Daydreams

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “Ahhh,” she sighed. She hadn’t realized how tired her feet were from dancing in new heels. The grass was cool and soothing on her sore feet, and she resisted the urge to just sit down in it.

  She heard the sliding glass door open again and saw him coming toward her. As he approached, she imagined the expression on his face was that of a panther stalking its prey. He loosened his tie as he walked toward her, stripping it off. Tossing it on the deck, he removed his jacket, tossing it aside as well.

  “Now,” he said, as he reached her. She watched as he unbuttoned the first few buttons at the top of his shirt. “Let’s do this right, okay?” He held a remote control in one hand. She hadn’t noticed it when he’d come out of the house. She gasped as he put one arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Pointing the remote at the house, he pressed a button and then tossed it onto the deck.

  Sayler thought she might burst into tears as Linda Ronstadt’s voice began drifting into the woods behind Bo’s house. She smiled at him as he enveloped her in his arms, swaying in time to the music. Goose bumps engulfed her arms and legs as he bent, pressing his face against her neck. She gasped quietly, breathless when she felt his lips caress her throat.

  She let her arms go around his shoulders, pulling herself more tightly against him as they danced. His muscles were firm, his body strong. His flesh felt warm against her neck, and her knees weakened for a moment, causing her to stumble slightly. He didn’t seem to notice, only continued to dance with her, resting his chin on the top of her head for a moment. He bent a little, placing his cheek against hers. She sighed, exhilarated when she felt him brush her cheek lightly with his lips.

  “Are you going to let me kiss you, Sayler?” he asked. His voice was low, provocative, and she shivered at the fascinating intonation of it. She drew in her breath as he kissed her cheek again.

  Fighting to keep her senses in check, she whispered, “But…but you’re my boss.”

  Cupping her face in one hand, his thumb at her chin, Bo pushed her head back, letting his lips trail down her throat.

  “I’ll be your boss Monday,” he said. “Right now, just let me be a guy who’s wanted to taste you again…a guy who’s had a crush on you for three years.” Sayler was breathless, unable to speak because of the spell he’d begun weaving around her. Could she have heard him correctly? He’d wanted to kiss her again? Had he really thought of her over the past three years? “Come on, baby,” he whispered. “Let me kiss you. Can I kiss you again, Sayler?”

  “Of course,” she managed to breath.

  Bo wasted no time. Instantly, his mouth found hers. His kiss was moist, hot, drenched with passion! Determinedly, he coaxed her into accepting his kiss, his mouth—releasing any inhibitions she still harbored.

  Her hands found their way to his hair, her fingers combing through the brown softness. Pulling his head more firmly against her own, she heard him sigh, felt his hands move to her ribs, caress her waist.

  Sayler was lost in the euphoria, the bliss of being held by him, the passion of their kiss. What subtle consciousness she did still possess could not believe she was in his arms, could not believe Bo Booker’s mouth was so wanting of her own. She felt a tear escape one eye and travel over her temple. What were daydreams compared with this? She hoped he hadn’t noticed the tear, hadn’t noticed the way her hands had begun to tremble as they caressed the lines of his face. She wished she could breathe more evenly, but her emotion, the desire engulfing her, was such it did not allow her to remain calm.

  He paused in his magnificent assault of her mouth, pressing his forehead against her own.

  “Maybe I should call you ‘Candy’,” he breathed.

  “Wh-why?” Sayler managed. She was breathless, still fearful the ecstasy she was wrapped in might cause her to pass out.

  “Because you can’t imagine how you make my mouth water,” he said. “And you taste better than anything I’ve ever…”

  He was finished speaking then. Sayler knew he was, for his mouth was quickly occupied with other, more delicious endeavors.

  Time seemed of no consequence. As Linda Ronstadt sang “Ooh Baby Baby” repeatedly, Sayler wished she could stay in Bo’s arms forever, savor his kisses every moment of her life!

  All at once, however, he broke the seal of her lips, held her away from him. She put one hand to her lips, tender from the effects of so much contact with his.

