Remember the Dreams (11 page)

Toni knew from their conversations in the past that his relationships with women involved little more than sex. Their relationship, for all practical purposes, included everything but that. Why couldn't he bring the two together?

She could think of only one reason that might answer her exasperated questions. Kyle was probably so used to thinking of her as a sort of little sister that he couldn't think of her as a woman. She didn't want to buy that logic though. He had responded to her—once.

And she wanted him to do it again. She was tired of having to restrain herself when she wanted to put her arms around him. She wanted to be able to touch him without pretext. Soothe the tiredness from him when he came home looking absolutely beat after an especially trying day—not just hand him a glass of wine and ask him to tell her about it. Verbal communication was important. But she wanted to touch him without feeling like she was treading on forbidden ground.

"Damn it, Donovan," she swore, jerking herself to her feet. "I'm not your sister! I'm a woman, and I love you."

History has long since proven that a woman in love is not the most rational creature in the world.

Kyle was leaving for Portland in the morning. But when he got back,
Plan II: The Not-So-Subtle Approach
was going into effect. Toni had no idea what that plan was, but by the time she finished a few more of Madeline's books, she'd think of something. Kyle had always maintained that nothing was ever handed to a person on a silver platter. If you wanted something, you had to work for it, and you should never let anyone or anything stand in your way if you think it is worth having.

Well, Kyle Donovan—stubborn and thickheaded as he was—was certainly worth having.

She'd waited all of her life for Kyle. And whatever portion he wanted of the rest of it was his for the asking.

❧

On Monday, Toni's office was in chaos. Tuesday was worse. The economy had taken a downturn, and she could have sworn that every investor her company serviced was trying to hedge its losses. The phones never stopped ringing, and when she finally sank behind the wheel of her rented Pontiac—one of these days she had to buy a car—she could still hear the infernal ringing in her ears. If telephones weren't the lifeline of the investment-brokerage business, she would cheerfully rip out every one of them.

Tired as she was, there was one stop to make before she could go home and, as Kyle would say, kick her feet up. She needed a bathing suit, and something wonderful to wear for Kyle's party Saturday night.

The crowds jostling her at the shopping mall did nothing to alleviate her fatigue. And though she managed a wan smile and mumbled, "That's ok," to every "'Scuse me" she heard when someone plowed into her, she was almost gritting her teeth by the time she let herself in the front door.

The sigh of relief preparing to depart from her lips turned into a succinct and very unfeminine expletive. The blasted phone was ringing.

Purse, briefcase and packages tumbled to the floor as she snatched up the nearest phone —the one on the table in the entryway. Her terse, "Hello," was more abrupt than she'd intended.

A warm chuckle on the other end of the line greeted her. "I had the feeling you'd sound like that."

"Kyle," she breathed, feeling her tension drain away at the sound of his voice. "I don't know why you called, but I'm glad you did. It hasn't been this low in years!" She was talking about the stockmarket.

"I know. You got a lot of people pulling out, or is everyone just trying to cover?"

For the next couple of minutes, their conversation, as it had a tendency to do at times, dealt with the vagaries of their chosen profession. Toni needed Kyle's sympathetic understanding. All day long she'd been dealing with clients who'd made it sound like she was personally responsible for the fact that they were losing their shirts. It was nice to commiserate with someone who'd been subject to those same attacks in the past.

"Enough of that depressing subject," Toni finally said, kicking off her heels. Bracing the phone between her ear and shoulder, she shook off her jacket. "How's your seminar? And why are you calling?" He'd never called from out of town before.

"The seminar's going fine. Just the usual strategy stuff. I called because I wanted to remind you to talk to Madeline tomorrow. Be sure to leave her a note to call you at your office."

"I told you not to worry about the party," she chided. "My memory's just as good as it ever was and I hadn't forgotten. Is that the only reason you called?" She had the feeling that it was. It was too much to hope that he might be calling just because he missed her.

She thought he hesitated for a moment, but then decided that he could just as easily have been switching ears.

