Remember the Dreams (3 page)

"There's an extra house key on your dresser," he said, completely ignoring her question. "I'll be at the Chicago Hilton if you need to reach me for anything."

Seconds later, he was gone.

Toni stood staring blankly at the carved oak doors, his strangely spoken words echoing in her ears. But I don't think you ever had any idea of how far you'd gone.

Years ago she would have spent hours dwelling on his mysterious comment. But now, she gave it no further thought. She'd spent enough time trying to figure him out five years ago to know that she'd never understand what motivated him.

He'd been married once. But the circumstances surrounding his divorce were known only to Kyle and his never-mentioned ex-wife. He'd once told Toni that marriage demanded something he could never give, and the cold finality in his voice had abruptly ended any further discussion on the subject.

She had always wondered if that was why he seemed to hold a part of himself back—the part that made him unattainable by the women in his life.

Toni did understand one thing about him though. Kyle loved a challenge. Any challenge. Whether it was a way to play the stock market, beating an opponent at tennis, or a woman. Once he had won, he immediately became bored with his trophy and moved on to something else. It was almost as if he were- trying to prove something to himself—that he could have whatever he wanted. Toni had never known him to lose. It hadn't been until she'd been away from Kyle for over a year that she'd realized how wrong he would have been for her—even if he had been interested. Whatever it was that drove him, nurtured that streak of ruthlessness, also made him scoff at the very things she wanted most.

Toni was still very much a romantic, though a practiced veneer of sophistication covered it. A closet romantic since she had learned how people laugh at such idealistic attitudes. But she still harbored the dream that someday she would fall in love with someone, marry and bear his children. The career that came first now would willingly be given second place. Right now though, that career was al^,she had.

Undoubtedly Kyle would still laugh at her old-fashioned ideas. People can't change then-basic beliefs any more easily than a leopard can change its spots. Kyle seemed to have softened a little, but he couldn't possibly have changed that much. Not that it mattered. Despite their differences, he was and always would be her friend. A very special friend.

Toni was certain that, this time, she was in no danger of falling in love with him. She didn't bother to wonder why it was so necessary to reassure herself of that.

T
he last thing Toni expected when she returned to Kyle's house Friday night, was to see him sitting on the front steps. An irritated scowl creased his darkly attractive features, and as he glanced up at her he looked anything but pleased.

"Forget your key?" she asked, her heels tapping on the flagstone walkway as she approached. Holding her key out to him, she slowly lowered her hand. One of the double doors behind him was slightly ajar.

Her eyebrows lowered sharply as she glanced back to where he was sitting. Judging from the half-empty wineglass he was holding and the casual denims and pullover he was wearing, it was obvious that he'd been home for a while. Whatever it was that was causing him to look so disgruntled wasn't that he'd locked himself out.

"No, I didn't forget my key," he replied dryly. Averting his glance from her puzzled expression, he pulled himself to his feet. When he looked back down at her there was the faintest trace of a smile in his narrowed eyes. "I was beginning to think that you'd forgotten something though. I asked you to keep tonight open for me. Remember?"

Oh, she remembered! But she had managed to convince herself that it was the pile of work on her desk—and not because she was a little nervous about seeing Kyle again—that had kept her at the office past seven o'clock.

It was apparent that he was trying to shake his dark mood, but Toni could still sense his tension. The way the hard line of his jaw was working was a dead giveaway.

Toni knew that she'd be giving herself far too much credit to think that he was upset because she was late. She knew better. Never had she known Kyle to get upset about anything except what mattered to him. And all that really mattered to Kyle Donovan was work.

Smiling up at htm, a flicker of understanding in her bright blue eyes, she shook her neatly coiffed head. "I can still read you like a book, Donovan." He glared down at her and her smile broadened. "I'm sure that the prospect of being stood up by your roommate isn't the reason you were sitting here looking like you were ready to kill. Do you want to tell me what went wrong in Chicago out here? Or"—glancing down at her tailored black suit, she tugged at the bow on her white blouse—"can I get comfortable first?"

His expression was only slightly less forbidding when he took her briefcase and motioned her inside. "Get comfortable," he said, stepping back to let her pass. "Then you can help me finish getting dinner ready."

Toni gave him a curt little nod and headed toward her room. The edge in his voice made her a little uneasy. Maybe he was irritated with her.

Immediately dismissing that idea, she quickly changed into a pair of slacks and a black oxford shirt. She'd never known Kyle to be on time for anything, unless it involved business, so he couldn't possibly be angry with her for being a couple of hours late. It wasn't that she was late anyway. He hadn't even told her what time he'd be home.

