Dreaming Of You (9 page)

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Authors: Marie Higgins

BOOK: Dreaming Of You
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“Unfortunately, yes,” she answered, “but the piece of junk usually starts back up when it dies.”

“Haven’t you heard of Murphy’s Law? A car will always break down in a rainstorm.”

She laughed. “Very true.”

He did a U-turn and parked his truck in front of her jeep, then reached underneath his seat and grabbed a flashlight. He hopped out and shut the door. Bundled in her drenched coat, she admired his lithe movements as he hurried around to the front of her jeep, bent over the side, and peeked under the hood. The fierce rain pelted him, but he withstood the onslaught like a true knight. Content to stare, she relaxed as the heat from the inside of the truck slowly warmed her.

Wind whipped her hair against her face as she ran through the forest. Her long, silk ball gown slapped against her legs, slowing her down. Her shoes did naught to make her trek any faster. Instead, she slipped on the mud but fortunately, did not fall.

She’d fled the gathering her family had been attending. Lady Worthington’s ball had been a success until Sir Rein Drops arrived. That nobleman had pestered her endlessly, and when he finally got a chance to dance with her—and she’d like to throttle the man who allowed Sir Rein to take his place—he did nothing but make improper suggestions about taking her out back and having his wicked way with her.

After the dance, she’d brushed him off without another thought until stepping out on the back steps for a breath of fresh air. That’s when Sir Rein confronted her and nearly dragged her behind the tall hedges. He forced his slobbery kisses on her until she was able to punch him in the chest and bite his lip.

He yelped and stumbled back. She ran as if her life depended on it, because she feared it did. She should have gone back toward the house, but Sir Rein blocked her pathway to the doors. Now she prayed someone would come to her rescue. An image of a knight in shining armor formed in her mind. Silly dreams, since she was in an unfamiliar forest running for her life.

Sir Rein’s footsteps pounded on the wet earth, and from the sounds of his grumbles, he grew closer. At times it sounded like thunder.

She slipped and fell to her knees. Sobbing, she quickly stood, but her tender knees had been bruised, and it hurt to run. Still, she must forge onward and not glance back at him to see how close he was.

Ahead of her, a clearing came into view. Dread sank in her chest. At least in the forest, the trees would hide her, but in the clearing, what would help her?

The minute she reached the edge, a movement from the damp meadow caught her eye. A man riding on a white horse came toward her. His white shirt billowed in the wind, and his shoulder-length hair flapped through the air as if the wind’s fingers ran gently through his locks.

The stranger’s gaze moved from her to Sir Rein whom she suspected was close behind her. The man on horseback urged his mount faster and reached her side in time.

“My lady, take my hand,” the stranger called.

Without another thought, she reached out and grabbed his hand. He tugged on her with superb strength and lifted her onto his lap mere seconds before Sir Rein Drops could douse her with his annoying, and most assuredly, demanding presence.

Sir Rein glared at the man who had wrapped his protective arms around her waist. “Lord Shane Knight. I must say, I’m surprised to see you.”

Her Knight! She sighed in awe and looked at the man’s face. Dreamy eyes illuminated smoldering heat, warming her soaked limbs completely. So he wasn’t in shining armor, but perhaps the Lord had heard her prayer and sent her the knight she’d dreamed about.

The slamming of the jeep’s hood brought Katelyn out of her daydream. Shane hurried back to the driver’s door and climbed inside his truck next to her.

“Well,” he said as he removed his wet jacket. “I have good news and bad news.” He wadded up the garment and tossed it in the back seat along with the flashlight. He looked at her. “Which do you want first?”

She shook her head, trying to clear away the dream that still seemed so fresh on her mind. It would be extremely hard not to think of Shane as her knight now. “Good news, I suppose.”

“Your jeep has seen better days.”

She laughed.

“No, seriously,” he continued, “I think you’d better start thinking of a funeral plan. That engine is beyond saving.”

She nodded. “I was afraid of that. So then what’s the bad news?”

“Bad news is you’ll have to spend the next little while with me while we wait for a tow truck.” He winked.

