“Are we done here, or what?”
Nick’s impatient voice broke into her preoccupation, and try as she might, she couldn’t do a darn thing about the flush that crept up her neck and ripened her cheeks.
“Tomorrow we’ll get started,” she said calmly. “So it’s important that you record anything and everything you remember about tonight’s dreams.”
“Sometimes they’re a little X-rated.” He smiled. “Is that a problem?”
Great. “Record everything.”
“Everything,” he repeated with a devilish look in his eyes.
“Every last detail you recall.”
“Okay, Doc.” He managed to make the two simple words sound like a threat. “You got it.”
God, she hoped he wasn’t talking about some heavy-duty sexual fantasies. For the sake of the study it would make the data both interesting and thorough, but, good golly, what a torturous two weeks for her.
She shuddered mentally, and then caught him staring toward the back. She followed his gaze. “What is it you find so fascinating?”
Something that looked like guilt flickered in his eyes as they met hers. Just as quickly it vanished. “Keep any prisoners back there?”
“Only ones who give me attitude.”
“Oh, man, Doc, you’re getting me excited.”
She sighed. Obviously keeping this one on track would be a challenge. “Brenda said you have excellent recall. Do you use any particular method or trick?”
“I read an article that suggested giving a title to a dream as soon as you remember any part of it.”
“Does that help you recall more of the dream as the day goes on?”
“Yeah, I think so. If it was a good dream, and my mind wanders back to it during the day, it seems to unfold more.”
“Excellent. Keep a notebook with you.”
“Right. Record everything.” His voice and expression turned grim. He started to shrug into his jacket, and Emma forced her gaze away from the way the muscles played across his chest. “So, we’re done?”
She closed her notebook. “Yes.” She hadn’t even skimmed the surface, but maybe it was better he wasn’t so curious about her methods and theories. He was skittish enough. “Unless you have any questions.”
He shrugged, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket. “Same time tomorrow, or do you want to get this over with earlier?”
Gee, such overwhelming enthusiasm. “It’ll have to be the same time as today. I don’t get off work until then.”
He nodded absently, looking distracted, before he walked out the door without another word.
Emma waited a minute before she used the shiny base of the engraved brass stapler she’d received as an award to look at her reflection. Of course her image was slightly distorted, but, still, her lips looked pretty normal to her. She pursed them. Maybe a little fatter than most, but…
“Hey, Doc.”
At the sound of Nick’s voice her heart nearly exploded and she straightened, almost flinging the stapler against the wall. “Yes?” Remarkably, her voice was intelligible.
His brows drawn together in a puzzled frown, he seemed too absorbed in his own curiosity to have noticed her vanity. “I do have another question.” She nodded, and with his gaze narrowed he asked, “Are you sure there isn’t anyone else here?”
Jeez, talk about paranoid. “Positive.”
He sent her a skeptical look, and then a lazy, mysterious grin curved his mouth. “Okay, Doc, have it your way. For now.”
3
HOW THE HELL had he let Brenda talk him into this? Nick checked the rearview mirror to see if anyone had entered the deserted parking lot. Okay, so he was early and the doc had probably just gotten off her shift. He’d have to remember to ask Brenda what kind of work Emma did. Not that he really cared but if she was going to be poking around his head, he figured he had a right to know something about her.
He stared down at the notes he’d taken from last night’s midnight romp. Here he’d purposely instructed himself not to dream and he’d ended up having a couple of doozies…about naked women with long dark hair, long legs and silk thongs.
Shit!
He glanced at the rearview mirror again and this time an older, beat-up white sedan chugged into the parking lot. Doc was behind the wheel. He couldn’t see her face, but he saw the mass of shiny dark hair. Since he was the only one there, he had to suspect she’d seen him, but without any acknowledgment she veered off toward the side of the building and parked out of sight.
A few minutes later, she hurried around the corner, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, the collar of her long tan coat pulled up around her neck. Odd. It had warmed up and wasn’t cold enough for her to be wearing a coat.
He continued to watch as she made tracks in the opposite direction, nearly running into the pink azaleas flanking the stark white lab. If she’d seen him, she was pretending she hadn’t.
He got out of his Porsche. “Hey, Doc.”
She slowed, reluctance in every small jerk of her body as she turned around. “Sorry, I’m running late again,” she called out, slightly breathless.
“You’re not. I’m early.” He closed the car door.
“Give me five minutes, okay?”
“All right if I wait inside?”
She touched the back of her hair, and quickly tucked up a stray. “Um, why don’t I make sure things aren’t a mess. Someone else used the lab after we did yesterday.”
He snorted. “You should see my place.”
She looked hesitant, and then he got it. Maybe she had to get her friend out the back door, although why the cloak-and-dagger was a mystery to him.
“Damn, I forgot something.” He opened his car door. “Can we make it ten minutes?”
“No problem.”
He got into the Porsche and watched her unlock the lab door and then hurry inside without a backward glance. He didn’t bother to start the engine, but waited until the door closed before he got out and strolled around to the back.
