See You in My Dreams: Speed, Book 1 (4 page)

He released her finger, scraping his teeth against the now-tender flesh in the process.

“Nathan…” Shivers shot up her spine.

Mommy,” someone shouted. “Look who’s there. Look who’s there.” A little boy raced past the shop and threw himself into a man’s arms.

The shout must have disturbed Nathan because he froze.

He blinked and stared at her finger as if not quite believing what he’d just done. Abruptly, he dropped her hand, pushed his chair back and jumped up, almost spilling his coffee in the process. He managed to steady his cup before the milky liquid slopped over the side.

“I… I… Forgive me.” Even hoarse, his voice sounded like a caress to her ears. “I lost perspective. Lost my…uh, mind, apparently.” Once again she found herself drowning in the familiar depths of his eyes. “You’ve bewitched me,” he whispered.

A group of noisy tourists walked by, laughing out loud. The noise broke Nathan’s reverie, for he snapped out of his trance and looked around. Then he turned back to her. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I have to go. There’s an appointment I can’t be late for. It was—” He swallowed. “It was good to meet you. To talk to you, without the fear of losing your job hanging over your shoulders.”

Without waiting for her reply, he walked away. She stared after him, stunned. Once, he turned back to look at her, stumbled and walked a few more steps. Then he turned again. He’d shoved his glasses back on so she could no longer see his eyes. But she could feel his gaze on her, searching. Then he shook his head, turned and did not look back again.

Nathan restrained the urge to smack the side of his head. He’d nearly made a public spectacle of himself. Fortunately that kid had screamed, reminding him where he was. For just a second, he’d feared the kid had recognized him.

Hell!

He’d just sucked on a woman’s finger in public, with hundreds of people milling around. He’d almost invited her back to the apartment with him. Hadn’t he given up that practice months ago? Snapped himself out of the vicious cycle of meaningless one-night stands? Hadn’t he vowed that the next woman he slept with would be more than a
Speed
junkie, more than one of the hundreds of screaming fans who threw themselves at his feet on a daily basis?

Shit, who was he kidding?

Sophie hadn’t thrown herself at his feet. She hadn’t even noticed him standing at her table, staring at her transfixed when he’d stumbled upon her, quite by accident. She’d been so absorbed in her book and then in choking, a bomb could have exploded beside her. Or worse, the press could have tracked him down and attacked, and she’d never have noticed.

There’d just been something about her. Something that called to him.

Not something. Her eyes. Dear God. He’d dreamed about them for years. And depending on the length of the dream, he’d either wake up hard, frustrated and strangely hollow inside, or soft, spent and still strangely hollow inside.

Every instinct told him waking up beside Sophie would leave him full, sated, replete and content. Every instinct told him to go back to her, to beg her to come with him to the rented apartment. To stay with him until he had no choice but to leave her and face the world again.

The dream Sophie was more real, more known to him than any other woman had ever been. He strongly suspected the living, breathing Sophie could be all that—and so much more.

He should be questioning the ease with which he was accepting her existence. He’d never heard of anyone stumbling across the real-life embodiment of their sleeping fantasies. But then again, he’d never heard of anyone else dreaming about the same woman for ten years.

Meeting her felt…right. As though fate had stepped in and thrown her in his path—not once now, but twice. So why the hell was he walking away?

He should listen to his instincts. They never failed him. Hadn’t his grandmother told him that repeatedly?

Fuck, he couldn’t have stayed with her.

She’d almost recognized him
. Almost seen through Nathan and glimpsed Jamie. For two months he’d been able to hide his other persona, leave Jamie at home in New York, while Nathan relaxed, away from the lights and the frenetic pace of his professional life.

Nathan took a quick detour down a tiny side street and jogged the rest of the way to the InterContinental, where his brothers and the rest of the band were staying. Although Zachary and Seth Pace, AKA Jonah and Jordan Speed, liked for him to stay at the same hotel, both appreciated his temporary need for solitude and time out. After their last tour, followed immediately by the recording of their new album, Nathan had been exhausted. The vacation in Queensland had been a lifesaver.

