Sweet Dream Lover

by Karen Sandler

  The crowd below shifted, as if everyone had stepped back to give passage to the woman in blue. Lydia’s interminable flood of words faded to a buzz as the parting wave of humanity stepped clear, giving him his first glimpse of Kat.

  A lightning bolt would have struck with less power. She lingered beside one of the bars set up in the lobby below, her face lifted as if she was searching for someone. Him, maybe? Her willowy body snatched the air from his lungs and stopped his heart dead. A roaring sound, no doubt all the oxygen leaving the room, pounded in his ears.

  He shook free of Lydia’s grip and walked away without so much as a glance back at her. As he moved along the promenade toward the stairs, Kat found him, her gaze locking with his. She followed him with her eyes until he stepped out of sight at the staircase, then found him again when he neared the bottom of the stairs.

  As he drew nearer, he could see what she was wearing and it stole his breath all over again. A silvery circlet around her throat was all that held up the narrow blue triangle of the gown’s front. Her shoulders and arms were bare, her slim hips hugged lovingly by the glimmering blue dress that draped in a glittering waterfall to her ankles.

  Then someone caught her attention and she turned away from him. The dress plunged in the back, exposing creamy skin from shoulders to just above her derriere. Any lower and she’d be indecent. A slit from the hem to her knees gave him a tantalizing glimpse of her taut calves.

  Now that was a dress. Completely out of character for Kat, but perfect for her nonetheless, slinky as hell and a blatant invitation to touch her.

  He couldn’t resist; as she exchanged pleasantries with a dainty elderly woman at the other end of the bar, he laid his fingertips along Kat’s spine. She didn’t pull away, but he felt a tremor of reaction. It was all he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms.

  Finally the older woman said her good-byes and Kat turned toward him again, dislodging his arm. She fussed with the silver ring around her neck, in the process pulling the shimmering blue fabric tight against her breasts. It wasn’t polite to ogle, but his eyes had a will of their own when Kat’s nipples made an appearance under the midnight blue knit.

  Someone behind her, pushing toward the bar, nudged her toward him and he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. He asked her, “Did you want something?” nodding his head toward the bar.

  “If you’re down here to get drinks for your date—”

  “I don’t have a date.”

  “Who’s that enraged blonde you left on the promenade?”

  He risked a glance up at Lydia. Her glare was palpable, even at this distance. “She’s not enraged.” Just ticked that she’d lost her audience.

  While Lydia shot twin blue lasers at him with her eyes, Mark quickly reconnoitered the crowd. Jim from the Business Journal, good-looking, conveniently single and no more than ten feet away, stood gabbing with Alicia, one of the local news anchors. Mark threaded through the crowd and pulled Jim aside.

  “I need a big, big favor.”

  Jim smiled and gestured apologetically to Alicia. “You’re disrupting my rhythm here. I’ve just about got her softened up enough to ask her out.”

  “You’re a friend, man. And friends help friends.”

  With a sigh, Jim tore his avid gaze from the shapely anchorwoman. “What?”

  “I need you to baby-sit someone.” Mark pointed up at the irate blonde on the promenade.

  “Not Lydia.” Jim shook his head and would have backed away if Mark didn’t still have a grip on his arm. “Anyone but Lydia.”

  “A year’s supply of free chocolate.”

  Jim gave him a savvy look. “For both my nephews.”

  That would put a serious dent in his discretionary fund. “Deal.”

  They shook on it, traded ticket stubs, then Jim went to give his apologies to Alicia. From the intimate way he whispered in her ear, Mark had no doubt Jim would get his chocolate and a night out with the anchorwoman.

  Unencumbered, Mark turned back to Kat and discovered she’d escaped. It took him ten minutes to locate her over by the string quartet performing some warm-up adagios, or whatever it was string quartets played. Before he could get close enough to claim her attention, the lobby lights flashed, signaling the start of the concert.