"Not exactly," he admitted. "I wanted to make sure that you were ok. The way the market's been reminded me of the time that client lost everything he had and threatened to have you burned at the stake for bad advice. You didn't want anyone to know how upset you were, but... I just figured you probably had to take a lot of that same kind of guff the past couple of days."

Toni gripped the phone tighter. Dear, sweet Kyle. He had remembered something that had happened over five years ago. "I'm fine," she assured him softly. If he'd been standing in front of her now, nothing would have prevented her from hugging him. His unexpected thoughtful-ness had just made the past two days worth every miserable second. It didn't even matter that he was using his old, mentorish tone.

His equally tutorish tone veiled his question. "Are you in for the evening?"

A smile curved her lips as she assured him that she had no intention of leaving the house until morning.

"Good," he pronounced flatly. "You need to stay home alone and unwind."

The key word in that proclamation was "alone," and Toni didn't miss its significance. "I do?" she asked with an innocent inflection.

He ignored her question. "Try the spa. It'll help you relax. Since you don't have a bathing suit, use one of my tee-shirts. They're in the middle-left drawer of my bureau."

Toni's eyes darted to the package lying on the floor, the one containing the sleek, white maillot she'd been lucky to find. Stores in Seattle weren't exactly overstocked with beachwear this time of year.

A mischievous light danced in her eyes. Why tell him she'd just bought a bathing suit? Let him think she was using his hot tub naked. That should help crack that frustrating, brotherly facade! "The spa sounds like a wonderful idea, Kyle. And that's just what I'll do ... as soon as I get the rest of my clothes off."

That was not subtle, but she might as well take advantage of any situation offered.

Deciding that one more little comment wouldn't hurt—she wanted him to have a very clear picture—her voice lowered seductively. She wondered if she'd be so brave if there wasn't a few hundred miles of phone wire separating them. "I think I'll pass on the tee-shirt. But thanks for the offer. You sure you don't mind my being in your bedroom?"

Dead silence.

"Kyle?"

"Yeah? Uh ... no, I don't mind."

"You sure?"

She could almost see his jaw clenching as he muttered a curt, "Of course I'm sure."

"Well, I wouldn't want to ..."

"Look," he broke in, covering what sounded suspiciously like agitation with his brisk, businesslike tone, "I've got to meet a couple of guys down in the bar in a minute. Make a reservation somewhere and I'll buy you that dinner I owe you."

"Why don't we just have dinner here?" She was already planning on that. "You're probably tired of restaurants anyway."

"I said, I'll buy your dinner."

Toni couldn't keep the smile from her voice. He did sound a little upset. Not much. But enough. "Have it your way, Donovan," she said, placatingly, knowing that nothing was going to change her own plans. "See you Friday."

Dropping the receiver back on its hook, she scooped her packages, purse and briefcase from the floor. Her smile turned to a full-blown grin.

The market might be down. But Toni wasn't.

❧

Toni was standing in the kitchen, alternating sips of Scotch with prayers that her nerve wouldn't desert her, when she heard the front door open.

Kyle was home. She could hear him moving down the hallway to his bedroom.

Everything had been meticulously planned, right down to the bottle of Pouilly-Fuisse chilling in the ice bucket next to his spa. Dinner would be light—Chicken Kiev, pilaf and fruit. There was a fire burning in the fireplace and soft music playing on the stereo.

The whole scene—especially the spa part— had come straight out of one of Madeline's books. Toni had even had the glass of Scotch the heroine in the novel had needed while setting the stage to lower her hero's defenses. Unlike that imaginary character, Toni wasn't feeling the slightest bit tipsy. She was far too nervous for that.

She didn't look nervous. Years of practice allowed her anxieties to be masked by sophisticated calm. And as she heard Kyle enter the kitchen she turned to greet him with an easy smile.

Kyle wasn't smiling. He wasn't frowning either. The way the deep grooves bracketing his mouth were deepening, he just looked puzzled. "What's going on?" He had shed his jacket and was working his index finger behind the knot in his tie. "There's a bottle of wine in my bedroom and you . . ."

