Waking Up (8 page)

“I have dreams.” His voice, low and intimate, sounded so much like the one he’d used in her dream that her core began to throb.

Ohmigod. This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. She could not stand here and talk to him any longer. Her panties were damp. It was humiliating, the effect he had on her without even trying. The only consolation was that there was no way he could know what she was feeling.

“Don’t you want to know what my dreams are about?”

“No.” She kept her voice crisp and firm as she grabbed the handle of her mug, sloshing some of the brew over the sides.

Ryan shifted behind her, placing his hands on the countertop. His heat surrounded her, enveloped her. She wanted to lean back into his arms and feel his chest against her back. Even though he wasn’t touching her, she knew he was aroused. How she knew this, she didn’t know. Maybe it was the tension emanating from his body. Or maybe it was the heat rolling off his skin. It didn’t really matter. All she knew was he wanted her.

Her own body was jumping. Her nipples tightened, her breasts felt full and heavy. It took all her willpower not to let her head fall forward. She could almost feel the brush of his lips against her nape just as she had in her dream. Her sex clenched hard with need, sending a fresh trickle of cream to coat her panties.

“Esther.” His voice was ragged with need.

She shook her head, refusing to answer him.

“I dream about you. About us.” Not one part of their bodies was touching, but Esther felt as though her flesh was on fire.

“I don’t want to know.” It was cowardly, but she released her hold on her mug and placed her hands over her ears.

His fingers wrapped around her wrists, tugging her hands away. “You have to listen, Esther. We need to talk.” She could hear the urgency in his voice and it frightened her.

She knew Ryan would never hurt her, not physically. But she knew in her soul that he could shatter the fragile barrier around her heart and lay her bare. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

Her family history was riddled with relationships that ended tragically due to fire. Her mother had given her heart to her father, her ancestor had given her heart to James, and what had that gotten either of them?

Pain and heartache.

Marshalling her defenses, she turned and faced him. His large body loomed over hers, almost protectively, as though he wanted to make sure that no one or nothing ever hurt her. That was ironic since he was a bigger threat to her than anything else. “Ryan,” she began, not quite sure what she wanted to say.

He laid a finger over her mouth. “Shh. Don’t be afraid.” He smoothed his finger over her upper lip before skimming it over her lower one.

She felt that tiny touch deep in her core. Her lips tingled and she longed to lick them, to see if she could taste him on them. “Ryan,” she began again.

He didn’t say a word, but he shifted closer. His golden-brown eyes watched her carefully as he leaned toward her. He filled her vision, blocking out all else. She knew he was going to kiss her and she was powerless to stop it. She had to know what it would feel like.

Big mistake.

The moment his mouth touched hers, she was lost. Her eyelids flitted down, closing out the world around her. Nothing else existed but Ryan’s lips against hers. They were firm and warm as he skimmed them back and forth, demanding nothing.

Curiously, it was his lack of demand that made her want to give him more. She parted her lips in invitation. His tongue barely skimmed the inside of her mouth before retreating. Esther made a sound of distress deep in her throat. She clutched the front of his shirt for support, fisting it in her fingers.

Brazenly, she snaked her tongue out, invading the deep cavern of his mouth. He tasted of coffee, strong and rich. She usually didn’t like the taste of coffee, but mixed with his unique flavor it was better than any aphrodisiac. She heard herself whimper slightly as she tasted him again and again.

His hands smoothed down her back, landing at her waist, supporting her as they kissed. He groaned and tilted his head to one side, deepening the contact between them. She could feel the stubble on his jaw abrading her cheek. The roughness emphasized the differences between them, the distinctions between a man and a woman. Esther found the contact extremely arousing. She longed to rub her swollen nipples against his chest, but restrained herself. Barely.

She no longer felt like herself. Where was the sensible woman who avoided emotional entanglements? She thought about pulling away, but just then Ryan’s tongue surged into her mouth, laying claim to it. Her breath caught as he consumed her with his kiss, tasting her, exploring her.

His touch, his kiss, were so familiar. Like an elusive dream she couldn’t quite touch.

Dreams
.

Esther jerked away. Panting for air, she desperately tried to recover from the devastating kiss. What in heaven’s name was she doing? This was no dream. She was at work and she was kissing Ryan Jamieson, the one man she needed to stay away from.

They stared at one another for what seemed like forever, but what she knew in reality was probably a matter of seconds. “That can’t happen again.” Her voice was rough with emotion.

“Yes, it can and it will.” There was a stubborn expression on Ryan’s face she’d never seen before and it boded ill for her peace of mind.

“No. It can’t.” This was as much her fault as his. She’d been a willing participant here, just because she’d had to know what he tasted like, what he felt like. Well, she sure as heck knew now, and she had a dreaded feeling that this knowledge would haunt her dreams for a long time to come.

“Esther,” he began and then broke off. He raked his fingers through his thick brown hair and took a deep breath.

She sensed his frustration, but there was nothing she could do about it. Correction. Nothing she was willing to do about it.

“Let me take you to dinner. Just to talk.” Ryan might honestly believe that, but she knew better. The two of them together were like putting a match to gasoline—explosive. If they had dinner things would go much further than simply talking.

“I can’t.” She bit her lip to keep from blurting out an acceptance. Never had she been so tempted to give in, to accept a date from a firefighter, and many of the single ones, both in Burnt Cove and back home in Baltimore, had asked at one time or another. Ryan was the only man she’d ever met who threatened all her defenses and good intentions.

