Time After Time (11 page)

She was dying for him. Her trembling fingers pressed his hard, lean hips, telling him as much as her words, urging him to her. Any second now she would know the joy that she had been waiting all her life to

find. Any second...

* * *

"No—
not n
o
w!"
Leah gasped. "I can't wake up
now!"

The furious words startled her into full awareness, and her gaze darted frantically around her dark bedroom. Her skin was slick with perspiration. Her body burned and ached with a depth that shook her. The

covers were twisted around her as she lay still, willing her heart to stop pounding in her chest.

She held her clenched fists at her sides, trying to keep from screaming in frustration. For a long time she merely lay there with her eyes wide open; then, with a hoarse groan, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, knowing there would be no more sleep for her the rest of the night.

Chapter Five

You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;
A Midsummer Night's Dream
—Act II, Scene 2

L
eah sat in the armchair across the room from her bed, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees. For the first time in four years she didn't want to go to work. She wanted to call in sick. The only thing that stopped her was her meeting this morning with Paul to go over the differences in the two campaigns.

Paul.
Yes, she thought of him as Paul now. How could she not? She had tried so many times to convince herself that her superior was not the man in her dreams, but it was beginning to be impossible. God, she moaned silently, the whole thing was impossible.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw him in the cabin, the firelight leaping across the hard, lean lines of his bronzed body, and her stomach muscles would constrict in immediate involuntary reaction.

I don't want this, she thought in desperation. She didn't want a man with her boss's face to be tender and loving. She didn't want to remember the loneliness and painfully deep need that had shone out of his green eyes. And she couldn't handle the fierce sensuality in him that sent desire ripping through her body every time she thought of it.

Where was her famous objectivity now? she asked herself with a twisted smile. Where was her much-admired logic?

"Gone up in dreams," she murmured, then pressed her face to her knees with a groan.

Think about them, she told herself. Don't let them control you. Take them apart and show yourself there's nothing of substance there. It's all airy-fairy stuff. Night visions. Wispy pieces of unreality.

Inhaling slowly, she raised her head. There had been three dreams. Good start, she thought with heavy sarcasm. Three dreams. Then what?

The dreams were hokey, but if she overlooked the bad scripts and concentrated on the two main characters—Paul and herself—what were the dreams telling her?

Each dream seemed to point out different nuances of Paul's personality. They had shown her things about him that had surprised her because of her admittedly prejudiced view of him. She had seen his hu-

mor and spirit in the Roman dream, his fire and sensuality in the twenties dream, his tenderness and vulnerability in the Western dream.

Why? she asked herself, her brow creasing with the depths of her concentration. Why had she been shown these things?

Leah shook her head helplessly. She simply didn't know. To make it even more confusing, reality had begun to reinforce what she had seen in the dreams. She had seen his humor the night they had dinner together. She had seen his tenderness when he talked to the little boy on the escalator.

And his fire? His sensuality?

Moaning, she buried her face in her knees again. Please—no, she thought in desperation. She definitely didn't want to see the sensuality. Enough was enough.

Stop it, you idiot,
she told herself sternly.
Think!

Leaning her head back against the chair, she rubbed her chin thoughtfully with her knuckles. Could it be that she had subconsciously picked up on facets of Paul's personality without being aware of it? Maybe she was merely playing back the hidden information in her dreams.

She shifted restlessly. That was a definite possibility. But why now? And why were the dreams showing her things about herself that were totally opposed to reality?

Or were they simply opposed to her idea of reality? she wondered in confusion. Reluctantly she admitted that the original attraction she had felt for Paul was

still there, and just as strong as ever. The crazy dreams had forced her to face up to that. But sacrificing her security and even her life for love? Was the potential for that kind of thing really buried somewhere in her subconscious?

And again, why now? she asked herself stubbornly. And why did the dreams take such a peculiar form? They all had seemed like silly little fragments from old, low-budget movies.

She sat up straighter. Movies? she thought, frowning.

Her feet slid to the floor, and there was a stunned look on her face as she absently pushed the hair from her forehead.
Movies.
Each of the dreams had come on a night when she had worked late. And every time she had worked late she had—

Jumping from the chair, she ran to the living room and jerked open the cabinet that held the videotapes. She ran a finger over the small stack that she had already played, working from the bottom up.
For Caesar We Die... G-Men: The Chicago Story... Cattle Country.

For a long time Leah simply stood staring at them. Then she began to laugh. She laughed so hard that she slumped to the floor in front of the cabinet to keep from falling. Tears streamed down her face, and every time she tried to pull herself together, she would glance at the tapes, and the whole thing would start over again.

All that intense soul-searching for naught, she thought, shaking her head helplessly. She had been

trying to find some deep, psychological meaning in the dreams, when all along they had been nothing more than a combination of overwork, an understandable but hidden attraction to Paul, and the old movies she always played while she worked.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she rose to her feet and closed the cabinet doors. When she recognized just how overwhelming her relief was, Leah knew how much those dreams had been worrying her.

"From now on," she murmured ruefully, "I'll listen to the radio when I work late."

In the next few months Leah listened to the radio a lot. As she had expected, there were no more dreams, but she barely had time to notice. The candidates for the San Francisco job had been narrowed down to three, and she was still in the running. She had the advantage of being in the home office, while the other two had to be flown in for interviews.

