickly—probably to get it over with. Her hand tight around him, her arm pumping. He was so aroused that it didn’t take much effort on her part to make his body jerk and semen spurt in an arc into the air. When he could breathe again, he reached for her, rocking her against him as he told her how much he loved everything they had done together.
“Oh, yes,” she answered, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his lips. Arousing them both. And this time before he made her come, he got her jeans off.
Over the vacation they came back to their hideout to make love four or five times. Maybe he was even secretly thinking he could get her to take the ultimate step. Hell, they had come this far. Why not the rest of the way?
But the last time she met him in their secret place, it was to tell him that she had been thinking about their relationship. It wasn’t going anywhere. They couldn’t see each other again, and he must take back the ring he had given her.
The shock and pain of her words hit him again like rocks falling out of the sky and landing on his head and shoulder.
He squeezed his eyes closed, fighting his own sadness and frustration. Trying to break into her private world was useless, because she didn’t want him in her life. That episode in the truck had just been a fluke. He didn’t have the skill to forge a real connection with her, anyway.
Anger and frustration threatened to swallow him whole. Then he sat up straighter. She might not want him with her, but he was going there anyway. And he was going to bring her back to this world.
He put the ring back into his pocket for safekeeping. But he kept it in his fist as he closed his eyes, blotting out all distractions, turning his consciousness inward. When he had centered himself, he reached outward—toward Miranda. Not the girl he had loved and lost. But the woman.
He whispered her name. Then realized there was no point in speaking aloud. Instead he shouted inside his own head. Miranda? Where are you Miranda? Help me find you. Let me into your mind.
He had no guidelines for what he was doing. Nobody had ever taught him the Vulcan mind meld. He was making the rules up as he went along. If he’d tried to explain the process to anyone else, they probably would have sent for the guys with the butterfly nets. Still, he kept reaching out, striving to make contact with her. On the road he’d known where to find her. Now he didn’t even know where to look. But he kept calling to her, and he thought he was moving in the right direction when he felt himself crashing up against the mental barrier he had encountered before.
Miranda?
She didn’t answer. But he sensed her, somewhere beyond his grasp. On the other side of a high wall, like a princess locked in a castle.
Frustration boiled inside him. Miranda, let me in! he shouted in his mind, not even sure that she was the one barring his entrance.
Still, desperation kept him butting his head and shoulder against the enormous barrier that loomed in front of him. He knew how to attack it. Sort of.
Finally, as he had before, he crashed through and came roaring to a stop, swaying on his feet, flailing his arms to keep from falling.
A moment ago he had been sitting in the hospital chapel. As far as he knew, his body was still sitting there.
But his consciousness was somewhere else. Or was his body really in this place? It certainly felt like he was here, in the woodsy scene he had imagined, with pine needles under his feet and the scent of the forest around him. It didn’t feel imaginary. On the contrary, it had the crystal clarity of reality.
Although he had arrived at the hospital in the evening, in this place, it looked like late afternoon. And if he had to guess where he’d landed, he’d say he was in the wilds of Northern California. Which made the time difference impossible—unless he’d battered his way through some kind of temporal distortion.
He chewed on that thought as he walked toward the sound of rushing water and came to a river flowing fast over stones and boulders.
As far as he could see, he was the only person in this world—wherever it was. When he listened for sounds of life, all he could hear was the roar of the river in back of him.
So, had he outsmarted himself? Had he sent himself crashing into his own dream?
Cupping his hands around his mouth, he lifted his head and pitched his voice above the torrent. “Miranda?”
When she didn’t answer, he spoke more loudly, struggling to keep fear or anger out of his voice. “Miranda, answer me.”
Long seconds ticked by. Finally he heard a crunching in the underbrush and let out the breath he’d been holding.
She’d come to him!
But when he whirled in anticipation, the look of relief on his face froze.
Miranda wasn’t there. Instead he found himself facing a large angry-looking grizzly bear.
Three
Bits of outdoor lore raced through his mind. As a kid, he’d belonged to a boys’ club where the big events each year were weekend camping trips. One of the leaders had warned them about bears. He knew they could climb, so going up a tree would do him no good.
Then he realized that real-world facts might not apply. This was a dream—Miranda’s or his. And the bear might be able to fly, for all he knew.
Still, his best option was to act like this was reality. As the bear lumbered toward him, he took an involuntary step back, then realized the river blocked his escape.
With strangely cool detachment, he considered what to do now. Maybe the dream would work to his advantage. Maybe he could affect the outcome.
Again he pitched his voice above the roaring of the river. “Go away, bear!” he shouted. “Leave me alone. Vanish!” He accompanied that last order with a wave of his hands like a magician working a spell.
Instead of backing off or turning into a white rabbit, the bear sped forward.
