Dream of Me (Harmony Falls, Book 1)

by Gaelen Foley

  “Nah,” Harry hollered back. “Thanks, though.”

  She shrugged, found the cans of pop above the microwave, and then helped herself to a glass and some ice. “You want some?”

  “I’m going to jump in the shower. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

  “No problem, take your time.” Hearing the shower turn on soon thereafter, Bea sat at the kitchen island, sipped her drink, and restlessly flipped through a sports magazine that Harry had in his stack of mail.

  As he showered, Bea wandered around the rest of his apartment. She found a display of photos on a wide hutch. There was a shot of Harry’s mom wearing a rose-colored dress and smiling as she danced with some silver-haired gentleman at what looked like a wedding.

  Bea scanned over to the next one on the shelf, a five-by-seven that looked like it had been taken a good fifteen years ago. It showed two rows of young, muscular men toting golf bags, all dressed in the same white uniform and matching green ball caps. There was a youthful, tanned Harry with that unmistakable smile beaming from the second row.

  Another college-aged kid in the center held a plaque that Bea could just barely make out that read, In Honor of Valley View Country Club’s 1997 Championship Caddies.

  “Hmm,” Bea said.

  Then there was another photo, a black-and-white portrait framed in shiny silver, definitely more recent, of Harry in a tux, shaking the hand of an elderly black gentleman… Wait a second. Is that Muhammad Ali?

  Almost spilling her Pepsi on Harry’s hardwood floor, she abruptly spun around to look at the Warhol again. “Wow, that’s really him,” she said to herself.

  Just then, a gust of warm, moist air wafted out of the bathroom attached to Harry’s bedroom above as he returned from the shower. She couldn’t see him over the angle of the loft, but she could smell the scent of fresh soap and aftershave that followed him.

  “You didn’t tell me that you actually met the champ,” she called up to him.

  “Yep.” Harry appeared at the railing above, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. “It was at a charity thing a few years ago. The old pro fighter who owns the boxing gym where I train used to spar with Ali in Las Vegas back in the seventies. You ever heard of Typhoon Williams?”

  “Huh? No—sorry.” Bea had completely lost her train of thought, trying not to gawk outright at the perfect V formation his broad shoulders made all the way down to his chiseled abs. Those boxing workouts produced amazing results. She swallowed hard.

  “He’s a great old guy. Good coach, too. Anyway, Ty took a chance and reached out to the champ for our fundraiser. Lo and behold, Ali remembered him. He liked our cause when Ty explained it, so he agreed to put in an appearance. I was so stoked when I met him, I could hardly speak.”

  “That’s hard to imagine.”

  Harry grinned.

  “What was the fundraiser for?” she asked, doing her best to snap out of her daze.

  “It was a benefit I helped put together to refurbish the rec center and establish some sports programs for underprivileged youths in my old neighborhood. Ali came and signed autographs for the grand reopening,” he explained, running a hand over his freshly shaved jaw.

  “Wow.”

  Harry wriggled his eyebrows and did his best impression of Peter Montclair. “Does that impress you, mademoiselle?”

  Bea pursed her lips against a giggle, then shrugged. “I can’t help it. Guys that do good deeds are hot.”

  “Oh yeah?” Clearly pleased, he rested his hands on the railing above and staring down at her wickedly. “Why don’t you come up here and I’ll tell you all about my many charitable pursuits?”

  “Hmm,” she replied.

  He crooked a finger at her then withdrew from the railing, out of sight. But she gasped a moment later when his towel came flying down over the railing to land in a heap by the kitchen floor.

  She shook her head, laughing, blushing, and far too tempted to resist. But she held herself back, thinking of the meeting. “Do we really have time for this?”

  “Two hours, Bea. We’ve got two…hours.” He let that sink in. Let her imagine all the deliciously wicked things that he could do to her in that span of time. She shuddered uncontrollably and bit her lip at the thought.

  “Sure is getting lonely up here,” he called down in an idle tone, adding a heartfelt sigh for good measure.