And always, there was the new ad campaign. Work on the project was in full swing now, which meant that she and Paul spent more time together than ever before. He had unbent so far as to occasionally call her Leah, but even though she thought of him as Paul, she was careful never to say the name aloud. Now that she had finally gotten control of her subconscious, she didn't want anything rocking the boat.

At her suggestion, Paul had decided to use Universal personnel in the campaign rather than hire an actor or sports figure as spokesperson. It wouldn't be the Fly Me type of thing that showed cute, young flight attendants flirting with the camera. They would use

mechanics, food-service people, ticket-counter personnel—everyone who made Universal the airline it was.

To her surprise, Paul had put Leah in charge of finding just the right people for the commercials. It wasn't a surprise, however, to find that she loved being in charge. Promising candidates were flown in from all over the world so that she could interview them. Out of hundreds, she and Paul had chosen the brightest, the most enthusiastic, the most photogenic.

Then, one evening in early fall, it all came together. All the people involved in the new campaign—people from both Universal and the advertising agency—gathered together in one of Universale largest conference rooms.

The room was packed tight with people, all waiting anxiously for the same thing. The newspaper ads had come out that morning, and the radio spots had run several times during the day. Now they were gathered for the most important part—the airing of the first television commercial.

Leah had seen it before, but test runs at the ad agency weren't the same as the real thing. She could never really judge the quality of a commercial until she knew that millions of other people were watching it at the same time. For some reason, then she could see it through their eyes.

"Quiet!" someone shouted. "Everbody shut up. Ten seconds until it airs."

The low rumble in the room died instantly, and Leah turned with everyone else to watch the televi-

sion mounted high on the wall at the end of the conference table. She saw Paul standing on the other side of the room and took a moment to wonder if he felt as nervous as she did. When their eyes met for an instant, she could detect nothing vulnerable in his stern features. Slowly, he raised a dark eyebrow, and somehow it almost seemed a sign of encouragement.

Turning back to the television, Leah felt every muscle tense as the situation comedy faded to black for a commercial break. Then, as the screen brightened with a vivid scene, she relaxed, and a smile of pure joy dissolved the tension in her features.

Three seconds into the commercial, she knew it was exactly right. It was a quality piece, the tone perfect—it wasn't glamorous, but neither was it ordinary. It sparkled with vitality and excitement. Without actually saying the words, it used bright shots and enthusiastic people to say, "Life is made to enjoy—let Universal Air show you how."

When the commercial faded, the silence exploded with the sound of applause and popping champagne corks. Relief and exhilaration spread across the room in an almost visible wave. People began moving— laughing, patting themselves and others on the back, grabbing glasses filled with sparkling wine. Over and over again they repeated to each other that they had known all along it would be a success.

Leah soon found herself surrounded by a swarm of people, all offering congratulations. More than once she heard herself called a genius, and a couple of times the praise even sounded sincere. If she hadn't pos-

sessed such a stable personality, she might have had trouble keeping her head from floating skyward. But she had been in the business long enough to know that within a week she would be just another advertising executive.

Later, when the noise had built to a deafening level, Charlotte came to stand beside Leah. Or, rather, she came to hide behind her. As shy as she was in the office, it was no wonder that Charlotte was intimidated by the rowdy crowd.

"Have some champagne, Charlotte," Leah urged, reaching behind her to grab a bottle and refill Charlotte's glass. "Loosen up a little."

Charlotte made a face and swallowed a big gulp of the wine. "Are they always so wild?" she asked, her blue eyes darting nervously around the room.

Leah grinned. She had forgotten that this was her secretary's first campaign. "You think this is wild?" Leah said. "Wait a couple of hours until they have a few gallons of champagne under their belts. That's when Leonard Posner takes off his clothes and does the Hustle on the conference table."

Charlotte's plain features paled slightly, but behind her glasses, the blue eyes were just a little intrigued. "Really?" she whispered.

Leah put an arm around the other woman to give her a laughing hug. "You silly baby," she said. "Leonard is most likely hiding in the hall, like he does every year. No one gets more than a little high at these things—or, if they do, it's on excitement, not the champagne. Relax and have a good time... but don't

let anyone pull you into a closet, and take any vows of undying love with a grain of salt. No one will remember a word they've said tomorrow."

"Not only beautiful—brilliant as well."

Both women turned to find Lester Walker standing on the other side of Leah.

"Hello, Les." Leah smiled stiffly at the stocky blond man. She hadn't forgotten the scene in his office, but apparently he had. Or maybe he thought she wouldn't embarrass him in public. It wouldn't be the first time Lester had been mistaken about her.

"I take it you liked the commercial," she said, her expression indifferent.

"As I said—brilliant." He raised his champagne glass in a smiling salute. "There were a couple of minor things I might have changed, but, on the whole, it was brilliant. I can't help wondering what it would have been like if we had combined our talents—brilliance added to brilliance, so to speak." He lowered his gaze to the bare flesh that showed above the white camisole Leah wore under her pale blue silk jacket. "You might keep it in mind for next time."

Leah sighed with exaggerated weariness. "You've been thinking again, Lester," she said regretfully. "You know that always gives you a headache. Oh, look." She gestured with her glass toward the other side of the room. "That redhead from the ad agency is wiggling her hips at you. Better hurry, before she realizes she doesn't have her contacts in."

Leah rolled her eyes as he dived into the crowd, making his way toward the unfortunate redhead.