No one was there. He started to wait but then noticed there was no back door. He kept walking until he’d made a circle around the small building. Only one door. Obviously the woman had still been inside while he met with Emma. But why would she lie about someone else being there? It didn’t make sense. Unless Doc thought he’d get testy about the confidentiality issue. That was possible.
He gave her a couple of extra minutes before he went inside with the leather binder of notes he’d taken. She was ready for him, sitting at her desk, her glasses perched on her nose, a notebook in front of her and a tape recorder set on the opposite edge of the desk, closer to the guest chair. Presumably where he would sit.
Man, everything he said was going to be on tape. Immortalized. They would have to discuss that.
“Have a seat.” Those great lips lifted into a tempting smile, and he almost forgot about the tape recorder. “I see you have some notes.”
“Man, do I. It’s amazing I got any sleep at all last night.”
She laughed. “Everyone dreams quite a lot. We just aren’t all lucky enough to remember the details.”
“Well, Doc, I’m not sure you’re going to want all these details.” He opened the binder and flipped through pages and pages of writing.
“Excellent.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. You probably won’t want all this stuff.”
“Are you kidding? This much recall is a gold mine.”
He wasn’t so sure. “Do I just give this to you, or what?”
She seemed surprised. “No, you have to describe the dreams in as much detail as possible.”
“What do you think all this is?”
She gave him a small tolerant smile that annoyed him. “A reminder for you. I promise that as you relate the events of the dream, you’ll begin to recall other details. There is nothing unimportant. Once you begin, keep talking. Let it all flow.”
Hell, this wasn’t goi
ng to work. He didn’t do “flow.”
“What’s wrong?” She laid down her pen. “You look distressed.”
“Hell, yeah, I’m distressed. You asked me to record all this stuff, and now you want me to go over it again.”
She had that tolerant, patient look down to a damn science.
“I know this isn’t easy. Dreams seem so personal—”
“Of course they’re personal.” He slouched in his chair, annoyed and frustrated.
“But you don’t have control over them. There’s no reason to be embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed.” He grunted. “That has nothing to do with it.”
She tapped her pencil on the desk with hard rapid intensity. Impatience pulled her lips into a straight line. “Let me be blunt. Brenda explained what we needed to do here before you set foot in the lab. What’s the problem?”
He glared back at her. Dammit. She was right. “Okay, you want the details. Here are the details…” He set his notes aside. He didn’t need them. One particular dream he remembered with so much clarity he still had a hard-on.
“Wait a second.” She flipped on the recorder.
“Is that necessary? You have my notes.”
She didn’t answer him. Just gave him one of those tolerant looks again, and then leaned back in her chair with a pencil in her hand. “Begin whenever you’re ready.”
Next year too soon? He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “I’ll start with my first memory,” he said, and she nodded. “I was in this— Look, it’s going to sound weird.”
“Don’t worry about it. Most dreams do. Go on.”
He shifted to a more comfortable position. “There was this room with a bunch of chairs and sofas, almost like a waiting room, except there weren’t any people there, only me. Seconds later, women started to parade in, most of them topless. Some of them were big-busted, like really big, like augmented big. The blonde with the tassels started to unbutton my shirt.” He paused. “Can I have some water or coffee or something?”
Emma stared at him, wordlessly, and then she blinked. “Of course. I should have asked you before we started.”
They both stood at the same time.
Nick motioned for her to sit back down. “Tell me where it is. I’ll get it.”
She shook her head. “We have colas, orange juice and water. If you want coffee I’ll start a pot.”
“We?” Now he had her.
“I share this place with two other graduate students and we all chip in to keep the fridge stocked.”
Another graduate student. Of course.
“Water’s fine.” He sank into his seat, and watched her out of the corner of his eye as she hurried into the back room.
Well, now that he sort of knew who the other woman was, he couldn’t just come out and ask for her name and phone number.
Could he?
He sighed. He had his plate full for right now. Normally talking about sex in any form didn’t bother him, but he could tell he’d startled her, which made him uncomfortable.
To him sex was a game, harmless recreation, but only if both players agreed and got equally as much out of it. Nick very carefully stuck to partners who shared his philosophy. That way no one got hurt. However, he also understood that not every woman agreed with his attitude, and he respected their opinions, too.
Unfortunately, his dreams weren’t nearly as discreet.
He glanced at the binder he’d set on her desk. It seemed to take her a long time just to get a glass of water, and he was tempted to grab his notes and do some creative editing, maybe clean up the details a little, omit some of the more colorful parts.
Before he could think the possibility through, she was back with a bottle of Evian. It sure hadn’t taken nearly five minutes to grab that.
“Anything else before we resume?” she asked, her finger poised over the recorder button.
“I don’t think so.”
She made a face at the recorder. “I thought I’d stopped it. Let me rewind to where we left off.”
He took a long cold sip of the water while she fiddled with the machine. But he nearly spit it out when she stopped and hit Play, and he heard his own mutterings. Not of his dream as he’d relayed it to her, but the mild oath he’d uttered after she’d left the room, and then the more damning murmurs expressing his doubts.
