Once upon a Dream (19 page)

“And are you a psychologist?”

“Even worse. A lawyer.” His smile grew wider. “But in the courtroom I'd trust a palm over a psychologist's report anytime.”

On a sudden impulse he lifted her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to each palm then closed her fingers over the spot. He wasn't at all certain just which one of them was more surprised by the gesture. When he looked into her eyes he could see the heat, and knew she wasn't nearly as cool and composed as she was trying to appear.

So much for the clearheaded realist, Annie scolded herself. One touch of this man's mouth on her skin, and she felt it all the way to her toes. But that didn't mean she had to show him what she was feeling.

“I've put in a long day. I think I'll turn in.” She started to rise and was startled when he stood up beside her.

He was too close. Too intimidating. She took a step back, but he stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. She lifted startled eyes to his, but he merely smiled and handed her the candle.

“You wouldn't want to face the darkness without this.”

“Thank you.”

He could have carried it off if their hands hadn't touched. When they did, the fire was back, hotter than ever. His eyes narrowed as they stared down into hers. He had the most incredible desire to crush her in his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless.

She looked up to find those sweetly curving lips hovering just above hers. And as strange as it seemed, she could almost taste them.

It took all her willpower to turn away.

“Good night,” she called over her shoulder.

“Maybe I should go with you. You could get lost in the dark.”

“No.” She said it quickly before she could change her mind. “I mean, you'd better stay here and bank the fire.”

He nearly laughed aloud. She may have meant the fire blazing on the hearth, but there was another one, burning a path through his veins. Just looking at her, being this close to her, had him vibrating with the most amazing feeling of need.

He stood where he was, watching as she hurried out of the room and up the stairs. Then he dropped back down on the sofa and stared into the flames.

What was wrong with him? He was fantasizing about a woman he'd just met. In the very house where another woman had betrayed him and shattered his heart beyond repair.

He stretched out his long legs toward the heat of the fire and listened to the storm raging just beyond the walls. It was nothing compared to the storm raging inside him.

T
OO RESTLESS TO
go to bed, Ben held a match to another candle and walked to the pantry, returning with a bottle of Scotch and a tumbler of ice. He poured, then stared down into the amber liquid.

When was this ever going to end? He'd thought that if he stayed away from White Pines the pain would dull in time. But there was no escape from it. And he was a fool if he believed that selling White Pines would put an end to it. Long before he'd returned, he'd felt the sting of all those memories. They had a way of sneaking up on him at the oddest times. In a courtroom. While he was interviewing a client. Late at night, when the nightmare would jolt him out of a sound sleep.

He was smart enough to know that he needed to get on with his life. Heaven knows, he'd tried. But the memory was always there, just below the surface, threatening to drag him down. The minute he began to let himself feel, it would rise up to haunt him. There was no escaping it.

He could sense it now, circling the edges of his mind, ready to snap and snarl like a vicious dog. And all because he'd allowed himself to feel something for a stranger named Annie Tyler.

It was a good thing he was leaving in the morning. Otherwise he would want to find out a whole lot more about her than was good for either of them. There was no point in pursuing her. As long as he continued wallowing in this personal misery, nothing could ever come of it.

Still, he couldn't quite shake the image he'd seen in her palm. Not at all the woman she showed the world. He'd called her a romantic. In fact, he'd seen much more. A deep, simmering passion that spoke to a similar passion within his own heart.

He smiled. He'd made her nervous. That pleased him enormously, because she definitely had the same effect on him, with those big eyes like liquid honey and that quick, shy smile.

He tipped up the tumbler and took a long pull, feeling the heat snake through his veins. Then he set it down with a clatter.

Why was he tempting himself like this? Nothing could possibly come of it. Even if he wanted to know more about her, how was he supposed to accomplish that and still make his business meeting in New York tomorrow?

He briefly entertained the thought of taking the rest of the weekend for himself. But it wasn't possible. He'd already made commitments. The truth was, he thrived on the press of business, counted on it to keep his mind off less pleasant things. What would he do without his work? It had been tough enough taking even this one day away from his desk. He could picture it, the neat stacks of client letters, depositions, legal papers. A workload that would stagger most men. But his work had been his salvation these past three years.

Just thinking about it had him smiling and uncurling his fingers, which he'd fisted by his side. It was definitely
easier to think about business than it was to think about Annie Tyler.

He glanced at his watch and was puzzled to see that it had stopped more than an hour ago. Seven forty-five. He shook his wrist, then held it to his ear. There was no sound. Hadn't his jeweler just replaced the battery less than a month ago? He frowned. Probably defective. Like everything else in this crazy world.

