The Girl of His Dreams Read online

  “I don’t do snits.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t, Patrick. You are the most even-tempered, perfect-—” She glanced at the screen. “Oh, look.”

  A commercial came on for a popular children’s shampoo. A beautiful young mother sat with her daughter, and they were watching “The Sally McGuire Show.” The show went into a commercial, and it showed the triplets talking about how much better their hair was since they’d started using the new brand.

  “Commercials, too?”

  She nodded glumly. “I’d wondered why we were getting residual checks. Now I know. They’re using part of an old commercial in the new one.”

  “Did you three work all the time?”

  She shifted toward him, resting one knee on the sofa and sitting on her foot. “Sometimes it felt like that. Mom put us in commercials when we were babies. Because we were perfectly identical, we could be interchanged at will, thereby allowing the commercials to be shot faster. There are restrictions when working with children. We had a few parts in some forgettable movies, then the series started when we were eight.” Her green eyes darkened with emotion.

  “You don’t like that part of your life, do you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “We just wanted to be normal kids. When we weren’t working, we went to this upscale private school. But we weren’t ever there long enough to make friends. So it was just the three of us. At least we had each other. I feel sorry for the kids who have to go through that alone.”

  He tried to imagine her childhood, but it was completely foreign to him. Over the years she’d told him bits and pieces, but this was the first time he’d heard the whole story. “Did you explain to your parents that you were unhappy?”

  She shrugged. “We were too scared. We knew what would happen. Then I was in that bad car accident just before our twelfth birthday. I was in the hospital for weeks, then in rehab for almost a year. Fallon and Elissa refused to continue the show without me. No triplets, no Sally McGuire. They talked about bringing another character in, but some viewer polls showed that the audience wouldn’t accept that. There was a movie of the week in the fail after my accident. Elissa and Fallon handled the part alone. Sally and her friends were all adopted, and the orphanage closed down. Everybody was happy.”

  He knew her well enough to figure out there was more to the story. “Including your parents?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, let’s say they would have preferred a different ending. They were furious at my sisters, but there was nothing they could do.” She leaned her shoulder against the back of the sofa. “My parents ended up fighting so much, they got a divorce. Then it really got ugly.”

  He touched the back of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me any more of this.”

  “I don’t mind.” She squeezed his fingers, but didn’t meet his gaze. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but I guess I never told you details because I was embarrassed.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know. I was never a big star or anything, but people get weird when they find out about the show.”

  “Why would that matter?”

  She glanced at him. “I know it wouldn’t now, but when I first met you, well, I was afraid you would think I didn’t really need the job. Then, after I’d kept the secret for a while, there didn’t seem to be a good time to tell you. Are you mad?”

  Their fingers entwined. “No, Kayla, I’m not mad. I understand it must have been difficult for you. What happened after the divorce?”

  “My parents were very bitter about the money,” she said. “The judge was afraid they would spend it all, so she set up a trust for us. We were allowed to withdraw funds for college tuition and board. Nothing else until we turned twenty-five. Then it’s released to us. In college, we all had to work part-time to pay for books, gas for the car, spending money, that sort of thing. So I did need my job with you.”

  Her eyes were huge pools, nearly as clear as emeralds, with a faintly haunted expression tugging at the corners. Lamplight reflected the gold in her hair and made her skin look pale and smooth. Why had he never noticed that she was so much more than pretty?

  “At least now your trust fund makes sense,” he said. “Fd always wondered where it came from.”

  “Now you know.”

  “You did the right thing,” he continued. “Look at where you are now. You’re all grown, with a terrific future planned.”

  “Thanks,” she said, smiling shyly before turning her attention back to the screen. The first show had ended, and another one had started. “Oh, my.” She pointed. “This one is awful. Just as filming started, we all came down with chicken pox. And do I mean all of us—every kid on the set. Worse, I recovered first, and I had to do most of the acting.”

  “Why is that so bad?”

  She shuddered. “Because I have so little talent. There’s a very heartfelt speech in this show. I practiced and practiced. It still came out horrible.”

  “I can’t tell the difference when you’re on the screen.”

  “You’re being very kind.”

  She faced front and started to watch the show. Patrick kept his attention on her. They weren’t holding hands anymore, and he missed the connection. The sofa back continued to defeat him.

  Just put your arm around her, a voice in his head ordered. She won’t mind.

  Okay, he knew that was true. She wouldn’t mind. But he wanted more than that. He wanted her to want him. Or at least be thinking about him the same way he was thinking about her. The fact that he didn’t know exactly what he was thinking about her didn’t matter.

  He shifted a couple of times, but couldn’t seem to get in a good position to casually hold her. He swore silently and leaned against the sofa. Enough, he told himself. This was crazy. If he and Kayla were attracted to each other, something would have happened a long time ago. Attraction and passion didn’t suddenly explode in an already established relationship. Obviously, he had to get out more.

  Kayla placed her elbows on her knees and hung her head. “Here it comes. Oh, I don’t think I can watch.”

