Enigma. Carla Cassidy
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moved here. Once inside she threw her keys on the kitchen table, pulled the ponytail holder from her shoulder-length blond hair and unbuttoned the top of her pink scrub.
A shower, then bed, she thought. Her feet ached and she was bone weary. She passed through the living room, with its warm earth-tone colors, and into her bedroom.
The double-size bed called to her, but she knew a nice hot shower would unkink tight muscles and make her sleep better. It was far too early on a Friday night to be going to bed, but after a week of long hours she had no desire to stay up.
Within minutes she was naked and standing in the shower beneath a hot spray of water. She loved her work, but there was no question that it could be tense and exhausting. Friday nights she was always ready for a couple of days off.
“The next two days are your own,” she muttered to herself as she stepped out of the shower and grabbed the awaiting fluffy towel.
Most of her days off since moving here had been spent working on the house. She’d painted walls, sanded woodwork and had even managed to install a new black sink to replace the old stained white one in the kitchen.
She slid her red silk nightgown over her head and left the bathroom, deciding to forbid herself to work on the house during the next two days. She’d find a park and take a walk, maybe go to the library for some new books to read.
She frowned. Nancy would disapprove of a solitary walk or curling up with a book as pastimes. But Nancy hadn’t had her heart broken by a snake named Paul.
Willa would love to have somebody special in her life, but the next time she’d expect more. She wouldn’t settle for a man who held tight to his own heart, who refused to share all the pieces of himself as she shared hers.
She’d make sure he was old enough to have sown all his wild oats and yet young enough, exciting enough, to make her heart beat fast.
Until the moment Paul had broken up with her she hadn’t realized that she’d been the one who had done all the giving in the relationship and he had done nothing but take. She hadn’t seen the relationship unraveling, hadn’t seen the end coming until it was upon her.
She turned on her bedside lamp, then turned off the overhead light and slid into bed, her tired bones melting into the comfortable mattress.
This was one of the loneliest times of the day for her, when she got home from work and had nobody to talk to, nobody to share the events of her day.
Other than her coworkers at the hospital she hadn’t made new friends. Willa didn’t remember her father, who had walked out on her and her mother when she’d been four, and her mother had passed away five years ago after a long battle with cancer.
Sometimes she thought that the reason she’d stayed with Paul was simply because she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge just how alone she was in the world.
You’re not alone.
The deep voice whispered in her head and brought with it a measure of comfort. This time she didn’t question where the voice came from, only that occasionally it was there.
The first time she’d heard it, about four months ago, she’d thought maybe it was a memory of the voice of her father. Then she’d decided that it was the voice of her patient John Doe. In truth she figured it was probably nothing more than a crazy manifestation of her own loneliness.
She reached up and turned off her lamp, plunging the room into semidarkness as a sliver of illumination from the streetlamp outside drifted into the partially closed curtains. Sleep edged in quickly and she closed her eyes, giving in to it without a fight.
He came out of the darkness, first a tall, lean shadow in her room, then as the light found his face she recognized him as the man she knew as John Doe.
Somewhere in the strange world of slumber, she knew it was a dream, but it felt more real than anything she’d experienced in a very long time.
“You,” she whispered. He wore a pair of hospital pants, the pale blue cotton material hanging low on his lean hips. “John.”
It didn’t occur to her to be afraid as he moved closer. “Not John. My name is Jared,” he said. His voice was as deep and rich as she’d imagined it would be.
He sat at the bottom of the bed and reached beneath the blankets and captured one of her feet in his hand. “Your feet hurt,” he said and began to massage her with his warm hands. “You’ve been on them all day.”
“How did you know?” she asked as rivulets of warmth raced up her legs at his touch.
He smiled. “I know.” His smile was sexy and warmed the blue of his eyes and softened his bold features.
As he reached for her other foot, she thought of all the things she wanted to ask him, but as his hands moved up to her calves and he caressed with slow hot fingers, all her questions fled from her mind.
She didn’t want to talk, she just wanted to enjoy this dream of him with her, touching her. When he’d finished stroking her legs, he moved from the foot of the bed to stretch out beside her.
He rose up over her, his blue eyes flaming with desire as he took her lips with his in a kiss that stole her breath with its ravenous hunger.
She met his tongue with hers, loving the taste of him, the scent of him that filled the air. He didn’t smell like the hospital; rather he smelled like a fresh clean breeze and a hot, hungry male.
His hands were hot against her silk gown as he stroked down the length of her body. He cupped her breasts through the material and her body responded, arching up to him, wanting more …more.
It was crazy. It was wild, and within minutes he’d removed her nightgown and his mouth moved to capture one of her nipples.
He raised his head to look at her. “You are so beautiful. You’ve taken such good care of me. I want you, I want to give to you.”
His mouth captured hers once again and she was lost in him, in the dream that spun wildly out of control as they made love ….
She came awake with a sharp gasp and for a moment was shocked to find herself alone in the bed with her nightgown still on. Glancing around the room, she assured herself that no sexy man stood in the shadows.
“Wow,” she muttered aloud and reached to turn on her lamp. She sat up and looked around once again, half expecting John Doe to be sitting in the chair in the corner, or leaning against the wall next to her bed. It had been so real. She’d never had a dream that had felt so real.
A glance at her clock let her know it was just after midnight. Her heart still beat with a quickened rhythm. What a dream. She’d never experienced anything as erotic, as wonderful, before. She still felt the sweet sensations his caresses had evoked, still burned with the fire of desire.
She ran a hand though her hair and realized that falling back to sleep immediately wasn’t an option. Her heart still beat too fast and she definitely needed something cold to drink.
Drawing a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, surprised that her body continued to tingle with the residual sensations of his touch.
It had felt so real and in that moment of abrupt awakeness she’d been disappointed to realize it had just been a crazy dream. Maybe Nancy was right and she did need a boyfriend, she thought.
She left her bedroom and walked through the living room to the kitchen, still reeling from the vision of John Doe in her bed. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with cold water. She raised it to her lips.
Help me!
The voice thundered. With a startled gasp she dropped the glass. It hit the edge of the sink and shattered into pieces.
She whirled around from the sink and stared around the kitchen, but there was nobody there. She pressed her hands on either side of her head, wondering if she were losing her mind.
She