See You in My Dreams: Speed, Book 1 (2 page)

“Tash.” Sophie looked up at her in horror. “I almost drooled on him. Just watching his dick getting all hard—” She shivered. “It…it seriously turned me on.” No question about it. If he’d taken one single step toward her, she would have jumped him.

“He was that gorgeous?” Tasha pulled a chair out from the table and sat beside Sophie. The summer sun shone down on the two of them, and the enticing scent of coffee wafted through the air.

“More than,” Sophie said. “I’m talking orgasm-inducing hot.”

“And you left him?” Tasha looked at her in disbelief. “You just walked away from that?”

“Damn it, I was servicing the apartment, not the freaking guest.” Sophie kept her voice low so as not to disturb the other customers sitting at the tables around them.

“Still, Soph, you might have hung around to see what developed.”

Sophie couldn’t help it. She laughed. Trust Tasha to see the possibilities in the whole excruciating encounter. “The only development likely to come of this is my imminent job loss.”

She eyed her mobile phone, sitting on the table between them. Why hadn’t it rung yet? It was just a matter of time before her boss called to tell her not to bother returning to work. Ever.

Damn it, she needed the job. Needed the salary to pay back the student loan she’d taken out so she could finish her studies for her psych degree. Working as a cleaner was by no means ideal. But it required no training, the money was decent and she’d done it for so long she was good at it.

On an average day, she could whip through an entire apartment in less than an hour and leave it gleaming. At worst, an hour and a half. When all was said and done, she should have been out of
his
unit in under forty minutes. Apart from some misplaced sofa cushions, a few dirty plates and the unmade bed, it had been in mint condition.

“Still think he reported you?” Tasha asked.

“Put yourself in his position. You’re staying in an absurdly expensive, private, furnished apartment, and you walk out of the shower, buck naked, to be confronted by a drooling mass of unwanted female hormones. Think you’d report me?”

Tasha’s look was glum. She didn’t need to answer. She didn’t have a chance to, either. Her mother called her inside. “I’m sorry, Soph, I have to go help Mum serve.”

“Go ahead,” Sophie told her, knowing Lizzie, Tasha’s mother and owner of the pastry shop where she now sat, relied on Tasha’s assistance. “I have my book for company. No worries.” She needed to escape the mortification that played over and over in her head somehow. Needed to escape her obsessive thoughts about Mr. Naked-and-gorgeous. A novel was the best way. And sitting at the pastry shop was the best place she could be. Since her Gramma had died a year ago, Tasha and Lizzie were the closest thing to family Sophie had.

She felt at home here. Comfortable. And comforted.

It took about ten minutes before Sophie shoved the morning’s humiliation to the back of her mind and was immersed in the latest Sookie Stackhouse book. Sookie was a perfect distraction. Sophie could lose herself to the world of vampires, werewolves and fairies, and not have to think about
him.

Problem was, as she took a sip of coffee, Eric the vampire made a comment so outrageously suggestive, Sophie choked on the hot liquid.

Several seconds passed before she stopped coughing and could breathe normally again, and by then her eyes were watering like crazy.

From nowhere, a serviette manifested before her. She stared at it blankly before registering it was attached to a hand. A strong male hand with long, slender fingers.

“You look like you could use it,” a voice said. Not just any voice. A familiar voice, as smooth as old scotch and as rich as whipped cream. “I’m sorry I don’t have a Kleenex.”

“Oh, I… Thank you.” She placed her novel on the table beside her cappuccino, accepted the paper napkin, dabbed at her eyes and then cleared her throat two or three times.

“I enjoy the Sookie books myself,” the American-accented voice said, “but not so much that I’ve ever gotten all choked up about it.”

Sophie grinned and cleared her throat one last time. Anyone who enjoyed this Charlaine Harris series was a-okay in her book.

Her gaze trailed past his hand, up his arm, along the lines of his navy T—which covered a broad, kind of familiar and most delectable-looking shoulder—and came to rest on a remarkable, handsome face. Longish blond hair touched his neck and a good week’s worth of beard growth framed mega-kissable lips. His eyes were masked by a pair of black Ray-Bans.