  “Oh, the hell with it,” she whispered. Her heart skipped a beat as she sped over to the spiral staircase that led up to the loft. The metal was cool beneath her bare feet as she took hold of the railing and climbed the stairs with an air of stealth, like she was getting away with something.

  When she stepped off the top step, she found herself in his bedroom, a manly, sophisticated space done in a high-end minimalist style, all charcoal tones and contrasting textures, from the exposed pipes of the industrial-chic ceiling overhead to the plush white area rug in the middle of the shiny floor.

  Harry was sitting on the edge of his low-slung, king-sized bed wearing a pair of black boxer briefs. The ambient beat of some haunting, atmospheric electronica played in the background. He was leaning back casually with his hands braced behind him, his long, muscular legs stretched out before him, his bare feet planted on the floor.

  His eyebrows lifted with slight curiosity at her arrival, as though he hadn’t been sure if she would come.

  She hesitated, aware that venturing up here was very much an admission of her desire for him. She glanced away self-consciously, noting the interesting metal pendant lights hanging from the high ceiling, and the large pair of geometric grayscale paintings above his bed.

  She could feel him staring at her while she looked around. “Well, how about that,” she finally managed. “From my hayloft to your city loft.”

  He smiled. “That does have a certain symmetry.” Then he rose and sauntered toward her, meeting her halfway across the white carpet.

  His deep blue eyes smoldering, he laid his hands on her hips, and when she touched him, his skin was still warm from the shower. He smelled wonderful as he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

  She sensed the pent-up yearning behind his soulful kiss, and her body responded instantly. She pressed up onto her toes, slid her arms around his neck, and crossed her wrists behind his nape. He bent to lean his forehead against hers and gave her an intimate smile.

  “You’d better not make us late to our meeting, Mr. Riley.”

  “Forget about that,” he murmured. “Right now, you’re the center of my world.”

  “Am I really?”

  “Absolutely,” he purred, molding the curve of her waist with both large, strong hands. “And I want you in my bed.”

  “No hickeys,” she warned in a low tone.

  “At least not where anyone can see,” he whispered, then she laughed dreamily as he dipped his head and nibbled his way down her neck. “These sexy bare shoulders have been tempting me all day. Do you even know how stunning you are?”

  She was too entranced to answer, but he didn’t expect a reply. Kissing his way up her throat, he captured her mouth again and kissed her with deepening hunger. As his embrace took command of her body, Bea simply let go, abandoning herself to his passion. His tongue swept the soft recesses of her mouth, awakening her with wild need.

  Harry drew back just a little with a low moan as she ran her hands all over his hard chest and smooth torso, skimming his rigid cock through his boxers. Electrified, she pressed forward and began kissing his chest, letting her hands play over the sculpted muscle of his abs. His palms cupping her shoulders, he lifted his head and enjoyed her attentions, his eyes closed.

  After a moment, he grew impatient and took hold of her blouse, lifting it off over her head. She raised her arms to assist him, then reached behind her and unhooked her strapless bra for him. The garment dropped to the floor.

  He stood back and admired her body, trailing his fingertips along her tan lines. Then his fingers dipped lower and he captured her nipple boldly betw
een his finger and thumb.

  Bea closed her eyes with a shiver of longing, her pulse pounding. She dragged her eyes open, reached out, and slipped her fingers into his waistband. His hardness was already bursting out of his drawers. She started to stroke him, but he stopped her. “You’ve already got me too excited.”

  Instead, he continued undressing her with fevered haste, kissing her all the while. Leaving a trail of clothing, they stumbled to his bed. Bea was shaking, weak-kneed, and hot as Harry pulled her down on top of him. She melted at the damp, steely heat of his chest against hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist, cradling her on top of him for a moment tenderly. Then he rolled her onto her back, pausing to make sure with a searching glance that she was comfortable with all of this.

  She pulled him to her, impatient, digging her fingers into the bulky muscle of his arms. She groaned as he nudged her legs wider with his knee, then closed her eyes and surrendered as he slowly entered her.

