Remember the Dreams (7 page)

His lips had found her mouth again, his drugging kiss silencing the words screaming in her mind. Please, Kyle. Show me how to love you. Cool air brushed over her heated skin as he slid the fabric from her shoulder. His tongue ceased its plunging, allowing her mute pleas to be heard.

"Kyle," she breathed, shivering as he trailed moist kisses along her collarbone, "I don't. . ." The words she needed to say simply couldn't come out. I don't know what to do. Tell me how to please you.

The tension she could feel rippling through the muscles of his thighs where they pressed against hers and in the well-defined contours of his back where her hands now caressed him suddenly grew more pronounced. It wasn't the tension of sexual excitement, but the tautness of anxiety. Kyle had grown still.

Toni froze, her own body turning to stone in the circle of his arms.

She felt his heavy breath at her temple and the whisper of silk covering her shoulder. Slowly, holding her breath, she withdrew her arms.

Kyle's words were barely audible, but they seemed to echo off the walls of the dimly lit hall. "I must be insane."

His arms fell away, and Toni took a faltering step back.

Without the support of his body, it was all she could do to keep from sagging against the wall behind her. She felt weak and confused. Terribly confused.

Kyle cupped his hand over the back of his neck, rotating his head as if to ease his tension, and let out a long, low breath. It was several tense seconds before he looked back over at Toni. And even then, all he said was, "Sorry."

Never had she heard so much disappointment conveyed in one word. But who was he disappointed with? Himself? Her?

"Don't be," she returned, determined to defuse the whole inexplicable situation. The best thing to do, she decided, amazed that her mind was functioning at all, was to pretend as though it hadn't mattered. It had been nothing more than a simple, experimental kiss between friends.

Simple? The words rumbled dumbly in her mind. Hardly! But she wasn't going to argue semantics with herself at the moment. "You're going to have an awful headache in the morning." She tried her best to sound teasing. "And you're right about being insane. Alcohol can make some people a little crazy."

That explanation might work for him. But what about her? She didn't have any convenient excuses to fall back on.

Kyle's dark eyebrows lowered sharply. "What are you talking about?"

Drawing in a decidedly unsteady breath, she crossed her arms over her still-taut breasts. Never had she felt so ... so tense. "It's obvious that you had a little too much to drink," she chided gently, trying to keep all of her insecurities at bay. Rejection never did much for a person's confidence. "You know you wouldn't have kissed me if you'd been sober."

She'd give anything if he'd just smile. Even a little. She tried to encourage him with one of her own.

It didn't work. The way he was looking at her made her wonder if she'd just grown antlers or something. He didn't look confused now. Incredulous seemed more like it.

"You mean you think I'm drunk?"

"I didn't say you were drunk . . . exactly." To Toni, the total disbelief plastered on his face resembled a vague, alcoholic haze. And he did seem a little disoriented. "I just said it's obvious that. . ." It didn't seem worth repeating, and another thought had just occurred to her. He'd seemed curiously hesitant about keeping the date he'd had tonight. "Did something go wrong with your date? I really didn't think you'd be home until..." She had started to say "in the morning," but finished with "later."

"My date?" he repeated. "Oh, yeah," he added quickly, grasping at the excuse he'd just been offered. "Maggie was that 'little situation' I'd mentioned before, and things . . . well..." He was lying through his teeth. There had never been anything except sex between him and Maggie. That didn't even exist anymore. And the "little situation" he'd referred to earlier had been nothing more than a joking reference to having Toni live with him. He'd meant nothing by those words—then.

Toni knew that she should offer her sympathy, tell him she was sorry that things hadn't gone well with his date. But she couldn't. Kyle didn't seem particularly upset about Maggie, and the memory of his kisses still burned too feverishly in Toni's mind for her to be charitable about another woman's loss.

"You'd better get to bed," Kyle said, suddenly looking very tired. "You said you had to meet the good doctor before his rounds in the morning."

Toni told herself that she only imagined the slight derision in Kyle's voice. She hadn't bothered to tell him that all those "dates" she had with Greg to go house-hunting were really expeditions to find investment property for Greg.and his associates at his clinic. She'd yet to try to find a house for herself—she simply hadn't had time—and she and Greg had quickly come to the understanding that they shared nothing more than a few common interests.