He filled the tumbler again and drank, and found himself hoping the rain would let up soon so he could get a few hours of sleep and be on his way by dawn.

 

Annie undressed quickly and slipped on an oversized football jersey before heading to the bathroom. After scrubbing her face, she pulled the band from her hair and brushed it loose, allowing it to tumble about her face and shoulders.

She hoped the power came on soon. Her computer screen had remained blank even when she'd tried to switch to the battery pack. She hated losing that comfortable link to the outside world, but at least she still had her cell phone.

She carried the candle into the bedroom and placed it on the night table before drawing back the covers. Once in bed, she leaned up on an elbow and blew out the flickering flame.

The darkness was eerie. Except for an occasional blinding flash of lightning, it was impossible to see her hand in front of her face.

She lay listening to the rain pelting the window and thought about Ben Carrington. Smooth as silk. But brooding over something. Deep waters, she figured. It was the last thing she needed in her already complicated life. Still, the simple touch of his fingers had caused more heat than a kiss from most other men.

It was simply the isolation of this place, she told herself. She was letting that wild imagination loose again. He wasn't some romantic, battle-scarred, world-weary hero. More than likely he was just a moody, self-absorbed, self-
centered man who thought he deserved every good thing that had been handed him.

Still, he intrigued her.

A jagged slice of lightning pierced the darkness. Minutes later it was followed by a crash of thunder that had her leaping out of bed. The old house shuddered as though struck by a giant hand.

She raced across the room in the darkness, feeling for the door. When she found it she flung it open and was confronted with an eerie white light coming toward her. She let out a scream.

“Hey.” Ben caught her roughly by the shoulder. “You okay?”

“The thunder. It sounded…” She paused and swallowed, mortified by her behavior yet unable to control herself.

He held the candle up to see that her eyes were wide with fear. “Yeah. I heard it, too. Sounded like it might have hit something.”

“It nearly tossed me out of bed.”

“Okay.” He kept his hand on her shoulder, ignoring the quick jolt to his system. She looked warm and rumpled and entirely too tempting. “Let's take a look.”

He led her back to her room, and they peered out the window. All they could see was darkness.

“I don't see any trees burning or electrical wires sparking. I think we're fine.” Ben held the flame of his candle to the one on her night table until it ignited and began to burn. When he caught sight of the bed, he had a quick impression of Annie lying in it, and was surprised by the surge of heat that went straight to his loins.

He needed to get out of this room. “Just to make sure, I think I'll climb up to the attic and take a look.”

“If you don't mind, I'd like to go along.” She no longer cared if he heard the tremor in her voice or saw the way her hand was shaking. She wasn't about to be left alone in a room that spooked her.

“Sure thing.” He handed her a candle. “Stay close.”

She followed him out of the room and along the hall
way until they came to a door. When he opened it, the sudden draught of air made the candle flicker wildly.

They proceeded up the stairs, feeling the brush of cobwebs as they climbed. When they reached the top, they peered around. The floor was littered with trunks and boxes and stacks of yellowed papers and photographs.

Ben held his candle aloft and studied the ceiling. “There's no trace of fire. Not even a whiff of smoke. I think it's safe to assume that the house wasn't hit.”

“That's a relief.” As she turned away, she caught sight of an open trunk beside the stairs. A plumed hat lay atop a black satin cloak. “What's all this?”

“Relics.” Ben smiled. “I remember playing up here on rainy days. Whenever I wore that hat I became the hero, using my trusty cardboard sword to fight for truth and justice.”

She grinned at the image. She'd had similar experiences at her grandmother's house. “Were you ever a villain?”

His smile faded. “No. That was always my brother's role. He thought heroes were boring and villains had all the fun. If there was one thing Win knew how to do, it was have fun.”

He turned away abruptly, his jaw clenched. “Coming?”

Annie followed him down the stairs, wondering at his sudden change in mood.

When they reached the second floor they continued on to the main level. The glow of the fireplace drew them toward the great room.

As they passed the grandfather clock, Ben paused. “Odd.”

“What?” Annie halted and turned.

“This old clock hasn't been a minute off in more than seventy years.”

Annie arched a brow. The clock had stopped at seven forty-five. “That had to be hours ago.”

Ben nodded. “Right after that first clap of thunder. But why? This clock doesn't run on electricity.”

Annie shrugged. “Maybe the batteries wore out.”

“It doesn't require batteries. It winds itself with these weights. See?” He tugged on a chain, but nothing happened.