  She’d already entered the auditorium, a stream of people following her, before he could elbow his way inside. By the time he spotted her again, she’d found her row and was scooting past a well-dressed power couple on the aisle to the fourth seat over. Plowing through the crowd, Mark edged his way into Kat’s row and plopped himself down in the empty seat next to her.

  She looked ready to jump from her seat again. “That’s not your seat.”

  “Sure it is.” He made a show of checking Jim’s ticket; the reporter’s seat was up in the third tier, so far to the back of the auditorium the seat probably came equipped with an oxygen mask.

  She grabbed for it. “Let me see.”

  Mark held it out of her reach. “Don’t you trust me?”

  She started, actually jumped in her seat. Then lifted her chin and turned away. “Whatever.”

  What the hell was that all about? He would have taken a moment to ponder it, but caught sight of a gigantic guy in a black pin-striped suit standing in the aisle, quizzically studying his ticket. He looked over at Mark, then back down to the ticket, then back at Mark.

  Mark brushed a hand on Kat’s bare shoulder, enjoying her shiver of reaction. “Be right back.”

  The couple on the aisle glared at him as he sidled past, obviously pissed at having to pull their well-groomed knees out of his way for a second time. The guy standing in the aisle, towering a foot and a half above Mark, seemed a bit peeved at having his seat stolen. When Mark saw the size of the hands gripping the ticket, then took another look at the movie-star-handsome face towering above him, he recognized Mr. Pinstripe as the Seattle Supersonics star forward.

  “Hey, Reggie. Mark Denham. We met at Hoops for Kids.” Reggie’s hand swallowed Mark’s as they shook. “Good to see you.”

  “If you could do me a huge favor...” Mark saw Kat scrutinizing them and he nudged Reggie aside. “I’d be glad to make another donation to your program.”

  Reggie smiled. “My wish is your command.”

  Mark could still feel Kat’s stare between his shoulder blades and he urged the forward a little farther up the aisle. “We need to do a quick trade.”

  Reggie laughed. “Like when I came over from the Kings?”

  “Something like that. See the guy over there in Row D?”

  Mark pointed to Jim on the other side of the auditorium. “You give me your ticket, give him my ticket, he’ll give you his.”

  Peering across the auditorium at Jim, Reggie frowned. “Is that Lydia next to him?”

  “Pretend you’re from Croatia and don’t speak English.” Reggie turned his all-American black face toward Mark.

  “Croatia. Right.”

  “She can’t talk once the concert starts.” Mark traded stubs with Reggie. “Whatever you do, don’t ask about her engagement ring.”

  As Reggie ambled off toward the doors, Mark hurried back to the empty seat next to Kat. He caught sight of Reggie on his way down the aisle toward Jim just before the lights dimmed.

  Kat gave him a poke. “That isn’t your seat.”

  “Hush. The concert’s about to start.”

  She jabbed him harder. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

  The violins squealed as the symphony tuned up. “Friends don’t leave friends alone.”

  “But we’re not friends!” With the first notes of “The Star- Spangled Banner,” the crowd rose as one.

  “Oh, say can you see...” Mark knew he wasn’t much of a singer, but he felt particularly patriotic tonight, what with Kat beside him in a slinky dress. “...by the dawn’s early light...”

  Kat dutifully belted out the words beside him, delivering with special fervor the phrase about “bombs bursting.”


  The audience screeched out “land of the free” in off-key but enthusiastic unison, then everyone took their seats. With barely a moment’s rest, the symphony launched into the overture or opening or kickoff, filling the auditorium with sound.

  Kat wasn’t finished with him, but the volume necessitated her leaning so close she could have tongued him in the ear. That was an image to cherish.

  “Mark,” she whispered, sounding a little desperate now, “why won’t you leave me alone?”

  He would have answered her, but the music swelled, making conversation impossible. That is, he would have responded if he’d had an answer. In the two years since their divorce, he’d done everything he could to keep his distance from her out of self-defense. A few weeks ago, if he’d known they were both attending the benefit concert, he would have been grateful to have half the auditorium between them. Hell, he wouldn’t have been here at all, would have sent Rod in his place.