Hell, he hadn’t realized he’d said anything out loud. Fortunately most of it was unintelligible.
To her credit, she didn’t even try to listen. She quickly continued to rewind the tape further. She played the last few seconds to remind him where they’d stopped, and then settled back in her chair, her gaze lowered.
He took another sip of water. “Okay, the blonde undid the top three buttons of my shirt, but she stopped when a redhead came in and told her I wasn’t the one. By the way, the redhead had on clothes.”
Doc looked relieved.
“The blonde got angry and said she didn’t believe her, and then tried to unfasten my next button. The other woman said something but it was in another language, and the others started laughing.”
“The other women?”
“Yeah.”
“Where were they?”
“Sitting on the chairs or lying on the sofas. Do you need to know whether they had their clothes off or not?”
“Yes.” Her tone was crisp, professional, but a faint pink crept into her cheeks.
“All but three of them had taken everything off.” At the vivid memory he shifted to accommodate the strong reaction his body was having.
“Were they strangers, or did you know any of them?”
“Never saw them before.”
“Sometimes in our dreams people take on different shapes and forms. Did you believe any of these women to be someone you knew…even though she didn’t look like she was supposed to?”
He thought for a moment. “No.”
She made a brief notation. “How about the room? Did you know where you were?”
“Nope.”
“Any other details about it you remember?”
“Not really.” He shrugged. “I guess my mind was on the women.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she pressed her lips together. “Okay, let’s get back to the women. What else do you remember about them?”
“The redhead had a bag with her and she started taking out scarves and handcuffs and massage oils. When the blonde unzipped my fly, the redhead didn’t say anything. She just kept staring at me while she laid out the stuff she’d brought. But then the blonde reached into my pants to stroke me, and the redhead yanked her hair until she moved back.”
He paused for another sip of water. No surprise, he’d gotten harder than a rock replaying the scene.
“What were the other women doing?” Doc’s voice didn’t sound too steady and her face was getting redder.
He gladly avoided her gaze. “Kissing and fondling each other.” When the silence grew, he chanced a look at her. “Shall I leave out that part?”
“There’s more?”
He nearly laughed at her scandalized tone. “I’m not your first male subject, am I, Doc?”
“No, not at all.”
“Then you know men can have, um, wilder imaginations sometimes.”
“Of course.” She straightened, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Her cheeks were still pink, her voice a little high, but her gaze narrowed suddenly, and when her glasses slipped, she looked over them at him. “There is a major difference between dreams and fantasy.”
“I know that.”
She stared at him in silence for a long torturous moment. “These are dreams you’re describing, and not wishful thinking, right?”
He chuckled. “Trust me. I would not be describing my fantasies to you.”
She blinked, lifted her chin. “As long as we understand each other.”
“Look, I’d be happy to edit some of this. It can’t all be that important—”
She vigorously sho
ok her head. “That would compromise the results of the study. Tell me everything you remember.”
“Okay, Doc, where were we?”
She pressed Rewind and kept her gaze on the tape. It took a couple of tries before she found where they’d left off, and each time she had to listen to him describe the dream, her cheeks got a shade pinker.
“There, I think you’ve got it,” he said, taking pity on her, and she immediately stopped the tape and pressed Record.
“Okay, so while the other women were kissing, and the redhead and blonde were arguing about something—”
“About what?”
“I couldn’t tell. I don’t think I really heard what they were saying but just had a sense they were angry. Anyway, I was too concerned about this other woman who came in.”
“Another one?” Her eyebrows lifted in shock, and then she quickly wiped all expression from her face. “Tell me about her.”
“Let’s see, she had long dark hair, great legs, a great— I couldn’t see her face. I got really agitated about that, but the only view I got was the back of her.”
“Did you feel as though you knew her?”
“Nah, I think maybe I was trying to place her but I really had no idea.”
“What was she wearing?” She paused, frowning. “Nick?”
He slumped back. How could he have been so stupid! Through the haze of dawning, he vaguely heard Doc call his name. “A black thong,” he said absently. “That’s all.”
The woman in his dream was the same one he’d glimpsed yesterday. That’s why he couldn’t see her face in the dream. Wow, this was really something. Kind of weird. He’d never obsessed like this before.
“You’re remembering something, I take it?”
He stared blankly at her. Should he admit he saw someone else in the back room? She’d have to fess up then. But she’d also have a million questions about the woman being the centerpiece of his dream. No thanks.
“Not really.” He shrugged at the curiosity in her face. “Sorry, Doc, I guess I was too excited about, um, the upcoming events to think about anything else.”
“Right.” Emma fidgeted with the pencil, and then stared down at her pathetic notes. Good thing she was taping this interview or she’d be in sorry shape later. Either the other male subjects she’d studied had held back on her, or this guy had only sex on the brain. Of course the others had relayed some sexual encounters, but Nick was too much.
Extra Innings and In His Wildest Dreams Page 22
