Out of Her Dreams

by Fran Lee

  Phyllis just nodded, obviously overwhelmed by the sheer size and magnificence of the man who had just smiled so beautifully down at her. She stared after him until he had vanished out the back door of the store and then she turned back to Sam, who was smoothing her hair with shaking hands.

  “My God, Sam. I just found out who that man is. I had no idea you knew any professional wrestlers. What a hunk! How on earth did you get him to let us use his image and name?”

  The look on her star writer’s face made her blink and groan. She stared in horror as understanding dawned. “Oh Sam. I hope to hell he likes you enough not to take every bit of the profit we’ve made on this damn series. I’ll go belly up! What the hell possessed you to take that liberty without getting written permission?”

  Sam shrugged defensively and her eyes looked glazed. “I could not even begin to explain this mess to you, or anyone else, Phyllis. I have never met that man before today.”

  “And yet you used his name and used his face and body on the cover of your books? My God, Sam. That’s professional suicide.”

  “You don’t understand!” Sam shoved her hair from her face with a shaky hand. “I never even saw him before today. I didn’t just see some hot man I drooled over and slap his face into print. I’m not that friggin’ stupid. I can’t even begin to imagine how it happened.” She paced back and forth in agitation. “I had a wild, crazy wet dream when I was just fourteen and it starred that man. I genuinely didn’t know he existed outside my dreams and imagination. I doubt anyone even knew who he was back then. I don’t know, maybe I’m a closet psychic and got some vibes or something. I just don’t know!”

  Phyllis stared at her as if she were completely insane. “Nobody on earth would buy that ridiculous story. They might buy your fantasy romance novels but no judge will buy that wild explanation.”

  “I hope it won’t have to go that far. He wants to see me later for dinner. Maybe I can get him to settle out of court. And I won’t commit any money of yours. Just my own. Don’t worry…I can always sell everything I own to pay what he feels it’s worth.” Sam drew a shaking breath. If I survive dinner.

  “I have no idea what to tell those women out there, Sam. They are absolutely rabid to get his signature on their books.”

  “Well, they’re just going to have to settle for mine. Providing they still want to buy my books.” She straightened her skirt and strode past her friend and business associate. “Lord protect me from my own stupidity.”

  The women who had seen him were disappointed that he hadn’t stayed to sign their books and let them feast their eyes on him. Sam found the book that she had signed for him and she tucked it covertly into her shoulder bag, along with his card. As she fingered the edge of the white business card, she had to force down the wave of sheer heat that the memory of their minutes in the stockroom conjured up. She had really gotten herself into a pickle now. And saints preserve her, she desperately wanted to be right back in that damn stockroom with him right now.

  * * * * *

  The rest of the afternoon went fairly quickly as another two hundred and forty books were whisked off the shelves and out of just-opened boxes and brought for her to sign. As the afternoon progressed, and news circulated that the cover model who had posed for her books had actually been none other than a real live professional wrestler with biceps the size of footballs and a body to die for, she found herself under a barrage of questions…and she had no honest answers.

  She found herself avoiding answering questions about how she had met the infamous “bad boy” of the wrestling world. Most of these women had never even seen or heard of the man, just like her, but now they all seemed to know who he was and that he was allegedly the hidden inspiration for her larger-than-life hero, Chance Davis.

  There were even a few die-hard wrestling fans standing in line for her novel by the end of the day and when the supply of new books was exhausted, they stripped the shelves of her older books, the earlier parts of the series. It amazed her that gossip travelled faster than the speed of sound.

  She lifted her eyes to the face of a young man with rings through his nose and lip, who was grinning down at her. “You’re a fan of my romance novels?” she asked with a look of surprise.

  The youth wagged his brows at her and grinned. “Nope but I’m a big fan of Chance Braza!” He indicated the face of her hero on the cover. “I bought the book for my girlfriend but I get to hang the cover on my wall.”

