Sweet Dreams (13 page)

His heartbeat kicked into a higher rhythm as he sat on the side of the bed. Reaching for her, he pressed her face to his chest. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“My leg,” she gasped as the muscle tightened even more.

“Move your hand.”

Preston stared at the lump that had come up on the back of her calf. “It looks as if you have a muscle cramp. I’m going to have to massage it to get the blood flowing again.”

He’d experienced enough cramps when he’d played football in high school, and then in college, to last him several lifetimes. His interest in competitive sports ended once he broke his nose. After it healed a plastic surgeon wanted to reset it, but he didn’t want to have to relive the pain that left his face bruised and swollen for weeks.

Chandra had experienced severe menstrual cramps, but the pain in her leg surpassed any she’d had. “Please don’t massage it too hard,” she said between clenched teeth.

Preston’s fingers grazed the tight area. “I’m going to cover your calf with a warm cloth before I massage it.”

She half rose from the bed. “Aren’t you supposed to ice it?”

“I’ll ice it later.”

He entered the bathroom, wet a facecloth under running hot water and returned to the bedroom to place it over Chandra’s leg. Lying beside her, he kissed the end of her nose. “Did it just cramp up?”

Chandra’s smile came out like a grimace. “It was bothering me earlier.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’d asked you to stop so I could rest my legs.”

“Resting your legs isn’t the same as saying you had a leg cramp.”

She closed her eyes, shutting out his thunderous expression. “There’s no need to get testy, Preston. It’s not that critical.”

“That’s your opinion.”

Chandra opened her eyes and glared at him glaring back at her. “If you’re spoiling for a fight, then you won’t get one from me, Preston Tucker, because with the pain that’s kicking my butt I might say something that wouldn’t be very intelligent or ladylike.”

Preston counted slowly to three. He wasn’t about to get into it with Chandra over something that didn’t warrant an argument. If she’d told him that her leg was hurting, then he would’ve suggested they put off walking for another time.

“I don’t fight with women.”

“My bad,” she drawled. “I meant argue.”

“And I don’t argue with women.”

Another spasm gripped Chandra, preempting her comeback. “Argh-h!”

Galvanized into action, Preston moved to the foot of the bed. Removing the cloth, he kneaded the area
gently with his thumbs, alternating applying pressure with massaging her calf. Fifteen minutes into his ministration, the lump disappeared.

“Don’t move,” Preston said in a soft voice. “I’m going to get some ice.”

Chandra couldn’t move when she felt him get up off the bed, even if her life depended upon it. She’d endured the most excruciating pain possible, and now that it was gone she feared moving because she didn’t know if it would return.

She gasped again, this time when icy cold penetrated her limb. Preston had filled a plastic bag with ice, pressed it against her calf and covered it with a towel to absorb the moisture.

She gave him a dazzling smile when he lay beside her again. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He stared at her under heavy lids, and she thought he wasn’t going to accept her apology.

“Are you really sorry, or are you saying it because you think that’s what I want to hear?”

Unbidden tears filled her eyes, shocking Chandra. She was the Eaton girl who rarely cried. Even when she fell and hurt herself she refused to cry. She was the tough tomboy sister who threw tantrums when she had to wear a dress, while Donna and Belinda loved playing dress-up with frilly dresses and high heels.

The first and only time she’d become hysterical was when she’d returned to the States for a family emergency and was told that her sister and brother-in-law had been killed by a drunk driver. Her father had contacted her in Belize, but refused to tell her what the emergency was until she walked through the front door of her parents’ house to find everyone waiting for her—everyone but Donna.

Preston froze when he saw the tears well up in Chandra’s eyes. Lines of concern etched his forehead. “What’s the matter, baby?”

She sniffed back the tears before they fell. “I don’t know. I suppose falling in love…” Her words trailed off when she realized what she was about to admit.

Preston’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”

“Forget it.”

“I don’t think so, Chandra Eaton. Either you finish what you were going to say or I’m going to hold you hostage until you do.”

“That’s kidnapping.”

His frown deepened. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

“No. I’m just warning you that kidnapping is a crime.”

Threading his fingers through her hair, Preston cupped the back of her head in his hand. “It can’t be a crime if you willingly come with me. Even your mother knows that.” His fingers tightened on her scalp. “Now, who are you in love with?”

Chandra felt as if her brain was in tumult. Her feelings for Preston intensified each time she saw him, which led to ambivalence and confusion. She’d always thought of herself as levelheaded, independent and able to survive without having a man in her life.

She found Preston different from the other men in her life because he was a man in every sense of the word while the others were boys masquerading as men. He was straightforward and not into mind games.

