A Dream to Cling To

by Sally Goldenbaum

  She laughed uneasily and handed him a box to look through. “Maybe I’m being presumptuous, Sam, or too nosy.…”

  “No, not that.” It wasn’t that at all. Brittany could ask him his soul’s secrets if she wanted to. But he couldn’t pursue the conversation any further right now for other reasons. Mostly because he hadn’t the faintest idea what the answers were anymore.

  “Okay, Sam. You need to go through these.” She handed him a stack of loose papers and remained standing, looking down on him while he went through the stack, throwing some out and saving others. “See, Sam? You, too, can sort and trash.”

  His long legs were stretched out in front of him now, his back flat against a filing cabinet. “Only with a benevolent dictator beside me.” He caught her hand and drew her down beside him. “Hmmm, there’s a glow about you, Brittany.”

  “That’s dust, Sam.”

  “Then it’s fairy dust, because it’s doing things to me.”

  “Do you have to sneeze?” she teased, aware of the slow heat building between them. She unfolded her legs and stretched them out, too, one of her legs lined up alongside his body, their hips touching lightly.

  “No, I don’t think I have to sneeze,” he said. “Although what I’m feeling is similar.”

  She laughed a little self-consciously. His voice had grown unusually husky.

  “Interesting.” She busied her hands stacking the papers he’d scattered across her knees and wrinkled her forehead in thought. “It’s caused by fairy dust … and makes you feel something like sneezing.… Hiccups, maybe?”

  “Hiccups aren’t caused by fairy dust, Brittany. Everyone knows that.”

  “Silly of me,” she said weakly. She stared at his shadowed chin, then bravely lifted her eyes to gaze into the gleaming depth of his. They spoke even more eloquently than his voice, which was echoing inside her. Does memory capture voices? she wondered fleetingly. “I heard about a lady who made a sculpture out of dust once. Is that what it makes you want to do?”

  He shook his head. “It was lint, I think, that she used.” His hand slipped beneath the papers and massaged her thigh.

  “Similar,” she said just as the stereo filled the room with the sounds of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. A deep rumbling hum from Sam’s throat echoed the staccatoed sound of the violins.

  She felt the sound deep in her bones and delighted in it. “A classical hummer …” She raised her face to his and smiled, unafraid.

  “I’ve been called worse,” he murmured as he lifted one hand and caressed her cheek. “Brittany …”

  “I know,” she managed to whisper above the hammering of her heart. “It wasn’t a sneeze you felt at all.”

  He leaned forward so he could look directly into her face. Her green eyes were shining and the soft tangle of her hair framed her flushed cheeks. He curled one hand around her neck and held her head gently. “Oh, Brittany, you are without a doubt the most beautiful creature I’ve ever known.” His breath caught in his throat and for a split-second Sam Lawrence felt a totally new, totally alien sensation rush through his body: the stinging wonder of tears. His slow smiled pushed the feeling away, but he’d remember it later, the power Brittany had to move him in unexpected ways.

  Searching his coffee-colored eyes, Brittany watched the play of his emotions. His eyes almost seemed to change color, then deepen in intensity until she felt mesmerized. “Sam …”

  His fingers delved into her silky hair and he bit back a groan. She felt so real to him, so incredibly soft and perfect. Desire flared in his loins and he stiffened, fighting for control. “What, Brittany?”

  “Are you … habit-forming?”

  She shifted slightly when she spoke and her breasts rubbed lightly against his chest. “Oh, I hope so, sweet Brittany, I certainly hope so.” He closed the minuscule space between them until the feel of her smooth, pliant lips pushed talk and reason beyond his reach. Lord, he wanted her so badly he could feel it in every crevice, every nerve ending and tiny patch of skin. His kiss deepened with the force of his emotion and his tongue gently circled inside her mouth, dipping and tasting.

  Brittany closed her eyes and let her whole body relinquish itself to the pleasure of his kiss. She wanted it to go on at least forever, an endless joining. The depth of her breathing pushed her breasts tight against him and she felt her nipples grow firm and hard.