So much for his magic powers in this place. He risked a glance behind him. Maybe he could escape by plunging into the river. But he knew it would be icy cold this far north—and he had seen it was fast moving. If the bear could kill him, so could the frigid water. And if he ran along the shore, the animal would eventually catch up.
Determination gleamed in the animal’s eyes, as though it was being directed by a human intelligence, Caleb thought. The beast bore down on him like a monster in a horror movie. Picking up half a dozen egg-sized rocks from the riverbank, he lobbed them at the massive brown body, scoring several direct hits.
His arms were strong from his work, and he knew the shots had hurt. The brute growled, but it didn’t change course.
This was just a dream, Caleb told himself again. He could escape any time he wanted. All he had to do was wake up.
But that didn’t seem to be an option. Not when he felt like some outside force was holding him here.
Dropping his remaining supply of missiles, he snatched up a dead branch lying on the ground and swung it in front of him as the bear charged.
He scored a direct hit on the animal’s snout, and it roared in pain, then slashed at him with one enormous paw, its razor-sharp claws ripping through the fabric of his leather jacket and digging into his skin.
He was so focused on the animal that a loud crack from somewhere nearby barely registered.
The bear’s body jerked. Again he heard the sharp sound and watched as the monster toppled sideways, landing with a thud on the gr
ound. It took several seconds for his brain to switch gears, but finally he realized that someone had shot the animal—and saved his life.
Looking up, he saw Miranda, dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, standing with a rifle stock against her shoulder, the weapon pointed in his direction. Her expression still registered a mixture of terror and resolve.
“That was a pretty risky shot,” he said in a deadpan voice.
“I didn’t know what else to do.” Her eyes fixed on the shredded shoulder of his jacket. “Caleb, oh Lord, Caleb. Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Now that the emergency was over, he felt a stab of hot pain, but he ignored the sensation. Feeling strangely light-headed, he started forward. As he reached Miranda, he had the sense to take the weapon out of her hands and set it on the ground.
Somewhere in his mind he remembered that he had forced his way into this place with her. It wasn’t reality. It was a dream. Yet it had a sharp, heart-stopping clarity.
And he knew that if Miranda hadn’t shot the bear, he would be lying torn and bleeding on the riverbank.
“Thank you for saving my life,” he murmured as he looked down at her.
At the accident scene, she’d been pale and unconscious. In this place a healthy glow colored her cheeks.
In wonder, he studied her. The last time he had been close to her in real life, she’d been only sixteen. Now she was an adult. She’d filled out in all the right places. And maturity had given her face a more distinctive look.
Once more, she was gazing at him with the soft look that had warmed his blood.
Every warning he had given himself about being vulnerable to her again flew out of his mind. With a deep sigh of satisfaction, he folded her close and felt the remarkable strength of her grip as she clasped his body to hers.
A low, inviting sound eased out of her, a sound that melted his heart. She tipped her head up, her expression sweet and dreamy. “I was hoping I’d find you here,” she murmured. “Everybody else is gone. And I thought you’d be gone, too. But now I’ve found you.”
He swallowed painfully. “Yes.”
“Did I make a wish, and you appeared?” she asked, sounding bemused.
“Did you wish for me?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
He clasped her tighter, then as he processed what she had said earlier, he felt a knot form in his stomach. “Who else were you expecting?” he asked quickly.
“My clients—from the wilderness expedition. But I went back to our camp, and it was empty.” Panic flashed in her voice. “They’ve disappeared. And I’m worried.”
He wanted to tell her none of this was real. Not the woods. Not her missing clients. He wanted to explain that she’d made them up to give the dream a familiar context. But now that he was here, with her, he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say. Telling her she’d taken herself off to never-never land might send her into a tailspin.
“Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “Everything’s okay. I came to bring you home.”
She stepped away from him and gazed into his eyes, her tone firm. “I don’t leave people stranded in the woods. I’m responsible for their welfare. I need to find where they went.” Her words were determined, but as she spoke, her face registered uncertainty, then fear.
Her emotions tore at him. He wanted to soothe away all her hurts. But he suspected there was nothing he could say that would make any sense.
Which left him with one option—the option he had been secretly thinking of all along.
Swiftly, before he could stop himself, he gathered her close and lowered his mouth to hers.
As his lips touched hers, she sighed his name. And for this moment out of time, he knew with unswerving certainty that she had missed him as much as he had missed her.
Or was he lying to himself, because that was what he wanted to believe? Wanted it so much.
He had to know. He had to separate lies from truth. So he silently asked her to deepen the kiss, his tongue playing along the seam of her lips. At the slight pressure, she opened for him, and he swept inside like a conqueror, stroking the tender inside of her lips, the serrated line of her teeth and beyond.
Her eager hands crept upward to clasp the back of his head, holding him in place as her fingers winnowed through his dark hair.