  Chance Braza? So that was his pro wrestling name. She smiled wryly and signed the flyleaf, “To Chance’s biggest fan. Samantha Hastings”. He crowed and yelled back over the line to someone standing by the door, “I got it!”

  Her day ended an hour and a half after the store had closed its doors for the afternoon. That was how long it took to clear out the crowd of waiting customers who had bought her books. After the last person had vacated the store, she sank back and massaged her aching hand and gratefully took the pair of painkillers Phyllis held out to her with a fresh glass of cool water.

  “Well, that seemed like something straight out of the Twilight Zone.” She tried not to sound completely exhausted as she picked up her bag and jacket and shrugged into the sleeves.

  “So, where are you going to meet him? You want me to go with you?” The woman’s hopeful eyes searched her face. “For moral support, I mean?”

  Sam shook her head and pulled his card out of her bag, frowning at it as she pulled out her cell phone. “No. It’ll be all right. I think he just wants me to grovel a bit more. And I’ll happily grovel. Just pray he doesn’t decide to twist my head off.”

  “You sure you want to go alone?” Phyllis asked.

  Sam grinned at her and nodded. “I’ll be fine. After all, what the hell can the man do to me in the middle of a restaurant? All he can do is threaten and then call his lawyer, right? I doubt he’ll commit murder in front of a few dozen witnesses.” Besides, she wanted to see him again and she certainly didn’t want Phyllis there to stare and drool.

  She dialed the number on the card and after several rings, the line clicked but there was no voice. Assuming his voicemail had picked up, Sam sighed with relief. Thank God! She would just leave him a message and maybe delay the meeting until she had time to consult with her attorney. “This is Sam Hastings, Mr. Chance. Sorry I missed you-”

  “You didn’t miss me.” His deep, husky tone interrupted her speech.

  “Oh. I thought I’d reached your voicemail.” Her pulse accelerated alarmingly. What a wuss. How pathetic could she be?

  “I just finished up here and it’s a lot later than I expected, so maybe we can set an appointment for lunch tomorrow.” She bit her lip.

  “No. Dinner. Tonight. Park Regency Hotel. Nine thirty sharp. Ask for me at the desk.” His line went dead and she bit her lower lip a bit nervously. She pressed the end button and put the phone away, meeting her business manager’s questioning eyes. She fought to conceal the flush of anticipation his words had sent racing through her.

  “If I don’t call you by eleven, file for my insurance. And I want to be buried at sea. And don’t forget to feed my cat.” She figured a flip attitude might work here. At least she wouldn’t sound so desperately needy.

  Phyllis made a wry face. “You think he might hurt you?”

  “Only my pride and my bank balance. I was just joking.”

  “Well, just try hard to make him see reason, okay? And if that fails, try a blowjob.”

  Sam gave a short laugh of shock as she stared at the woman. “Phyllis!”

  “Or tell him I will. Just call me and I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

  “I don’t believe you just said that, you wicked, wicked woman.” Sam shook her head and grinned at her as she shouldered her bag. “See you tomorrow at the gym.”

  “And I want all the gory details.”

  So do I. Sam’s thoughts were hectic and hot, just like her body felt. Man, she had to get her brain back into gear here. She couldn’t afford to beha
ve like she had in the stockroom. She had to maintain a businesslike facade of professional pride. Yeah. Sure. And remember not to drool all down his nice suit.

  She glanced at her watch as she hailed a taxi. It was nearly eight. She had just enough time to go change into a decent dinner dress. The Park Regency boasted a four-star restaurant and she didn’t want to go all rumpled and bedraggled. She gave her address to the cabbie and as she sank back into the comfortable rear seat, she watched the traffic pouring past, her thoughts wandering treacherously back to those marvelous few minutes in the stockroom of the bookstore when she had actually relived her recurring dreams with a living, breathing, hotter-than-hell man who hadn’t seemed to mind one bit that she’d been mindlessly feeling him up.

