See You in My Dreams: Speed, Book 1

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my wonderful, incredible and completely awesome editor.

Jennifer, can you believe this our
tenth
book together?

Thank you for your brilliant, rock-solid and invaluable support and advice. And for making a difference to every one of those ten books. And for putting up with me for so long. Seriously? You deserve a medal. (Or at the very least, a long holiday.)

With Thanks

Fedora, it’s just as I said. You are a genius. I hope you approve of all the changes.

Chapter One

If old wives’ tales were simply words,

They never would be told.

There’s truth in every fable, child—

so heed this song of gold.

When day is done and night has come,

You’ll see it in your dreams.

Eyes of fire, heart’s desire

You’ll know just what it means.

-Gramma Rosie’s Lullaby

Shocked all the way down to her toes, Sophie Butler gawked at the man.

Oh, shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

She was so going to be fired for this.

She should turn around and beat a hasty retreat. If not hasty, she should back out of the door real slow, and give the guy a little privacy. At the very least, she should have the decency to cover her eyes and stammer out a sincere apology.

So why then did she stand frozen in place with her jaw hanging open and her tongue glued to the bottom of her mouth?

Because she was dazed, that’s why. Stunned by the sight that greeted her.

And what a sight. A good six feet of tanned male muscle. Legs that stretched on forever, with slim, powerful thighs. A hard and well-defined stomach that tapered down to lean, square hips. Not to mention the arms, biceps rippling and bunching as he towel-dried his hair.

She swallowed when her gaze drifted between his legs, settling on the decent-sized cock that lay there, shifting slightly with every move he made. Lord, he was perfect. A-gift-from-the-Gods perfect. A belly-rolling, breath-catching, heart-racing perfect.

Bloody hell.

She’d walked in on a guest, caught him naked and unsuspecting, and he didn’t even know she was standing there, eyeballing him.

Was there time to slip out unnoticed? An accessible path of escape before he lowered the towel and caught her? She scanned the bedroom, estimating the number of steps between herself and the door. At least seven, and two of those would take her within touching distance of Mr. Naked-and-gorgeous. God help her, she knew, as any healthy woman in her right mind would know, that if she got within a meter of the guy, she would feel compelled to reach out and run her hands over all that dazzling male skin.

He threw the towel on the floor, ran a hand through his shoulder-length, water-darkened blond hair and opened his eyes. Then jolted as though he’d been struck.

The man gaped at her, horror written all over his face. He looked almost as taken aback as she felt. Like her, he seemed to have lost muscle function, because neither of them moved an inch. Both stood where they were, gawking at each other.

Panic set in. Her heart slammed against her chest at a million miles an hour, blurring her vision.

She was so going to pay for this mistake. She’d broken the cardinal rule of her employment and walked into the apartment while the occupant was there. How many times had she been told,
Ensure the guests have absolute privacy. When they are around, you are not. Rooms are cleaned when they are out
?

But damn it, she’d knocked three times, loudly, and he hadn’t answered. Not on the first knock or the second or the third. So she’d shoved her iPod earphones back in and entered the apartment. Heck, she’d tidied the kitchen
and
living room before coming into the bedroom. Surely he’d have heard her?

Sophie blinked hard to clear her vision. Refusing to look at his face and see his disapproval there, she—almost unwillingly—scanned his body one more time, noted the wet hair that dripped down his neck and shoulders and the tiny droplets clinging to the light sprinkle of chest hair. Okay, so if he’d been in the shower, he wouldn’t have heard anything besides the rushing water. And with the volume of her music turned up, she wouldn’t have heard the shower humming.

Either way, this was without a doubt her last day on the job.

Nathan Pace stared at her, perplexed.

Fuck!

Hadn’t he rented this apartment because it promised absolute privacy? How the hell had she gotten inside? Bribed the manager with guarantees of a blowjob, like any number of other women before her had done to get close to him? She had the mouth for it. Lush, pouty lips that promised the best damn head a man could want.

He was so tired of being chased down by so-called adoring fans, tired of them finding his every hiding place. Paying top dollar for the luxury unit was a good deal in his book—if it meant staying out of the public eye. Fat lot of good top dollar had done him now.

It didn’t matter that the woman was drop-dead gorgeous. That her long, blonde hair was caught in a sexy ponytail, and her curvy, fuck-me body could bring a man to his knees. Never mind the made-to-give-head mouth that gaped now, slack-jawed, showing full, succulent lips, flashes of straight white teeth and a pink tongue.

Never mind any of that. Yes, she had the looks of an angel, but as with so many of the other women who’d tracked him down, she obviously had the scruples of the devil. Why else would she be here, in his bedroom, waiting for him to get out of the shower?

He could not prevent the snarl that started in his throat and erupted from his mouth.

“Oh, crap.” She closed her eyes. “I am so going to lose my job for this.”

Lose her job? Ah, so maybe she wasn’t a groupie after all.