He was instantly so aroused that he could barely think. He shifted his own hands, gliding them up and down her ribs, then cupping her bottom, gathering her in.
She could have jerked away. Instead, she clung to him.
They were both breathing hard when he dragged his mouth away from hers to gulp in air.
“Caleb. Oh Lord, Caleb. It’s been so long.”
“Yes.”
She slipped her hands under his leather jacket, spreading the front apart then sliding her fingers up and down his chest, sending fire through his blood.
“Yes,” he growled again between small kisses. He wanted to go on and on, kissing her, touching her, making love with her. He longed to claim the prize she had never allowed him to take.
But he hadn’t come here for his own gratification.
When she swayed on her feet, he caught her in his arms, then looked around. Locating a fallen log twenty feet up the riverbank, he carried her there and sat down, holding her in his lap.
She moved her head against his shoulder, then looked up at him, her eyes questioning.
He was still aroused. And when she shifted her hips against his rigid cock, he held back a groan. “Jesus! Don’t.”
She went very still, studying his face with those remarkable eyes of hers. “Are you going to make love with me? I mean with you inside me—the way we never did it before.”
It took every drop of strength he possessed to answer, “Later.”
She looked uncertain, and for the first time since he’d taken her in his arms, he realized that later might be only a pipe dream.
The selfish part of him whispered seductively in his mind, Take what you can get—while you can. He wanted her. So badly. Years ago she’d ripped his world to shreds and walked away from him.
But she wasn’t acting like the girl who had broken his heart. She had melted in his arms. And now he was sure he could undress her and do anything he wanted to her.
Back in the real world a visitor walked into M-C General Hospital and inquired about Miranda Grove like a concerned friend or relative anxious to pay her a visit.
Too bad visits were restricted, because Miss Grove was still in intensive care.
That was bad news. The rooms in intensive care had glass walls, and the patients were hooked up to a bunch of monitors. All the nurses had to do was glance at a computer screen and press a switch, and they’d see who was in the patient’s room. So barging in there was a bad move.
Of course, there were ways around that. Ways of taking care of the hospital staff. But anything like that was risky.
Too bad little Miss Grove hadn’t died in the crash. She knew too much. But she was still in fragile condition. Still unconscious. Nobody would think anything of it if she took a turn for the worse.
So the best thing to do was hang around and wait for the right moment to finish the job.
Caleb teetered on the edge of temptation. Two things pulled him back from the sensual trap. His fear for Miranda. And his resolve not to take advantage of her at her most vulnerable.
“You look . . . wonderful. You feel wonderful,” she said, stroking her hand over his muscular shoulder.
“So do you.” At least here, he added in his mind.
“I came to bring you home.” He repeated what he’d said earlier, hearing the raspy sound of his voice.
“I don’t need to go home!” She looked around. “I mean, I can’t. Not until I make sure everyone is safe. That bear . . . could have hurt you. He could have hurt the others. . . .”
Her voice trailed off, and he heard her uncertainty. She was giving him reasons why she had to stay, but she didn’t sound like she believed them.
He was still trying to figure out his strategy when she suddenly asked a question.
“Remember when we used to meet at our secret place? That circle of rocks we called our fortress?” she asked.
“God, yes,” he breathed. He had let himself travel back to that place, let himself experience again the hot, intimate things they had done there.
“We used to talk. You said you were going to be a force in the art world.”
Talk. The talking had just been a side issue, maybe because he was a guy, and a guy was as likely to think with his cock as his brain. “That was pretentious of me,” he muttered.
“But you made it. You’re a famous sculptor. You did what you said you would.”
“And you’re running a wilderness expedition company. You’re good at it.”
“I like it. But it’s not what I planned. We were going to get married and have two kids—a boy and a girl,” she said wistfully. “Why didn’t we?”
His gaze sharpened. “You know why!”
“I forgot,” she said in a small voice.
Forgot. The single worst event of his life, and she had wiped it out of her mind.
He wondered what she saw in his face when she said, “There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there? I mean stuff is all confused in my mind. I feel like I can’t think straight.” She pressed her fingers against her temple, then whispered, “Am I losing my mind?”
“Of course not,” he answered automatically.
Her fingers moved to his shoulders and clamped down hard enough to make him wince—as her troubled green eyes searched his face. “Caleb, don’t lie to me.”
He swallowed as he thought about what to say. Finally, because he couldn’t come up with a better plan, he simply plunged in. “Miranda, this place isn’t real. You made it up. Really, you’re in the hospital. In a coma. You need to wake up. That’s why I’m here.”
“No!” Terror washed over her features. With surprising strength, she wrenched away from. “No,” she said again, then turned and ran.
What Dreams May Come (Berkley Sensation) Page 9