  Her cheeks burned at the memory of his calloused hands on her body, slipping up under her blouse to cup and gently squeeze her breast through the satin and lace of her bra. Cupping her ass cheeks as he’d pulled her against his thigh while she attempted to hump his leg like a horny puppy. Oh God. How completely embarrassing!

  Her apartment was not far from the Park Regency. She probably could walk it in less than half an hour. She paid the cab driver and hurried up the steps to the front doors and swiped her card key to get inside. It took her less than twenty minutes to grab a quick shower and don fresh attire suitable for dinner. She looked at her hair and frowned. Her coppery red hair was so aggravating in its insistence on flying about her head like a wild thing. She brushed it smooth and dragged it into a conservative twist at the back of her head, securing the knot neatly with two Japanese carved faux-ivory chopsticks that she had bought because they looked like expensive Oriental hair pins.

  A careful application of muted bronze lipstick minimized the size of her too-wide, too-full lips. She slipped her feet into a pair of four-inch heels so that she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look him in the face again and she tucked her keys, some cash and the book he had bought into a smaller shoulder bag.

  She glanced at her watch. Opting for a taxi again because walking in spike heels was a pain in the ass-and the feet-she left her cozy, safe apartment and headed for the elevator. She breathed a quick prayer to any deity or saint who might be listening to help her get through the next couple of hours with as little financial damage as possible, while keeping her head firmly attached to her shoulders and her feet firmly on the floor.

  Chapter Three

  David glanced at his reflection in the cheval mirror over the dresser and ran one hand distractedly through his close-cropped dark hair. He didn’t know why he was so damn worried about his appearance. He shouldn’t care less if the woman thought he was attractive or not. He didn’t need to impress her.

  He simply wanted to find out who had leaked the information to her that she had put in her books. Right? Right. Luckily, no one but he and a few other people close to him knew that her uncertain, mistake-making, mushy hero was none other than the tough, nasty Chance Braza. A few years younger and a lot less wise. And far less knowledgeable about love and life. He certainly didn’t like the idea of anyone knowing that was him.

  He hadn’t realized until his manager had shown him the book what had caused the unusual recent surge of interest in him, from a hell of a lot of folks who didn’t usually go in for pro wrestling entertainment. He was even more in demand because of it, so that wasn’t what truly bothered him. But it bothered him beyond reason to know she was inside his head. He wanted to know how she had gotten there.

  And just maybe, he wanted to know what it felt like to be inside Samantha Hastings. Yeah. That was definitely something he wanted to discover. So much so that his cock was at full attention just thinking of seeing her again.

  His room phone rang and he lifted the receiver. “Yeah?”

  “Your business associate has arrived, sir,” the front desk clerk said quietly, his eyes circumspectly averted from the woman in front of his desk. “Yes, sir.” He hung up and smiled at her. “Michael will show you to Mr. Braza’s suite.”

  Sam blinked. “His suite? He isn’t going to meet me in the restaurant?”

  The man behind the front desk smiled reassuringly. “Perhaps he isn’t quite ready yet. I’m sure the proper reservations have been made.”

  As the woman followed the bellhop toward the elevators, the front desk clerk pursed his lips and let out a slow whistle. Some men had it all. And the call girls were looking even younger and more innocent. But it wasn’t his business. What a guest did in the privacy of a two-thousand-dollar-a-night room was none of his business. He cleared his throat and went back to work.

  Sam preceded the bellhop into the suite and thanked him as he bowed and closed the double doors behind him, leaving her standing in the high-ceilinged sitting room of the frightfully expensive suite at the top of the hotel. She looked about nervously, clasping her bag tightly. Oh brother. Was this a bit like jumping from the frying pan into the fire?

  “Hello? Mr. Chance? David?” she called out.

  She walked slowly across the luxuriously thick carpet to the supper table set up before the fireplace and looked about the decadently fabulous room. Obviously he had planned on a very private meal. She touched the bottle of champagne and swallowed hard. Dear Lord. She didn’t know if she could manage being alone with him again. She didn’t realize she wasn’t alone now until his voice made her turn with a little gasp.

