Dreaming of You

by Francis Ray

“How can anyone be otherwise around you?” he mimicked Holt, then snorted again. “He was conning you.”

  Conning me. Unlocking the door, she swung it open. “So no man can give me a compliment and mean it?”

  Brandon’s mouth opened, gaped. His gaze made an unhurried trip from her head to her toes.

  Belatedly Faith remembered she was in her robe and nightgown, this one black silk. At the end of the day she always took a nice long bath and put on loungewear or her sleepers. She checked the impulse to step back inside when Brandon continued to stare at her.

  She might not have much experience with men, but Brandon’s altered breathing stiffened her spine. She dared to ask, “Am I so hideous a man can’t desire me?”

  Brandon gulped, then finally managed to drag his gaze up from the flare of her hips, the full thrust of her breasts, to her outraged face. “May-maybe we should talk about this later.”

  She danced with joy inside. “You were the one banging on my door. Let’s talk now.”

  His unsteady hand swiped across his face. “All right. I’ll wait here until you get dressed.”

  “Oh, Brandon,” she said with just enough pique to throw him off. “I’m not getting dressed just to get undressed again.”

  His chest shuddered with the breath he blew out. Wonderful.

  “If you don’t start talking, this door is closing in five seconds. One. Two. Thre—”

  “I just don’t want you to get in over your head,” he said quickly. “You could have just as many dates as any other woman if you wanted to. You’re just more sensible.”

  “Maybe I’m tired of being sensible,” she challenged.

  This time he was the one who stepped closer, close enough for her to feel the heat of his body. “You get that nonsense out of your head about attracting a man. Some men aren’t to be trusted.”

  To her horror and embarrassment, Faith felt her nipples harden, her breasts grow heavy. She folded her arms across her chest. It was definitely time to end this. “Blade and Holt aren’t two of them. Good night, Brandon.” Unfolding her arms, she turned to go inside.

  Brandon laid his hand gently on her shoulder to stop her. “I just want what’s best for you.”

  Desire and heat built quickly. It was all she could do not to walk into his arms and lift her lips to his. “I know that, but I’m a big girl. Literally and figuratively.”

  Irritation crossed his face. “Age doesn’t matter and there’s nothing wrong with your figure.”

  “Oh, Brandon,” she said, almost giving in to the urge. “If you think that, then why don’t you teach me how to tell my prince from the frogs out there?”

  “Because. Because . . .” His other hand came up to rest on her other shoulder. He stared down at her.

  Kiss me, she thought. Just kiss me.

  Frowning, he stepped back. “Because it’s idiotic.”

  Frustration and unfulfilled desire welled within Faith. “Then fine. Good night, Brandon.” The door closed with a sharp click. “Just you wait, Brandon Grayson. I’ll show you,” she whispered.

  Brandon slammed the door to his hotel room, pulling off clothes as he went. Pausing only long enough to sit on the commode top to remove his boots, he stripped off his jeans and Jockeys and stepped into the shower. He turned it on full blast.

  Cold water sloshed over his heated skin. He took the punishment gladly. He was definitely losing it. Celibacy was taking its toll on him.

  Eyes shut tightly, his hands propped on the tiled wall, he bowed his head and let the water slosh over him. He tried to keep his mind blank but found it impossible. The tempting picture of Faith kept intruding. The nightgown had shown him every lush, desirable curve. He might have been able to keep it together if he hadn’t touched her.

  Her skin had felt like warm velvet. She smelled of some exotic flower. Her bare lips had beckoned. For a wild moment he would have given anything to have been able to gently press his mouth against hers.

  He turned on the two remaining jets, letting the water hammer him. He never had this problem before. He didn’t lust after his friends.

  His hands flexed. He straightened and let the water blast his face and roll down to the lower part of his body, which throbbed and ached for release that wasn’t going to come. He threw back his head and laughed, a ragged sound, at the last thought, then sobered.

  He might remain single, but he was turning into a randy old goat. One thing for certain, he was staying away from Faith until he got whatever it was under control.

