Once upon a Dream

by Nora Roberts

  “When I have to. I usually just pick up some carryout on my way home. But then, I often don’t find time to eat until eight or nine at night, after I’ve finished showing clients through houses.” She sipped her coffee. “What do you have planned for the day?”

  He gave a sigh of regret. “I’d love to stay around, especially now that the weather has turned so gentle, but I have commitments. I’ll be leaving for the airport as soon as I finish eating.”

  Annie ignored the momentary twinge of regret. After all, she hadn’t expected him to stay. Considering the way she reacted whenever he got too close, it was just as well. “I guess if the power doesn’t come back on by this afternoon, I’ll be leaving too. There’s no way I’m going to spend a night alone in the dark.” She pushed aside her plate. She’d suddenly lost her appetite. “What time is your flight?”

  “I don’t know. My phone and computer are both down. But it seems to me my secretary was trying for a ten o’clock flight.”

  “You can borrow my phone. It’s upstairs in my bag.” Annie hurried away. Minutes later she returned and handed him her cell phone.

  “Thanks.” He punched in a series of numbers, then listened, and shot her a puzzled frown. “No dial tone.”

  “Are you sure?” She took it from him and tried several times before meeting his eyes. “This doesn’t make any sense. How can both phones be dead?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “I guess I’d just better get to the airport early so I can catch whatever flight is available to New York.”

  As he started to gather up the dishes, she stopped him with a hand to his arm. She knew she wasn’t imagining the jolt that shot through her fingertips. She took a step back and tried to adopt a casual tone. “You don’t have time for this. Besides, you cooked. The least I can do is clean up.”

  He was watching her closely. Too closely. What was it about this woman that a simple touch had him burning? It was a good thing he was leaving. Being with her made him behave in the strangest way. Like a clumsy teenager on his first date. “You don’t mind cleaning up alone?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Thanks. I’d better load my stuff in the car.”

  She watched him walk away and found herself wishing things could have been different. Maybe if they’d met at a more convenient time they might have thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company.

  She carried the dishes to the sink and chided herself. Who was she kidding? With her lifestyle, there was no such thing as a convenient time. The chronic workaholic. Hadn’t she admitted as much to Ben? And his life was no better. They simply weren’t meant to be.

  Still, just thinking about the kiss they’d shared brought another rush of heat. She couldn’t think of any other man she’d ever known who’d had such a stunning effect on her.

  “I guess this is everything.” Ben paused in the doorway, holding an overnight bag and a briefcase. He was wearing a trench coat to hide his out-of-date wardrobe.

  “Safe trip.” Annie stayed where she was. It was definitely better to keep some distance between them. “It was nice meeting you, Ben.”

  “Nice meeting you, Annie.” He was looking at her with that same intensity she’d seen on their first encounter. For a moment she was certain he was about to come charging across the room and haul her into his arms. The mere thought had her heart beating overtime and her breath backing up in her throat.

  Instead he turned and strode away.

  Annie watched him with a sinking heart. She had the almost overpowering desire to call him back. But common sense forced her to tackle the dirty dishes.

  Work, she thought with a wry smile. It had always been what she did to keep her mind off other things.

  She was just turning off the taps when she heard a sound in the doorway and spun around.

  “Ben.” Her eyes widened, and though she wasn’t aware of it, her lips curved into the most beguiling smile. “What are you doing back?”

  “I never left. The car’s dead.” He shook his head. “Can’t trust these rental cars anymore. I know it’s a long way, Annie, but would you mind driving me to the airport?”

  “No. Not at all.” She dried her hands and hoped she didn’t look as happy as she felt. She’d just been given another hour or more in his company. “I’ll just go upstairs and get my purse.”

  Minutes later, as Ben was stowing his bags in her trunk, Annie turned the key in her ignition. The only response was silence.

  He opened the passenger door and climbed inside, then caught the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “My car’s dead, too.” She bit her lip in annoyance. “Ben, what’s going on here?”

  He shook his head, then slumped back against the seat. “I don’t know.” He looked over. “Try it again.”

  She did. With the same results.

  He walked around to the hood of the car and lifted it, then began poking at wires and cables. “Try it again,” he called.

  Nothing.

  Finally he slammed the hood shut and walked around to the driver’s side. Through narrowed eyes he looked up at the clear, bright sun starting to climb over the trees. “Okay. For some unexplained reason, the storm knocked out all the power. As for the rest of this, I don’t have any explanation. Maybe some sort of electrical surge. But we can’t be the only ones affected. Sooner or later we’ll see a crew from the power company getting everything up and running again.”

  Annie could feel the beginning of panic. “But what if they don’t bother because we’re so far from town? It must be fifteen miles, at least.”

  “More like twenty. Too far to try walking.” He frowned. “And with the boat out of commission, there’s no way we can sail to town.”

  Seeing the look in her eyes, he tried a smile. “Look. We’re not in any trouble here. We won’t starve to death. Or freeze. The worst thing that can happen is that we’ll miss a few deadlines. My New York meeting is out of the question, and it looks like you won’t be getting back home tonight. In the meantime, we may as well enjoy the day. Whether we like it or not, we’re not going anyplace.”