  Her body felt virginally tight as she received him. It had been so long. Her chest heaved beneath his while he tangled his fingers in her hair. Bea arched beneath him. His smooth, sculpted sides felt like sun-warmed silk as her hands glided up and down them. He murmured to ask if this was all right. She wrapped her legs around him in reply, and a moan escaped him.

  Instinct took over, and Harry took command, as he was wont to do. Soon, he was braced on his hands over her, plying her body for every ounce of pleasure it could give, giving his all to her in turn. Bea was in ecstasy. Her world narrowed down to the frantic space between them, while the room resounded with their panting, the city sounds a million miles away.

  After a time, he rolled onto his back and pulled her atop him, kissing and sucking her fingers while Bea rode him, upright on her knees. They were both entranced, wholly focused on each other, the pleasure each gave and received. Their restless exploration of an array of athletic positions soon left the sheets tousled and twisted, and both of them dripping with sweat, mindless with desire.

  At last, Harry gripped her hips, captured her gaze, his eyes glittering with need, and rasped out an order, his voice roughened with desire. “Come for me.”

  She shuddered. It was easy to obey. At the perfect angle, his hardness stroked her just right, until a near-scream wrenched from her lips, a sunburst of ecstasy flaring in the core of her body, blotting out her mind.

  He lasted only a moment longer before he, too, gave in to the delirium. He gripped her shoulders, slamming into her with every stroke while she still rode the crest of the wave. She was barely aware of gasping his name, and then shattering pulsations of release made his powerful body go rigid atop her. Again and again, the undulations racked him until he was spent.

  After a long moment, they both lay quivering, silent, and sweaty. He wrapped his arms around her and, in the aftermath of the storm, kissed her with trembling tenderness.

  Bea was incoherent, in a trance of lingering rapture. Harry withdrew and fell back onto the mattress, still catching his breath.

  They looked at each other in dazed astonishment.

  “Damn,” he panted.

  “Yeah,” said Bea.

  The encounter had turned out be a lot more intense than either of them had been expecting.

  And what that might mean, she had no idea.

  # # #

  While Harry drifted into a blissful nap, his arm draped around her, Bea rested her head on his chest and listened to the rhythm of his breathing. In the distance, she heard a train rumble by on the tracks across the river.

  Through the angled blinds, she could see boats, bridges, factories, skyscrapers, and her mind drifted back to the green and gold fields of her farm—four-fifths of which she was about to lose. A pang clenched her heart at how so much was about to change.

  The time was drawing near to meet Curtis Culpeper, and that meant it was time for Bea to say goodbye to life as she knew it. She deflected the urge to blame herself, to wallow in a sense of failure. I did my best, and I’ll protect what I’m able to keep. If one-fifth of the farm was all she could afford, then so be it.

  At least now her grandparents would be able to pay off their debts, unload the stress they’d been carrying for her sake, and pursue their own well-deserved happiness. Their legacy would live on in her scaled-back efforts, and she would still be pursuing her mission in life. Indeed, the sale would give her the capital to build a first-rate operation.

  Provided Culpeper went for the idea.

  Just then, Harry’s breath quickened. “Hey,” he said in a gentle hush, rubbing a hand on her back.

  “Hey,” she whispered back, smiling.

  He sat up, looked at the clock, ran a hand through his tousled hair, then wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing her gently on the shoulder.

  “We’d better get moving,” he murmured.

  With Harry’s warm breath on her neck, she clasped on to him, closed her eyes, and prayed she was doing the right thing.

  Once they had cleaned themselves up and stepped out into the bustling city street, Bea took a deep breath, her heart filled with angst, nerves, sadness, and uncertainty.

  At least her friends had helped her quickly pull together a decent outfit—a sharply tailored skirt suit by Ralph Lauren in a flattering summer beige. What had been a short pencil skirt on long-legged Chloe was knee-length on Bea, but somehow it worked. Under the jacket she wore a pretty white shell, a thin belt around her waist, and heels she’d borrowed from Jules.