  Wednesday afternoon Faith moved to Phase Two of Get Brandon. Phase One had not been without its setbacks, but at least Brandon now saw her as a desirable woman. At least she thought he did. She wanted to shout every time she recalled the flash of desire in his eyes, his uneven breathing. She’d gone to sleep aching for him and wondered if he had had as much trouble falling asleep as she had.

  She hadn’t been able to test her theory since Tuesday night. He’d been gone when she went by his room this next morning to ask him to breakfast.

  Flicking on her turn signal, Faith pulled into the parking lot of the realtor’s office where Phoenix worked. Picking up the bakery box, Faith climbed out of her Lexus and went inside the single-story building. She stopped at the receptionist’s desk. “Sierra Grayson, please.”

  The dark-haired receptionist looked up from a stack of papers. “Is she expecting you?”

  “Yes. Faith McBride.” She’d called that morning.

  The receptionist picked up the phone and dialed. “Ms. McBride to see you, Ms. Grayson. I’ll send her right in.” She replaced the receiver. “You can go in. It’s the last door at the end of the corridor to the right.”

  “Thank you.” Faith continued down the well-lit hallway lined with the pictures of realtors and their awards and accolades. She wasn’t surprised to see that Sierra’s accomplishments took up a good portion of the wall. Stopping at the last door, she knocked softly.

  “Come in, Faith.”

  Faith drew in a deep, calming breath and opened the door. Sierra came around a beautifully carved antique desk with a computer on one end and almost every surface covered with papers. “Thank you for seeing me,” Faith said.

  Sierra’s gaze flickered to the box in Faith’s hand. “I’m a sucker for pastries.”

  Faith offered the box. She’d stacked the odds in her favor by offering to bring them. “Your secret is safe.”

  “Please have a seat.” Waving Faith to a comfortable chair at a small glass-topped table, Sierra placed the box on top, then went to a hutch and returned with napkins, paper plates, and two bottles of orange juice. “Always prepared.”

  “I’ve worked through enough meals to understand.” Faith accepted a raspberry Danish from the box. “Thanks.”

  Sierra picked up a croissant and bit. “Yum. Still warm. Whatever it is you want, unless it’s illegal, I’m in.”

  Faith blinked. “What gave me away?”

  Sierra laughed, then opened her orange juice. “These.” She indicated the box. “Not that I’m above being bribed, but Morgan being an officer of the court and Luke an ex–FBI agent, I certainly hope what you want is legal in all fifty states. This is the first time you’ve visited and you bring my weakness. How did you know?”

  “Brandon mentioned you ate the only croissant.”

  “I noticed there were three inside today. Good thinking.” Sierra took a sip of juice. “So, what’s up?”

  “I want you to teach me how to dress a bit more . . .” Faith faltered.

  “Flattering?” Sierra asked.

  Faith nodded and glanced down at her beige slacks and long white blouse. “You always look fantastic and fashionable. I realize we’re different sizes, but I was hoping you might be able to guide me.”

  Sierra took another sip of juice, then set the bottle down on the table. “Only if we agree on one thing: it’s not the size; it’s the woman that makes the difference. Until you believe that, have faith in yourself, what you wear won’t
make any difference.”

  “That might take a bit of doing.” Faith twisted the bottle in her nervous hands. She had self-confidence in her ability as a businesswoman, but not as a woman who could tempt a man.

  “Is there anything about you that works differently because you’re not Twiggy?” Sierra asked a bit impatiently.

  “No.”

  “Right the first time.” Sierra pushed her plate away. “You’re intelligent, have great managerial skills and superior work ethics—all of which have helped take Casa de Serenidad to the top. If you think you’re less, then others will, too.”

  Something about the fierceness in Sierra’s voice told Faith she had been harshly judged by others. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

  “Wasn’t allowed.” Sierra chose a croissant. “I can’t believe it was in the McBride family, either.”

  “Not in business, but I’ve never dated very much,” Faith confessed.

  “Well, then you’re certainly making up for lost time. Blade Navarone and Holt Durant all in one week and it’s only Wednesday.”

