THE DREAM CHILD (3 page)

So instead he’d climbed the public service career ladder. Hard work, along with his father’s influence had seen him jump the grades faster than most. Of course this had put some people’s noses out of joint, but Victor didn’t really care what other people though any more. Ever since Amanda’s desertion, he felt as though he’d entered some kind of emotional twilight zone, where he didn’t feel anything the way he used to. In a way it was a safe place to be, except it appeared to have also killed off positive sensations as well, such as those associated with desire.

Until the arrival of the beautiful, dark-haired woman with the warm and inviting body who’d made him feel again, at least in his dreams.

This was the third night in a row she’d visited him, and he welcomed her with open arms, making him realise just how long it had been since he’d made love to a woman.

Way too long! Six years too long.

His celibacy was plainly obvious in the way he hungrily kissed her soft full lips, the way he rubbed his aching and aroused body against hers. But it seemed she met every demand he made with just as much desire, stroking him, kissing him, sighing deeply from the intense pleasure they gave one another.

She had beautiful breasts, with large pink nipples he couldn’t get enough of. She was probably older than him, making him wonder how he’d come up with such a dream woman. She was still incredibly supple, with soft smooth skin, and a delicate heart-shaped face.

Her chestnut brown hair fell in soft waves that tickled him enticingly as she bent over him to take him into herself. She seemed to like being on top as much as he wanted her there. It meant he could admire her large breasts as they swayed seductively with their love making.

What amazed him most of all was how unashamed she was about her body. Most women, Amanda in particular, had always wanted to do it under the cover of darkness, hiding their perceived flaws, but this woman, this goddess, seemed to revel in her body and the pleasure it gave her.

Her mounting excitement only seemed to fuel his, and he gripped hold of her hips, plunging deeper into her.

He echoed her gasps of pleasure with deep sighs of his own. Victor was certain he’d never felt anything this good in real life.

He shuddered, filling her, loving her, wishing she were real, as he reached the most mind-blowing release ever. He sighed deeply pulling her against him, as she too trembled with pleasure.

They drifted off in one another’s arms, but Victor knew he’d wake alone, which he was sure was only a few minutes later, because his arms were empty, and the sheets wet and sticky from their love making.

How on earth was he going to explain something like this if it happened over the weekend? He was meant to be going bushwalking with a group of hikers. If his dark-haired beauty climbed into his sleeping bag while he slept, he could have one heck of an embarrassing situation on his hands in the morning.

Sophie wasn’t looking forward to the weekend one little bit. She was supposed to be going to her nephew’s fourth birthday party at Hornsby Heights, which meant combing the shops on Saturday for a suitable present, followed by Sunday listening to her sister’s incessant chatter about her wonderful children, and her mother’s laments over Sophie’s inability to find another man. Sophie knew they didn’t do it to hurt her, but it always left her mourning the loss of her own babies and the failure of her marriage. She was also exhausted from her bizarre dreams.

It felt very much as though the sexy blonde stranger was keeping her awake, and considering she was waking minus her nightie, she wondered just how active her nocturnal subconscious mind was being.

She decided to get onto the internet to see what she could find out about sleep walking, or in her case sleep undressing. It was disconcerting to say the least.

Her web-browsing didn’t really help to shed any more light onto her situation, only making her more tired and cranky and even less inclined to go shopping.

But she owed it to her nephew. Turning up without a present was not an option, but Sophie hated shopping centres, where there were always prams ramming into her heels, screaming children running in front of her, and pushy shopkeepers trying to sell her things she didn’t need or want. After her last miscarriage, Sophie had her groceries home delivered, but after a while found it easier to go late at night after most children were in bed and the crowds had dissipated.

Despite her own inability to have children, Sophie loved her niece and nephew, Carmen and Lachlan. Her sister, Rita, was expecting a third child in four months time, so Sophie had to watch her sister’s waist-line expand yet again. Oh, she could rationalise it all in her mind, and tried ever so hard not to begrudge Rita her happiness, but Sophie wished that just once, some of her sister’s good luck would rub off on her.

As soon as she thought about it Rita got pregnant. She hadn’t had one single miscarriage and she’d been married to a wonderful man for over ten years. Simon Boyd was an architect who’d designed their beautiful two story mansion in the Hornsby Valley. Not only was he handsome, he as also a very nice person who loved his wife and children dearly. Sophie couldn’t fault a thing about him, other than he seemed to be succumbing to what every other man in his forties did; the middle age spread.

Rita had even gone back to work part time as a legal secretary, but doubted she would after her third child. Simon earned enough to keep them all in the middle class comfort they were accustomed to.

Sophie, on the other hand, had led a good life until she’d met Duncan. Her bead shop had been doing well. She’d enjoyed teaching her customers the skills of jewellery making, as well as buying unique and beautiful beads and findings to work with. She’d even started getting some her projects into the national bead magazines. In fact she’d been making quite a name for herself, until she decided to try for a baby.