“You can,” he countered. He wasn’t touching her, but she could feel his eyes on her like a physical caress.

She can’t fight her way out of a paper bag—but she might just talk him out of his heart.

Leap of Faith

© 2008 Arianna Hart

Dr. Jane Farmer, a marriage and family therapist and the host of a public radio station talk show, likes her life calm, controlled and on schedule.
 

But after she accepts a package for her mysterious neighbor, Lex D’Angelo, her well-ordered life goes out the window. Now she’s on the run from gun-toting goons and putting herself in situations her lady-like upbringing never prepared her for.

Former FBI agent Lex D’Angelo can’t believe he’s stuck on a mission with his uptight neighbor. How is he going to solve a case that killed one of his former lovers when he has to rely on a psychologist? What’s she going to do—talk the gun out of the bad guy’s hands?

But as the situation gets more dangerous, Jane shows strength he never expected. Now Lex isn’t so sure that she isn’t the right woman for the job—and his heart.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Leap of Faith:

“Would you slow down? I’m going to fall if you keep pushing me like that.”

“Then move faster.”

She practically ran through the shoe department to a door marked “Employees Only.”

“We can’t go in here. It says employees only.”

“So arrest me. We need to get out of here without our buddies in the Caddy seeing us. It won’t be long before they get sick of waiting and come into the store, if they haven’t already.”

Lex led her to a garage door that was partially open. Gas fumes and cigarette smoke lingered in the air.

“Wait here while I make sure they don’t have someone covering the back door. If you hear shots, run like hell and scream your head off. They won’t try anything with this many witnesses.”

Gunshots? Again?

Dropping his pile of purchases, Lex pressed her behind a forklift and slipped out the door. A shiver danced down her spine and she clutched the packages closer to her chest.

What on earth was happening to her?

Her heart raced and sweat dripped down her face as she imagined a million catastrophes. What if he left her here? What if he got shot? Worse, what if she got shot? What if right this very second someone was coming to get her?

A whimper tried to claw its way out of her throat but she bit it back. How long had he been gone? She strained her ears to pick up any little noise but all she heard was the rushing of traffic in the distance.

Her knees almost buckled when a car pulled up to the docking bay. Lex burst out of the front seat and charged toward her.

“Move it, Janey. I knocked one of the guys out but he could come to any second. The other one is in the store right now.”

Her head still spinning from fear, Jane ran as fast as she could in flip-flops over the dew-covered pavement. Lex had already thrown his bundles in the back seat and motioned for her to hurry up.

“C’mon! Get in.”

A pebble jabbed the arch of her foot through the thin rubber but she ignored it as she practically fell into the front seat of the huge car.

She wasn’t even buckled when Lex put the car in gear and crept out of the driveway.

“Keep down.” He pushed her head next to his thigh, crushing the bags she still held to her chest.

“Are they after us?”

“Not yet. When we didn’t come out the front door, the big guy went into the store. I waited until he was in before I got you. If luck is on our side for once he won’t find his missing partner right away and that’ll buy us some time.”

“So can I sit up?”

“Not yet. They’ll be looking for a blonde so I want to keep your head out of sight as long as possible.”

“This is vastly uncomfortable.” The seatbelt cut into her stomach and her face was pressed just inches from his jean-clad leg. She could smell the musky odor of sweat and man and it did strange things to her insides.

“Not as uncomfortable as a bullet in the head.”

Good point. She wiggled around to try to find a better position. Her face brushed against his thigh and he let out a groan.

“Could you please keep still?”

“I’m sorry. I’m doing the best I can. I’ve never had to lie across the front seat of a car before.”

“What a shock.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She tried to lift her head up to get a better look at him but he pushed her head back down.

“Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”

He was laughing at her. She could hear it in his voice. “Just because I don’t run from gun-wielding lunatics on a regular basis is no reason to make fun of me, you brute. I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances.”

“I’m not making fun of you. Really.”

“It sure sounds like you are.”

A gust of air ruffled her hair as he sighed. “When you were a teenager, did you fool around in your boyfriend’s car?”

“Of course not!” Her mother would have killed her. Ladies didn’t “fool around” at all, but most especially not in a car. Not that Jane wouldn’t have been willing to try it at least once if she’d had the opportunity. Unfortunately, her dates in high school were limited to chaperoned events orchestrated by her mother.

“I didn’t think so.”

“What does my youthful experience,” or lack thereof, “have to do with being squashed against the seat?”

“Lady, you don’t want to go there. Trust me.”

“Right. Like I’d trust you about anything.”

“Whaddya mean by that crack?”

“You have to admit, you’re not the most upstanding of citizens.”

“What’re you talking about? I was a freaking FBI agent!”

“You run away from the police, you carry a gun, and you have a penchant for, ah, playing the field.” Her face flamed in embarrassment, but she didn’t back down. If he was going to mock her for her lack of experience, she could comment on his plethora of it.

“My what?”

“The revolving door on your bedroom.”

“You’re crazy. I’m not a player.”

“Oh pul-lease. If you had any more women parading through your condo you’d have to install one of those ‘take a number’ machines like at the deli. You are most definitely a player.” Whatever that was.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve had relationships with all the women who’ve ‘paraded’ through my room. Jesus, it’s not even like there’s been that many. I’m not home enough to be a player.”

“It’s none of my business how you choose to live your life.” Oh Lord, could they please just drop this subject? She should have kept her mouth shut. This was only slightly humiliating.