Borrowed Dreams (Debbie Macomber Classics) (11 page)

Carly stiffened. “What did you say?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I told them I had a special friend that I was beginning to love just as I loved their mother.”

“Oh, Brand, I wish you hadn’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He ignored her, but his grip tightened, as if he was afraid she’d bolt and run as she’d done so many times in the past. “A funny little friend who climbed mountains and jumped out of airplanes and liked to eat green olives and chocolate.”

“And … and what did they say?”

Brand laughed and mussed the top of her head with his chin. “Shawn wanted to know if you’d take him with you the next time you decide to climb Mount Rainier. And Sara was more concerned about whether or not you liked video games.”

Carly’s smile was shaky.

Sandra’s children would be joining him soon. A sense of unrest attacked her. True, she could climb mountains and jump out of airplanes, but the thought of meeting these two children filled her with indescribable terror.

Brand came into Carly’s office yawning on Thursday afternoon. “I’m bushed,” he declared, as he sat down in George’s desk chair. “I don’t know, Carly. Someone’s changed the rules in the last ten years.”

Rising, she poured him a cup of steaming coffee. “What do you mean?”

“I’m too old for these late nights. I used to be able to get by on four or five hours’ sleep. But no longer. I’m too old for this.”

They’d been together every day. They talked, watched television, went for long walks, and discussed flying. Not once had Brand left Carly’s apartment before midnight.

Responding to his tiredness, she put her hand over her own mouth and yawned loudly.

“I’ll be late tonight,” Brand said, after taking the first sip from the coffee cup.

“Good,” Carly returned with a lazy smile. “That’ll give me a chance to go over those flying theory books you brought me.”

Brand lowered his gaze, but not before Carly saw his frown. Although he hadn’t said anything to discourage her, it was obvious he didn’t want her to learn to fly. He’d know soon enough, Carly mused now, that she was her own woman. Diana had often reacted with the same show of reluctance at Carly’s adventurous inclinations. She could almost hear her friend protesting her sudden interest in gaining a private pilot’s license.

“Do you want me to have dinner ready for you?” The offer was more selfish than generous; Carly realized how much she looked forward to their time together in the evenings. Not that they did a lot of social things. Brand’s finances wouldn’t allow for much of that. Maybe once a week they could dine out or take in a movie, but certainly not every night.

Brand wanted to take her to dinner Friday night, and Carly had agreed, although she’d felt less nervous when the captain of the football team had asked her for a date in high school!

“I may not be back until after ten,” Brand warned.

“No problem. And you know better than to expect a three-course meal.”

Setting his empty mug aside, Brand stood and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you later,” he promised, his voice low and husky.

George returned to the office just as Brand was leaving. Carly stood at the window until Brand had climbed into his car and was gone.

“You two have been seeing a lot of each other, haven’t you?”

Carly’s answer was a nod. Her private life had nothing to do with the office, and she wasn’t going to elaborate on her relationship with Brand to satisfy George’s curiosity.

“He’s a rare man, Brand St. Clair.”

She could feel George studying her. Carly’s boss had seen the look on her face—and knew the cause. “Yes, he is,” Carly agreed, and turned back to her desk.

“He’s driven himself hard. But he looks more relaxed now than I can ever remember,” George continued.

Carly said nothing, not wanting to encourage him.

“I don’t suppose you could say anything to him about becoming a full-time pilot for Alaska Freight Forwarding, could you?”

Mercifully, the phone rang, so Carly didn’t have to answer George. By the time she’d replaced the receiver, her employer had left the office.

*  *  *

When Carly returned to the empty apartment that evening, she felt restless. Usually Brand arrived shortly after she did. Now, for the first time in days, the evening stretched out ahead of her, devoid and lonely. The thought shocked Carly. A couple times she found herself glancing at her watch and mentally calculating how long it would be until Brand arrived. This was exactly what she hadn’t wanted.