Once she realized who he was, she’d thought his ego would surpass his talent, but it was just the opposite. When she’d introduced him to her family he appeared uncomfortable with his celebrity status.

Preston stared at her without blinking. “I need to know if there’s someone else so I can walk away before I find myself in too deep.”

Panic shot through Chandra like a volt of electricity. Preston was talking about walking away when that was the last thing she wanted him to do. She’d admitted to Denise that if love did come knocking, then she was going to hold on to it as if her life was at stake.

“There’s no one else.” She rolled her eyes upward in supplication. “I swore a vow that I would never fall in love again but…” She pounded his shoulder with her fist.

Mindful of her leg, Preston gathered Chandra until she lay atop him. “It serves you right for making promises you can’t keep. I’ve never said I wouldn’t fall in love, so I’m not as conflicted as you.”

Her head came up and she met his amused stare. “What are you talking about?”

“I have no problem admitting that I love you.”

Chandra froze. “You love me?” The three words were pregnant with uncertainty.

“Yes. Why do you look so startled?”

“I thought we were just friends.”

“Yeah, right,” he drawled. “You’re delusional, baby, if you believe that.”

Her smile was dazzling. “How about friends with benefits?”

Preston winked at her. “There you go.”

They lay together, each lost in their private thoughts. Chandra couldn’t believe she’d confessed to a man she’d known a mere two weeks that she was in love with him.

Each time she left home her parents claimed she’d changed. She may have looked different outwardly, but
inwardly she hadn’t changed that much. It took living in Belize for more than two years as a volunteer teacher to change her completely.

She’d left the States a girl and returned a woman.

The dark sky and the rhythmic tapping of rain against the windows lulled both of them into a protective cocoon where any and everything ceased to exist outside their cloistered world reserved for lovers.

C
handra felt as if she was on the merry-go-round of eternal bliss and that she never wanted to get off.

She’d returned from the Brandywine Valley filled with a joy that prompted her to pinch herself to make certain she wasn’t dreaming. She and Preston had stayed over until Monday afternoon, because she had to clean her apartment. The delivery of furniture that had been in Belinda’s house was scheduled for Thursday. Preston had offered his cleaning service, but she’d turned him down because she needed to work off the tension that usually accompanied the onset of her menses.

The shipping company contacted her with the news that her trunk had arrived from Belize and wanted to set up a time for a delivery. She gave them her new address, and the trunk arrived an hour after all the other furniture was set up in the one-bedroom co-op with views of the riverside park dubbed Penn’s Landing.

She’d just emptied the steamer trunk and covered it with a colorful handwoven Indian rug in the space near the door when the intercom rang, startling her.

Pressing a button, she spoke softly into the speaker. “Yes.”

“I have a delivery for Ms. C. Eaton,” announced a slightly accented male voice.

“Come on up.” She pressed another button, disengaging the lock on the outer door.

Once the furniture was set up in its respective rooms, Chandra realized the space was much larger than she’d originally thought. Denise had had the walls painted a soft oyster-white and the wood floors sanded and covered with polyurethane, so all she had to do was wipe away layers of dust and clean the kitchen, bathroom and refrigerator. Her apartment was one of four on the top floor of a six-story building, which meant she didn’t have to deal with someone making noise over her head.

The doorbell chimed Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Denise had installed a programmable doorbell. Chandra had gone through the selections, deciding on a sample of the classical masterpiece.

She peered through the security eye. “Who is it?”

“Pascual.”

Chandra opened the door to find Preston holding a vase filled with a large bouquet of pink and white roses and a bottle of champagne. “You are so crazy.” She opened the door wider. “Please come in.”

Dipping his head, Preston gave her a searing kiss. “Congratulations. Your place is beautiful.” He handed her the bottle of champagne. “Should I take off my shoes?” The light coming from an overhead Tiffany-style hanging fixture reflected off the floor.

She smiled at him. Tonight he wore a pair of gray
flannel slacks, navy blue mohair jacket, stark white shirt and purple silk tie. “No.”

Preston debated, then slipped out of his slip-ons, walking in sock-covered feet and following Chandra into a living room with a white seating group with differing blue accessories.

“You can put the vase on the dining area table.” Chandra indicated a solid oak oval pedestal table with seating for six. She climbed four steps to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, placing the champagne on a shelf.

She’d gone to the supermarket the day before to fill the pantry with staples and the refrigerator with perishables. She didn’t have a car, so she willingly paid to have her order delivered. Chandra wasn’t certain how she would be able to get around without a car despite living in the city and having access to public transportation. Turning, she held out her arms and wasn’t disappointed when Preston moved into her embrace. It’d been five days since she last saw him, but it could’ve been fifty-five.

