When Dreams Collide

by Brenda Sinclair

  “Oh my God, am I late?” Amanda peeked at her watch.

  “For heaven’s sake, Amanda.” Catherine swatted her hand. “You’re wearing a watch on your wedding day! A bride is expected to be late. The slowpokes don’t miss anything, and they don’t feel badly about interrupting an ‘I do’.”

  Amanda sighed. “Thank goodness, I hate being late.”

  “Worked out okay a few months ago when you told Jeremy you were ‘late’.” Catherine burst out laughing when Amanda’s mouth dropped open.

  “Enough teasing. Let’s get this over with so we can party,” shouted Susan.

  “I’m still breast feeding,” observed Catherine, shaking out the billowing skirt on her dress identical to Susan’s. “No alcohol for me.”

  “And I’m pregnant,” added Amanda, taking a deep breath and pulling her shoulders back. “We ordered a case of sparkling cider specifically for Catherine and me.”

  “Hanging out with you guys used to be a lot more fun.” Susan shook her head.

  “Get married.” Amanda and Catherine spoke in unison and then burst out laughing.

  Susan wouldn’t admit it, but since she encountered the handsome Mr. Dusty MacFarland in the cloakroom, she’d been fantasizing along those same lines. She could see herself waking up every morning beside that hunky body with the gorgeous brown eyes and killer smile.

  “Let’s get Amanda hitched first, okay?” Susan strode toward the door.

  Catherine handed Amanda her huge bridal bouquet overflowing with white orchids and teal-tipped white roses before they followed on Susan’s heels.

  Amanda’s father stood in his tux, smiling broadly, patiently waiting in the hallway. “You look absolutely stunning, my beauty,” he whispered.

  “Thanks, Dad.” Amanda pecked her father’s cheek and flashed Susan and Catherine a thumbs-up sign. “Now remember to walk slowly so everyone can admire those beautiful dresses.”

  “Love you, girl,” whispered Susan.

  “In a few minutes I’ll get my wish, and you’ll become my sister-in-law,” added Catherine.

  “Stop it, you guys. I’ll start crying and ruin my makeup,” scolded Amanda, beaming. She hooked her hand around her father’s arm, and whispered, “Show time, Dad.”

  Susan closed her eyes for a second, recalling in her mind exactly how the room appeared. She, Catherine, Amanda and several cousins had turned the cold, boring banquet hall into a magical world. A multitude of tiny white fairy lights covered the entire ceiling, serving as the sole illumination as the bride and her attendants entered the room. Huge bouquets of multi-colored summer flowers occupied the buffet tables and the floor area designated for the official ceremony. Teal streamers hung in scallops across the ceiling and matching bows were tied to each chair back. Lit candles sat atop pristine tablecloths, providing a mesmerizing glow for added atmosphere.

  Susan opened her eyes and took a deep breath.

  The moment she entered the banquet room, two hundred guests rose to their feet. She silently coached herself as she slowly walked up the wide strip of red carpeting. Don’t look at Dusty. Don’t look at Dusty. Whatever you do...don’t look at Dusty.

  Soft classical music played while Susan, Catherine, and then Amanda and her dad made their way toward the archway where the minister stood with the groom and his attendants. Finally, Susan arrived at her designated spot up front. Her greatest fear—tripping, her skirt flying over her head, providing the entire room with a view of her now infamous pink panties—hadn’t happened. She whispered a silent prayer of thanks.

  An appreciative murmur from the guests moved through the room as the bride entered and walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. What a picture the bride made. Her dark hair contrasted with her ivory dress and white bouquet, and her radiant smile signified her happiness.

  The ceremony passed in a haze for Susan. The stern coaching she’d given herself was forgotten the second she glanced over at the groom’s attendants. When Dusty caught her staring at him, he winked at her. She felt her face redden, and she almost dropped her bouquet. Darn him anyway. She felt like a ditzy schoolgirl, experiencing her first crush. What the heck was wrong with her?

  The ceremony concluded with the traditional kiss. The beaming bride and groom walked down the carpeted aisle and exited the room to form a receiving line in the hallway. David and Catherine followed, and Dusty linked arms with Susan as they trailed behind them.