  “Tell me you need to get home now,” he said. She looked at him. His eyes still smoldered with the same passion she was feeling.

  “What?” she breathed, wanting only to be in his arms, feel his kiss again.

  “Believe me, Sayler,” he said, dropping his hands from her entirely. “You do need to get home now.”

  “I do need to get home now, I think,” she told him. She stepped back, out of his reach, picking up her shoes from the grass. He nodded and inhaled and exhaled two deep breaths.

  “You…you looked beautiful tonight,” he told her, offering her his arm. “That dress is something else on you.”

  “Th-thank you,” she said, taking his arm. “I didn’t spend all your money. I have your change at home, and I’ll bring it to—”

  “Shhh,” he said. “Don’t talk to me any more just now. It makes me think of your mouth. And I’d rather be kissing you than talking. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Sayler said. She smiled, delighted by his near lack of self-control.

  *

  They rode home in silence. Bo walked Sayler to the door.

  “Thanks for going with me, Sayler,” he said.

  “You’re welcome,” she managed.

  “I’ve gotta be your boss on Monday, you know,” he said.

  “I know,” she said, trying not to cry. She pressed on the latch of the front door, pushing it open.

  “But that’s Monday, right?” he breathed, his hands at her waist once more.

  “Right,” she breathed. Instantly, he pressed her back against the inside of the doorframe, his mouth melding with her own in a driven, drenched, passionate heat.

  She gasped at his abrupt release of her, watched him stride quickly back to his car. When he’d pulled away from the curb, she stepped all the way into the house, breathless, confused, and completely enraptured.

  She put a hand to her mouth and let the withheld tears stream down her face. She’d never get over this evening with Bo Booker. Never!

  Laying awake late into the early hours of morning, her emotions vacillated between euphoric bliss and despair. The feel of his kiss was still strong on her lips, while the love she secreted for him tore at her heart.

  At last, fatigue won over, and Sayler slept—slept deeply amidst marvelous dreams of being forever in Bo Booker’s arms.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As Sayler crossed the courtyard Monday morning, she tried to avoid eye contact with anyone. She glanced around nervously. Surely the chance of anyone, casual acquaintance or stranger, having actually seen the article about the Bennett Ball in the Lifestyles section of the Sunday paper had to be slim to none. Right?

  Still, she blushed vermillion as two men in business suits smiled and nodded as she passed them. Most likely they were only being friendly. Sayler’s paranoia, however, caused her to think otherwise. Not that she was embarrassed by the article—she was ecstatic over it! She was merely uncertain as to how to handle the fallout. And no doubt, there would be fallout. A girl didn’t attend such a function with her boss, manage to be the subject of an article in the Lifestyles section of the Sunday paper, and not have to answer for it. An article in the Lifestyles section accompanied by three extremely romantic photos!

  Her mother had brought the newspaper article in to her the day before. Upon seeing it, Sayler had been elated and frightened at the same time. For one thing, she still hadn’t recovered from the passion that had burned between her and Bo at his house after the ball. She hoped she would never recover. Still, confusion dominated her mind and soul. Had it simply been a passing fancy, brought on b
y the romantic atmosphere of the evening? Or did Bo Booker really feel something toward her other than friendship?

  The Lifestyles section had committed three pages to the coverage of the Bennett Ball. One entire page had been dedicated to the questioning headline, “Is the City’s Most Eligible Bachelor Off the Market?” Beneath the headline was a rather large photo of Bo and Sayler arriving at the ball. Sayler had smiled when she’d seen the article, glad she looked good in the full-length photo, nicely showing off her dress. Intermittently scattered throughout the article were two other photos of Bo Booker and Sayler Christy. One showed them while seated at dinner, Bo smiling at Sayler while she laughed, head tipped to one side. The third photo, however, was the one Sayler was sure the office staff would focus on. She knew it must’ve been taken while she and Bo had been dancing to “Ooh Baby Baby.” Each of them had their lips slightly pursed as they looked at each other. The angle of the photo made it look as if Bo and Sayler were on the brink of kissing. In truth, their mouths were separated by a fraction of an inch. Indeed, the photo looked to be taken the moment just before a kiss.