  “You have my book?” The sight of him standing in the doorway of the luxurious sitting room made her breath leave her in a startled whoosh.

  Control yourself, Sam. It is not polite to stare and drool.

  She nodded jerkily, opening the bag and taking out the hardback copy. “Of course. You paid for it.”

  She held it out as he walked across the room to stop a couple of feet from her. He looked awe-inspiring in a beautifully tailored silk shirt that was open to show his corded neck and a pair of trim Armani slacks. The material sleekly covered but didn’t hide the massively muscled body beneath it and her mouth went dry again. God but that man had a walk-predatory and sexy as hell.

  She had no idea real live men could look so utterly marvelous and perfect. Dream men could, but certainly not real ones. Heat pooled and swirled in the area somewhere below her navel, trickling into the suddenly damp center of her body as the man stalked toward her like some big cat on the prowl. She watched those dark eyes moving down her body to her feet before returning slowly to her red face. A shot of something honeyed and hot surged through her at that look and she knew exactly what was on his mind-because the exact same thing was running through hers.

  He took the book from her hand slowly and opened it to the flyleaf, his dark eyes touching the page for a long moment before returning to her face again.

  “You were serious about that dream bit?” His voice was quiet. A small smile curved his lips.

  Oh. My. God. That mouth.

  She swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

  The sight of her standing beside the intimate little table for two sent a jolt of lust knifing through him almost painfully. David could almost taste her delicate floral perfume, along with the delicious scent of a woman who craved what she saw. She stood bravely erect in an incredible blue silk dress that hugged every lush curve she possessed. The warmth of her body and the need in those green eyes fired his blood and made his groin swell and come alive with a vengeance. He found himself staring like an idiot. A horny idiot.

  It was suddenly hard to remember why he had asked her to come. Was it to discuss the books, or was it simply to see her again? To take her and slowly strip her and taste her soft skin with his lips and tongue until she begged him to bury his cock inside her and finish it up right? Okay. That sounded good. Damn good.

  He wondered what her hands would feel like moving over his naked body. What she would think if he just tossed the damn book and dragged her against him to let her feel how rock hard he was and how much he craved her? And as he opened the book to stare again at the autograph she had scrawled over the flyleaf page,
he knew that she was not leaving here tonight until he had tasted every inch of that creamy skin.

  He closed the book slowly and set it on the end table beside the sofa. He watched her as she twisted her slim fingers together and watched him warily, as if she sensed his desire and didn’t quite know how to handle it. He intended to show her just how to handle it. And if it got much harder, it was going to rip right through his slacks and say hello.

  He rubbed the side of his nose thoughtfully, shoving his other hand firmly into his slacks pocket, and he noted that she inhaled deeply at the mannerism she had written into her books. His dark eyes met hers and he asked softly, “Where do you know me from?” He fought to see into her thoughts. “You have my personality and my guts spread out inside those books of yours but I can’t remember ever meeting or even seeing you before, so who the hell fed you this information?”

  She took an unconscious step back as he advanced one step and her hand lifted to her throat in that oddly defensive gesture that bothered him greatly-as if she expected him to reach out suddenly and throttle her. His dark eyes slid over that creamy throat and he barely managed to suppress a growl. He advanced another step and watched as she maneuvered back again, warily attempting to place the coffee table between them.

  Sam swallowed hard and shook her head. “I told you, I had no idea I was writing about a living, breathing person. I know you will never believe me but I only knew what I dreamed.”

  He let his gaze slip down over her body in that sinfully sexy creation she had chosen to wear and he savored the hot jolt of lust that flared in his body. Yes. He was going to enjoy seeing that dress slither off that delicious body and pool about her ankles. He would take her slow and hard-

  He had to force his mind away. Think. You need answers!

  “You still say that I appeared to you in a dream when you were fourteen and you learned everything about me from that one dream?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Sounds like a bad movie plot.”