  The little girl on the screen stood on a narrow bunk in a long dormitory. She clutched a pillow to her midsection. Around her, children sat listening intently.

  “We all want a family,” Sally said earnestly. “And I know in my heart, someday we’re going to find one. I pray for it every night. There’s a mommy and daddy for each of us. Until they come to get us, we still have each other.”

  One of the little girls started to sniff. Kayla moaned. “It gets worse,” she muttered.

  “I’m enjoying it.”

  “Then you’re a sick man.”

  He smiled

  Kayla stared at him, bewildered. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why are you acting weird?”

  “I’m not. I just find it interesting that an independent woman such as yourself is dreaming about being rescued by Prince Charming.”

  “I don’t want to be rescued,” she said. “I want to be swept away. There’s a difference.”

  “And only a prince can accomplish that?”

  “It is a nice touch.” Her voice sounded teasing.

  He wasn’t amused. “He’s got to be close to forty, and a little jaded with life.”

  “I don’t care. It’s not even him, it’s what he represents.” She leaned back against the sofa and sighed. “I’m going to Paris. I’m going to buy wonderful clothes and get my hair cut and speak French. I’m going to sit in sidewalk cafes and be sophisticated.”

  “You can’t buy sophistication.”

  She waved him off. “Don’t interrupt my fantasy. Men are going to find me irresistible. I’m going to write witty letters to all my friends and be perfectly happy.”

  Something dark and unexplained turned over in Patrick’s chest. It wasn’t that he objected to Kayla’s dreams, or even her travel. What he didn’t like was the fact that she planned to lea
ve him behind without a second thought.

  “With Prince Albert—” she glanced at him “—or a Prince Albert-like person, I’m going to see the world. He’ll take me riding and on his yacht. We’ll drink champagne.”

  “I thought that’s what we had been doing,” he growled, nudging the nearly empty bottle with his foot.

  “Patrick, if you’re not going to participate, then at least don’t make fun of me.”

  Confusion filled him. Confusion and annoyance. He couldn’t compete against a prince, or any other perfect man she imagined. He was just the local vet, with dreams of his own, none of which could hold a candle to a castle or a yacht.

  Without stopping to consider the consequences, he turned toward her. Rational thought fled. He reacted to what she’d said, to what he was feeling, and to what he really wanted.

  He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against him. Kayla didn’t resist; she simply stared up at him, her eyes wide, her mouth parted.

  “See if Prince Albert makes you feel like this,” he said.

  Then he kissed her. Really kissed her.

  Kayla was too stunned to react. Patrick hauled her closer, held her in his arms and settled his mouth against hers. She sensed his anger, which she didn’t understand, his confusion, which she shared, and his passion, which tempted her as she’d never been tempted before.

  Of their own accord, her hands rose to his shoulders and rested there. He was solid strength, the only stable part of a world that had started spinning.

  His mouth clung to hers, touching, taunting. She felt the firm pressure and wanted more.

  He read her mind. Even as she thought of him deepening the kiss, he did so. He parted his mouth and brushed her lips with his tongue. She parted for him, anticipation stirring her body into passionate restlessness.

  He invaded slowly, as if he were a petitioner and she sacred ground. He paused to whisper her name, as though it were a prayer.

  From the sleek softness of her inner lip, to her teeth and at last to her tongue. He moved slowly, discovering pleasure points dormant since her birth. He stroked these small sparks into roaring flame that threatened to consume her.

  She slid her hands up his neck to his short hair. Individual strands tickled her palms. She learned the shape of his head, his ears, then cupped his jaw, caressing smooth skin with just the faintest hint of stubble.

  His head tilted, allowing him to move deeper inside her. She met him, alternately blocking progress and leading the way. When she hesitated, he paused, as well, touching her gently, showing her how much better it would be if she allowed him to pleasure her.

  He moved his hands against her. First they traced the length of her back, then her hips. He placed his palm on her knee, warming her, then urged her to move toward him.

  She resisted, not sure what he wanted.

  He broke the kiss and stared at her. Desire darkened his irises to dark blue velvet. His mouth was damp, his skin flushed. She’d forgotten why he’d kissed her in the first place. She had the vague recollection of him trying to prove a point. If he was to ask her at this moment, she would swear that he had won and not care what or how. She only wanted him to kiss her again.

  He brought one of her hands around to his mouth and pressed his tongue against her palm. Heat flared up her arms and settled in her breasts. Hot, bright need filled her with sensations she neither understood nor controlled, yet she wasn’t afraid. Not of Patrick.

  “Come closer,” he whispered against her now damp skin.

  She shifted toward him.

  “Closer.”

  He put his hand on her hip and urged her to straddle him. She hesitated, unsure of herself, if not of him.

  “Please.”

  The single word was more air than sound, yet it touched her soul. She did as he requested, sliding one thigh over his, settling herself on him, their most intimate places only inches apart.

  Her hands once again rested on his shoulders. Because of her position, she sat slightly higher than he. She could see all of him—his face, the breadth of his shoulders, his powerful arms, the way her knees cradled his hips.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair and drew the long strands away from her face. “Cat eyes,” he said. “So beautiful.”