"Ok," she began the second she entered the kitchen. "What happened in Chicago?"

Expecting to hear some disaster that had befallen his seminar, she crossed her arms and tilted her head thoughtfully. The skylights in the kitchen ceiling were dark now, but the bright overhead lights made her smoothly coiled hair look almost white.

"What makes you think something happened there?" Turning, he handed her a glass of wine.

His guileless expression held absolutely no trace of a frown, and he regarded her steadily. If she hadn't seen it herself, she wouldn't have believed that the man grinning at her now was the same one she'd met on the porch only minutes ago.

Genuinely perplexed by his sudden change, she reached for the goblet and studied him warily. "I guess I just thought that something must have happened at the seminar for you to be acting so . . ."

"So . . . what?" he prodded when she didn't continue.

Lifting her slender shoulders in a shrug, she turned away. "Never mind," she muttered, raising the glass to her lips. He obviously didn't want to discuss whatever it was, and she wasn't about to pry. Maybe it had something to do with that "little situation" he'd mentioned the other night. If that was the case, she was pretty sure she'd hear about it sooner or later.

Looking around the spacious kitchen, cryptically noting the array of electrical gadgets occupying the beige tiled counters—a food processor, blender, coffeepot, knife sharpener, toaster— she glanced back toward him. "Plug me in and tell me what you want me to do."

Having seen the path her inspection had taken, he mumbled, "Cute," and nodded toward the salad sitting in a wooden bowl next to the sink. "Toss it," he instructed as he liberally seasoned two thick steaks.

Her task took all of fifteen seconds. Taking another sip of wine, she leaned against the counter to watch him. She was careful to note only how easily he moved about the kitchen, and pointedly ignored the way his fiat knit sweater molded the muscular contours of his broad back. Each movement caused those muscles to flex and smooth, and she refused to think about how solid they must feel. Her throat felt a little dry, but she told herself that it had nothing to do with the fact that her eyes were now glued to the soft fabric clinging to his lean hips, or that he had just turned around and she was staring at his zipper.

Mercifully, he didn't notice the path her eyes had taken this time.

"So," he said, shoving the steaks under the broiler. "What did you do all week?"

Her throat didn't feel dry. It was positively parched. A gulp of wine was in order. "Well," she began, with a hasty cough. "You know that the market was up, so things have ..."

"Not at the office," he interrupted, taking the goblet she was clutching a little too tightly and handing her two pottery plates. "Put these on the table. I meant other than that. I can imagine what your days are like."

She sat the plates on the oak and glass table on the far side of the kitchen. "Unfortunately, the nights are about the same." Returning to the silverware drawer, she handed him the knives and forks. "Put these on the table," she smiled sweetly, handing him the utensils. "But I did go to a show Wednesday night."

She started to tell him what movie she'd seen, but he cut in too quickly.

"Who with?"

"One of our investors."

His thick eyebrows arched slightly. "I've never taken a client to a show to get business before, but whatever tactic works ..." His sentence was completed with an absent shrug.

"It wasn't business."

Kyle seemed to be taking more time than was necessary positioning the silverware around the plates. "Someone you've been seeing much of?"

"That was the first time I went out with him," she returned, realizing how silly the fears that had plagued her all afternoon had been. There was no reason to be nervous with Kyle. She actually felt more comfortable with him now than she had five years ago. "But he's taking me to dinner tomorrow night," she added, watching Kyle reposition the forks.

The fork hit the floor and Kyle returned to get another.

"Sounds like you're interested in the guy." Kyle's tone was bland, but he wasn't looking at her. And the muscle in his jaw looked like it was going to start twitching again. "Think it could be anything serious?"

Hardly, she thought to herself. Dr. Greg Nichols was certainly nice enough, but he was more interested in free investment advice than anything else. She had thought his good-night kiss awfully . . . clinical. "After only one movie . . ." She glanced over at the oven. There was a fair amount of smoke curling over the door. "... It's way too soon to tell. I think your steaks are burning."

Kyle reached the oven in four long strides. The sound of its door crashing down muffled his terse "Damn!"

"I like mine rare," she taunted, careful to keep the smile from her face.

Casting her a quelling glare, he flipped the meat over with his fingers. The way he jerked his hand back after turning each steak was a pretty good indication of how hot they were. "You'll take it the way you get it," he grumbled.