  “Hmmm,” he murmured into the heated space between their lips. “You fit just right.” His fingers slipped from beneath her hair and lightly grazed her cheek, then moved down until he rubbed gently against her breast.

  Pleasure pounded through her, blurring the late afternoon sunshine filtering through the windows and the lovely strains of Beethoven still filling the quiet room. Only Sam’s touch and smell and the wonderful feel of his body was real.

  “Ahem!”

  Brittany heard the noise somewhere off in the distance, somewhere behind her. It was a disconnected noise, intruding into the moment.

  “Anyone home?”

  Sam reluctantly pulled himself away and looked over her shoulder to the open doorway.

  She sat still and forced the dreamy fog away with deep breaths of cool air.

  “It’s a jolly green giant,” Sam said softly into her ear, a slow smile crossing his face.

  She half-turned, her body still enticingly close to his, and followed his gaze.

  Two blue-jeaned legs stuck out from beneath a huge ficus tree. Between the branches the freckled face of a young man peeked out.

  “Knock knock.”

  “Clyde!”

  “Hi, Miss Winters. How’re things?” The plant was dropped to the floor unceremoniously, revealing a skinny, grinning teenager.

  “You two have met?” Sam pulled himself up from the floor and looked from Brittany to the fellow sticking his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans.

  “Yeah, I know Miss Winters real good. Since forever.”

  “Clyde …” Brittany began. Her hands went to her cheeks in an attempt to nonchalantly cool away the heated blush. “Clyde Johnson from Johnson’s Greenhouse, Sam. Hello, Clyde.” She reached for Sam’s hand and pulled herself up beside him.

  Clyde looked down at the floor. “Sorry I’m late, Miss Winters. Couldn’t get the truck started.” He looked back up and grinned at Sam. “It’s twenty-one years old. A Ford. Can you believe she still runs?”

  Sam shook his head obligingly. “Amazing.”

  “And it holds a forest, pretty near. Come here and see.”

  Sam followed Clyde to the door and looked down the hallway. Two more ficus trees leaned against the wall, along with several hanging ivies, a schefflera, and a few potted flowering plants.

  “Well, Clyde,” Sam said, “you seem to be right about the forest.” His thoughts circled back to Brittany and how perfectly she had fit in his arms.

  Brittany glanced beyond the two men, and when she did, her head seemed to clear. “These are just fine, Clyde. Really nice. Let’s bring them on in.”

  “The forest is coming in?” Sam asked slowly, forcing his attention back to the mounds of living greenery just outside his doorway.

  Brittany turned smiling eyes toward him. “Yes, Sam. Besides being good for the air, these plants will be just the right touch for your office. Trust me.” She lightly fingered a leaf on the ficus tree and rubbed off a spot of dust, then lifted the tree and carried it over to a window.

  Good for the air? Sam repeated silently. What he needed now was something good for calming the fires Brittany Winters had lit within him. Plants somehow didn’t seem to be the answer. “But I didn’t—”

  “No. I called before and arranged it with Mr. Johnson. And Clyde was happy to bring them over. Don’t say a word, Sam, until you see how they look.” The air was finally cooling and Brittany felt her voice leveling off.

  “But—”

  “I’ll show Jill or Gary how to take care of them. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

  “They must have cost
a fortune.”

  Clyde shook his head vigorously. “We have a deal with Miss Winters, sir. No problem. She takes good care of my grandpop out at the Elms, y’know.” He added as an afterthought, “And we take ’em back if they die or you leave town or something.”

  Sam was put in charge of carting boxes out to the dumpster behind the building and moving desks into pleasing positions. He tried to capture Brittany as she glided from room to room, tried to suggest Clyde leave and they finish their decorating in better light—like tomorrow’s sunlight.

  But Clyde refused to budge as long as Brittany might need him, and Brittany seemed again caught up in beautifying his office.

  “Brittany, this can wait.…” He caught her for a brief moment, his palm gently cupping her chin.

  But she ducked away from his touch and swept at the desktop. “Almost done, Sam.” When she was in his arms, she lost all reason. All she wanted was to press herself to him, to feel his body against hers, giving it life. But an affair was the last thing in the world she wanted in her life. Not with a man who would sail off into the sunset when it was over. Damn! She wanted him … she didn’t want him.… Decorating was certainly far easier to deal with! She jerked a plant from the floor and flew across the room.