  “They’re just friends,” Faith said slowly.

  “You picked two doozies.” Sierra made a face. “Getting to Blade is about as easy as having an audience with the president. I’ve tried.”

  “I wish I could promise an introduction.” Faith bit her lower lip. “I can’t.”

  “In that case . . .” Sierra stood and tossed her plate and empty bottle in the chrome wastebasket.

  Faith’s head fell. She’d chosen Sierra because of her style and also because she wanted to be her friend. Now that wasn’t going to happen.

  “I’m busy until this afternoon around five. We could meet here at six and go to one of my favorite boutiques in my car.”

  Faith’s head lifted abruptly. “You’re going to help me even though I can’t introduce you to Blade?”

  “If you betrayed Blade’s trust, you’d betray mine. That’s not the type of person I want to spend any time around,” Sierra said frankly.

  Faith came to her feet. She should have known that Sierra would have as much integrity as Brandon. “Thank you.”

  Sierra folded her arms and studied Faith. “If I asked you who the lucky man is, would you tell me?”

  “No.”

  Sierra’s arms dropped to her sides. “Thought not. See you at six.”

  “Won’t the store be closing then?”

  “I know the owner. She’ll stay open for me.”

  Faith looked at the beautiful aqua and pink designer suit that fit Sierra like a dream and knew it cost dearly. Faith didn’t doubt her statement for a moment. Too many times to count, she herself had made exceptions to rules for good repeat customers. “See you at six.” Opening the door, Faith left.

  Shopping had never been the fun outing to Faith it was to many women. There was nothing guaranteed to ruin her day and deflate her ego quicker than trying on outfit after outfit that didn’t fit or finding a darling one that didn’t come in her size. She’d been disappointed too many times. Following Sierra into Impressions, Faith hoped her luck was about to change.

  “Hello, Sierra,” a voluptuous saleslady in a pretty pink suit with a short skirt greeted her.

  “Hello, Dot. This is Faith McBride, a friend of mine. She’s looking to add a few pieces to her wardrobe.”

  “Hello, Faith,” Dot said. “You’ve certainly come to the right store.” She waved her hand to the room to the right. “Are you looking for sexy, casual, dressy? Do you want comfort or style?”

  “I’m not sure. I have a date tonight.”

  Sierra whistled. “You certainly aren’t losing any time.”

  Faith flushed. “I’ve lost enough, don’t you think?”

  “I’ll say,” Sierra answered.

  “Is it possible to combine style and comfort with sexy?” Faith asked.

  “At Impressions we specialize in doing the impossible,” Dot said. “Isn’t that right, Sierra?”

  A gleam entered Sierra’s dark eyes. “I have a weakness for designer clothes and want them as soon as they hit the runway. If it’s on this planet, Dot can get it for me.”

  “Pretty designer clothes don’t come in my size,” Faith said a bit wistfully.

  “Wrong.” Sierra took her by the arm. “And I know just where we’ll start looking.”

  9

  There probably wasn’t a man alive who hadn’t gotten on the wrong side of a woman, Brandon thought. Things like that happened. Some women might not forgive a man, but Faith wasn’t the type to carry a grudge. She’d be over her pique soon. He just wished she’d get the crazy notion out of her head that she needed to attract some guy. If his strange behavior was any indication, she didn’t have anything to worry about.

  “Brandon, Sierra is at the family table.” Elaine walked up to the long stainless-steel counter on which orders were placed. “She wants Caesar salad, fried catfish, and a baked potato all the way.”

  He glanced at the monitor. “Tell her it will be about ten minutes.”

  “Will do.” Elaine shook her pretty head. “I wish I had her style, looks, and metabolism.”

  “Take her chips and salsa in the meantime.” He put the finishing touches on a platter of chicken flautas.

  “Doing it now along with her diet cola.” Elaine picked up the waiting bowl on the warmer. “She asked you to please save her a slice of carrot cake for dessert.”

  Brandon paused in spooning refried beans onto the plate. Faith likes diet cola with her high-caloric desserts, too.