  Annie nodded. Though she was more than a little puzzed by these strange twists, she couldn’t deny the tiny thrill of excitement at the realization that she and Ben Carrington weren’t about to part just yet. They’d been given a reprieve.

  Was that happiness she was feeling? Or a healthy dose of fear?

  Annie stood at the kitchen counter, loading film into her camera. She looked up when Ben entered, carrying a toolbox he’d found in the garage.

  “I figured I’d work on the sailboat. See if I can get it seaworthy.” He glanced at the camera. “Should I smile?”

  She shot him a teasing grin. “I wouldn’t want to break it. I think I’ll save it for really important things. Like the beach house. The gazebo. The stables.”

  “Too bad. Your loss.” He tugged on a lock of her hair. Then he twisted it around his finger while he looked down into her eyes. “I thought I’d drop in a fishing line while I’m working. See if I can catch our dinner.”

  “Good thinking.” She struggled to hide the feelings that curled along her spine at the mere touch of him. “Are you going to clean and cook them, too?”

  He arched a brow. “And just what are you going to contribute to this feast?”

  “My appetite. And if your dinner is as good as breakfast, I’ll wash the dishes.”

  “Deal.” He watched as she took a step backward. Though she gave very little away, he had the distinct impression that she wasn’t nearly as cool and composed as she pretended to be. And that was good. Very good. Because just touching her made him itch for more, and he’d hate to think he was the only one suffering this way.

  He followed her out the door. She made her way across the patio, and he hefted the toolbox and started in the opposite direction, toward the beach.

  At the end of the dock he baited a hook and dropped a line into the water, then waded through the shallows until he
reached the Odyssey.

  There was a hole in the hull, and the sails were shredded. It occurred to Ben that he’d been very lucky indeed. If this had happened farther out in the bay, he’d have been forced to abandon ship and swim for his life.

  Was it just luck? He sat back on his heels and turned to stare at the house. How many strange things could he accept as coincidence before he began to question just what was happening here?

  He’d had no intention of coming up to White Pines. He’d had no intention of spending time in the company of a beautiful young woman. And he’d certainly had no intention of remaining for the entire weekend. Yet here he was. Not only doing a bunch of things he hadn’t intended to, but enjoying them as well.

  He was beginning to feel like a puppet. But just who was holding the strings?

  5

  ANNIE PULLED OUT the description she’d been given of the various buildings on the estate. After reading through it, she decided to begin at the farthest end of the property and work her way back to the house.

  She walked along a curving gravel drive overgrown with weeds, which had once been used as a trail for maintenance trucks and horse trailers. As she rounded a bend she caught sight of the stable in the distance.

  She veered off the gravel drive and into the field, where early spring wildflowers grew in abundance. Tiny wild violets made a colorful carpet underfoot. Apple trees sprouted lacy leaves and the beginnings of buds. Chickadees flew back and forth, from ground to branch, eagerly lining their nests. Patches of brown grass were giving way to new green growth.

  Annie fumbled in her pocket for the key to the stable. But when she inserted it, she was surprised to find the door already unlocked. She swung the door wide and looked around at the deserted stalls. Though they had been swept clean, the odor of hay and dung still lingered in the air, along with something else.

  She sniffed the air as she began climbing the stairs to the apartment above, which, according to her description, had once housed the caretaker. Paint. The air was heavy with the unmistakable smell of paint and turpentine.

  At the top of the stairs she paused with her hand on the knob. Before she could turn it, the door was yanked open. She stood staring in openmouthed surprise.

  “Hi.” The man was tall, blond, and boyishly handsome. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  “You’ve been…?” She stopped, closed her mouth, then tried again. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

  “Win Carrington. Actually it’s Winston, but nobody ever calls me that. And Win suits me, since I much prefer winning to losing.”

  She looked at him more closely. “Of course. Ben’s younger brother. I recognize you from the portrait.”

  He stuck out his hand. “And you’re Annie Tyler.”

  “How did you know? Oh.” She laughed. “You’ve been talking to your mother.”

  He continued holding her hand. “I was only nine in that portrait.”

  “And already an accomplished flirt.” She heard herself laughing like a schoolgirl before she remembered to remove her hand.

  “I’m so glad you noticed. I consider flirting to be a dying art. One that isn’t appreciated nearly as much as it ought to be. Beautiful women are a weakness of mine. One of many, in fact. And you, Annie Tyler, are beautiful enough to take a man’s breath away.”

  “Well.” Her smile grew. “You didn’t have to tell me you were a flirt. After that stale line, I’d have guessed as much.”

  “It’s not a line. Well,” he added with a grin, “maybe it is. But I meant every word of it.” He placed his hands on either side of her face and lifted it to the light, turning it this way and that as he studied her. “Wonderful bone structure. Small, even features. Eyes a man could drown in. And lips that could tempt even a saint. Could I persuade you to pose for me?”

  “Oh, I should have guessed. You’re an artist.” Now she understood the odor of paint and thinner.

  “Of course. And I’d very much like to paint you. Naked, of course. It’s the only way a beautiful woman should be painted. The way nature intended.”