  When they reached their places in the receiving line, Dusty leaned in and whispered something in her ear. The intoxicating aroma of his aftershave shut down her senses. She looked deep into his eyes. The sudden sparkle she saw there surprised her, and she wondered what had captured his interest?

  “What did you say?” she asked, too stunned by his closeness to pay attention to his words.

  “Could I meet with you at your bank on Monday morning?”

  “Why?” she blurted.

  “I need to discuss something important with you,” he explained, his expression hopeful.

  “Um, um, sure,” she stammered, taken aback by his totally unexpected request. “Would ten thirty work for you?”

  “Ten thirty would be perfect.” Dusty beamed.

  Susan gaped as she silently asked herself one question. What the heck was Dusty MacFarland up to?

  Chapter 2

  Susan glanced up at Jeremy, dancing a two-step with the handsome groom. She’d never enjoyed a wedding reception so much. “This country band you hired at the last minute is really good.”

  “The first cousin of one of our neighbors knew someone. But these guys sound awesome.” Jeremy twirled her around the floor and then passed her back to Dusty.

  “Treat her right, cowboy.” Jeremy slapped his buddy on the shoulder.

  Dusty glared at his best friend, whispered something in his ear that she didn’t catch, and Jeremy laughed.

  “Hello again, darling,” whispered Dusty in her ear as the band ended the two-step and started right into a waltz.

  Susan had already danced twice with the groom and once with the best man, but she preferred dancing with Dusty. Being back in his arms felt like coming home, safe and comfortable. They moved together like seasoned dance partners seldom missing a step. His hands moved lower, lingered on her waist. Of their own accord, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she felt cherished in his embrace.

  “You are a wonderful dancer, Mr. MacFarland. I’m impressed.” If she’d questioned whether or not he felt an attraction to her, the evidence pressed against her while they waltzed plastered together, eliminating any further speculation.

  When the band stopped for another break, Dusty and Susan continued discussing shared topics of interest: ranching, horses, hiking, camping, and banking. Yes, even banking. He’d stunned her when he initiated a discussion about the current stock market trends and investments. She considered the possibility he’d brushed up on Stock Market 101 just to impress people, although she couldn’t imagine why. He probably hadn’t a clue about the facts and statistics he spouted, but he certainly could talk the talk. Mesmerized by the deep voice resonating in his chest, she smiled. That voice could convince any woman to purchase a seaside cottage in Nevada.

  They danced every dance together the rest of the night. And all too soon the band stopped playing and packed up their instruments. When the hotel staff herded the last hangers-on out of the banquet room, a dozen wedding guests, including Dusty and Susan, headed for the lounge to continue the party.

  At five a.m., the lounge closed.

  “Steer ush in the direct shun of home, darlin’,” mumbled Dusty, slurring his words slightly.

  “I think home is this-a-way, cowboy.”

  Together, Dusty and Susan stumbled down the hallway to the row of elevators. They rode to the third floor while tightly wrapped in each other’s arms. They took two attempts at exiting the elevator while still plastered together, and then Dusty escorted her to her hotel room door.

  “Thank shou for a wonnerful tim
e.”

  “You’re welcome. I enjoyed myself immensely.” Susan attempted to focus on his handsome face.

  And then he curled her toes with a breathtaking goodnight kiss.

  Dusty watched while she opened her door and stepped across the threshold.

  “Shee you in the morning,” he called over his shoulder as he maneuvered his way down the hallway.

  Susan peeked out of the doorway and watched him head to his own room apparently situated three doors down on the right.

  The gorgeous man had embarrassed her, tormented her, and teased her since the moment she met him. He’d aggravated her even further by leaving her at her door, breathing heavily and totally turned on.

  She had a weakness for cowboys. She’d pass up a guy in a suit and tie any day for a handsome hunk of manhood dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt, and a Stetson. A cowboy in a tux and cowboy boots wasn’t bad either. She reminded herself they had only met a few hours ago, but at the moment, her libido couldn’t recall a single reason why that mattered.