His words dissolved in a soft expulsion of breath when he finally looked up at her. Cool gray eyes fixed on the smooth fall of hair cascading down her back, then slid the length of the silky white caftan draping her slender curves. He looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach. A fair amount of his color had vanished beneath the collar of his white shirt.

His quickly shuttered eyes darted to the serving platters she had just taken out of the warming oven, and his next words, though even, were very quiet. "It looks like I should have had dinner on the plane."

Tearing her glance from his now enigmatic expression, she redirected it to the platter he was staring at. Oh, geeze, she moaned to herself, I thought he liked chicken!

She glanced back up to see him raking his fingers through his wind-blown hair, and he tossed her a rueful smile. "I used to have a system worked out with my roommate in college," he said, confusing her completely. "If one of us wanted to have some privacy, we'd hang a tie on the outside doorknob. That way the other guy'd know that something was going on inside. Guess we're going to have to devise a similar system, huh?" He pulled his tie from around his neck and she wondered if he was going to hand it to her. He didn't. "In the meantime, I'll get out of your way. How long do I have before he gets here?"

Confusion jerked to understanding. Using her blandest tone, she turned around and reached for the silverware. "The only person I'm expecting is you. So why don't you go get out of your jacket and get comfortable. Do you want a drink before dinner?"

That puzzled look slipped back into his eyes again. "Sure. But I thought we were going out tonight. How come you went to so much trouble?" His head dipped in the general direction of the back of the house. "And what's the wine in by the spa for? And the fire?"

Toni had no pyrotechnic skills at all, and Kyle knew it. Tonight, she had cheated and bought one of those paper and wax wrapped logs at the grocery store. It didn't snap and crackle, but the glow was right.

"I like fires on rainy nights." She shrugged, loading platters and plates on a tray to carry them into the living room. They'd be having dinner in there tonight. "I thought you'd be tired after being out of town all week and might just want to stay home and relax." She ignored his question about the wine.

Kyle seemed to accept her logic, though she didn't miss his thoughtful frown when he followed her out of the kitchen.

She placed the tray on the coffee table and they lowered themselves to the floor, facing the fire. The staging had come from a book. But from here on out, everything was up to her—and Kyle.

He wasn't cooperating.

She had spent fifteen minutes creating the softly romantic lighting. She'd played with the dimmer switch for the recessed lights in the ceiling until the perfect enhancement for the flickering gold fire had been achieved. Kyle immediately ruined the effect by getting up and turning on the table lamps.

"I wanted to show you this chart," he explained, pulling his briefcase down with him as he settled beside her again. He plopped a graph between their plates, and Toni stared at it bale-fully. If she had looked up, she would have seen how careful he was to keep his suspicious smile hidden. "You've worked with this kind of thing before and ..."

All through dinner, which he devoured ravenously while she sat there picking at the mushrooms in her rice, he could only talk about cotton futures, the new Security and Exchange Commission rulings and his blasted chart.

Trying to change the subject hadn't helped. Alluding to how peaceful it was to watch the flames licking at the log in the fireplace had brought nothing but a strange, mysterious little glance and then he'd stabbed another piece of chicken before launching into another dissertation about the market.

Toni sank into silence, nodding at appropriate intervals. If she didn't do something soon, he'd probably get up and turn on the television when they finished eating.

She was so preoccupied with her next move— and the knot of nerves tangled in her stomach that was the result of Kyle's presence as much as anything else—that she didn't notice how quiet he'd become.

Kyle drained the last of his drink. Shifting slightly, he turned to face her, propping one arm on the coffee table and his other on the sofa. She was only an arm's length away and looked like a disgruntled angel, with her legs tucked up under her and her caftan pooled in soft folds on the floor. Her hair almost touched the floor, too. And the white gold tresses reminded him of the fragile white stuff his mother put on the mantel at Christmas. Angel hair, he smiled to himself.

Watching her fingers toy with the pearl hanging at the base of her throat while she studied the fire, he saw her bottom lip slide between her teeth. She was acting very much like she used to whenever she was faced with a problem she couldn't quite solve. Uncertain, yet determined to come to grips with it. He was almost positive he knew what that problem was.

