See You In My Dreams

by Marie-Nicole Ryan

  “Just about. Why don't we go back to the cottage, and you can tell me why you're here, instead of lolling around the south of France trying to iron things out with the lovely Miss Willoughby."

  “I tried to tell you last night, but you weren't listening,” he protested.

  “It was the middle of the night.” Dammit. She couldn't believe he'd flown all the way to the States on the basis of a telephone call.

  And he had some nerve. No man had any right to show up looking so yummy in jeans and sweater. His eyes searched hers, asking a question and looking for an answer. An answer she didn't have. She shivered.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “No, someone must have walked over my grave,” Nikki replied glibly, as they strode together on the beach.

  “Would you prefer to go out for dinner? Or shall I cook for you?"

  She could hear her stomach growling. “I haven't eaten all day,” she said with a shrug. “If you want to cook, I suggest something quick before I collapse,” she said with a smile.

  “I trust you have something edible in your refrigerator?"

  “Chicken and burgers in the fridge, salad stuff. I need to shower and change. Deal?"

  Max smiled. “Deal."

  Nikki escaped into the bathroom. After she stepped into the shower, she turned the temperature control as high as she could stand it. Max had flown from France to see and talk to her. There would be no dodging the truth of her insecurities ... or how she really felt about him.

  His showing up on the beach so unexpectedly confused her. Were the engagement rumors just that? None of it made any sense. Max wasn't known for his long-term relationships, and she couldn't bear being the latest in a long line of women.

  ~ * ~

  Thirty minutes later she emerged wearing white jeans and a navy tank top. Pleased, she found Max had been very busy. She could already smell the heavenly aroma of chicken grilling. The wine chilled in a silver bucket. She opened the refrigerator door and found the salad already prepared.

  Talented man. She wondered when or where he'd learned to cook. She walked out on the deck. “I see you haven't wasted any time.” Leaning over the grill, she inhaled the delicious odors. “Vegetable kebabs too.” She flashed a smile at her handsome cook. “I approve."

  Max gave her a wide grin, showing his even, white teeth. “Yes, I've been busy. Couldn't take the risk of your starving here in the land of plenty."

  The combination of his soft tone and his slight accent made an erotic treat for Nikki's ears. A shiver of anticipation skittered down her spine—no matter what nonsense he uttered about her starving. She wished they were meeting him for the very first time, and that his presence didn't have such a powerful effect on her. How she would ever manage to eat her dinner and not lose herself in the cool depths of his jade eyes?

  “Shall we eat out here on the deck?” he asked.

  His warm gaze glance covered her like a caress. She felt the blood rush to her face, again. “Yes, the deck would be wonderful.” Pacing back and forth on the deck, she tried to keep from wringing her hands. But she kept sneaking quick glances at Max, while he turned the chicken.

  “Won't be long now,” he said, looking up from the grill.

  “Uh, good.” She tried to swallow, but her throat had dried. “I think I need something to drink."

  Max cleared his throat. “I think, perhaps, the chef could use a glass of wine."

  Nikki jumped, consumed by embarrassment. “I'm not much of a hostess, am I?” What an idiot she was. The most elementary thing, and she didn't have enough sense to offer him something to drink. She retrieved the bottle of wine, her hands shaking as if she had palsy. The condensation on the surface of the bottle caused it to slip from her hands. “Shit."

  “Here,” Max leapt forward and caught the bottle before it could crash to the floor of the deck.

  She grabbed for it at the same time. Their hands touched. Startled, she jumped, nearly dropping the bottle again.

  “Maybe, I should see to the wine, since your seem to have, what you call, the butter fingers.” Max's wry tone was playful. He removed the bottle of wine from her jittery hands, then set it aside carefully. He took her left hand in both of his and kissed the back of it.

  “Uh—” Nikki managed to gasp. His eyes held hers, as if he could read her most intimate thoughts.

  Not a good thing. Way too scary. Damn. This is hopeless. I'm going to dissolve in a useless puddle at his feet, if he makes another move.

  “The chicken!” she yelled. “It's burning."