This is crazy, she told herself, not even aware that she was shaking her head. Or that Kyle was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. She was looking down at the soft gray carpet, digging her bare toes into the nap. Here we are, standing in the hall in the middle of the night discussing another man and another woman and not three minutes ago we were . . . She glanced up then, and immediately wished she hadn't. Kyle was shrugging out of his shirt. "I'd take some aspirin if I were you," she mumbled, quickly stepping inside her bedroom. Closing the door, she added a hasty, " 'Night, Kyle."

All the while they had been talking, she'd been painfully aware of the savage pounding in her chest. Even now, safely away from him, it seemed to take forever for her heart to resume a more even beat. It wasn't until she could trust her legs to carry her to her bed that she finally moved from where she'd flattened herself against the door.

She'd tried not to let it happen. But it had. During the past few days she'd found many of the old feelings creeping back, along with some frightening new ones—feelings she had firmly told herself didn't exist.

There was no denying their existence now. She had fallen in love with Kyle all over again. Only this time, it wasn't the naive hero-worship that had made her think that everything he did or said was beyond scrutiny. It was the kind of caring born of true friendship. A knowledge that recognized all Kyle's little -imperfections and loved him in spite of them.

How could it have happened so fast? It had only been ten days!

Toni undressed and pulled on the very un-sexy pink flowered nightgown her mother had sent her last Christmas from London. Or had it been Ireland? She couldn't remember, and right now the path of her mother's constant jaunts was the last thing on her mind. Toni shoved the hair out of her eyes and plopped down on the bed.

Of all the men in the world, why did she have to be in love with a man who viewed marriage with such distaste and all but broke out in hives when anyone even mentioned children?

She snapped off the light and slid between the covers. That kind of thinking was far too premature, and quite out-dated. In most respects she was very much a liberated and forward-thinking individual. She was also an adult, and she'd face this little situation as any other red-blooded American woman would.

He had wanted her. She had felt his need, and the desire that mirrored her own had been very, very real. Doubts marred the heady knowledge that Kyle had finally noticed her as a woman. Had he sensed her inexperience? Is that why he had pulled away from her? What hadn't she done?

"Oh, hell," she mumbled, stuffing her head under her pillow. She was excited and uncertain, and in love. And there were just too many questions she couldn't answer right now. "Just pretend you're Scarlett O'Hara and think about it tomorrow."

That was the most practical thought she'd had in the last half hour. But it was a ploy that she knew wasn't going to work.

❧

Another move like that, Donovan, Kyle chided himself as he tossed his wadded-up shirt on the chair and moved through the living room to the wet bar, and she'll move out of here so fast. . .

He didn't allow himself to complete the uncomfortable thought and, cradling his drink between his hands, sank to the sofa with a disgusted sigh. It probably would have been smarter to do about a hundred and fifty laps in the pool. But drowning himself in liquor seemed more appropriate. Toni had thought he'd had too much to drink already!

He didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, or just be grateful that she'd so generously excused his actions.

It had taken several seconds for her trembling plea to register. And though she hadn't said all the words, Kyle had heard the ones he thought she'd left unsaid. I don't . . . want this!

There had been no mistaking the desire he'd felt in her, but he was convinced now that it had been nothing more than a product of vulnerability. A woman was at her weakest when she first woke up, he told himself with unequivocal male certainty. And he had no doubt caught her with her defenses, and judgment, fogged by sleep.

It was obvious enough—when she'd finally regained her senses—that she wasn't interested in altering their relationship. So quickly had she reverted to her usual, half-teasing, half-mocking self. And then she'd asked him about his date!

He glared at the drink he'd yet to touch and shoved it across the coffee table. He had no intention of drinking himself into oblivion, though the thought had had a few nebulous merits. He felt bad enough right now without a hangover in the morning to remind him of his stupidity.

In the morning. He'd have to face her in the morning. How would she react to him?

"Knowing Toni," he muttered to himself, "I bet she'll either tease you about it, or ask you what in the hell you thought you were doing."

If she chose the latter, he had no idea how he'd respond.

All he knew at the moment was that he had to stick to the decision he'd made days ago. He could offer her nothing more than an affair anyway, so he'd do everything in his power to see that their relationship remained just as it was. They were friends. Period. He could learn to live with cold showers.

F
our a.m. always came too early. Anyone up at this hour either had to be crazy, or a stockbroker. Toni wondered absently if they weren't one and the same.