  A moment before the elevator opened into the reception area, Sayler inhaled deeply. She must appear unaffected by the publicity. After all, she and Bo had been attempting to cause speculation among the gossip columnists, hadn’t they?

  The elevator doors opened, and Sayler stepped into the reception area. She smiled as Diane instantly produced a newspaper from behind her desk and began to read from the infamous article.

  “‘Is Bo Booker off the market?’” Diane quoted. “‘This reporter’s humble opinion is, yes indeedy! The city’s most eligible, most sought after bachelor seemed completely entranced by the lovely lady who accompanied him to the Bennett Ball this past Friday night, prompting anyone who was there to say, Bad news, ladies…Bo Booker has left the building!’”

  “Good morning, Diane,” Sayler said. “I thought I’d at least get past you without a smart-aleck comment.”

  Diane held up an index finger and continued, “‘And who is this lovely dove, this mysterious siren, who has apparently captured the heart of the man voted this city’s sexiest man alive two years running? (Drumroll, please…) None other than Miss Sayler Christy, an employ of Mr. Booker’s at Booker Architecture and Contracting.’”

  “Believe it or not, Diane, I’ve already read it,” Sayler said.

  “A siren, he called you, Sayler!” Diane pointed out. “A siren!”

  “I’m hardly a siren, Diane,” Sayler said. “And I’m sure Mr. Booker has told you by now that it’s all just…just…just silly newspaper gossip.”

  “Either he got here before me, or he’s not in, ’cause I haven’t seen him yet,” Diane said. “Besides, it looks like a lot more than silly newspaper gossip to me.”

  “Well the fact of the matter is, Diane, Bo knew we’d make the paper if we horsed around and put a little extra effort into it,” Sayler said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Give me all the excuses you want, Sayler,” Diane said, smiling. “But I saw the look on Bo’s face that day he brought you off the elevator soaking wet. You two can pretend to waltz around it all you want, but I’d say ‘the city’s most eligible bachelor’ is off the market.”

  Sayler felt her blush increase; her heart began to pound at the thought of Bo’s being off the market. Still, she had to keep her head. One night of utter delirium in his arms did not a reality make.

  “Have a good day, Diane,” Sayler said, walking past the woman and into the office hallway.

  She blushed and shook her head, forcing a smile as she entered the inner offices to the applause and whistles of several other employees.

  “Way to go, Sayler!” someone shouted.

  “Shut up, you guys,” Sayler said, blushing, smiling and delighted too. There was something rather triumphant in knowing everyone had seen her dressed so beautifully in the article photos, everyone wondering if something really was going on between her and Bo. There was definitely triumph in the knowledge that something, even if it was fleeting, had gone on between them.

  “Great job, Sayler,” Joey said. He approached her, clapping in unison with the others. “A full page spread. It’s an accomplishment.”

  “Well, we tried,” she told him.

  “Did you?” he said, winking at her.

  She hurried toward Bo’s office. It would be hard to face him, yes. Still, would it be any harder than facing the firing squad she’d just endured?

  She went to her desk, quickly sitting down. She’d caught a glimpse of Bo as she’d passed his door. He was sitting at his drafting table. Did she dare say anything to him? How could she? She was afraid she might faint, or burst into tears, at the sight of him.

  She had a wave of sensation, a moment when she could have sworn she felt Bo’s arms around her, his lips pressed to hers. How would she ever get anything done? How would she ever return to a semblance of normal life? Still, she must. She had to go on just as she’d done three years before when he’d left her standing on the curb in front of the Center. Yet it was all very different! Wasn’t it?

  “Good morning.”

  She gasped, startled by the sound of his voice behind her. Tentatively, she turned in her chair to face him.

  A powerful surge of emotion traveled through her at the sight of him. Somehow she’d expected him to look different, perhaps more average, less astonishing. But he didn’t. Her heart hammered so loud it echoed in her ears. She loved him! She was completely, utterly, entirely in love with him! Further, in that moment, she knew she would be eternally miserable in not owning his love in return.