  He glanced over at her. She stared straight forward, the program in her lap morphing under the intense pressure of her hands clutching it. He couldn’t quite make out her expression in the dim light, but that tortured program spoke volumes.

  When he’d spent two years avoiding her, sidestepping her, why all the machinations now to be near her? The cabin hadn’t been his doing, but even there, when he could have holed up in the downstairs bedroom, he couldn’t stay away from her.

  Physical attraction, that was all it was. Kat had always turned him on, whether in a knockout gown or a shapeless sweat suit. Her dark hair, chocolate brown eyes, lanky body. He’d never been able to resist that unconventional combination.

  Nothing more to it than that. If he seemed so keen to keep her at his side, it was only because he enjoyed the picture of stripping away the clothes to the sleek woman underneath. For two years he’d only allowed those images in his dreams; now he wanted to enjoy them while he was awake.

  But why Kat? The impertinent question nagged at him. Why not any number of other women, available women, interested women? Someone other than the ex-wife who had made it plain she had no inclination of taking up where they left off two years ago. He might have made her crazy with need at the cabin, but he didn’t have a prayer of repeating that with her. He really ought to be moving on to someone willing to come out and play.

  The blare of horns intruded on his turbulent thoughts, then the symphony segued into more strings. The music droned in his ears, a soporific for his sleep-starved brain. Another debt to lay at Kat’s doorstep, her intrusion into his rest. If not for her teasing him with memories, he’d get a good night’s sleep and wouldn’t be persisting in this no-win obsession. He might have been able to resist her tonight instead of engaging in this crazy dance to keep her at his side.

  More strings and the gentle rumble of kettledrums. It would be damned rude to fall asleep, especially since Denham Candy was cosponsor of this benefit concert. But with predictable ease, the blast of horns and thunder of kettledrums had its expected effect on him. Too many nights with insufficient sleep added to his languor. He was going, going, gone...

  * * * * *

  When Kat first felt the weight of Mark’s head leaning against her shoulder, she tried a gentle shrug to dislodge him. He didn’t budge, letting out a short, snorting snore before settling more heavily against her. She wondered if his zonked state was an act, but then he started to drool a little on her arm. Even Mark had more self-respect than that.

  Besides which, she knew the effect classical music had on him. The louder the concerto, the sounder he slept. He could sit through an opera as long as the actors kept singing. But instruments only sent him straight to la-la land.

  It wouldn’t be too hard to push him off her, maybe over to that type-A harridan sitting with her tight-ass husband on the aisle. But that would cause more of a ruckus than simply letting him snore away the hour or so until intermission. He’d wake the moment the lights went back up. If he wasn’t willing to go back to his own seat by then, she’d fabricate some excuse to leave.

  Except she didn’t want to leave. Not because she was such a fan of Prokofiev or Debussy, but because the feel of Mark’s head resting on her shoulder sent such sweet memories rushing through her. Nights spent watching old movies until the wee hours when they’d both drift off to sleep on the sofa. That weekend he’d been slammed by the latest flu and she held him as he shivered with fever. Then it was his turn to comfort when she caught the bug.

  It hadn’t all been awful. They hadn’t sparred every moment of their short marriage. She tended to focus on the altercations, the vicious, biting words exchanged. But there were tender, calm interludes between the storms.

  Mark shifted, nestling his head more securely onto her shoulder. Like a throb of pain, her heart contracted and she thought she might cry. This was why she’d married him. There were a thousand reasons for their divorce, but there was one crystal-clear justification to unite them. No matter how much he riled her, how bitter their battles, she couldn’t deny it. He touched her heart.

  If only that was enough.

  Chapter 11

  Kat stood outside Benaroya Hall, searching for a cab, shivering and cursing her vanity. The only jackets she owned were either down or fleece pullovers, none of them appropriate evening wear over this glitzy blue dress. She’d chosen glamour over practicality for once, and now she was paying for it.

