Dream of Me (4 page)

An element about him was familiar. Something that drew her toward him. And she resented the fact he was attractive, if not overtly handsome. He was too rugged, his jaw too square and stubborn, his nose bumpy from being broken. And his voice was too inviting—warm and deep, a little raspy.

Maybe she resented him because he felt familiar, because several aspects about him reminded her of Marc. That realization had her stiffening against his friendly overtures, almost from the start. Her attraction felt like a betrayal—of Marc, of her own body.

She set her duffel on the soft, flower-sprigged duvet covering the king-sized bed and jerked open the zipper. Her clothing and toiletries were a wild jumble. She’d simply tossed items into her bag, hurrying to escape her apartment. Sighing, she lifted the bag and emptied the contents onto the bed.

Her navy and white, two-piece swimsuit landed on top of the pile. Of course, she wasn’t going swimming in the middle of the night with a stranger. That was plain crazy.

But through the glass door, she could hear the gentle lapping of the waves and smell the sea-fresh air. And moonlight glinted silver on the porch railing and over the crests of the distant waves. She fingered the suit. A swim would feel lovely. How long since she’d swam in salt water? Years. Which was why even the mention of the less-than-pristine beaches of Grand Isle hadn’t seemed so bad when Marc had teased her.

Marc had wanted to bring her here. He’d still want her to enjoy the accommodations he’d arranged. She knew that for a fact. And she would be safer with his friend’s company, at least while swimming in a dark ocean.

Just as she had in her apartment, she quit thinking, and instead moved in jerking dashes, grabbing her suit and heading to the bathroom to change. Inside a minute, she walked barefoot out the French doors, down the wooden steps to the paved path that lead through a tiny garden and to the gate that opened onto the sand.

Sam had been faster. She saw his frame outlined by the moonlight, a large dark shadow that caused her breath to catch. From the back, his build was so like Marc’s that she pressed a hand to a painful twinge twisting in her chest.

He stood at the edge of the water, waves lapping at his ankles. Her feet made soft crunching sounds in the sand, so he turned and smiled. “You can swim, right?”

“Think an ex-SEAL would tolerate a girlfriend who couldn’t?” she quipped, then blinked in surprise that she’d dredged up a barb.

His teeth flashed white. “After you,” he said, turning to the side as she strode closer.

A long strip of beach offered plenty of room to play, but her inner minx coaxed her into passing close by his body as she walked into the waves. Maybe she wanted to see if she could make him uncomfortable. Maybe she just wanted a closer look at what the moonlight defined in silver and shadow.

For months, she hadn’t felt a spark of curiosity about another human being. But here she was, wondering about this man who stood so still she couldn’t detect the rise and fall of his chest as she passed.

A foamy wave lapped at her toes, and she almost groaned. The sensation was like wet silk. Glorious. And now she wanted it wrapped around her entire body. She took several more steps then dove into an oncoming wave.

She swam to the middle of the inlet, then rolled to her back and floated, letting the gentle swells lift and lower her body while she stared at the starry sky above. It seemed like all the stars of the Milky Way winked down on her. What would this night have been like if Marc had lived?

She had no doubt he’d have cajoled her into a swim upon their arrival. And maybe talked her into making love in the shallows. Lord, how she missed his spontaneity. His joy of simple pleasures. Mostly, she missed the way he looked at her—like she was something beautiful and mysterious. How often had he asked what she was thinking, because he wanted to know how her mind worked, to learn what made her happy. He was always so observant—of her and their surroundings. How had
he
missed the figure hidden behind the door?

Chilled now, she dropped her feet and dog-paddled, staring at the light blinking in the window of the cottage Marc had secured for their getaway. She was glad of the darkness that hid the tears welling in her eyes. She dipped her head backward, and then shook her hair.

“Ready to swim back?” came the deep timbre of the voice beside her. Not Marc’s, because it didn’t hold the same note of silky, Cajun warmth. Sam’s voice was brisk. Deep, but the sound didn’t send shivers down her spine. Was she disappointed?

She forced a slight smile and turned to look at him. His arms swept forward and back, holding him in place beside her. How long had he been watching her? This time, a slight shiver did roll down her back. His gaze was steady. He was studying her. Was that a SEAL thing? Had Marc’s intense interest in her been a habit born of his training?

“I think so,” she said. “I should get some rest. I haven’t slept since…” She shook her head at the inability to remember when. Yesterday morning, she’d dragged herself from her sofa to see Melanie Oats, but she hadn’t really slept that well. Her dreams had been fitful, causing her to turn and waken every time her heart beat faster and her legs felt leaden.

“I hope you enjoyed it. I swim often. Fish, too. Off the rocks,” he said, pointing toward boulders at one end of the beach, an outcropping that stretched into the water. “When I’m here, anyway.”

“Are you gone a lot?”

“Sometimes more than others. When duty calls…”

She nodded. “Guess I’ll head back.” She struck out again, this time for shore. Slower now because fatigue had taken hold. By the time her toes touched the sand, her body felt heavy. She realized she hadn’t brought along a towel, so she stood and squeezed the water from her hair.

Sam paused beside her. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

“There’s no need,” she said, her tone abrupt. She was glad of the darkness that hid her blush at her rudeness. Sam had been nothing but kind.

“Maybe not,” he said before giving her a quick smile. He strode forward, bent to pick up a towel he’d left on the beach and held it out.

Feeling his gaze touch her body, she felt self-conscious for the first time, realizing how little she wore and the fact he could likely see her nipples tightening against the stretchy swimsuit fabric. She quickly wrapped the towel around her body and walked beside him toward her bungalow.

“Sweet dreams, Ash,” he said softly before he turned to leave her.

Her body stiffened, and she stood, staring after his tall figure. Why had he mentioned dreams?

