Where Dreams Books 1-3

by M. L. Buchman

  The car tires screamed along the coiled ramp leading upward from deep underground, the engine humming as if eager for the open road, and they almost launched onto the city streets. Angelo reached a hand over and slid his fingertips just once along her thigh. Like an electric shock, her pulse rate jumped by a third.

  Ten blocks. She could make it ten blocks. Besides, tackling him in the tight confines of the car wasn’t terribly practical on well-lit city streets. Not that it wouldn’t be interesting to try.

  She whirled down into the condo’s underground parking and rolled into her spot.

  They took hands as they approached the elevator.

  Once the elevator passed the lobby floor with no one else getting on, she pushed him against the cool steel wall and threw herself at him.

  He was more than up to the challenge. His kiss crushed against hers. His arms, those splendid, chef-strong arms, wrapped her so tightly against his chest that she’d probably have trouble breathing, if she’d cared to.

  It was the last concern on her mind.

  She nipped his ear, ran a tongue along his neck and bit the base of his throat. This wasn’t the Jo she knew and maybe that was a good thing. She could hear Muriel in the background somewhere telling her to drag the man into her lair.

  Damn straight!

  Jo ran her curled fingers down his chest, her short, practical nails making a slick sound over his linen shirt. She dug them into his pecs and he groaned in her ear.

  That groan reached right down inside her. She had the power to make a beautiful man groan with need. Her last concerns about Angelo as a lover dissipated. For tonight she didn’t care about past or future, education or ambition. She deepened the kiss until the heat raged over her skin.

  The elevator dinged her floor. She grabbed him by the belt at the front of his pants and dragged him into the hall and down to her condo door.

  She opened the door, but didn’t waste time placing her keys in their little bowl. She tossed them aside and heard them plink off a picture.

  “Not one word,” she growled as she slammed the door to her lair and shoved Angelo back against it. “Just make me feel. That’s all I want. I just want to feel. Don’t make me think. Don’t let me think.”

  She dug her hands into his hair and tasted his lips again. She felt the smile and growled. He grunted as she shoved him against the door again driving their hips together hard.

  His hands were on her. Rather than clawing her breast, he leaned down to take it in his teeth through blouse and bra.

  Jo tried to strip off her jacket, but he stopped her.

  In moments she stood with her skirt pooled around her feet, her blouse and bra open, but still dressed in the power jacket.

  She shoved his shirt up in her need to feel flesh on flesh.

  Trapped by the shirt bunched around his armpits while she rubbed against that beautiful chest, he flexed and clawed at it until he could get it off.

  Jo drove his pants down until she could cradle him in her hands.

  “God, I just want to feel.”

  He recovered protection from his pocket as his pants fell to the floor and slid it on even as she nipped at his chest.

  They drove against each other with a mutual cry of relief and finished the job right there against the door.

  # # #

  Angelo was blind. It was the only explanation. He was blind and his wildest fantasy, that now lay draped against him gasping for each breath, must be in his mind’s eye. That dusky skin of Jo’s face and arms had driven his dreams wild. He now knew it ran all the way down the length of her body unbroken by tan lines of lighter skin. Her entire body shone lustrous.

  Jo lay against his shoulder and all he could think was how much he needed to do that exact same thing again right now, if only his body was ready. Well, even if his wasn’t, hers was.

  Before she could recover, he lay her back on the charcoal carpet and did something he’d been fantasizing about since the first time he’d seen her. He might be physically spent for the moment, but he was dying to taste her, wondering if she tasted as good as she looked.

  She tasted better.

  As the dim lights of the city shone into the darkened apartment through the tall windows, he reveled in her body. The side of her breasts had the light salt of a sweaty sheen. The tips themselves throbbed sweetly against his tongue when he scraped them with his teeth. That soft line where hip met leg harkened to the entertaining savory of a fine meal. But when he ran his tongue along her and she arched against his mouth with intense need, he knew he had found the main course and drove her until she cried out and dug her fingers into his shoulders to hold on.

  When the last shudder had rippled beneath her flesh and his own need was climbing once again, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

  It was several maddening, body-aching hours before their mutual needs wound down enough for his head to stop spinning. He’d had entertaining little amuse bouche, one-bite taste, relationships. He’d had women who were a nice appetizer or a even fine meal. Counselor Jo Thompson was a full five-course banquet. Every time he thought he’d sated her, or himself, she had proved him splendidly wrong.

  They laughed, they clung, more than once she whimpered and he may well have done the same, but they didn’t speak a word.

  When at last they collapsed from exhaustion, he fetched her a warm washcloth and a dry towel. When she would have cleaned herself, he did it for her, driving her up again, making himself mad with touching her.

  Afterward, when he figured that neither of them could take any more, he fetched the little white box which had somehow survived their frantic entry into the condo.

  He tucked Jo in under the quilt and then slid in beside her.

  Opening the box, he held one of the dark chocolates out to her mouth.