  Mark had finally repositioned himself halfway through the Debussy piece and she’d taken the coward’s way out, sneaking past him and earning the everlasting ire of the power couple on the aisle. With her luck, the fierce-looking woman and her beetle-browed husband were joint CEOs of some high-flying new corporation seeking out a company to provide gourmet candy as executive and client gifts. When Mark woke up at intermission, he’d charm them into placing a gargantuan order of Denham truffles and she’d be out hundreds of thousands of dollars.

  It would have to be millions to make any difference. Even a high six-figure sale wouldn’t be enough. They were too far in the hole for that.

  If she’d thought a pretty dress or a night at the symphony could distract her from the pending doom Roth Confectionery faced, she’d been sorely mistaken. She wanted to crawl into a dark cave and wail, stomp her feet and pound her fists at the injustice.

  “What the hell are you doing out here alone?”

  Could it get any worse? Kat turned to see Mark descending on her like a conquering angel. A conquering angel with a sleep crease on his cheek and hair sticking up to one side.

  The urge to laugh welled up, but she stifled it, too afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop. “The concert can’t be over yet.”

  “The shrew sitting next to me elbowed me.” He swiped a hand over his face. “I think she broke a rib.”

  A cab pulled up and Kat raised her arm to signal it. “If you’ll excuse me.” She took three steps toward the waiting cab.

  Mark grabbed her, warm fingers wrapped around her upper arm. “I’ll take you home.”

  She ought to shake off his importunate grip, hurry over to the taxi at the curb. Instead she let his hand stay right there, his touch intimate no matter how impersonal.

  The cabbie tapped his horn. “Hey, lady, you want the cab or not?”

  Eternal damnation, she shook her head. “Sorry. Thanks anyway.”

  A light, cool breeze skimmed her shoulders and she shuddered. Mark’s hand moved to her back. “Where’s your jacket?”

  “I don’t have one.” Shiver, shiver. “I’m not cold.”

  With a huff of impatience, he took off his tux jacket. “It’s a shame to hide that dress,” he said as he dropped the jacket around her bare shoulders.

  She sighed with pleasure at the sudden warmth, his heat and scent suffusing her. “You can still see the dress.”

  “But not the good parts.” His hand on her back again, he guided her up University Street. “I’m in the lot over on Fourth Street.”

  “I arranged parking for the concert in the University
Street lot.”

  “Lydia wanted dinner at that French place on Fifth.” Insecurity stabbed her at the reminder of the paragon blonde bombshell. “And whatever Lydia wants—”

  “She’s self-centered and a bore and all night I was desperate to get away from her.”

  She still felt peevish. “So being with me was an act of desperation.”

  “Knock it off, Kat.” He sounded tired and not a little irritated.

  They reached Fourth and stopped to wait for the light. Her mind took the opportunity to refocus on something he’d said. “What good parts?”

  The walk sign flashed and Mark urged her across the street. “You lost me, Kat.”

  The heat of embarrassment rose in her cheeks. “You said you couldn’t see the good parts.”

  “Ah.” She didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling. “Are you angling for a compliment?”

  “My arms are skinny, my legs are toothpicks, there’s nothing to fill out the top of the dress...”

  He was staring down at her as if she’d grown a second head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Damn his Denham charm. “Please, don’t.” He looked utterly confused. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t...” Don’t pretend I’m beautiful. Don’t act as if I matter to you. “Just don’t.” She reversed direction, heading back toward Puget Sound Plaza. “I need a drink.”

  The Starbucks in the plaza was closed and Kat had to suppress the urge to pound on the door. “It’s only eight-thirty. How can a coffeehouse close before eight-thirty?”

  “This is downtown, everything closes early.”

  Kat glared at him. “If I wanted a sensible, logical answer, I would have asked for one.” She continued down Fourth Street toward Seneca.

  When she found the Starbucks there closed, she could have wept. Instead she turned to Mark and clutched his ruffled shirtfront. “Caffeine! Now!”

  If his jacket felt luscious on her shoulders, her hands on his chest were downright seductive. As many times as she instructed herself to never touch Mark, she did it anyway.