Bit by bit, Brand had wiggled his way into her life. She did his bookkeeping, and in return he was teaching her how to fly an airplane. That had been their original plan. Instead, their evenings had been spent simply enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes Brand dropped by the office unexpectedly, for no more reason than to have a cup of coffee and chat for a few minutes. Now a day without spending time with Brand seemed unnatural. She had tried to tell Diana about these fears concerning her relationship, but never quite did. What she was feeling about him came from the heart and not from the mind. These emotions were foreign to her, and she wasn’t sure she could explain what was happening to her dearest friend when she wasn’t
entirely sure herself. And although she loved her friend, there were certain things even Diana couldn’t be expected to understand.

There was so much Carly didn’t know about Brand, and yet she felt she knew everything she would ever need to know. Nothing in his life had ever been done halfheartedly. Only a man who loved with such intensity could grieve the way he had for Sandra. Only a man with as much insight into and understanding of her personality could be as patient as Brand had been with her.

With all that she was, she loved him. The realization came to her gently, warm and secure, kindling a fire that glowed. She did love Brand. What she didn’t know was whether or not her love for him was strong enough to overcome the fears and anxieties ingrained in her conscience since childhood.

*  *  *

The FCC flight manual was balanced on her bent knee and the television was on with the volume turned down when Brand knocked lightly against her door.

“Hi.” She greeted him with a hug. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved.” He groaned and pulled her into his arms. “But before you go into the kitchen I expect a proper greeting. None of those miserly kisses you seem to be so fond of giving me.”

Smiling seductively, Carly slid her hands up his chest and allowed them to rest on the curve of his shoulders. “Remember,” she whispered huskily, as she fit her body intimately to his, “you asked for this.” She kissed one corner of his mouth and then the other. Then she outlined the contour of his lips with her tongue, darting it in and out of his mouth with a teasing action that affected her as much as it did Brand.

His hands began to caress her back in an unhurried exploration as his mouth opened to hers, taking the role of aggressor. His lips parted hers. Carly clung to him, drained of strength.

They broke apart, each gasping for air.

“A few more of those and I won’t be responsible for what happens,” he murmured breathlessly.

All the blood flowed from her face. The point in their relationship was fast approaching when kissing would satisfy neither of them. Carly knew that Brand yearned to make love to her, and frankly she wanted him, too, but this was a serious step in their relationship and she wasn’t
sure either of them were ready.

“Let me get your dinner,” Carly said, as she turned away. She could feel Brand’s smile hit her straight between the shoulder blades. He was assuming she was running again, and he was right.

Happy—perhaps happier than she’d ever been at any time in her life—Carly worked in her small kitchen as Brand leafed through the newspaper. She built him a three-tiered sandwich, piling each piece of bread high with meat from the local deli, adding sliced tomatoes and cut pickles. She topped her creation with a giant green olive that was speared with a toothpick. Then she adorned the plate with potato chips and proudly carried her masterpiece in—only to discover that Brand was asleep on her sofa.

Carly toyed with the idea of waking him, but he looked relaxed and so peaceful that she couldn’t make herself do it.

Returning to the kitchen, Carly bit into a crunchy potato chip and covered the sandwich with plastic wrap. He could eat it tomorrow. Leaning against the counter, Carly yawned.

She tucked an extra pillow under Brand’s head and covered him with a spare blanket. The temptation was strong to linger at his side, to make an excuse to touch him. Her fingers flexed with the desire to brush the thick, dark hair from his forehead. But such an action might wake him, and she didn’t want to risk that.

An hour later the flight manual could no longer hold her wandering attention. Time and again her gaze slid from the fine print on the page to the sleeping figure across from her. If Brand hoped to bore her with dull reading, he was succeeding, but she wouldn’t let him know that. A lot of what she’d gone over tonight might as well have been in a foreign language. What she needed was a
pre
-preflight instruction manual. But she wouldn’t give up. Now she was more determined than ever to get her pilot’s license.

She hesitated in the lighted doorway of her room, watching the moon shadows surround Brand. Realizing that she loved Brand was one thing; what she was going to do about it was something else entirely. So many questions remained unanswered. Most important were the ones neither of them had voiced.