The signals he'd been picking up from her all evening—longer than that if he was going to be honest with himself—could hardly be misconstrued. He'd have to be as dense as a medieval forest not to realize what she was up to.

His tone was purposefully casual. "What's on your mind, princess?"

Startled blue eyes flew toward him and her hand fell to her lap. "Ah . . . nothing." She smiled. "I was just listening to you."

"I haven't said anything for the last five minutes." Amusement touched his lips. "Do you want to tell me why you're so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous," she lied, wondering what had given her away.

Kyle told her.

"Anytime you start playing with your necklace, I know that you're anxious about something. And you still haven't told me why you've got a thirty-five-dollar bottle of wine chilling in the other room. Are we supposed to be celebrating some ..." His eyebrows lowered as a flicker of doubt shadowed his features. "You didn't find a house while I was gone, did you?"

He didn't look pleased, which pleased Toni enormously.

"I hardly had time to look for a place," she commented, injecting the proper note of dryness into her tone. Telling herself that it was now or never, she drew herself to her feet. "And the wine was on sale." That hardly explained why it was sitting in the ice bucket by his spa, but she couldn't exactly come right out and tell him why it was there. If he didn't start getting the message soon though, she just might have to.

Kyle watched her lean over to put the dishes on the tray, her hair spilling over her shoulder. He wanted to push it back, run its softness through his fingers. But he didn't. He had to be certain that he wasn't misinterpreting what seemed so obvious. There was only one way to do that.

Her fingers were trembling as she reached for an empty glass.

Pulling himself up beside her, he took the glass from her hand and pressed her palm between his. He felt her stiffen, then relax as she tipped her head back to look up at him.

"Ok, kid," he prodded, forcing his eyes not to wander to her mouth, that beautiful, seductive mouth, "talk."

"About what?"

"About whatever it is that's on your mind."

Her long lashes formed feathery crescents as she looked down at their hands. It wasn't her imagination. His thumb was actually moving back and forth across her wrist. That was not a brotherly gesture. "And if I don't feel like talking?"

"You will," he assured her confidently. "We'll go open that unexplained bottle of wine and then you'll talk to me. Alcohol loosens tongues, you know?" Dropping her hand, he jammed his into his pockets. "Meet me in my room in two minutes."

Something in his voice was giving her the confidence that had been flagging only moments ago. "Is that an order?"

"Absolutely."

"And what if I. . ."

His eyes narrowed in teasing challenge. "Don't push it, Collins. Two minutes. My room."

Two minutes later, Toni hadn't moved from where she had sat down on the arm of the sofa. She had finished the rest of her drink though.

"Toni?" Kyle's voice cut through the walls separating them. "Your time's up. And bring a corkscrew."

Stuffing her hand into her pocket, her fingers folded over a corkscrew and a tortoiseshell comb. A half-dozen deep breaths and a thousand frantic heartbeats later, she stood somewhat hesitantly on the black tiles surrounding the equally black hot tub. Kyle was already in it.

She couldn't see anything but a froth of foaming water below the flat male nipples on his chest. His broad shoulders glistened in the diffused lighting of the steamy plant-filled room, and his arms were slung out, resting on the lip of the curving tub.

Another steadying breath and she tossed him the corkscrew. The muscles of his arms and chest constricted smoothly with his effortless move to catch it.

He mumbled something that sounded like, "Nice throw," and missed the funny little moan that weighted her throat.

Toni was fine as long as her fingers were occupied with the task of twisting her hair up and securing it with the comb. At least that's what she was telling herself. Kyle wasn't looking at her anyway. He was studying the label on the wine.

"I put a tee-shirt on my bed for you," he said absently.

She didn't acknowledge him—and her fingers felt a little shaky as she reached for the zipper of her caftan and began to pull it down.

Kyle glanced up and his gaze fastened on her hand.

It seemed to take an inordinate amount of effort for him to meet her watchful eyes.

The look on his face and his remark about the tee-shirt told Toni that he remembered that she didn't have a bathing suit.

Making the most of the moment, she let the silky fabric fall slowly to a puddle at her feet.