Shane shifted on the seat, bending his right leg on the space very close to her. Yes, this was certainly bad news because how could Katelyn sit so close to the man who radiated such masculinity and not think about when she’d been in college and dreamed of him constantly?

She swallowed hard, keeping her secret fantasies buried deep within. It was important to remember his rudeness when they met in the grocery store. He was not the man she’d wanted him to be. He was definitely not anything like the knight in her daydream or the heroes in her books.

He reached across her. His elbow brushed against her coat as he opened the glove compartment and pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call someone and have them come get your jeep.”

“Okay,” her voice squeaked.

As he talked on the phone, she watched his lips form each word with such caliber, she wondered if he’d taken speech classes in college just to make it look so good. Then the thought came to her—what would those lips feel like against hers in a tender kiss?

The daydream she had only minutes before returned, and the overwhelming feeling of awe swept over her. She shouldn’t allow it to soften her heart, but it had.

He clicked his cell off and put it back in the glove compartment. When his arm brushed by her again, her heart flipped uncontrollably. Her dreams of the past were coming forth, and she shook herself out of the trance and sat straight on the seat.

Being in such close quarters was definitely bad news. A shiver passed through her, and she circled her arms around her waist.

“You’re probably drenched.” He knelt on the seat and searched the back seat for something. He turned and faced her, holding one of his sweaters. “Here, take off that wet coat and put this on.”

She nodded and with her shaky hands, tried to remove her coat. He leaned toward her, pulling it away from her body before tossing it in the backseat beside his coat. She refolded her arms and realized her shirt was damp, too.

“Looks like you’ll have to take your shirt off.”

Her eyes widened and flew to his. Heat consumed her face. “I can’t do that. I’m not—nor will I ever be—that kind of girl. I have high standards, whether you want to believe it or not.”

“Whoa, slow down a little, Katelyn.” He held up his hands in surrender. “All I’m saying is that you need to remove your wet shirt and replace it with my dry sweater to help warm you up better.” He chuckled. “I won’t look, I promise.” On his word, he turned his attention out the driver’s side window.

She felt a little embarrassed for jumping to conclusions, but what else was she supposed to think? Well, she might as well change shirts. Freezing to death or catching pneumonia was not an option.

Awkwardly, she unbuttoned her shirt as she kept his sweater pressed to her chest.

“So, Katelyn,” he asked, still looking out the window. “Believe it or not, I could tell after meeting you on the running track, that you are very religious.”

“Uh…thank you.”

“I admire your faith in God…and that you want to live a good life.”

“I do, thank you for seeing that.”

She slipped his dry garment over her head before removing her shirt completely. His masculine scent of spice surrounded her, creating butterflies in her stomach.
This was definitely bad news.

“In a way, I envy you.” His tone was much softer than before.

“What do you mean by that?” she wondered.

“It means I lost my faith in God along my path to self-discovery.”

“Why?”

“I wish I knew,” he said softly.

Once she got her clothes in place, she cleared her throat. “Okay, I’m done.”

He faced her and smiled. Taking her wet shirt, he turned and placed it in the backseat with the other wet clothes. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

She refused to explain just how bad it really was. Now it was very important to remain calm, and to tell her irregular heartbeat to slow down before something awful happened.

He relaxed on the seat. “Now all we have to do is wait.”

“Yes…well, I do appreciate your help. You’re very kind to do this for me.”

“Couldn’t exactly leave you stranded in a rainstorm, could I?”

She smiled. “Yes, you could. Especially after the mean things I said to you the last time we talked.”

“You were just reacting to my bad attitude.” He chuckled. “What kind of person accuses another of stalking?”

She enjoyed the sound of his laughter. “Our meetings lately have been rather strange, haven’t they? Even I must admit it looks as if I’m stalking you, but I promise I’m not.”

He nodded. “I realize that now, and I’m sorry for saying what I did at the store. I’d been in a bad mood that day and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Understandable. I’ve had several bad days, too.”