“I have an interview for a position as a fifth-grade social studies teacher.”

She’d checked her e-mail and received responses from two school districts. One wanted her to fill in for a special education teacher on leave, despite her not having special education certification, and the other, within walking distance, had advertised for a permanent substitute position. She’d called, setting up an appointment as a substitute.

Picking her up, Preston swung her around. “Congratulations!”

Tightening her hold on his neck, Chandra stared at the man to whom she’d given her love and her heart. How had she forgotten the sensual curve of his sexy
mouth, the little tuft of hair under his lip and the hooded, brilliantly intelligent dark eyes. Then there was the body—the lean, muscled physique under tailored attire that made her crave him whether they were together or apart.

“Congratulate me
after
I get the position.”

He smiled, the gesture tilting the corners of his mobile mouth upward. “I know you’ll get it.”

“Because you say so?”

Preston’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “Because I know so.”

“You’re biased, Preston.”

“I am when it concerns you.”

“Put me down, Preston.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to show you the rest of the apartment.”

“You can show me the rest of the apartment after we get back.”

“Where are we going, Preston?”

“We are going out to dinner.”

Chandra stared at Preston as if he’d lost his mind. “I can’t go out. Look at my hair. Look at me.” She’d made an appointment for a full beauty makeover the day before her interview.

“I am looking at you, and you’re beautiful. Remember when I wanted to take you to Le Bec-Fin and we had to postpone until another time?” Chandra nodded. “I tried to get a reservation for tonight, but they were booked. So, I decided to surprise the love of my life and take her to the Moshulu instead.”

A smile spread across Chandra like the rays of the rising sun. “Put me down so I can change out of these jeans and into something a little less casual.”

Preston kissed Chandra with his eyes before his mouth covered hers in a hot, hungry kiss. “Don’t take too long.” He lowered her until her feet touched the floor. “Go, before I change my mind and—”

“And what, Preston?”

“And have you for an appetizer, salad, entrée and dessert.”

Taking a step, Chandra pressed her breasts to his hard chest. “Start counting. I’ll be ready within fifteen minutes.”

Preston sat across the table from Chandra in the main dining room on the permanently docked tall ship overlooking the Delaware River. If it had been warmer or earlier in the year, he would’ve reserved one of the open-air upper decks. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from her face.

They’d ordered chilled jumbo shrimp with a horseradish cocktail sauce from the raw bar and an appetizer of crispy duck wontons filled with hoisin barbecue duck confit and scallions and covered with a sweet soy glaze and chopped cilantro. Both passed on the soup and salad. Chandra’s entrée choice was Gulf Coast mahimahi, while Preston selected the Amish chicken breast.

It’d taken her exactly fifteen minutes to change from a pullover and jeans and into a black wool sheath dress ending at her knees, matching sheer hose and suede pumps. A mauve hip-length mohair jacket pulled her winning look together. His gaze caressed her lightly made-up face—a face displayed to its best advantage with her shoulder-length hair fashioned into a classic chignon.

“You look incredibly beautiful tonight,” he whispered reverently. “And if you tell me I’m biased I’m going
to kiss you until you lose your breath,” Preston threatened.

Chandra took a breath and affected a demure smile. Not seeing Preston for several days had afforded her time to step back and assess their whirlwind relationship. At first she’d begun second-guessing herself, believing it was because of her collaborating with him on
Death’s Kiss
that Preston felt the need to profess to love her. That it all would come to a screeching halt once he completed the play.

Then she woke one morning, shaking with fear and uncertainty from a disturbing dream. It was upsetting because it was the first dream she’d had since returning from Belize. Unlike the others, in this one she could see a man’s face. He was laughing and pointing at her, while others joined in with their own derisive mockery. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but the man was Preston Tucker.

She’d reached for her cell with the intent of calling and telling him she couldn’t continue to see him, but her fingers refused to follow the dictates of her brain. Once she recovered from the terrifying nightmare, Chandra knew her distrust of men had reared its ugly head.

However, what she felt for Preston was real, pure. She hadn’t fallen in love with Preston J. Tucker, award-winning playwright. She’d fallen in love with Preston, the man.

She loved him, Denise was in awe of him, Griffin had taken on the responsibility of representing him professionally and her parents liked him. Whenever she spoke to Roberta, she always asked about Preston.

“Thank you, Preston.”