  “Good morning, Mr. Booker,” she managed, forcing a friendly smile.

  “I think we’re way beyond ‘Mr. Booker,’ Sayler,” he said. He winked at her but didn’t smile, and it further unsettled her. He didn’t seem to be in his usual morning good mood. Instantly, she felt the need to cry, to sob, to break down and confess that she loved him but understood why he didn’t feel the same for her.

  “Did you brave the gantlet all right?” he asked, setting some papers on her desk.

  “Yes,” she said, picking up the papers he’d set down.

  “Are you angry with me?”

  A wave of nausea washed over her. He had deep regret. She was sure she heard it in his voice.

  “For…for what?” she asked.

  “For all the press and publicity,” he said. She ventured a glance at him. He was frowning at her, waiting for her answer.

  “Of course not,” she told him. “I knew what I was getting into when you asked me if I wanted to bait the photographers.”

  “Did you really?” he asked.

  Sayler shrugged and admitted, “No. But it’s okay.” Forcing a smile she said, “I’m famous now.”

  He smiled rather halfheartedly and asked, “So you’re not mad at me?”

  “Of course not. It was fun,” she said. “And I got a new dress out of it. So why would I be mad?” She was touched he would be concerned she might be angry with him. At the same time, she was devastated he hadn’t simply rushed out of his office, taken her in his arms, and slathered her with passionate kisses. “Oh! That reminds me…” She reached into her purse and withdrew the envelope with the remaining money in it. “Here’s the rest of your money. I really did try to be careful.”

  He shook his head and said, “Just give it back to Diane and tell her to put it in my petty cash.”

  “O-okay,” she stammered.

  His eyes narrowed, and he looked at her in silence for a moment. Sayler felt overheated and began to perspire under the heat of his gaze.

  “I’m working on some plans that are due by the end of the day,” he said, still looking at her. “Will you just take messages and make sure no one bothers me?”

  “Of course,” she said, forcing a smile. Wasn’t he even going to mention what had happened between them once they’d left the ball? Did it mean anything to him at all?

  Sayler didn’t want to beli
eve Bo was capable of a one-night-stand sort of mentality. But the rather irritated expression on his face, the lack of easy wit, made her wonder.

  “Thanks,” he said. He turned, went into his office, and shut the door. He never shut his office door when he was working. Sometimes if a client was in and he was worried about outside distractions, maybe. But for the most part, he always left his door open. The gesture caused Sayler to feel literally shut out, as if he didn’t want her in his life. Tears welled in her eyes, but she choked them back. There would be plenty of time for the sobbing of the brokenhearted when she returned home. For the time being, however, she had a job—a job she was suddenly beginning to wonder if she could continue doing.

  She thought of all the scandalous stories in books, on TV, in movies—scandalous stories of bosses having torrid affairs with their secretaries and support staff. Most times it ended badly, and Sayler was beginning to wonder if one night of giving into her need to be held, kissed, and adored by Bo Booker was going to end typically. Yet she thought of the book she’d read almost ten years before. It was one of her very favorites, all about a girl who longs for days gone by. The girl’s boss was gorgeous and wonderful, and eventually he fell in love with her, and everything ended happily ever after.

  In fact, the book had set the precedence for every daydream Sayler had owned for many years. She paused, all at once realizing it had been Bo Booker himself who had changed the course of her daydreams. Three years before, when he’d grabbed hold of her arm as she’d tried to put lip balm on him, thinking he was a coma patient—three years ago, the course of her daydreams had changed irrevocably. From that moment on, Sayler had ceased daydreaming about growing up and marrying her boss. From that moment on, Sayler had only daydreamed of meeting Bo Booker again.

  It was in those moments she realized she’d been unusually blessed in daydreams come true. And that being the fact, she knew it had to end somewhere. She guessed then she knew where that somewhere was. She had met Bo Booker again. She’d fallen more deeply in love with him, been held in his arms, tasted his kiss. How could she possibly hope for more? She didn’t deserve more. She’d already lived the dream of him twice in her life. Forever was too much to hope for.