“I mean,” he continued, “I still don’t know that much about you, but I know you’re not the stalking
kind of woman.”

She creased her brows in confusion. “And what kind of woman might that be?”

He shrugged. “You know—” He paused as his gaze slid over her wet hair, damp face, down to the overly large sweater that hung on her. “From what I can tell, you’re not exactly the kind of woman who chases after men.”

Although he’d hit the nail on the head, his observation was as painful as a dull, rusted knife twisting in her gut. She scowled. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m not trying to be rude.” He stretched his right arm across the back of the seat, his hand lying very close to her wet head. “But you don’t strike me as a woman who belongs in this century.”

“Are you saying I’m too plain?”

He sighed heavily and frowned. “No, I’m just saying you don’t look easy—like the type of woman who is outgoing and flirtatious. The type of women I usually meet, anyway.”

“I just got through telling you I’m a woman who lives my religion.”

“Yes, I know, but I’ve also dated a few religious women in my day, and you’re still very different.”

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Hunter, that although I’m not easy like most women I have chased my share of men.” Her lips thinned in irritation. Even though she’d only really chased after a couple of guys, she didn’t think junior high counted, especially what Shane was referring to anyway. And to think he had her figured out just from the brief meetings they had.

His brows rose. “Oh yeah?” His voice suddenly laced with sarcasm. “Then where are they? Why is it, Katelyn Palmer, you’re not involved in a relationship now?”

“How do you know I’m not?”

“Because you have never spoken of another man, plus every time I have seen you, you’ve been alone.”

“That’s…that’s really none of your business.”

The side of his mouth lifted in a grin, and she found it remarkably adorable.

“It’s rather fascinating,” he began, “that you, a romance writer, would be completely totally different from the heroines in your books. How is it that you write so well about romance, yet can’t handle your own love life?”

“That comment is way out of line.” She folded her arms and glared at him. “You know nothing about my life.”

He shrugged again. “No, but I’m guessing you live like a hermit.”

“Oh,” she gasped. “How dare you insinuate—”

“In fact,” he continued, “I’m willing to bet you’ve only been out on a couple of dates in your life and they were only blind dates.”

Her cheeks flamed again. “This conversation is over.”

“And,” he said, ignoring her request, “I’m willing to bet you’ve never experienced any of those feelings you write about in your books.”

Huffing, she turned and faced him, leaning forward slightly as her hands braced the seat. “Not like it’s any of your business, but yes, I’ve had those feelings before. I can’t write about what I haven’t felt.”

That self-assured grin remained on his mouth. “Okay, then I’ll rephrase it. I bet you’ve never been kissed by a man while in a passionate embrace.” He wagged his eyebrows. “Answer me truthfully, Katelyn, have you ever been kissed that way?”

Her eyes widened at his shocking comment. Humiliation washed over her. It really wasn’t any of his business. At the same time, she felt the need to defend her character as a romance writer. “As a matter of fact—”

“How long ago, Katelyn?” he interrupted, scooting closer. “One month? One year? Five, six, seven, or more years, perhaps?”

She sucked in a quick breath. Did he remember her from college? Why else would he say this? True, she was like this in college, but now she was different. Or was she? 

He leaned forward until his warm, minty breath fanned her face. “Has a man ever held you so close you hear his heart beating? Have you ever felt your pulse flutter so rapidly it makes you breathless? And have you ever melted in a man’s arms while he kissed you passionately?”

She swallowed the knot that lodged in her throat. Her mouth turned dry, her heart hammered a different kind of rhythm. She wanted to tell him those flutters he’d talked about where happening to her now, but she didn’t dare. “It’s none of your business,” she said softly.

“Katelyn, be honest with me.” He moved even closer. “Come on, tell me the truth,” he whispered roughly.

She shook her head, not wanting him to know anything about her life. Pulling back, she turned to move, but his arms snaked around her and gathered her close. The heat from his body sent a strange panic coursing through her nerves and she inwardly shook; yet she really wasn’t frightened. How could she be when she’d yearned for his touch all these years?

“You’re not leaving this time, sweetie.”

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