Looking at him brought on an odd sense of déjà vu, and her heart skipped a beat. Probably the after-effect of her choking fit.

And then it skipped another beat as recognition hit her like a blow to the chest.

Her grin vanished. Standing before her, looking just as stunning as he had this morning, was Mr. Naked-and-gorgeous of the delectable penis—and most embarrassing moment of her life—fame.

“
You!
”
Dear Lord, could fate be a bigger bitch? How could Sophie bump into him twice in one day?

He smiled a tight smile. “You say that as though I’m a curse.”

Uh, yeah. A curse who was going to get her sorry ass fired. What on earth was he doing here?

Sophie shook her head, trying to clear it. This must be a hallucination. Her mind, tortured by this morning’s incident, was playing tricks on her. Pure and simple.

He wasn’t really there.

But for someone who wasn’t there, his presence sure struck her in all the right places. The scent of woodsy aftershave she’d gotten a hint of in his bedroom earlier now floated over the breeze to tickle her nose. Her heart pitter-pattered unevenly, and her breasts tingled beneath her shirt. The sun, which seconds ago had reflected off the glass table, was now blocked out, shadowed by a nonexistent man. A nonexistent man who’d given her the serviette she held in her hand.

“You’re not a figment of my imagination, are you?” she asked, sensing she was about to face the second most embarrassing moment of her life—by confronting the first.

He frowned. “Last I checked I was real enough.”

Impossible. How could a real man look so good and talk with the voice of an angel—deep, resonant and beautiful.

“That probably means you were flesh-and-blood real this morning too, doesn’t it?” she asked, resigned to her fate.

He gave a somber nod. “I thought you might have picked up on that flesh-and-blood bit.”

Her cheeks burned. Oh, she’d picked up on it. Just watching all that perfect male flesh swelling with blood, standing up straight before her… Yep, she’d noticed. She’d have had to be brain dead not to.

But that was then and this was now, and if Sophie didn’t want to make an even bigger fool of herself than she already had, she’d best gather her wits about her. She stood and looked him in the eye, tilting her head back to do so since he towered above her. Sunglasses reflected her obvious discomfort back to her.

She licked her very dry lips. “Look, I owe you a huge apology. I…I’m sorry for walking in on you. I had no idea you were there. If I had, I would never have let myself in.”

He slanted his head to the side, and she couldn’t miss the humor in his tone. “You mean observing naked guests is not the general
modus operandi
of apartment employees?”

Heck, if all the guests looked like he did naked, not only would she make it the general
modus operandi
, she’d personally install CCTV cameras in every room.

“Cleaning staff are not supposed to be anywhere near the apartments when the guests are in,” she admitted, shamefaced and not quite ready to laugh at the situation. Especially not when her job was on the line. “Barging in on you was a bad mistake. I truly am sorry.”

The intrusion had been an honest-to-God slip-up. But even slip-ups had their repercussions.

He nodded once, and the sexiest smile imaginable tugged the corners of his lips.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a condescending smile. Or a threatening one. It was simply warm and open, with perhaps a hint of devilry involved.

“Here’s the deal,” he said. “Let me share your table, and I’ll consider forgiving you. Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t.” He shrugged and looked around. “But seats are somewhat limited around here, and I have to work with what I have.”

Sophie’s mouth threatened to drop open. He wanted to share her table? After the earlier incident?

Yep, seats were limited at the café. There was a grand total of three tables inside the pastry shop, and three outside, one of which she occupied. Umpteen times she’d told Lizzie to get a bigger place, but Lizzie insisted the size added to the atmosphere of her little restaurant in The Rocks, and she was right. The shop was small, cozy and one of the hottest coffee spots in the city. Its popularity had a lot to do with the handmade-by-Lizzie, best damn pastries in Sydney.

Did he seriously want to sit with her?

Sophie twisted her mouth and considered his deal. Bah. As if there was anything to consider. She’d give anything to spend some time with Mr. Not-so-naked-anymore-but-still-gorgeous. Especially if it gave her the opportunity to convince him not to contact her boss. Never mind the fact his presence made her heart beat a little faster than it should.

Still, she wasn’t above giving him a hard time about it. “Is that a bribe?”