  “Now?” Sam asked a half hour later after he finally managed to usher Clyde back to his truck.

  Brittany looked around. She’d found a few soft, comfortable chairs in the basement, some brass lamps Sam had forgotten he had, and together with the plants, the home of Creative Games looked beautiful. The outer office even had a scattering of magazines on an old oak coffee table, and she had hung several game boards along one wall in a way that suggested the place had real class.

  “I can’t believe it,” Sam whispered in her ear. “You’re amazing, Miss Winters.”

  She smiled, pleased at his praise. “Thank you, sir. The open-box look was nice, but I think the crew will like this too.”

  “They’ll think I’ve gone off the deep end.”

  He leaned closer, and his warm breath on her neck made her shiver. Her heart began its familiar racing and she felt the heat of tiny embers that would burst into flame any second. She couldn’t even trust herself anymore! Wrapping her arms tightly around her waist, she nibbled on her bottom lip and stared into the distance to try to consider Sam Lawrence objectively.

  But his long hands rubbing up and down her arms made objectivity quite difficult. She caught his fingers and tried to stop the slow, sensuous movement.

  He slowly turned her around until she faced him. “You’ve made a big difference here, Brittany.”

  “Thank you, Sam,” she managed to say as she concentrated on calming her heartbeat. “And now for my payment …”

  “You name it, Brittany.” His voice had thickened, and she could hardly trust her own.

  “Promise me … that the plants will be watered.…”

  She seemed so vulnerable as she stood there, he thought, her face turned up to his. This strong, mothering woman who helped old people face the end of their lives with joy … He wanted to scoop her up, to protect her, to let her know it would be okay. That joy was okay. And loving. That they could handle it all, and it would be all right, because he’d never hurt her. No matter what it took, he wouldn’t do that. But beneath his hands he could feel her little quivers of fear.

  He brushed a silken lock of hair off her forehead and smiled. “Sure, Brittany. I’ll be sure the plants are taken care of. But now I’d like to take care of you, if I may. Dinner, at least?”

  She hesitated for a fraction of a second, not daring to look into his eyes. She knew the force she would see there would be beyond anything she could handle tonight. She knew she wanted Sam Lawrence desperately. She wanted to love him and to have him love her. She wanted to feel his hands on her breasts and his lips on her body. She wanted to see him naked, to slide her lips over his skin and trace his muscles with her fingers, and run her hands down the whole lovely length of him.

  So many wants, so many deafening desires. She could barely hear herself when she looked up into his bottomless brown eyes and spoke calmly and carefully.

  “Sorry, Sam. I have a family dinner tonight. It’s Sara’s birthday.”

  His face was filled with a look of such boyish disappointment that it softened the painful edge of her budding passion, and she nearly took him into her arms to comfort him. Nearly, but not quite. It wasn’t the time to slip back into the quicksand.…

  “You’re not going to let me thank you?”

  When he smiled like that, the boyishness was swallowed up quickly in the sensuous curve of his lips, and she shifted her concentration to the slight cleft in his chin. “No thank-yous necessary, Sam.”

  Sam noticed her eyes were focused on his chin and he began rubbing it. “Plant dirt? Mind wiping it off for me?”

  She lifted her gaze to his laughing eyes. “You’re quite impossible, Sam. But I’m strong.” She pulled back her shoulders comically and sucked in a giant lungful of air. “See? I can weather tornadoes, even ones that walk and talk and sometimes take my breath away.”

  He lifted his hand to her cheek and stroked it tenderly.

  The warmth seeped all the way through her. She closed her eyes briefly and let it settle in the very center of her. When she opened them again, there was a new look shining from his own eyes, a gentle, caring look that was almost as difficult to handle as the smoldering passion she’d seen earlier.

  “I’d better go, Sam.”

  He nodded, and placed a soft, tender kiss on her lips before dropping his hand. “Good night. And give Sara my best birthday wishes.”