  Max spun, grabbed a fork and poked the chicken. “The chicken, it is all right,” he said, a sly grin spreading across his face.

  Once again, he stared at her. Growing more and more uncomfortable under his unrelenting gaze, Nikki rushed back into the kitchen, blurting, “I'd better set the table."

  Five minutes later, the table was set. Max brought out several candles and lit them. “Voila. We work together well, no?"

  Nikki's lips curved into a smile. “Yes, we do."

  Max pulled out her chair. “I hope you don't mind my chauvinistic behavior, but it's how I was taught,” he told her with a slight shrug.

  She sat down, feeling her face grow warm. “It seems natural when you do it.” She gazed up into his eyes. “Thank you."

  Max sat down and speared a piece of lettuce. Still nervous, she picked at hers with a fork. “What's the matter? Don't you like it?"

  “No, I—uh, guess I'm not very hungry, after all. Why are you here, Max?” There. She'd said it. Now he'd have to give her an answer.

  Max's dark eyebrows raised in seeming disbelief. “Not hungry. You have not eaten since this morning. The sun is now setting. You must be hungry.” Max tilted his head and spoke in falsetto. “Remember what Maman would say, 'Les discussions sérieuses gâtent l'appétit. La conversation de dîner devrait amuser.'

  Nikki giggled at Max's imitation. “Yes, she did say that quite often. I still miss her.” She picked up her glass of wine and swirled it, her mind suddenly awash with memories.

  He nodded. “As do I, but she would not approve of your cavalier handling of this most excellent wine,” Max teased, his expression soft, his gaze never wavering from hers.

  “You're right,” she agreed. “She certainly wouldn't.” She retrieved her fork and sampled the grilled chicken. “Mmm. This is wonderful, Max. How was your flight?"

  ~ * ~

  Nikki managed to get through the rest of dinner without any further serious discussion. Together they cleared the table. She loaded the dishwasher while Max lit a fire in the fireplace. From the living room she heard the strains of chamber music—one of the Brandenburg's if she wasn't mistaken. Her hands trembled slightly. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and carried two glasses of wine into the living room, placing them on the coffee table. The sight of Max crouched before the fireplace made her weak in the knees. She half sat, half collapsed on the sofa.

  He turned from the fire he'd built. “I am a reasonably good cook, and I can build a fire. Pretty good qualities, no?” He stood up, walked toward her, his eyes never leaving hers, then sat down beside her. He leaned back and placed his arm across the back of the sofa, close enough for her to catch the charcoal scent from where he'd grilled their dinner.

  “For a cave man,” she blurted, then amended with a grin, “Yes, dinner was wonderful."

  Max's eyes crinkled at the corners. “Well, you were very hungry, after all."

  The amber and red flames reflected and sparkled on the rim of her wine glass. Nikki stared, fascinated by the images, then took a deep breath. Her breathing slowed. Max leaned toward her. Omigod. Was he going to kiss her?

  Panicked, Nikki leaned back, blurting out, “Well, let's have it. Why are you here?"

  He groaned, “You are impossible. I am here because I want to be with you."

  “And you're really not engaged?"

  He stood up and started pacing. “Don't you ever listen? I told you that I w
ent to Paris on business, met some old friends. When she showed up at my hotel, I made it very clear that I had no intentions whatsoever—good, bad or indifferent."

  Max, pacing about and running his hands through his wavy hair. Comical ... and utterly gorgeous. Her heart swelled with emotion and indecision. Why didn't she simply fling herself into his arms and have done with it? “I don't understand. Other than my career, you've never shown any real interest in me. I—"

  The shrill ring of the telephone interrupted. Saved by the bell—yes. She reached for the telephone. “Sorry, I'd better answer it."

  “Nikki?"

  The sound of the voice on the other end raised the hair on Nikki's neck. Wonderful. Less-than-perfect timing, as always. “Hi, Mama.

  “Is it true? I heard you were fired. It's on Entertainment Tonight."

  “Yes, it's true. I'm no longer with the agency."

  “You could have called me."