The grin he shot her was devious. And sexy. So sexy, her belly did a little somersault. “I guess it is,” he drawled. “You willing to take it?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do I have a choice?”

“Sure you do. We all have choices.” And then he had the gall to ask, “Sophie, right? Is that S-O-P-H-Y or S-O-P-H-I-E? I just need the correct spelling for my letter of complaint.”

Her draw dropped open. “Y-you’re…b-blackmailing me?”

He grinned again, and damned if her pussy didn’t clench in response. “I like to call it negotiating.”

And she’d like to call him a son of a bitch but knew better. She smiled sweetly at him. “Since you asked so nicely, by all means, have a seat. I mean, gosh, how can a girl refuse a gallant blackmail threat like that?”

“I’d like to think that you couldn’t refuse me anything, Sophie.”

His meaning was so blatantly sexual Sophie spluttered. The muscles in her pussy twitched in undisguised interest. “You did
not
just say that!”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m merely asking if you’ll let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

Yeah, right. That’s all he’d meant. She stared at him.

Well, crap. Maybe that was all he’d meant, and she’d just read too much into it. Damn it. It seemed when he was around, she just opened her mouth to change feet.

Or maybe he was tormenting her and taking pleasure in it. “I already have a cappuccino, thank you.”

“How about a pastry, then?”

She shook her head.

“Look, I’m going to get myself coffee. Let me get something for you too. Please?”

Sophie mulled over his offer. This time, with bribes and threats aside, it sounded genuine enough. “Well, a croissant would be good.” She smiled. “Chocolate and cinnamon flavored, please.”

“One chocolate and cinnamon croissant coming up.” He smiled back and headed inside.

Sophie watched him walk away, her mouth watering. Hard as she tried to convince herself it was in anticipation of the delectable pastry, she failed miserably.

Chapter Two

“Thank you.” She smiled at him again when he returned, hands full of coffee and croissant. “For the treat—and for the serviette.”

He cast her a puzzled look as he sat with his back to the picturesque cobblestone road. “Serviette?”

“The napkin you handed me earlier,” she amended, translating for him.

“Hey, no problem. It’s my pleasure. The least I could do for a damsel in distress. I’m Nathan, by the way.” He offered her his hand.

“Sophie, as you know.” She clasped his palm in hers. Lucky thing she’d put on moisturizing cream, otherwise her work-roughened hands would scare him right off.

His smooth skin closed around her fingers, and heat tingled up her arm. “It’s good to meet you, Sophie.”

“It’s good to meet you too, Nathan.” She frowned. “Uh, I think.”

He shot her his criminally sexy grin, and images of his erect, delectable penis crowded her memory banks.

Sophie almost whimpered when he pulled his hand away. Its warmth had suffused her palm, flowed through her arm and shoulder into her chest and lodged someplace deep in her heart.

“You think?” He raised an eyebrow.

She stared at the dark glass of his sunnies. “You hold my future in your hands. Meeting you could be the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

He winced. “I bought you a croissant, not arsenic. Rest assured your future—and your job—is safe. I would have told you that this morning, but you left so quickly there wasn’t time.” Sincerity rang in his voice.

“You really mean it?”

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

Sophie couldn’t stop her sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

His eyes might be hidden behind his dark lenses, but she could feel his gaze, staring straight at her, making her heart beat erratically.

“Don’t mention it.”

Holy crap. His voice. It sent hot shivers racing through her veins. So deep, so…exquisite. She could listen to it all day long. Just like she could stare at him all day long.

Er, no, she couldn’t. She should actually say something, make conversation with the man. “You seem to have good taste in books.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

It was ridiculous, but she had a definite sense of déjà vu with him. She knew him from somewhere… “I don’t know any other men who’ve read Sookie Stackhouse.”

He shrugged. “I enjoyed watching True Blood. Couldn’t resist reading the series.”

“You’ve read them all?”

“Yep, and eagerly awaiting the next book too. And the next season of True Blood.”

Sophie laughed. “You must be American. No Aussie bloke would ever admit to that.”

Nathan laughed with her. “I am. A New Yorker through and through.”

New York was a long way away. No way their paths could have crossed, which meant her sense of déjà vu was way off base. “Are you here on holiday?”