Once she’d stepped onto the IVF roller coaster, it consumed her life, and all she could think about was whether the next cycle was going to work. The fact that she couldn’t really talk to anyone about it, made it even more difficult.

Oh, she’d told her mother and sister what was happening, but neither of them had gone though anything even remotely like it, so they didn’t understand the emotional treadmill of waiting and hoping, only to have her hopes dashed when her period arrived instead of a positive pregnancy test.

Not even Duncan had understood, even though he’d gone to most of the important appointments with her. He hadn’t accompanied her to the routine tests, and couldn’t even bear to watch as she injected the daily dose of hormones that sent her troppo in the days before she went under the anaesthetic to have her eggs harvested.

She hadn’t told anyone at work what she was doing either, other than to let her supervisor know that she was undergoing medical treatment, and would sometimes be in late, or have to take a few days off for surgery.

So when she miscarried for the first time, only weeks after she’d received the wonderful news that she was pregnant, it had sent her spiralling into months of despair. Her doctor had wanted to prescribe anti-depressants, but she told him that anyone would feel low if they’d gone through what she just had.

And she’d done it twice more after that. The third miscarriage had occurred only days before she was due for her twelve week ultrasound, and it was by far the most painful loss, both physically and emotionally.

Then to have Duncan tell her he wanted a divorce, had sent her so far down the road of misery, she’d accepted the doctor’s pills. They had helped her through the worst of it, but as everyone knew, nothing but time could ease the painful burden of grief.

To all intents and purposes Sophie had gotten over her loss, but she hadn’t been able to get over the desire for a child of her own. She kind of wished that the clinic still had some of their embryos left. She would have walked in there pretending she and Duncan were still together just for another chance at a child. But in all reality it would probably have ended up in another miscarriage.

Perhaps the fates were telling her she wasn’t meant to have a baby, something Sophie was having considerable difficulty coming to terms with. But as she approached her thirty-sixth birthday, she knew time was running out, particularly since there wasn’t a man in her life, and unlikely to be one any time soon, since she was so disinclined to go out.

At the end of each day, all she wanted to do was go home, collapse in front of the TV, computer, or with her nose in a book, and leave the real world behind for a while.

She supposed that was the reason she’d come up with the stunning blonde man who haunted her dreams. No one in real life could compete. So when he didn’t show up in her bed on Saturday night, she was almost disappointed.

Even though she woke feeling more rested and refreshed than she had since he’d first appeared in her dreams, she wondered if this meant she’d seen the last of him.

Sophie drove to her sister’s house feeling rather confused and just a little bit sad.

Even though it proved a trying day, her nephew was delighted with her gift. It had taken her quite some time to find the building block pirate ship, but the little boy played with little else for the rest of the afternoon.

All his playgroup friends and their mothers were there, so it was inevitable that one of them asked Sophie which one of the many children present were hers.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say; “Dead and buried,” but she knew this wouldn’t go down too well at a children’s party, so she gave her usual answer. “My husband and I divorced before we got the chance to have any.”

Of course this elicited uncomfortable looks, and a quick change of subject, but Sophie reasoned that since they’d asked the question they had to accept her answer.

At last it was time to go home and she headed back to her lonely Meadowbank apartment to face another week of her hum-drum life in a downtown city office block.

Once again her bed remained empty, which led Sophie to conclude that her dream lover had been a temporary apparition, a more than pleasant but fleeting diversion from the daily grind.

CHAPTER THREE

After battling with a broken umbrella, an overcrowded, late running train, and soaking wet shoes, Sophie wished she’d never gotten out of bed.

The usual glum faces greeted her as she stepped into the elevator and jabbed her finger against the button for floor number ten.

I hate my job, she thought crossly as her umbrella dripped more icy water onto her shoes. I hate my job and I wish I were a million miles away, preferably on a pristine white beach.

Not even the sparkling Swarovski necklace, matching hair clip and earrings she had on could lift her mood. Whoever had coined the phrase;
I hate Mondays
, must have had her in mind.

As she got off on her floor and started walking past the assessments team, she saw Amrita struggling with a large box from which a couple of manila folders had started to slide.

Sophie hurried to her side, grabbing the files before they could drop onto the floor. Since she was still carrying her dripping umbrella, more water splashed against her black pants, making her gnash her teeth in consternation.

“Maybe Louise has it right this time. I found out something rather interesting about our new section manager the other day.” She leant towards Sophie. “It was the surname that got me curious, so I made some discrete inquiries, and sure enough, his father was the previous State Director, James Rose, now retired.”

“Really! I thought we were meant to be a transparent department with well-supported staff,” Sophie quoted the staff charter in a cynical voice.