  “I was going to, but I've been busy trying to get the apartment and beach house ready to sell,” she lied. Well, not quite a lie, but almost.

  “What about my condo? Are you going to sell it too?"

  “No. No, you won't have to sell your condo. Really, I'll be fine. I just need to make some adjustments.

  “What did you do to get fired?"

  “I didn't do anything. It was personal between the V.P. and me. Look Mama, I'm sorry I didn't tell you before you saw it on TV, but everything's going to be okay.

  “But what are you going to do? You don't know how to do anything else."

  “Gee, thanks for the great vote of confidence."

  “Well, do you?"

  “I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet. I may write a book. Don't worry, Mama, you won't have to support me!” Nikki slammed the phone.

  “Dammit!” She jumped up and started pacing. “She makes me so mad. Never satisfied. Nothing I do ever pleases her. I don't know why I try.” Tears formed, threatening to fall. She swiped at them and gave a little sniff.

  Max took Nikki in his arms. “She's your mother. It's only natural that you want her love and approval, but you are an adult. You've supported her for the last ten years, so you have nothing of which to be ashamed. She should be proud of you."

  She attempted a weak smile. “Thank you for understanding,” she replied, her thoughts still on her mother.

  He cupped her chin in his hand and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Now where were we, Chèrie?"

  Nikki pushed him away, shaking her head. “I'm sorry. I just can't deal with you and my mother at the same time. I've a splitting headache. Will you think me terribly rude if I just go to bed."

  “Of course not.” Max glanced toward the door. “I will leave and come back tomorrow, perhaps?"

  “No, no. You don't have to leave. I have a spare bedroom. Besides, the ferries don't run this late. You'll never find another place to stay at this hour."

  “If it's not too much an imposition?” he said, giving her an ironic smile.

  “Don't be silly. Just make yourself at home.” Realizing how abrupt she sounded, she apologized, “I really am sorry, Max.” She fled down the hall to her bedroom. While she undressed, she cursed her mother's rotten timing and unerring ability to say exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time.

  And what was he up to, anyway? His sudden appearance on the beach had thrown her for a loop. It was one thing to fantasize about a romantic relationship with him, but another thing entirely to have him right there in front of her, leaning in for a kiss. Something told her—maybe it was the sultry look in his eyes—he wasn't aiming for her cheek this time.

  ~ * ~

  Naples, Florida

  Jessie Prentice turned to her friend Maude. “Can you believe that? My precious supermodel daughter hung up on me."

  “Oh, no, surely not. Nikki's such a nice girl."

  “Hmph. She may have everyone else fooled, but not me. Just because I'm worried about her future. You know, being a mother is such a thankless job."

  “Now Jessie, our children grow up. Have to lead their own lives."

  “Why she's too busy to tell her own Mama that she's been fired. I don't guess she thinks how it might make a difference to me. Just imagine having one of my friends tell me before she did.” Jessie sniffed, continuing to ramble on, while she busied herself with tidying up an already immaculate living room adorned with her favorite Elvis on black velvet paintings.

  Jessie stopped in front of the mirror, patting her silver-blonde hair into place. “Not bad for sixty-four. Nikki got her height from me, and her good looks from her no good father. Such a handsome devil, always chasing after other women. Didn't like being tied down with a child."

  “Really?"

  “Yes. I know I've never talked about him much. It was such a painful time of my life-when he ran off and left us. You wouldn't believe how many jobs I took to keep that little girl fed, but she's such an ungrateful little wretch. She's never once treated me the way I deserved to be treated. Here she's made millions and nothing to show for it but an apartment and a beach house and bunch of fancy antiques that never did anybody any good."

  “But I thought Nikki bought you this condo and sent you money every month."

  Maude's memory was a little too sharp for Jessie. “Well, it's true, she did buy the condo for me, but I earned it after all. I worked my fingers to the bone for her."

  “Now, Jessie, there's not many kids who would do that much. Believe me, I know."

  Jessie ignored Maude's protests. “I guess she'll find out what it's really like to work for a living like I did. It won't hurt her a bit to have to dirty her lily white hands. The only thing I ever asked that girl to do was get a job when she quit school. And what did she do? She ran off—just like her no good daddy—and lived on the streets, doing who knows what.