  Sighing, she closed and locked her hotel room door.

  Surely, Dusty didn’t consider her off limits because of her friendship with Amanda. Or was he being a true gentleman? Living his life by an old-fashioned moral code, never sleeping with a woman he’d only met a few hours before, lacy pink panties or not?

  She felt annoyed and impressed in equal measure.

  *

  On the third attempt, Dusty finally slipped the plastic card into the slot in his hotel room’s door. The light on the lock blinked green and then clicked as it released. When he yanked the card out again he lost his balance. He flailed his arms and legs about in an effort to save himself, but his butt landed with a thud on the carpet. Cursing under his breath, Dusty checked the hallway. Thankfully, Susan had disappeared into her room already. Although his eyes weren’t focusing too effectively at the moment, the hallway appeared deserted. Relieved that no one had witnessed his tumble, he clambered to his feet, turned the door handle and staggered into his room.

  He couldn’t recall the last time he’d downed so many drinks, waltzed around a dance floor so many times, and kissed such a delectable woman. Her laugh warmed his heart like no other woman’s ever had, and her enticing perfume drove him crazy while his mind conjured up inappropriate thoughts.

  All evening, Susan had chatted non-stop with everyone—an extrovert, the total opposite to himself. He loved independent women, hated the clingy types. Case in point. The relentless efforts of the annoying pixyish horsewoman named Penny Snyder who worked at the Lazy B Ranch. The girl had a better chance of hitting a lottery jackpot than she did of winning his affections.

  He turned the light on, flopped onto the bed, and attempted to pull off his boots.

  Susan had nearly knocked his socks off with the explosive goodnight kiss they’d shared a few minutes ago. He was drunk, damn drunk, but he’d kept his wits about him all night. When that kiss ended, he wasn’t certain which end of him was up.

  Susan looked deep into his eyes after he’d kissed her, but Dusty hadn’t been able to read her expression. Her kissable lips and mischief-filled eyes had thrown him off kilter since the moment he met her. Had she expected him to kiss her again? Had she been issuing a silent invitation into her room?

  Finally, he managed to remove his boots. He peeled off the tux and tossed everything onto a nearby chair as he relived in his mind the ending to their evening.

  He’d been sorely tempted to suggest he come in for a nightcap on the off chance she expected it of him. But he’d reconsidered at the last moment and headed for his own room. A classy, professional woman like Susan Sanders wouldn’t invite a man she’d only met a few hours before into her room. And she sure as hell wouldn’t sleep with the guy.

  He staggered across the floor and slipped the security lock on the door into place. Once sleep overtook him, he wouldn’t hear a burglar. Hell, if a herd of elephants snuck into his room and tap danced to show tunes he’d sleep through it. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he pulled the bedcovers back and crawled between the sheets, totally naked.

  Damn, he should have packed some pain medication. No doubt, he’d have a doozy of a headache come morning. He smiled as he drifted off to sleep. Susan Sanders, and her luscious warm lips, and her curvaceous body, and the glimpse of her lacy pink panties, were totally worth the hangover.

  ****

  Susan was jolted awake by a ringing telephone. One hand groped the night table top. Finally, she climbed out of bed and staggered across the room to the desk where she located the noisy beast.

  “Hello,” she croaked. Her mouth tasted like something up and died in there.

  “Good morning! Are you coming down for brunch?” chirped Catherine Branigan.

  “What time is it?” Susan grabbed the chair back to steady herself.

  “It’s only ten o’clock leaving you an hour to make yourself presentable. We’ll meet you in the dining room.”

  “No thank you. With less than five hours sleep, I’ll pass.” She hung up, stumbled over to the bed and snuggled under the covers. She attempted to ignore the dozen jackhammers someone had turned on in her head. “It should be against the law, Catherine, to sound that cheerful when someone has the mother of all hangovers,” she groaned, burying her head under the pillow to block out the light from the curtains she’d forgotten to close. She’d lost count of how many drinks she’d consumed last night. Probably her share plus Catherine’s share plus Amanda’s share.