But he hadn’t seen his brothers for two months. Hooking up with them and the rest of the band again was pretty cool. As was getting back into the rhythm of
Speed
.

Climbing into bed with Sophie would probably also be pretty cool, but since that wasn’t going to happen, he’d better give his full attention to his work and the concerts that began the day after tomorrow. Much as he wanted to, he did not have time to think about anything else. Not even a woman who’d enthralled him—both in his dreams and in reality.

Maybe he’d run this whole crazy scenario past his brothers. They might just have something to say about what to do when one met a dream lover in real life.

Chapter Three

Sophie popped the earpiece out of her ear and knocked on the door. Damn it, her hand shook.

No reply.

Disappointment settled keenly in her stomach.

She knocked again. Still no response. Taking no chances whatsoever, she knocked a third and fourth time. Silence.

He wasn’t in.

She opened the door to the apartment, but refused to walk inside or put her music back on—just in case.

“Housekeeping,” she yelled, listening for the sound of running water.

Nothing.

The apartment may have been silent, but her head wasn’t. It was full of images and sounds that she’d dreamed last night. Full of the erotic lovemaking she’d indulged in while asleep. For the first time ever, her dream lover had a face: Nathan’s.

Sophie had woken up believing she’d lost her mind. She’d thought the same thing when the dreams had first begun. Wondered how she could so consistently dream about a man she didn’t know. Wondered how the images could be so overtly sexual and wanton, yet so loving and tender all at the same time.

Ten years ago, she’d forced herself to accept the dreams as a manifestation of the growing needs and lusts of her maturing body. Later, as a psychology student, she’d been trained to look for the meaning behind an experience. The result? She’d spent hours in the library and on the net researching dreams and their symbolism.

She’d Googled
recurrent dreams
and looked at the symbolism of eyes, the color brown, brown eyes, sex, strangers, sex with strangers, males, man of mystery and other terms she felt may give her some guidance into the inner workings of her subconscious mind.

She’d long since memorized the symbolism, although almost every explanation she’d found had left her floundering.

Recurrent dreams:
Indicative of unresolved issues or repressed emotions from your daily life; a way for your unconscious to tell you something.

Honestly, Sophie could not think of a single unresolved issue in her life. Not one that had remained unresolved for ten years, anyway.

Man of mystery:
May be a sign that your romantic life is in a rut, and you desire more mystery and less routine and ritual.

Sophie had spent years developing her routines and rituals. She liked knowing everything in her life happened when it was supposed to and how it was supposed to. No more nasty, life-taking accidents for her, thank you very much.

Eyes:
May symbolize that your vision is clearing and you are now able to focus on steering your life in a new direction. Or they may be symbolic of a prophecy or of seeing your future.

Sophie had tried so many times to work out what new directions her life could take, or had already taken, she strongly suspected there was not a road left unexplored. As for seeing her future, well, she’d dreamt about Nathan’s eyes, not her own. Did that mean Nathan was her future? The idea was so preposterous she almost laughed out loud.

Some of the definitions had even been conflicting. Some books said dreaming of brown eyes was a sign of good friends and shared love. Others warned an enemy was watching, his or her brown eyes a symbol of deceit and perfidy.

Nathan hardly seemed deceitful. Or treacherous for that matter. And an enemy? Uh, yeah, maybe—
if
he had
tried to get her sorry ass fired. He hadn’t.

There were so many theories and symbolisms about having sex with a stranger, she’d spent months trying to digest them all. And she’d yet to come across a Google search that gave her answers to
recurrent erotic dreams about a stranger with beautiful brown eyes.

Last night she’d sat with her laptop and searched for
meeting people in real life you’ve only dreamed about before.

She’d found about as much information as she’d expected. Nothing. Discussions on forums, yes, and some people saying they’d dreamed of someone one day and met them the next, but nothing like she’d experienced.

Consequently, Sophie had come to the only theoretical conclusion she could from her research. She was nuts. Plain and simple.

Certifiably.

Sophie stepped inside and pushed the door closed. She wanted to holler Nathan’s name. Call to him. Beg him to take her hand in his and pick up where they’d left off yesterday—with her finger in his mouth.