  “Then that rich foreigner scoops her up and turns her into a supermodel. Like I don't know what that was all about. Let her live with his mother. Huh. Well, he didn't marry her, did he? No, he's not the marrying kind—not him."

  Jessie continued to walk back and forth. Nikki been a problem all her life. It was Nikki's fault her father and step-father ran off. They couldn't take the responsibility of having a whining brat in the house. Left me stuck with a little girl to raise all by myself.” She'd been so mad when Donnie, her second husband, left that she'd taken back her maiden name Prentice. Except for Nikki, there wasn't a single thing left to remind Jessie of Nick or Donnie . “I really tried to do my best by that girl, even sent her to private school whenever I had the money."

  “Now Jessie, don't you think you're blowing this all out of proportion?"

  Mad enough to spit nails, Jessie turned to her friend. “Maude Dillon, either you're on my side or you're not my friend. Make up your mind."

  “Now Jessie—"

  “Don't now Jessie me. You're just too mealy-mouthed. I can't believe you'd take Nikki's side over mine."

  Maude drew herself up to her full five-feet, one-inch. “I'm not mealy-mouthed. I'll tell you exactly what I think. You're a miserable old woman, trying to live your life through your daughter. I don't blame Nikki for not coming around any more than she does. You're always complaining and carrying on when she visits. So there! Mealy-mouthed—am I?” Maude spun around and headed for the door.

  “Now, Maude, I'm—"

  The slamming door stopped Jessie's tirade. Her mouth dropped open. “Well, I never saw anyone so rude in all my life."

  ~ * ~

  Nikki stirred, restless and unable to sleep. Max was only a few feet away. Her bedroom had grown stuffy with the door to the hall shut. Normally she left it open; tonight she'd thought it best to keep it closed.

  God, but it was hot. She kicked the sheet to the foot of the bed, but it didn't help. Finally she climbed out of the bed, walked to the French doors and opened them, allowing the sea air to enter the room. She took a deep breath of cool, fresh sea air, then walked through the open doors and onto the deck. It was late, mayb
e one in the morning, she guessed. The full moon was high in the night sky. Its brilliance illuminated the night, reflecting on the water and the white sand beach. She took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. She leaned her elbows against the intricate wood rail. Max must be asleep. Too bad. It was a night made for love.

  She heard a crash and turned. He must be awake after all. She tugged at her Mickey Mouse sleep shirt, feeling self-conscious—no just a little ridiculous. She caught a glimmer of movement from his room and motioned for him to join her.

  He opened the French door and walked onto the deck.

  “Did I wake you?” she asked softly. “I didn't mean to. I just needed some fresh air."

  “No. I didn't know if you wanted company. I'm afraid I made a mess with the vase."

  “'S'all right.” She tried to ignore his bare chest. She covered the distance between them in two strides. “It was in an awkward place. I'll clean up the mess, and you can go back to sleep.” She walked past him and through the open door into the guest room.

  They knelt down simultaneously to replace the scattered marbles in the vase. Their knees touched. Knocked off balance by the suddenness of the contact, she fell in a sprawl. Her face grew hot. His erection strained against his loose white athletic shorts. Her mouth grew dry. Her nipples tightened at the sight of his arousal. Had she caused that?

  Pretty damn obvious. He wanted her. She wanted him. Their eyes met. In that moment, they acknowledged their desire. She extended a languid hand to him, feeling time had slowed to a crawl, or as if she were moving underwater. He took her hand and held it to his heart; she felt the bounding rhythm beneath her touch.

  “Max, I—” she began, uncertain and unsure.

  “Shh. Nikki, do you want me?"

  “I—” She didn't know what to say. Of course, she did. She always had, but...

  “Do you desire me? Answer me,” he demanded, his voice hoarse.

  She felt his body quivering with desire. His dark green eyes glittered with it, as he awaited her answer. She nodded her head, unable to say the words.

  “Do you want me to make love to you? Now?"