  Someone knocked on her door and Susan crawled out of bed again. Darn it. She’d neglected to hang the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door. Gingerly holding her head as level as possible, she padded across the carpeted floor, hoping if her brain didn’t receive the message she was vertical, the pounding wouldn’t intensify.

  Susan cracked the door open and discovered Catherine standing there wagging an index finger at her. “Hanging up on me won’t work. Get moving.”

  “Why did I drink so much when I promised to meet everyone for brunch?” lamented Susan.

  “As a member of the wedding party, you’re obligated to attend,” answered Catherine. “Hop in the shower and get dressed. You don’t want to be late.”

  “Being late is Amanda’s hang-up, not mine.” Susan wavered on her feet and reached for the wall to prevent a fall. “I’m probably still drunk. I don’t mind being late. I’ll meet you downstairs on Tuesday.”

  “Forty-five minutes and counting. Did you have fun last night?” Catherine grabbed Susan’s arm and steered her toward the bathroom.

  “Fun? I partied until five a.m.” Susan turned the shower on and peeled her pajamas off. “I wonder how Dusty and the others are faring in the light of day.”

  “David and I grabbed a coffee in the dining room before I started my wake up calls. There are some sorry looking specimens down there.” Catherine laughed. “Thank goodness I’m breast feeding. We brought our housekeeper with us. Rosalie’s minding the babies while I enjoy brunch. Now hurry up. I’m leaving, but don’t you even think about crawling back into that bed.”

  “Don’t give me any ideas,” whispered Susan, stepping into the steamy shower.

  At eleven o’clock on the dot, Susan rode the elevator down to the main floor. She’d dressed in a floral linen dress and off-white sandals. A quick fix rallied her hairdo, but mascara and lip gloss was the best she could do for makeup. She slumped into a chair across the table from Dusty who looked as worse-for-wear as she felt.

  “How much did we drink anyway?” Dusty held his head with one hand while sipping his coffee with the other. He grimaced. “I ordered it strong. This stuff might peel the flower pattern off the mug.” Wranglers and a blue and white plaid shirt covered his delectable body, and his pale gray Stetson hung over the chair post next to him.

  “Didn’t keep score.” Susan glared at Dusty. “I don’t smoke or gamble, and I never drink to excess. Are you proud of yourself? You’ve corrupted a good woman.”

  “No gun to you
r head, sweetheart.” Dusty grinned. “You participated willingly.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that. I recall wine during the reception, drinks at the wedding dance, and more drinks and shooters in the lounge.” Susan groaned and added, “Never again.”

  Dusty stared at her, skeptically. “Care to put that in writing?”

  “I’ll admit to making similar promises in the past, but this time I mean it.” Susan grinned through her pain. “At least, until another friend gets married.”

  Catherine and David returned to the dining room, and Catherine settled into the chair beside Susan while David sat next to Dusty.

  “I assume you’ve roused everyone from their beds.” Susan waved at a waitress passing by with a coffee carafe in her hand.

  “Mission accomplished.” Catherine grinned. “And only three people threatened to never speak to me again.”

  “Why are you so perky this morning? Aside from being sober all night, you’re absolutely beaming.” Susan parked her elbow on the table and laid her head in her hand.

  “I’m looking forward to working at the bank all next week while Amanda’s away on her honeymoon,” explained Catherine. “This job sharing thing is working out perfectly.”

  “How so?” Susan attempted to stifle a yawn. Five hours sleep wasn’t doing it for her.

  “On days that Amanda’s not up to working due to fatigue or morning sickness, I’m at the bank. She works the rest of the time allowing me to be home with the babies. It’s a win-win arrangement for both of us. When she starts maternity leave, I’ll cover for her full-time.” Catherine hugged Susan’s arm. “We’ve got it under control. No more shenanigans at the bank like we had last spring.”

  “That was an unfortunate situation, but I was pleased with how it worked out.”

  “Are you eating anything, Susan?”

  “Oh, God, no! Just coffee with a pain killer chaser.” Susan popped another two headache tablets into her mouth and grabbed her water glass.