Leaning against the counter by the sink, she raised her hand to cover a yawn and waited for the coffee to finish brewing. She could stumble through her shower without being fully awake, but putting on makeup and getting dressed required a greater level of consciousness.

Though Toni was still fighting her usual early-morning inertia, she was aware of the sound of Kyle's shower running in his bathroom. As long as she could hear that, there was no danger of seeing him. And she didn't want to see him until she had a full grip on her mental faculties. It was very important that she be able to measure his reaction to her this morning.

Deciding that the coffemaker could complete its function without her bleary-eyed supervision, she turned to the window over the sink. It was pitch black outside and, other than a few raindrops tracing watery paths down the glass, she could see nothing but her own reflection blinking back at her.

There was no marked difference in the familiar features. Nothing to indicate that anything drastic had changed within her. A woman in love was supposed to look radiant. Or did that adage apply to a pregnant woman? It hardly mattered. No one could look radiant at four o'clock in the morning.

Toni shoved the towel, wrapped turban-style around her head, back a bit. Maybe she'd find some changes there—like gray hair.

Her silver blond hair still appeared to be the same shade it had always been. It would be almost impossible to detect any gray in it anyway. All of the changes were inside. The feelings that made her anxious and . . .

Oh, come on! her mind yawned. Be practical about this. You've got more sense than to fall in love with him, and one lousy kiss shouldn't make any . . .

"Coffee ready?"

What normally took her at least two cups of liquid caffeine to accomplish, Kyle had done in less than two seconds. Full consciousness returned with a thudding jolt.

He had stopped in the middle of the kitchen. In the mirrorlike window, she could see him briskly rubbing a towel over the back of his still-damp hair. Though his reflection was cut off at the waist, she knew that the maroon velour robe he was wearing ended above his knees—which was where she focused when she turned around. ^

"I . . . ah . . . think so," she mumbled, mentally kicking herself for being so preoccupied that she'd forgotten to listen for his shower.

She watched his bare feet carry him to the counter, then heard a cupboard door close and the sound of coffee being poured into mugs.

Kyle had the disgusting habit of waking up fully alert, but Toni's predawn incoherency usually allowed for only the most basic of exchanges. She hoped that his silence now was only because he wasn't expecting anything more than her customary, unintelligible mutterings. So far, she was running true to form.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he was too tired to talk this morning. It had been awfully late when he'd gotten home last night. Or maybe he's . . .

Toni cut her rationalization off with a sharp, silent admonishment and, giving the belt of her robe a tightening jerk, moved to the refrigerator. Why conjure up excuses for his silence? He hadn't had a chance to say much of anything anyway!

"How's your head this morning?" she ventured, taking a carton of cream from the shelf. She fully expected him to have a hangover. That in itself should be ample reminder of what had happened in the hallway outside their bedrooms.

Cautiously glancing up, she saw him push one of the mugs toward her. It was hard to tell if it was her question, or the fact that she'd been able to put together a comprehensible sentence at this hour, that made his dark eyebrows pinch together.

The towel he'd been drying his hair with was draped around his neck, and there was a little nick in his chin where he'd cut himself shaving. She thought she saw the muscle beneath that tiny cut jump.

"My head's fine," he replied, eyeing the carton she held in her hand. He raised his mug to his lips, watching her blandly over the rim. "When did you start drinking cream in your coffee?"

Toni's eyes jerked to the container she was opening. The deeper levels of her mind had still been wrestling with the impracticality of being in love with Kyle while her heart had been telling her to ignore that logic. Obviously she didn't function well when forced, before she had her coffee, to deal with profound thoughts—and the more conscious ones caused by the extremely disturbing impact he was having on her nerves.

I don't use cream, she thought dumbly, also telling herself that she'd better start paying more attention to her own reactions and a little less to his nonexistent ones. "This morning," she finally responded, and poured a liberal amount of cream into her mug. "I need the calcium."

She couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like there was a faint flicker of amusement in his deep gray eyes. Kyle said nothing though, and taking his mug with him, he walked out of the kitchen.

Toni let out a long, low breath and scowled down at her coffee. "How positively unenlight-ening," she muttered.

She didn't know what she had expected anyway. An apology? A passionate good-morning kiss? As far as she could tell, Kyle didn't seem particularly concerned about what had happened—if he remembered it at all.

That last thought wasn't very flattering.