Toni wasn't all that convinced that something hadn't gone wrong in Chicago, or that his "little situation" wasn't getting to be something more than he could handle. That had to be the reason he still seemed so irritable. Though she felt some sympathy for him—quite a bit actually— there was something about seeing Kyle in less than total control that was a little amusing. It made him seem so much more human, and less the idol he had once been.

Her facial muscles were flinching with a smile that didn't want to be suppressed. Putting her hand to her forehead, she looked down at the floor and tried to keep the. laughter from her voice. "You know, Kyle, if you'd use a fork ..."

"I wouldn't get burned." He completed the sentence sharply. He barely glanced at her as he pushed the pan back under the broiler. "Just because a person knows how to prevent something doesn't necessarily mean that he has the good sense to do it."

"My," she teased, ignoring the urge to push back the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead, "that's an awfully profound statement for something as inconsequential as how to turn a steak."

It occurred to her then, as she watched the strong cords in his neck tense in agitation, that maybe he was talking about something else entirely.

"There's nothing particularly profound about stating the obvious." He didn't sound nearly as curt as he had a moment before, and the tiny lines etched around his eyes deepened with his smile. "And it's also obvious that we can't cook and talk at the same time. Why don't you put the wine on the table and I'll bring these in a minute."

Their conversation resumed as soon as dinner was on their plates in relative safety.

"What kept you so late tonight?" Kyle asked, absently reaching for the pepper.

It wouldn't do to say "nerves," so she just mumbled, "Work," and took another bite of her salad.

"Aren't things slacking up yet?"

"You said you didn't want to hear about it," she reminded him mockingly.

"Maybe I changed my mind."

"Well," she drawled, returning his grin, "if that's the case . . ."

It took no further prodding for Toni to begin an animated replay of everything that had happened during the week. The office had been in near chaos when she'd taken over, but things were finally taking shape. Though she'd had a few problems with one of the account managers who was refusing to pull his weight, matters were now moving quite smoothly. She loved her work and the pleasure she took in it was quite evident. More than that was apparent to Kyle though. Kyle never approached a situation without weighing all the possible consequences. At least he hadn't until now. This morning he'd temporarily abandoned that philosophy.

Without allowing himself to question his reasons, he'd cut out on his last meeting and caught the earliest flight he could get back to Seattle. All he knew was that he wanted to see Toni, and when she hadn't shown up until almost eight o'clock, he'd been furious. Not with her. With himself. Toni had always represented the type of woman he never got involved with, but his compulsion to see her, to be with her, had obscured all rationality.

Sitting on the front steps for over two hours had helped restore the logic that had eluded him earlier. They were just friends. Nothing more.

And he'd make darn sure things stayed that way.

Thank God she'd thought that he was upset over the seminar. If she'd had any idea of the crazy thoughts that had been tormenting him all week, she'd probably tip that proud little chin up and call him a pervert. It was obvious enough that she still thought of him as something of an older brother.

For the life of him he wished he could feel that same nonthreatening attachment to her. But the woman sitting across from him now seemed so different from the one he'd remembered. She still teased him like she used to, but all resemblance to that malleable young woman stopped there.

He'd never really noticed her voice before, how sultry it sounded. Enjoying the sound of it, enjoying watching her, he didn't even realize how intense his gaze had become.

He could have been eating filet mignon or sauteed cardboard for all the attention he was paying to his food. He was too busy savoring the grace of her hands as they punctuated a thought, the tilt of her head when she appeared thoughtful, the way her captivating blue eyes narrowed when she homed in on some obscure nuance of a transaction. Her eyes weren't really blue at all. They were aquamarine. Had he ever really noticed the jewellike flecks of green in them before?

His eyes moved slowly over her face and up to the silken coil of her hair. He tried to remember how she used to wear it, but couldn't. All he recalled was that it had been short. Collar length maybe? Now he wondered if those long tresses, caught up so chastely in that thick roll, were as soft as they looked. What would she do if he asked her to take it down?

He smiled to himself, imagining her reaction to such a request, and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.

But all Kyle could think about was that Antoinette Collins had turned into one very intelligent, incredibly sexy woman.

He'd never even met the guy she was going out with tomorrow night, but he was dead certain that he wasn't going to like him.

". . . and I think you would have done the same thing," Toni concluded, tossing her napkin onto her empty plate.

"I'm sure I would have," Kyle said, not even knowing what he was agreeing with. God, but she's got a beautiful mouth, he thought, knowing that if he didn't stop staring at it, he'd only succeed in resurrecting everything he was trying so hard not to think about. But the thought of those soft lips moving beneath his, caressing him the way he wanted to caress her, was causing problems with more than his concentration. "Let's go for a swim."