  She ducked her head and flushed, not sure if the blush came from pleasure or from confusion. Questions filled her head. In the name of sanity, she needed to answer them. She needed to stop and think about what they were doing. But she didn’t want to. She wanted this moment to go on forever.

  He raised his head slightly. She met him more than halfway, lowering her mouth to his. This time, he parted, and she was allowed to enter the sacred place. She discovered the texture of his mouth, tasted him, felt the heat, the need that drove them both forward.

  The uncharted course should have frightened her. Perhaps, if she’d allowed herself to think, it would have. But she refused to consider, or weigh what was happening. She only wanted to feel.

  His hands moved slowly from her thighs to her hips to her waist. Fire coiled low, liquid flames stretching toward her breasts, making them swell and tighten. His fingers reached up and stroked the underside of her breasts.

  She froze in place. Even her breath caught in her throat. Waves of pleasure filled her. They were like nothing she’d ever experienced before. A small whimper escaped when she tried to breathe.

  Strong, capable hands slipped higher, taking her curves in their palms, cupping her gently, reverently. She broke the kiss, unable to concentrate on anything but his touch and the feelings he invoked. His fingers swept around, discovering her, moving closer to the taut centers, nearing but not reaching. Ache and fulfillment combined into the sweetest sensation.

  When he moved his hands higher still, she nearly wept in frustration. Then she felt him unfastening the top button of her shirt. Too shy to look or help, she arched her head back and closed her eyes.

  Whispers of cool air licked against her skin. The shirt parted easily, and he pulled it off her shoulders. Without thinking, she relaxed her arms and let the garment slip to the floor.

  He placed his hands on her back and drew her closer. She went to him, her thighs sliding along his until, they touched intimately. Her fingers laced behind his head. She knew what he would do next. Knew and eagerly anticipated. Every part of her tensed, until at last she felt his warm breath, moments before his mouth claimed the valley between her breasts.

  Moist, hot, firm. There weren’t enough words to describe the sensation of his mouth on her skin. He moved a little, licking the full curve, then moved again and settled over her left nipple.

  Through the thin layer of her bra, he teased her. Teeth barely brushed against the tight peak. She sucked in her breath. Not able to control herself, she pressed her fingers into his scalp and urged him closer.

  He obliged her silent request, opened his mouth and drew her inside.

  Relief was instant. His mouth closed around her as his tongue sweetly tormented the sensitized peak. What she had felt before faded in the light of this new pleasure. Want and need melded until her very life depended on this exact moment. Sharp cries gathered in her throat until she couldn’t control them. When one escaped, she stiffened slightly.

  “Don’t stop,” he whispered against her, then transferred his attention to her other breast.

  He moved back and forth, creating such fire inside her that she thought she must glow from the flames. Involuntarily her hips arched against him.

  This time, he was the one to suck in his breath. His hands moved to her hips and encouraged her to repeat the action. She did, moving as he guided her. In her aroused state, it took her a minute to realize the significance of the hard ridge pressing between her thighs, brushing erotica! ly against her jeans and creating friction in that most private place.

  She pulled back and looked at him.

  Patrick’s face was alive with passion. She’d always thought him attractive, but now the tight lines of his jaw and around
his mouth made him more than just someone she’d known. Need transformed him into a tempting stranger…someone dangerous.

  Someone she wanted more than she wanted her next breath.

  They stared at each other. As the passion faded, sanity returned. What were they doing? she asked herself. This wasn’t right. They weren’t lovers.

  He touched her bottom lip and smiled faintly. “Do you want me to apologize?”

  His voice was low and husky. She knew if she glanced down she would see the proof of his arousal straining against his jeans. A shiver rippled through her. Not one of fear or cold, but, instead, of anticipation. The innate understanding of how wonderful it would have been.

  She shook her head. “Of course not. I’m just a little confused. What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I—” He dropped his hands to the sofa. “I guess we’re lucky we never tried that before.”

  “I guess.”

  She slid back until her feet touched the floor, then she straightened. Although her bra covered her adequately, she felt self-conscious about being shirtless and quickly retrieved the garment.

  Her insides were shaking. Not so much from passion anymore, but in reaction to what had happened… and almost happened.

  Patrick stood up and approached her. She finished buttoning her blouse, then risked glancing at him. The fire was gone, and he’d returned to being the man she’d known for years.

  “Hey.” He touched her face. “Don’t be scared, okay?”

  “I’m not.” She wasn’t frightened, exactly. She wasn’t sure what she felt. “But I’d better get home.”

  He walked her to the door. When she stepped onto the porch, he called her name. “Do you want to pretend this never happened?”

  As if she had a choice. She had a bad feeling that she would remember this night—in sensual detail—for the rest of her life.

  “I need you to be my friend, Patrick. I depend on you.”

  “I understand,” he told her. “We’ll both forget.”

  As she walked back to her apartment, she wondered if he was going to have to work as hard as she would to act normal.