Puzzled, he held the candle closer, studying the mechanism. Just then there was a gust of wind against the windows, blowing out both candles. Had it not been for the flame of the fire, they would have been thrust into total darkness.

“Come on.” Ben led the way toward the fire and lifted several candles to the flame.

He nodded at the Scotch on the table. “Would you like a drink?”

She shook her head. “No, thanks. What I'd love is some coffee. But I suppose with no power that's out of the question.”

He gave it a moment's thought, then said, “I'll be right back.”

Minutes later he returned with a small copper pot and two empty cups. “There was still some coffee in the coffeemaker on the counter. I figure we can heat it over the fire in this.”

Soon the room was filled with the wonderful aroma. Ben filled their cups and handed one to her.

“Ummm.” She sipped and lifted her cup in a toast. “That was brilliant. I feel better already.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Especially now that he had a chance to take a good look at those long legs before she tucked them under her and settled herself on the sofa.

He set aside his coffee to add another log to the fire. Then he picked up his cup and joined her. “Not ready to go back to bed?”

She shook her head. “Too nervous, I guess. I don't think I've ever heard thunder that could shake a house to its foundation.”

“Probably because we're so close to water. Though I don't recall a storm this fierce before.” He drained his cup and shot her a sideways glance. “I like that thing you wear to bed. I don't believe I've ever seen the Packers look that good in their uniforms.”

His unexpected display of humor made her laugh.

It was, he realized, a wonderful sound. Soft and light and
clear as a bell. His own heart felt lighter just hearing it.

He tried not to think about the way her breasts strained against the clinging shirt. “Tell me about yourself, Annie Tyler.”

“There's not much to tell. I grew up in Santa Barbara.”

“A beautiful part of the country. Any brothers or sisters?”

She shook her head. “Just me. My parents died when I was fifteen.”

“How?”

“A plane crash. They were looking over some property they'd intended to develop.” She sipped her coffee for a moment, looking pensive. “Gram was all the family I had. She flew out to comfort me and ended up staying for the next three years, until I was ready to go off to college. Then she went home to Maine, and I went up to Smith. These past two years, after she had a stroke, it was my turn to offer her a little comfort.”

She said it all simply, without bothering to go into detail, but Ben found himself fascinated by all the things she left out. She would have had a career. A place of her own. A life of her own. But she'd simply packed up and headed to Maine to be with her grandmother, without a thought to what she was giving up.

“Why are you staying on? Why not return to New York?”

She shrugged. “Loose ends to tie up.” She thought of the debts still owed, the threads of her life that had come unraveled, and the loneliness she sometimes felt at the knowledge that she was the last survivor of a family. “Besides, I've decided I like Tranquility. The people. The pace. It's becoming home.” She turned to him. “Where do you call home?”

“San Francisco mostly. I have a place there. Another in New York. But I don't think of either of them as home.”

“Then why stay there?”

He shrugged. “My work. It keeps me hopping from coast to coast. Maybe it's best that way. No time to get restless.”

“Restless for what?”

Roots, he thought. But aloud he merely said, “Did I say ‘restless'? Maybe a better word is ‘bored.'”

“Do you get bored easily?”

“I wouldn't know. There's never been time to find out.” He stood up, uncomfortable talking about himself. “Hungry?”

“A little. But there's no way to cook anything.”

“Want to bet?” He pointed to the fireplace. “We heated our coffee, didn't we? Besides, we ought to be able to find something that doesn't require cooking. What would you like?” He picked up a candle and led the way toward the kitchen.

“Something simple.” Annie took up her own candle and followed.

He rummaged through the refrigerator. “My mother was up here last week with her housekeeper, Rose, and a couple of the staff to catalog all the furniture. If I know my mother, she would have left enough food behind to feed an army.” He grinned. “As long as the army had gourmet tastes. Mother has a fondness for champagne and caviar.”

Annie sighed. “I like the sound of your mother.”

“You'd like her. She can be rather abrupt. She can't abide fools. But she has a marvelous sense of humor.”

“And exquisite taste.” Annie studied the silver coffee service artfully displayed behind the glass doors of a cabinet. Her grandmother's had been similar and had been in the family for generations. It had broken her heart to sell it. And the house. But the medical bills had left her with little choice and even less pride.

“Ah. Here we are.” Ben held up an assortment of cheeses. “We don't have to cook these. What's your pleasure? We have Brie, Cheddar, Gouda.”

“Brie.”

“My choice, too.” He returned the others to the refrigerator, then searched through the cupboards until he located a package of thin wafers.