‡

S
unlight gleamed against
the glass as Ash blinked open her eyes. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. She turned her head toward unfamiliar doors with a view of a spectacular, white-sand beach.

A soft rustling sounded, and her gaze fell to a man sleeping beside her, his dark hair tousled. He was faced away. Heart racing, she held her breath.

Slowly, he stirred, breathing deeply, and then turned to his back. She noted the painfully familiar features—deep-set eyes beneath thick, black brows, lush kissable lips, quick to smile or pout, a dimple in his chin that she loved scooping with her tongue.

Amusement curved his mouth, and Marc flashed her a smile. “Mornin’, Sunshine.”

Relief flooded her. She knew what she saw was another dream, but this was one she’d searched for. Something other than the horror of his final moments.

Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up.
She gave him a smile and reached out her arms.

And then they were inside their bedroom in their apartment in New Orleans. Rays of sunlight beaming through parted drapes.

Marc lay on his back, an arm beneath his head as he played with locks of her hair, tickling her nose, her chin, until she smiled.

“Don’t go,” she whispered, barely able to speak through a tight throat.

He didn’t seem to hear her, just kept sweeping a curl along her cheek. “Let’s call in sick.”

Her heart thudded dully against her chest.
Say yes.
But she heard her voice speaking the words she had that fateful morning. “We can’t both call in sick.”

Grinning, he released her hair and rolled over her, hands grasping her wrists and planting her hands on the pillow above her head. “Then let’s be late.”

She lowered her brows. “Do you want everyone to know we’re sleeping together?”

“I don’t care. Why do you?”

“Because they’ll reassign one of us.” She gave him a mock scowl. “Since you’ve been there longer, you’ll have to watch my ass disappear. We might not even have the same shifts.”

His mouth pouted, but quickly stretched again. His hips flexed, and he rooted his cock between her legs, searching until he’d found her entrance. With a single thrust, he was balls-deep. “Guess we’ll miss breakfast.”

A sound drew her gaze from Marc’s. Just for a second, but long enough that suddenly, she was awake, staring at the window of the cottage he’d rented. A hot tear slid from her eye and soaked into the pillow beneath her cheek.

She should have said yes. Called in sick. A decision that would have kept them both from being in their squad car when the call to respond to the robbery came from dispatch. Her lower lip trembled, and she suppressed a sob. The dream wasn’t of the robbery this time, but no less painful. And she felt no less guilty.

An insistent knock sounded. Must have been what interrupted her dream. The visitor was likely her neighbor, Sam. She picked up her travel alarm on the night stand and frowned. Eight o’clock wasn’t a very friendly time of morning, especially since they’d been together just five hours ago.

She hoped he wouldn’t make it a habit, showing up at odd times. Didn’t he know she was here to rest? To be alone?

The pounding was louder this time.

Under her breath, she cussed, flipped back the covers, and rolled to her feet. Not bothering with a robe over her T-shirt and underwear, she stomped to the front door.

She swung it open with more energy than intended, and the thick wood bounced against her toe. “Fuck!” Tears filled her eyes, and she screwed up her face, bending her knee as she reached for her foot.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” Then he stepped inside and picked her up.

Ash bleated in surprise as he carried her to the sofa.

There, he sat her on the edge and knelt to cradle her foot in his hand. He winced when he eyed the broken toenail. “Ouch. It’s pretty deep into the bed.” He glanced up at her. “You always wake up so grumpy?”

“Seriously?” She gave him a wide-eyed glare. “This is my vacation. Why am I out of bed at all?”

His smile was rueful. “Guess I got a little carried away. I spotted barjacks and snappers in the water when I was running on the beach. Would you like to go fishing? I brought an extra pole.”

She sat staring—wondering why she wasn’t counting to ten, why she was seriously considering his invitation at all. Only minutes earlier, she’d been dreaming of Marc in a loving moment. She’d woken with tears leaking into her pillow.

Maybe that was why. She didn’t want to wallow in her sorrow. That’s why she was here. And Sam was offering a distraction. One that didn’t have a thing to do with the fact he wore a soft blue T-shirt that lovingly hugged his broad chest and abdomen, and swimming trunks that exposed thickly muscled thighs.

He was attractive. Dark brown hair, close-cropped. Hazel eyes that right now looked more green than blue. She had to admit that she’d noticed those details. But the offer of fishing interested her more, didn’t it? “I should change,” she said, keeping her voice flat. No need letting him know she needed this.

His smile was quick. “Let me get clippers first. I’ll take care of that nail.”

“I can manage.”

“I know where the nail clippers are.” He lowered her foot and stood, walking straight to her bedroom and disappearing for a minute before he reappeared and knelt before her.

This time, she was excruciatingly aware of the expanse of naked leg she displayed. His hands were gentle when he cupped her foot and placed her sole on his hard thigh. He quickly snipped the broken toenail, then gave her an almost boyish grin when he met her mystified gaze again. “Wear a swimsuit and a tee. No need for shoes. We’re wading into the surf to fish.”

Then he turned his thighs away, giving her room to rise.

She did so slowly, tugging on the hem of her T-shirt, but knowing he could see her light blue, boy-cut undies.

“I’ll make coffee,” he said.

Ash walked away with as much dignity as she could muster. Inside her bedroom, she rushed to the bathroom to strip her swimsuit off the shower rail. The fabric was still damp from her early morning swim. She ran a hand over her thigh and grimaced. Short stubble there, but he’d probably already noted it. If she took the time to shave now, she might give him the idea she gave a damn about her appearance.

But she did take time to brush her teeth and her hair before searching for a clean T-shirt.

When she joined him again in the living room, she saw he held two steaming mugs.

“A Keurig is on the kitchen counter. Hope you like your brew black, but sugar and packets of creamer are in the cupboard above it, if you need.”