Maybe she was from the press and had come to interview him. Or a member of the paparazzi, grabbing any chance to take a photograph.

He gave her a quick once-over. No camera.

Was that why she’d lose her job? The ultimate photo opportunity, and she’d left her camera behind? He sneered to himself, then watched dumbfounded as she leaned over and picked up a bucket full of…of…cleaning products?

“God, I am so sorry,” she mumbled, her face flushing five hues of crimson. The woman refused to meet his gaze. “I knocked a few times, but there was no answer. I, er, thought no one was in.”

He couldn’t help but notice the way her flawless skin glowed in her embarrassment, the red tinge making her face even more lovely.

She stepped back two paces, looking downright alarmed. “I didn’t hear the shower.” She lifted up an iPod, showing it to him, then yanked earphones from her ears.

Intense relief flooded him. She was neither a groupie nor from the press.

She took another step back, then gasped as she realized her mistake. The back of her knees connected with the bed, and she collapsed onto it, spilling products from the bucket as she went.

Nathan could not stop the laugh that rumbled through his chest. The woman was here to clean the place, nothing more. This was, after all, a
serviced
luxury apartment.

“Shit.” She swore under her breath, but he heard her and grinned. Of course she was servicing the apartment. On closer inspection he noticed grey smudges on her tight, white sleeveless T-shirt—just above the voluptuous curve of her left breast, and she smelled of… He sniffed the air. Bottled pine? Like the air freshener that now lay on the carpet? Not unpleasant, just not the kind of scent he expected a woman like her would emit.

She should smell like sunshine and roses. Fresh and natural, to match the natural beauty of her face. Not a stitch of make-up to be seen, not even lipstick to make the red lips redder. She didn’t need it.

“Shit?” He lifted an eyebrow in question.

She looked nothing less than mortified. “First I walk in on a guest, then I catch him naked…” Her voice trailed off as she dropped her head, glancing down below his waist. If possible, her face grew even redder. But, he noticed, she did not raise her eyes. “And…and then—” still not lifting her head, “—and then I land on his bed, like a bloody idiot.”

Curiously, her gaze was still plastered on his cock, and wonder of wonders, said cock responded. Perhaps it had something to do with the way she licked those luscious lips, or perhaps it was her position on the bed, awkward and uncomfortable yet shifting a little in place, as if watching his penis was affecting her somehow. It made his shaft tighten further and stand to attention.

She gulped. “And then I swear out loud.” Her ponytail bobbed from side to side as she shook her head, looking dismayed. “But worst of all,” she continued, “I can’t stop staring at his erection.”

He stifled a laugh. Her gaze didn’t bother him in the least. On the contrary. But instinct told him she would be even more embarrassed when she came to her senses, so he made a droll suggestion. “Try hard.”

She snapped her head up. Her cheeks were now scarlet. “God, I am so sorry,” she mumbled, and dropped to her knees on the floor.

For a mere second she stared up at his face, but that was all it took for one fantasy to cram itself into his head. Her on her knees at his feet, him naked and hard.

He barely had time to register the blue of her eyes. The startling, sky blue that he’d only seen, what, a million times before?

In his dreams!

The realization tore the breath from his lungs.

He’d dreamed about a woman with eyes like hers just last night. And the night before that too. In fact, he’d dreamed about her almost every night for ten years now.

In his dreams her face was just a blur. The only feature that he could clearly see was her eyes.

And the fact that those eyes formed part of the face of this luscious beauty blew his mind.

Then she scrambled for her bucket, tossing things in willy-nilly. When the final bottle clanked inside, she jumped up, looked anywhere but directly at him and apologized again.

“Forgive me, for walking in on you at such a, uh, an awkward time. I meant no harm, it was a bad mistake. I… I’ll understand if you report me to management. My, uh, name is Sophie. You’ll need it to file the complaint.”

Before Nathan could reassure the woman, or get her to look him in the eye again, she fled. He didn’t have a chance to grab her arm, hold her tight. Find out more about her. God knew, he wanted—needed—to find out more about her.

The front door of the apartment slammed shut just a couple of seconds after she raced from the bedroom. Much as he’d have liked to chase after her, get a better look, Nathan knew it was pointless. He could hardly go after her with no clothes on. The press would have a field day. And by the time he’d pulled on a pair of shorts and a shirt, Sophie would have long disappeared.

Fuck!

He’d spent the last ten years dreaming about a woman who had eyes the color of a summer sky. He’d grown accustomed to the dreams. Accepted them as a regular part of his nighttime routine. What he’d never expected was for his dream girl to present herself as a real-life, flesh-and-blood woman.

Sophie bit back the urge to moan. She buried her face in her hands, and relived, for the thousandth time, the utter humiliation of her morning.

Tasha set a cappuccino in front of her and patted her shoulder in sympathy.

“God, how could I have behaved like that?” Sophie asked her friend.

“Sweetie, it’s not every day we unexpectedly come head to, uh, head with prime, naked, male flesh.”