  She took it from his fingers leaving a small nibble on his fingertips.

  She fed him the other, he sucked on her fingertips as he took it until she actually moaned. Or perhaps it was because of how he stroked the glorious bounty of her breast beneath the covers.

  He tasted the richness of the dark chocolate as it melted in his mouth. When he broke through to the interior, the flavors exploded into his mouth. Layers began with a wash of sweet Courvoisier liqueur and orange zest. At the very last, he bit into the dark fruit and the cherry built into a heady denouement. Then the surprise, the tiny burst of the lemon and carob chocolate chip he’d slipped into the cherry where the pit had been.

  “Oh my God,” Jo sighed and curled into his arms. “Now that is very, very decadent.”

  Chapter 16

  “Where are you going?” Jo’s voice was warm and slurred with sleep.

  Angelo had been trying to leave without waking her, managed pants and socks, but couldn’t quite figure out what to do with his torn shirt. Maybe a stapler. He’d torn it himself as the only way to get it off fast enough. Even that idle thought had his body responding.

  He came back to the bed and looked down at her. The white quilt was tucked up around her chin and her dark hair spilled over the pale green pillow case. The city lights did little to light the room in the predawn darkness, just enough for him to admire the picture she made. He leaned down to kiss her but she stopped him with a long bare arm that snaked out from beneath the covers and planted in the middle of his chest.

  “Trying to slip off in the middle of the night?”

  “It’s almost five.”

  “Still. You’re one of those men who doesn’t want to wake up next to a woman.” Her tone had gone accusatory and was heading toward counselor.

  He brushed his fingers along her cheek.

  “I have to go shopping for the restaurant. The fish monger will be opening shortly and I like having the first pick.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?” he did his best to
hide his smile but it wasn’t working. She looked so damned good all curled up and warm beneath the covers.

  “Oh.” Her hand shifted from warding him off to pressed against his bare chest for a moment. Then she pulled her arm back beneath the covers which she used to pull the covers up even tighter beneath her chin.

  He settled beside her and brushed the backs of his fingers on her impossibly soft cheek. This time when he leaned in, she allowed the kiss, a soft lingering moment that refired his blood.

  “I, uh…” she protested. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “We made wild passionate love all night, how could you forget?” He did his best to sound mortally offended.

  “I remember that part.” She raised her head from the pillow enough to brush her lips on his. “Trust me, I remember that part. I’m just not sure who you were with. It didn’t seem like me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Angelo traced the line of her body through the quilt, down over breast, waist, and hip. “I found the contrast, ah, invigorating.” At one point last night after he’d gotten her naked, he’d had her put the power jacket back on. Just the power jacket. It was the sexiest damn thing he’d ever seen, cleavage almost to her belly button, better than sheer cotton or fine lace. It had been a while before he’d allowed her to remove it again.

  “Invigorating?” She practically shouted in his face. “Invigorating?”

  He brushed down the quilt and attacked her breast with his tongue as he slid his hand down her body.

  In moments her arms had wrapped around the back of his head dragging him into that lovely softness deeper and harder than he’d have dared on his own. He didn’t let her go until she arched against his hand and cried out when she came, curling against him and holding on as her body let go like an explosion.

  He’d never been with a woman who so responded to his every touch. It was as if he unleashed a whole different person from the sophisticated Jo Thompson every time he touched her. He’d also never met a woman who he responded to so deeply. Whatever he’d thought about his physical attraction to Jo Thompson had been a gross underestimate.

  “Invigorating?” he tried not to crow in triumph as she giggled at his question. Who would ever have thought that Jo Thompson could giggle?

  “Okay. Yes. I’ll give you that point.”

  When she at last relaxed, she tried to drag him back into bed by the remains of his tattered shirt.

  He protested that he had to leave. “Mama will be waiting to go to the Market.”

  “That’s a new one.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

  It was. He suddenly felt sixteen again, slipping back into the house hoping his mama wouldn’t know what he’d been out doing in the night. He really needed to figure out what was going on there.

  He glanced at the bedside clock. And he really needed to get going, period. All he wanted to do was crawl back in with Jo, but that simply couldn’t happen right now.

  “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded and stretched languidly, back on her way to sleep. Rather than jumping on that incredible body, he pulled the covers up around her neck and tucked her in.

  “Russell left a windbreaker when he was here right before the wedding,” her voice softened toward a sleepy mumble. “It’s on the coat rack.”

  The jacket was too long for Angelo. Russell was enough taller that it almost fit Angelo like a mini dress. But it was better than going through Pike Place Market in a shredded shirt.

  He slipped out of the condo and hurried downstairs to begin the ten-block walk to the Market.

  # # #

  Angelo’s mama was already flirting with Henry the fishmonger when he arrived out of breath; he’d jogged much of the way trying to make up time. He didn’t want anyone else getting the scoop on him. But Charlene from Maximilien’s was already there, he usually beat her to the day’s best catch.