  She nodded and walked over to the door, then stopped and looked back. “Are you staying here?”

  He shook his head. There was plenty of work to do, but he’d get nothing done tonight, not with the sweet smell of her lingering in the air. “I’m going to find someplace to eat. And, since there will be no one around to offend, I think I’ll find the hottest, most garlicky chili in town, pile it with onions and peppers, and have a feast. Maybe that’ll keep me warm.”

  She laughed and pulled open the door. “The least I can do is suggest the best. Try Hombres on North Henderson Street. They have chili that will make your ears smoke and eyes water for days. I guarantee it’ll keep you warm. Sam.”

  His eyes brightened and his voice was laced with husky innuendo. “You’ll guarantee it? There’s only one thing I could guarantee would keep me warm …”

  “Good night, Sam. Sweet dreams.” She hurried out into the safe aloneness of the night.

  Six

  “Are you asleep?”

  Brittany shook her head sleepily into the pillow and attempted to open her eyes, but the task was too great. Rolling over, she slid comfortably back into a wonderful dream.

  “Brittany?”

  She nodded again, smiling, her head moving in slow motion. Only then did she realize she was nodding to a telephone receiver hanging loosely from one hand.

  “Are you awake?” The rumbling voice coming from the phone slowly broke into her dream and pushed it farther and farther away until finally she couldn’t see it anymore.

  “Awake?” she mumbled, her eyes still closed beneath the weight of sleep. “That’s a … a rather foolish question … if … you think about it for any length of time.”

  “Hmmm, perhaps you’re right.” Sam’s voice was deep and very wide-awake.

  “Sam, what time is it?” She pried her eyes open and attempted to look out the window. A velvet, star-studded sky filled the opening.

  “Let me see …”

  “It’s somewhere between the middle of the night and dawn. Am I close?”

  “Well, you might say so. Actually that’s rather a good guess for someone who sounds as sleepy as you do.”

  “It’s a nasty habit. Sam. Believe it or not, I almost always sleep away these hours.”

  “Pity.”

  She pulled the comforter up to her chin and shivered. “You
, I might guess, don’t?”

  “It depends. Two things for sure could keep me up.” He held the phone close and felt her smile on the other end. “The first is the sky. It’s a perfect sky tonight, Brittany. The wintry air is moving in and cleaning up all the stuff up there, making it so pretty to look at.”

  “Oh, Sam … you woke me up for a weather report?”

  He ignored her remark. “The Seven Sisters winked at me, the Bear was growling in splendor. It was very special. I wish you’d been there to see it with me, Brittany.”

  She smiled. Dreamy images of standing on a mountaintop with Sam at her side, the star-filled sky a backdrop behind them, floated in front of her. “Sam, am I dreaming this?”

  “I hope so. I hope you’re dreaming about the two of us lost in a galaxy together, exploring the Milky Way, riding a comet—because the second thing that could keep me up till drawn breaks is being with you, Brittany.”

  “Sam,” she said slowly. “Sam, have you been … drinking?”

  His husky laughter swept away the icy night chill and teased another smile onto her lips.

  “My darling Brittany, I’ve had only one beer, the one I used to wash down that hell-raising chili you kindly suggested I have this evening—”

  “Last evening,” she corrected him. “And Hombres has the finest chili in Maine.”

  “Ah, now I know you’re waking up, to make such a distinction in time and offer a food critique on top of it.”

  “Sam?”

  “Yes, Brittany?”

  “Why did you call me in the middle of the night?”

  “Why did I call you? Well …”

  She stirred beneath the downy quilt. She could imagine how his chocolate-colored eyes would look as they grew thoughtful, and how the laugh lines at the corners of his mouth would deepen.

  “Well, Brittany, let me count the ways.…”

  “Sam, take me seriously.”

  “Brittany, I’ll take you any way you want.”

  Her heart lurched.

  “I called you without thinking, Brittany,” he went on, his voice quiet as he pushed ideas around in his head. “I just came in from looking at the heavens, and everywhere I looked, on every star, I saw you. Sometimes that means something, so I called to be sure you were all right. I … ah, seem to have take on something here I didn’t count on.”