*  *  *

When Carly woke the next morning, Brand was gone. A note was propped on the table apologizing for his lack of manners. He assured her that his falling asleep didn’t have anything to do with her company, but only the fact that thirty-three years were taking their toll. He reminded her of their dinner date that evening and asked her to wear her best dress because they were going to do the town. His hurried postscript mentioned that the sandwich had been fantastic.

Carly sat with a glass of orange juice and a plate of toast as she reread every word of his note. The happiness she’d felt finding it washed over her. It was as if Brand had written her a poetic love letter. Perhaps she was suffering a second adolescence. Good grief, she hoped not. The first one had been difficult enough.

That afternoon, at the stroke of five, Carly was out the office door. She wanted to luxuriate in a scented bath and be as beautiful and alluring as possible when Brand arrived.

The phone was ringing when she walked through the apartment door.

“Hello.” Her voice was singsongy with happiness.

“Carly, I’m going to be late.”

“Brand, where are you?” The line sounded as if it were long distance.

“Lake Iliamna.”

“Where?”
He might as well have said Timbuktu.

“The largest lake in Alaska. There’s a lodge here.”

“Oh.” That didn’t mean anything to her. “I take it you’re using the float plane.”

Brand’s low chuckle warmed her blood. “The woman’s a genius.”

“When should I expect you?”

“Honey, I don’t know. It could be hours yet.”

The endearment rolled off his tongue seemingly without thought, and Carly wondered if that was a name he’d called Sandra. She pushed the thought from her mind forcefully. She couldn’t, she
wouldn’t
, allow Brand’s first wife to haunt their relationship. Not any more than she already did.

“Carly, you’re terribly quiet all of a sudden. Are you angry?”

She jerked herself from her musings. “Of course not. Listen, Brand, would you rather cancel the whole thing? I don’t mind. We can go out to dinner another time.”

“No,” he returned. “I want to see you. I
need
to see you. That is, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“No,” she whispered softly. “I don’t mind.”

By eleven, Carly was yawning and rubbing her eyes to keep from going to sleep. An old rerun of
Law & Order
was the only thing that kept her from drifting into a welcome slumber.

Brand arrived at midnight. “Carly, I’m sorry,” he said the moment she opened the door. “I came right from the airport. Give me another half hour to go home and change. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“We can’t go out now.” Carly could only guess what it had taken for him to offer. One look at the fatigue in his eyes was all she needed to see that he was exhausted. “Nothing’s open at this time of night,” she reasoned in a soft voice.

“We’ll find something,” he assured her, but not too strenuously.

“Nonsense. I’ll let you do your magic with eggs, and we can eat here.”

His arms brought her into his embrace even with his eyes closed. “I can’t argue with you there. It’s been a long day.”

“What time did you leave my apartment?” He’d spent at least part of the night on her sofa.

“Three. Which was a good thing, since I was due to take off from the airport at four.”

“Good heavens, Brand,” she lamented. “You’ve been up nearly twenty-four hours.”

His smile faltered. “Don’t remind me. Tell me about your day.”

“There’s not much to tell. I got a letter from Jutta Hoverson. She wrote me the day my letter arrived, which makes me feel good.”

“What did she have to say?”

“Not much. She’s doing some charcoal sketches. The painting of the child was her first oil work. Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

Brand sat down in the kitchen while she took food from the refrigerator. “And I phoned Diana to tell her what time my flight would be landing in Seattle. She’s too calm about this wedding business. It won’t surprise me if she tries to cancel the whole thing at the last minute.”

Carly set a tall glass of milk in front of Brand. “Drink,” she ordered. “I’ll whip up something in a jiffy.”

It surprised her that Brand didn’t fall asleep in her kitchen chair. After he’d eaten, she led him to the front door. His good-night kiss was as gentle as it was sweet. “I’ll phone you tomorrow,” he promised. He was making several short flights on Saturday but couldn’t invite her
along because he was scheduled to fly crew into camps and there wouldn’t be any space in the plane for her.