  “You all right, Brandon?” Luis asked.

  Brandon glanced up. The waiter already had one order on the tray and was waiting for the other one. “Yes.”

  He quickly finished, then went to the refrigerator to set aside Sierra’s dessert. There were two slices left. Faith hadn’t eaten her carrot cake the other night. She’d blackmailed him, but she’d also come through for him.

  Taking one of the slices of cake, he slid it into a white box and placed it back in the refrigerator. Perhaps the peace offering would get them back on an even footing. He didn’t like it that they were uneasy around each other.

  “Brandon?”

  He turned at the sound of Elaine’s voice. “Yes.”

  “Sierra wants you to come and tell her how the bathroom is going,” Elaine said, then ducked back out of the kitchen.

  There was absolute quiet in the kitchen for three full seconds. Only Sierra would think nothing of pulling the tiger’s tail. “Michelle, I’m going out and talk to my baby sister about living dangerously.”

  “Better her than me,” came Michelle’s answer as she headed out the swinging doors with a tray of food.

  Removing his apron, Brandon followed. Automatically his gaze swept over the room. The bustle of the waiters, the clatter of flatware against dishes, the hum of conversation, the southwestern decor, always put him in a better mood.

  Moving easily, he went to the family table, a booth near the back. His family had been close growing up. Breakfast had been a mad affair with all of them at the table, lunch had been hit-and-miss after they started working, but they usually gathered around the table again for dinner. He’d wanted that same connection in his restaurant—where problems were discussed and, if not solved, you always knew your family was behind you.

  “What if a pipe in the ceiling broke over your converted closet?” He slid into the booth facing Sierra.

  Horror widened her eyes. The chip midway to her mouth paused, then continued. “You and Morgan always did play dirty.”

  Brandon relaxed back against the leather cushion. “How did the date last night with Mr. Peters go?”

  Sierra laughed. “He was so cute. He made us strawberry smoothies and we danced.”

  “He’s sixty if he’s a day. That must have been some sight.”

  “It was.” Sierra picked up her diet cola. “You get out of cooking for Faith. She sent the set of cast-iron cookware to the Women’s League yesterday.”

  “
She always donates what she purchased,” he said, propping his elbows on the table. “I don’t think I can ever recall her cooking anything when I was over at her house all those years with Cameron.”

  “Here you go.” Elaine set the plate of food on the table, then withdrew.

  “Now she doesn’t have to. With twenty-four-hour room service I certainly wouldn’t cook.” Sierra reached for her fork. “If they could build a house without a kitchen, it would suit me.” Sierra could cook but chose not to.

  “On the other hand, I need one. The only way I can get by living at the hotel is that when I come early to let Mr. Montgomery in I can experiment with dishes and start on the desserts before the crew comes in.”

  “How is the bath going?” She pushed her salad aside and started in on her baked potato and fried catfish.

  “Glacial slow.” Brandon slumped in his seat. “Seems the pipes are special. He had to order new ones. We might be looking at adding more days to his two-weeks estimate.”

  “Sorry. But at least the time will be spent in luxurious surroundings.”

  Brandon grimaced. “I’d rather be in my place.” He looked at her almost empty place. “You ready for your dessert?”

  She shook her head. “I think I might take it with me.”

  “I’ll get it.” He rose to his feet. “You and Faith have the last two pieces.”

  “Faith?”

  “Yeah, I thought I’d take her a slice,” he explained. “She never did get hers the other night.”

  “You might want to wait and give it to her tomorrow.” Sierra reached for the Gucci billfold that matched her croc handbag and placed a large tip on the table. Brandon never allowed any family member to pay.

  “Why?”

  Sierra glanced up. “Because she and her date are dining at the Pueblo as we speak.”

  Faith had racked her brain all evening on the best way to let Brandon find out she was having dinner with Shane Elliot, an associate of Blade’s. It didn’t do any good to wear the attention-getting black halter dress with turquoise piping and matching chandelier turquoise earrings and necklace if Brandon didn’t see her. And it didn’t look as if he would.