  After pulling her hair back into a neat, businesslike bun and applying polished office makeup, she wasn’t sure Mr. Culpeper would even believe she was actually a farmer, but at least she wouldn’t look out of place. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of Harry’s colleagues.

  He captured her hand, almost startling her, jumpy as she was. He threaded his fingers through hers as they ambled down the sidewalk to the Trent Building, but must’ve noticed her sweaty palm. “You all right?” he murmured.

  “Yeah. Just please don’t kill me if I go a little off script, okay?” She looked up at him, worried. “I’m usually pretty good under pressure, but this is just…a lot.”

  “Okay,” he said uncertainly. “Try to keep to what we talked about, and handle Curt just like you did Monty. You’ll do fine.” He gave her a squeeze around her shoulders. “I have full confidence in you.”

  “Glad one of us does,” she mumbled.

  # # #

  And he did fully believe that Bea could nail this presentation. She just needed to shake off the round of nerves she had cropping up. So Harry endeavored to distract her.

  “Did I mention how great you look?”

  “Thanks,” she said as the Trent Building’s elevator doors swished open at the forty-fifth floor.

  They stepped off the elevator and strode in silence down the long carpeted hallway, finally entering Diamond Enterprises’ frosted glass double doors. Crossing over the white carpet, they passed through the main reception lobby. With most of the employees having already left for the evening, it was quiet. But for the humming air conditioner, the office had that eerie, vacant silence.

  “You want something to drink?” Harry asked, pointing to the coffee cart.

  “Shot of vodka?” she quipped.

  He gave her a chiding smile, then led her down the hallway lined with modern art sculptures on pedestals. A TV ran a corporate video loop of Diamond Enterprises’ completed projects.

  Farther down the hallway, Bea stopped and stared for a second at the big black-and-white photo portraits of the firm’s three esteemed directors.

  Including Harry.

  She turned to him, arching a brow. “Ego much?”

  “It wasn’t my idea!” On the contrary, Harry always shuddered seeing his own face in three-by-five-foot dimensions.

  Bea wriggled her eyebrows at his portrait. “Where can I get one of these?”

  “Come on.” He grabbed her hand again and urged her along.

  Wandering thro
ugh the maze of cubicles with ground-effect ambient lighting, he pointed to his understated, glass-enclosed office in the corner. “That’s mine over there.” Thankfully, his peace lily looked like it had survived his absence.

  Finally, he escorted Bea into Curt’s private reception area.

  “Welcome back, traveler,” Dana greeted him from behind her grand marble desk. She rose as they approached.

  “Hey, Dane.” He smiled at her. “Thanks for all your help these past few days.”

  “That’s what I do,” she said smoothly, then turned to Bea. “Hello.”

  While Harry did the introductions, Curt’s assistant took a good, hard look at Bea from head to toe in that threatened, judgmental way he had seen from her once or twice before when he had a woman with him.

  Harry frowned at her, but the would-be seductress barely noticed.

  “Dana is my eyes and ears here at the office,” he explained, giving the blonde a stern look for her catty attitude.

  Dana merely crumpled her nose in a fake smile at Bea.

  The brunette, in turn, tipped her head to one side. “Nice to meet you, too,” Bea muttered, sounding confused.

  “Is he ready for us?” Harry asked Dana, thumbing toward Curt’s door.

  “In a few minutes, Harry. He’s finishing up a call. Besides, we’re still waiting for Ms. Reese.”

  “Pardon?” Bea blurted out as Dana went back to tapping at her computer. She sent Harry a shocked glance.

  “Tammy Reese is joining us?” Harry asked, instantly on guard. Why haven’t I been informed?

  “Sorry, Harry,” Dana murmured with a guilty look. “I didn’t know until just a few minutes ago.”

  Bea rolled her eyes and whispered a curse.

  “It’ll be okay,” he assured her, trying to keep her calm. He knew how she felt about the so-called lavender queen. “Maybe he’s taking her out to dinner or something afterward.”