Falling Awake(32)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

He kissed her again, wrapping her close. She melted into him.

The roller coaster was moving faster now, heading into a dangerous turn.

But he suddenly realized he did not want to be an experiment for her. He did not want to be used as an experience meant to satisfy her curiosity about what it would be like to have sex with another Level Five.

Reluctantly he raised his head and eased her away from him.

“I think I’d better leave now.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about contracts that will protect you.”

An enigmatic expression veiled her eyes. She stepped back and coolly clasped her hands behind her back.

“Protect me from who?” she asked softly. “You?”

“A lady who can do what you do shouldn’t take chances with strangers.” He picked up his jacket, hooked it over his shoulder and opened the door. “Good night, Isabel.”

She trailed after him, watching him cross the porch and go down the steps. Sphinx made another appearance. She reached down and scooped him up in her arms. The big cat’s purr was loud in the night.

“Ellis?”

He paused on the last step and looked at her. She was a sultry silhouette framed by the low light of the foyer lamp.

“Yeah?” He waited, wondering what he would do if she invited him back inside. He knew he wouldn’t have the will to walk out a second time that night.

She rubbed the place behind one of Sphinx’s ears. “Drive carefully.”

“I’ll do that,” he said. “Lock your door.”

She obeyed without protest. He waited until he heard the sound of the dead bolt sliding home before he walked to the Maserati and got behind the wheel.

He drove away from the welcoming glow of Isabel’s porch light, keenly aware of the empty seat beside him. He thought about the unfamiliar kind of need that the kiss had unleashed inside him. Taking Isabel to bed a few times wasn’t going to fix this problem. This was more than sex, and that meant it was very dangerous. He could control his dreams, but he had learned that real life was a crapshoot.

Tonight’s free pass was the only one Tango Dancer was going to get. He couldn’t afford to give her another. It would cost him too much.

13

isabel dreamed . . .

She reclines on an elegantly curved Regency-style sofa covered in dark blue velvet and trimmed with gold tassels. The only lamp in the lavishly decorated room illuminates the place where she waits for Dream Man. Her nightgown is made of pale candlelight-colored satin. It is cut very short. The hem barely covers the swell of her bu**ocks. The neckline plunges between her br**sts.

A door opens and Dream Man enters the room. She cannot see him clearly yet but she knows it is him. She has invited him into her dreams on a regular basis for several months now. The routine is familiar.

She senses that there is something different about him tonight, however. It bothers her that she cannot immediately comprehend what it is.

Then it comes to her. She does not know what he will be wearing this evening.

This is not how it is supposed to be.

On every other night she has always known how he will be dressed. These are her own private, erotic Level Five fantasies. She controls every aspect of them.

In the past she has always taken great care to set the stage before slipping into one of these extreme dreams. She has always taken the time to dress the man of her dreams in some glamorous, romantic style: a highwayman’s dashing cloak and mask, perhaps, or early-nineteenth-century breeches, jacket, polished boots and an intricately tied cravat. When she was in the mood for an after-the-ball scenario, she usually opted for a formal tuxedo, pleated white shirt and bow tie.

But she cannot remember what she specified for this evening. She cannot even recall making the decision to have him come to her tonight.

A strange panic ruffles her nerves.

Dream Man walks toward her through the shadows. Her pulse beats more quickly. He has not yet touched her but already she can feel the heavy pull of desire deep in her body.

Alarm bells sound. She knows that she should pay attention to the warning. The fact that she does not know how her midnight lover will be dressed tonight is important.

The alarm bells are louder now, more insistent.

Dream Man comes closer. There is a strange inevitability about this whole thing that is really starting to worry her. Maybe she should end the performance now. She tries to rise from the sofa but she cannot move.

He is approaching swiftly. One more stride will bring him into the pale pool of light that spills across the sofa.

At last she catches a glimpse of his face and sees how he is dressed. Shock reverberates through her. Now she knows for certain that she is not in control of this dream . . .

She surfed into full wakefulness on the crest of an adrenaline wave.

She sat straight up in bed, trembling. Perspiration dampened her cotton nightgown. She was breathing much too quickly and she was intensely aware of her own pulse.

Sphinx loomed over her, his broad head silhouetted against the pale glow of the night-light in the hall. She could see the glitter of his eyes.

“I’m okay.” She realized he was somewhat agitated and raised her hand to stroke him reassuringly.

The phone beside the bed rang, jarring her. She recognized the sound as the alarm bell she had heard in the dream. Swallowing hard, she reached past Sphinx to grab the receiver. Without her glasses, she was forced to squint a little to read the large, glowing green numbers on the face of the clock. Twelve thirty-seven.

Her first worried thought was that the voice on the other end of the line would likely be Leila’s reporting an emergency in the family.

“Hello?” She realized that she sounded hoarse and anxious.

“Isabel?” Her name came out slurred. Ishabel.

Definitely not Leila. The voice was familiar but she was still disoriented from the unplanned dream. She could hear very loud rock music in the background.

“It’s me, Gavin Hardy. Your old buddy from IT at the Belvedere Center.” Gavin raised his voice to be heard above the music. “You haven’t forgotten me already, have you?”

“I don’t understand.” She pulled her disordered senses together with an effort and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “What on earth are you calling about at this hour of the night? Where are you?”

“Right here in Roxanna Beach,” Gavin said. “I’m sitting in a bar across the street from the motel where I’m staying.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Had a few beers. I needed to do something to kill the time while I waited for you to answer your damn phone. Where’ve you been all evening?”