  Not today, she had some incredible looking mahi-mahi set aside and about thirty pounds of steamers in from Penn Cove.

  He couldn’t regret the cause for delay, but it wasn’t good.

  His mother continued to chat with Henry, then she winked at him.

  Perfetto! Now his mother was going to tease him about not coming home last night.

  He poked through the various proteins and was considering the shark, but wasn’t feeling terribly inspired by it. Charlene headed off, giving him a cocky salute obviously pleased with her coup.

  “Is she gone?” Maria Amelia appeared at his shoulder and looked down the long tiled corridor of the Market to make sure Charlene wasn’t stopping at the produce vendor or the cured meats counter.

  “She’s gone, Mama.”

  “Good. She’s pretty, Angelo. But not as pretty as your lawyer friend.”

  She was pretty. But she’d never done anything to fire his blood. She was also married to her pastry chef and had been for years. However, even thinking of Jo for a moment turned his thoughts to mush. He had to get moving. Turning back to Henry, he pointed toward the shark, but his mother slapped his hand aside.

  She led him around behind the counter and waved a negligent hand. Out of sight at Henry’s feet were three huge mesh bags of the most perfect sea scallops still in the shell that he’d ever seen. Beside them, a tub of ice sported some beautiful squid, perfect for side dishes of fried calamari rings.

  She patted Henry on the cheek, “He’s such a good man. So sweet.”

  Henry beamed.

  His mother might make him crazy, but his menu was really going to shine tonight.

  Chapter 17

  “Five o’clock at Cutters.” Jo didn’t even greet Cassidy when she answered the phone. Just issued the order.

  “Uh. O-kay.” Cassidy’s voice was hazed with sleep.

  Jo looked at the clock floating on the glass wall of her office. It was barely seven. The morning light was bright enough that the overhead lights were faded down to almost nothing. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize the time.”

  Cassidy was usually awake by now, but she certainly didn’t sound it at the moment.

  “S’okay. Russell and I, we were just, sort of, uh, continuing the honeymoon.”

  Great, now she felt even worse. Unable to sleep after Angelo left, she’d skipped her morning workout and come straight to work. She hadn’t even stopped for a bagel and cream cheese or anything else fattening and satisfying. She’d had her usual tasteless power drink and driven to the office. She had to drive to work most days now because she didn’t want to be walking home on the city streets after dark, which is when she was typically departing. Even though it would be the longest day of the year soon, she’d wager it would be a long time before she walked home during daylight hours again.

  Muriel would be arriving shortly and the next round of case files would follow not long after. She wasn’t up to facing this day.

  Jo rubbed at her gritty eyes and apologized again for rousing Cassidy from her marriage bed.

  “Sounds major,” Cassidy’s voice was a little more coherent.

  “I…,” Muriel rolled in on cue and dropped a to-go cup of coffee off on her desk. “Yes, it is.” She dragged the words out until Muriel had drifted to her own office across the hall. “But I can’t get into it at the moment.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s you I need to speak to.” She felt crappy for saying it that way, but knew Cassidy would get the message. Jo didn’t need Russell or Perrin, it was Cassidy’s level-headed thinking she needed at the moment. And, most of all, it was her former roommate’s reaction she was worried about.

  After only the briefest of pauses, Cassidy replied, her voice fully awake. “See you at five.”

  Muriel brought in the first stack of the morning and looked for a space to set it on Jo’s desk.

  “Someone looks as if they had great sex last night.”

&n
bsp; Jo groaned to herself. That was the problem with working with Muriel for five years, she couldn’t hide a single thing from her.

  She took the first file of the day and began slogging her way through it.

  # # #

  Jo hadn’t shown up at the gym, not that he’d really expected her to, so Angelo had made his workout short. He’d started with lots of energy, but within ten minutes his body was dragging, within twenty it was stopped. Trying to function on two or three hours of sleep wasn’t cutting it.

  He needed to rethink his need for personal masochism. Of course she had the good sense to sleep while she could. She was a sensible woman. But not as sensible as she wanted you to think.

  There was a wild streak hidden deep inside Jo Thompson that had startled, aroused, and fascinated Angelo. Brilliant, beautiful, and lethal. When he’d coaxed her back into that power jacket, and just that power jacket, she’d taken absolute control. It was a role reversal he wasn’t used to. He didn’t object, but he’d found most women wanted to abandon themselves to his control. Not Counselor Thompson. In that jacket, she’d climbed atop him and used him until his mind blanked and his body ached. Or had his body blanked and his mind ached? Whatever it was, it had been incredible. Out of the jacket, she’d gone soft and gentle, wrapping herself about him to welcome him in. He couldn’t imagine ever getting enough of her.

  After shopping and the lame excuse for a workout, he’d crawled home and sacked out until it was time to go to the restaurant for lunch service. A shower and shave did little to restore his equilibrium and nothing to erase the self-satisfied smile in the mirror. He practically floated up the six blocks to work.