  It was impossible for Annie to take him seriously. Or to be insulted at his good-natured remarks. He was simply too charming. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t leap at your offer. It’s just that I have this job, you see. It takes up a great deal of my time.”

  “Time should never be wasted on work when there are so many more pleasant ways to spend it.”

  “Really? And how do you spend your time?”

  “If I had my choice, I’d spend it making love with beautiful women. As many as I could coax into my bed. And sometimes, when I was restoring my energy, I’d spend it simply enjoying great art.”

  Annie stared around in astonishment. “Oh, this is wonderful.”

  “I like it. It suits me, don’t you think?”

  “It seems to.”

  The apartment was one big open room with a living space on one side, dominated by a bed and dresser. The other side, facing a wall of windows that overlooked the orchard, had been turned into a studio, with canvases lining every inch of available space.

  Unopened jars and pots of paint were everywhere, as well as tins of thinner. There were containers of brushes and several easels holding works in progress. A long wooden table was littered with sketches.

  Annie moved closer to the table and examined a sketch of a sailboat on the bay. It was the same scene she’d witnessed the previous day, before she’d known that the sailor was Ben. With just a few strokes of charcoal, Win had managed to capture the feeling of speed as well as the ominous threat of storm clouds overhead.

  She looked up from the sketch. “Why didn’t Ben tell me you were here? He never said a word about it.”

  “He doesn’t know yet. And I’m hoping you’ll keep my secret.”

  “Why would you keep your presence here a secret?”

  “It’s just for a little while longer. I’m planning a surprise for him.”

  “Is it his birthday?”

  “No. It’s something even better. Maybe I’ll call it his re-birthday.” Win gave her his most charming smile. “What do you think of White Pines?”

  “It’s beautiful. The cliffs. The rocks. The bay. I can see in my mind the way it must have looked when it was the center of your family’s life.” She walked to the window, to stare at the scene spread out below. “It’s sad, really. As I was walking here I could see so many possibilities. That orchard, for instance. What a shame that the fruit has been allowed to rot on the trees. The ground is littered with last year’s crop.” She glanced around. “And this stable. The stalls should be filled with horses again. And children to ride them.” She spread her arms, allowing herself to get caught up in the moment. “Oh, Win, I hope I can find the perfect buyer who will love it and restore it to its former beauty.”

  She turned to see him watching her. His boyish features lit with a devilish smile. “With that kind of enthusiasm, I have no doubt you’ll do just that, Annie.”

  He crossed to where a bottle of champagne sat chilling in a bucket of ice. “Let’s drink to it. To your success with White Pines, and to its restoration as a thing of beauty.”

  “Sorry.” She shook her head. “It’s much too early for that. Ben and I just finished breakfast a little while ago.”

  “Of course. I lose track of day and night when I’m working. What do you think of my brother?”

  “Think of him?” She watched as he filled a fluted glass and drank.

  “Solid? Steady? Dependable? Wouldn’t you say all those things describe my older brother, Ben?”

  She heard a faint note of derision in his tone. And though she didn’t know why, she felt the need to defend Ben to his brother. “Yes. I’d say he’s all those things. They’re admirable qualities. Why does that bother you?”

  “It doesn’t bother me. It just makes me sad for him. Poor Ben has never learned how to have fun. Given a choice between dancing and working, he’ll choose work every time. Do you know that he
carries lists of things to be done and actually enjoys crossing items off, one after the other? Ben’s idea of a good time is to plow through his paperwork with a vengeance, so that by quitting time his desk is clean. It never occurs to him that it’ll just be filled with new work in the morning.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” She felt the sting of embarrassment, since he’d just described her own lifestyle as well. “Why are you mocking him?”

  He studied her over the rim of his glass. “Do I detect a bit of fire in those eyes, Annie Tyler?”

  She flushed. “I just don’t see why you should make fun of your own brother, especially to someone like me, who hardly knows him.”

  He continued to stare at her, watching her color deepen. “Seems to me, for someone who hardly knows Ben, you’re taking this as a personal insult.” He stepped closer. The boyish smile grew. “Could there be some feelings between you and my brother?”

  She stiffened. “I told you. I hardly know him. We just met yesterday.”

  “And you and Ben are hardly the type to believe in love at first sight.”

  “That’s right.”

  His tone softened. “Don’t be offended, Annie. I’m not mocking you. As for Ben, I make fun of him because he makes it so easy. I used to accuse him of being so stiff and perfect, he’d probably break in two if he ever tried to unbend. But I admire him. Really I do. In fact, I’ve always wished I had some of his discipline. Heaven knows, I’ve tried. Too many times to count. But each time I started to walk the straight and narrow path, I found all those temptations in my way. And the next thing I knew”—he shrugged—“I would be knee-deep in sin and debauchery again.” Grinning, he held out the flute of champagne. “Sure you won’t have a sip?”

  “No, thank you.” It was odd. Though she’d been stung by his words, she found she couldn’t stay angry with this man. He was simply too charming. Which, of course, was something he was much too aware of. It was an art he’d probably perfected from his earliest days. Because he was the younger son, his family no doubt not only tolerated it but encouraged it as well.