No, she didn’t. She didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to be reminded of her questionable sanity.

Besides, he’d run off. Left her fumbling helplessly, staring at his back. Left her to explain to Tasha why she’d let him sit at her table. Her muttered excuse that there were no free tables—and he was gorgeous—appeased Tasha enough that she hadn’t prodded further. Or perhaps Sophie’s crushing sense of disappointment at his departure had been reflected on her face, and Tasha hadn’t wanted to push her.

So nervous had she been about coming back here today, she’d left his place for last. She’d already finished the three other units in the building. Damn her weakness. She’d even taken time to freshen up before walking to Nathan’s door. Now there could be no more procrastinating.

Each time she opened the door to one of these apartments, she lost herself to a world of luxury and opulence. A world of money. A world she had never belonged in and never would.

She called out again, just in case. Silence greeted her. There was no sign of Nathan.

Sophie threw open the doors to the balcony, allowing in a rush of salty air. A damp towel had been thrown over one of the loungers, telling her Nathan had made use of the large sunken spa in the corner. The shaded glass across the balcony allowed for absolute privacy without obstructing the exquisite, uninterrupted views across the harbor.

Within minutes the couches were set straight and the pillows puffed out to make them look brand new. Sophie expertly mopped the travertine floors to a shiny finish and tackled the dishes. As she put away the last washed glass and polished the granite benchtops, she hummed
Speed
’s
latest hit, thinking again about how alike Nathan and Jamie Speed were. Thinking of Nathan’s eyes.

Heat scalded her cheeks. And her belly.

The bedroom was dark. The blinds still drawn, the bathroom door open and the doona a crumpled, rumpled mess on the bed. The scent of aftershave filled the air, woodsy and masculine, and instantly Sophie thought of Nathan. It smelled like him. Delicious.

Sophie bent over and picked up a pair of discarded jeans and a T-shirt, inhaling at the same time. The scent clinging to the clothes was intoxicating.

Nathan’s scent.

Without thinking she brought the shirt to her face and buried her nose in the soft cotton. Her nipples beaded and desire tugged between her legs. It was the shirt he’d had on yesterday.

Behave!

Sophie forced herself to fold the shirt and jeans, placing them neatly on a chair. She tugged on the blinds, letting sunlight stream into the room.

Making the bed would take a few seconds. Just tug on the corners of the doona and—

Sophie yelped.

Any blood in her face and upper body drained into her legs. Her vision blurred and dizziness overwhelmed her.

Lying in the center of the bed, beneath the rumpled, crumpled doona, was Nathan.

A mass of pillows surrounded his head, almost camouflaging him. In the darkened room, he’d been invisible. It was only with the light flooding through the windows that she could see him.

“Mornin’.” His smile was lazy and his voice roughened by sleep. “I wondered when you’d notice I was here.”

Sophie prayed to God she didn’t pass out. Then she prayed to God she did. Because if she was unconscious, she wouldn’t have to face up to the mortifying circumstances.

For the second time in two days, she’d walked in on a guest.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but nothing came out. Not even an awkward squeak.

“What, nothing to say? Not even a greeting?”

“I…” Sophie’s voice erupted as a hoarse rasp. She cleared her throat. “I knocked. And called out. You never answered.”

“I know.” Nathan nodded.

“You know?”

“I heard you.”

“And you never answered?”

“Would you have come in if I had?”

“Of course…” She let the words trail off, unsure what she would have done. Her instinct would have been to ram the door down and race inside. Her professional self wouldn’t have allowed it. She shook her head. “No.”

His smile was small, sexy and just as devilish as it had been yesterday. “That’s why I never answered.”

Dear Lord. His voice should be illegal. The soft hum drifted over her skin, electrifying it. “You wanted me to come in?”

“I wanted you. Period.”

“You what?” Certain she’d misheard, she shook her head, as though clearing white noise from her ears.

“I want you, Sophie.” The truth of his declaration radiated from his eyes. The passion she saw in them mirroring the passion she’d seen in her dream last night. Passion, desire, arousal, lust. All of them vivid in his brown gaze.