Chandra wanted to tell Preston he looked deliciously handsome, but couldn’t get her tongue to form the
words.
What the hell is wrong with me?
She managed to get one of Philly’s most eligible bachelors to date her exclusively; meanwhile she was acting like an uptight snob who seemed not to want to give him the time of day.

Reaching across the table, Preston took Chandra’s hand. He smiled, but the warm gesture did not reach his eyes. They were cold, his expression a mask of stone. “What’s the matter?” he asked perceptively.

“Nothing, darling.”

“Don’t darling me, Chandra. I know when something is bothering you.”

“Have you suddenly become clairvoyant, or have you always been able to read minds?”

Preston decided to ignore her acerbic retort. Something
was
bothering her and he intended to uncover what it was. Perhaps something or someone was bothering her. When he spoke to Chandra on Tuesday, she’d mentioned she had menstrual cramps, and that meant he had to wait to make love to her.

“No, but I grew up in a house with two females, so I’m familiar with them PMSing.”

Chandra rolled her eyes. “For your information, I’m finished with my cycle,” she whispered.

“If it’s not that, then what is it, Chandra?”

She knew she had to tell Preston what had her on edge. “I had a dream the other night.”

Preston’s impassive expression did not change with her revelation. He’d waited weeks for her to tell him about the dreams that had become the foundation for his latest work. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Chandra told him—everything. She saw his gaze grow hard, resentful. If they hadn’t been in a public
place, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to rein in her emotions.

Preston signaled for the waiter, then reached into the pocket of his slacks to leave two large bills on the table. Pushing back his chair, he stood, came around the table and helped Chandra to her feet. He’d heard enough.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Chandra quickened her pace to keep up with Preston’s longer legs. “Will you please slow down.” She was half jogging and half running, and in a pair of heels. “What’s going on, Preston?”

Tightening his grip on her hand, Preston shortened his stride. He had to leave the restaurant, or else cause a scene and bring attention to himself and Chandra. He’d grown up listening to his parents bicker and snipe at each other, and that was something he wanted to avoid, at all costs, with Chandra.

They were steps from her building when he felt composed enough to explain why he’d left the restaurant so abruptly. “When are you going to learn to trust me, Chandra? I’m aware that we’ve only been together a month, and I don’t believe I’ve ever given you cause to mistrust me. I haven’t dated or looked at another woman since we’ve been together. What is it you want? Tell me, what do I have to do?”

Chandra moved closer to Preston as much to feed off his body’s heat as for solace. “I never said you cheated on me.”

“You didn’t have to,” he countered. “What you refuse to do is trust me to love you, protect you, or to be there for you.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Hell, yeah, I’m overreacting. You can’t tell me you weren’t bothered by your dream if you keep looking at
me sideways and hoping I’ll mess up so you’ll have an excuse to send me packing.”

“That’s not true, Preston.”

“It has to be true, Chandra.”

“Are you calling me a liar, Preston?”

“All I’m saying is that I don’t believe you.”

Chandra stopped abruptly, causing Preston to lose his footing. However, he recovered quickly, glaring down at her like an avenging angel. The streetlamps threw long and short shadows over his face, distorting his pleasant features.

She threw up her free hand. “I don’t know what I can do or say to convince you that I
do
trust you.”

Preston’s eyes narrowed. “There is one thing you can do.”

Pulling back her shoulders, she raised her chin. “What?”

A beat passed. “Marry me.”

There came another pause before Chandra asked, “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Preston retorted.

Chandra started to walk, but she was thwarted when Preston pulled her back to where he stood. Her temper flared, invisible tongues of red-hot fire sweeping up her chest, scorching her face. “Do not play with me.” She’d enunciated each word as if he were hard of hearing.

“I’m too old to play games, Chandra. I’m going to ask you one more time if you want to marry me, and if I don’t get an answer, then I’m going to walk away and never look back.”

Chandra swallowed in an attempt to relieve the constriction in her throat. Preston Tucker was asking what every normal woman wanted the man with whom they’d fallen in love to ask:
Will you marry me?
Meanwhile, she stood like a statue on the spot, her tongue frozen between her palate and her teeth. All the while her heart was beating so fast she was certain she was going to faint.

Somewhere between sanity and insanity, good and evil, right and wrong she found a modicum of strength. Preston was right—they’d only known each other a month—four short, intense, passionate weeks in which she was able to communicate—in and out of bed—with a man who treated her as his equal. She didn’t know whether it was fate, serendipity or destiny that she’d left her case in that taxi for Preston Tucker to find, but Chandra knew she had to believe something beyond her control deemed that Preston would become a part of her life and her future.