Out of Her Dreams

Chapter Two

David Chance had been shocked as hell when his manager had tossed a hardcover book onto his dressing table a few weeks back and frowned. “You could sue her for that, you know. She’s using you for her book covers, and that’s not the only one. There’s a series of five so far. She’s even using your name. Sort of. A fan mailed this in to ask if you’d autograph it for her.”

The sight of his own dark eyes staring up from the glossy dust cover of a romance novel had floored him at first. Christ almighty. It was him. He’d been so pissed off at the idea of someone blatantly using his fame and his face to sell some crappy mush-filled novel, he had almost called his lawyer on the spot. But then he’d turned the book over and had stared down at the photo of the author and he’d drawn a deep breath. The eyes that met his as he gazed at her photo on the back cover held something that had grabbed his gut and twisted. Made his cock jerk and come to life.

He hadn’t called his lawyer.

Instead, he had taken the book home with him and he’d opened it in curiosity, reading the fast-paced, steamily erotic novel in one night. And he’d found himself tied up in sexual knots like some fucking teenager reading a porn magazine he’d found in his dad’s closet. The woman could write. And she damn well wrote like she knew him inside and out. Knew what made him tick. Knew exactly how he felt and thought and reacted. How the hell could she possibly know all this? It was just too fucking hard to believe it was simple coincidence.

He’d kept looking back at her photo over and over, trying to place her face, with no success. He’d even torn the dust jacket in half and placed her photo next to the amazingly sexy cover where that uncanny spitting image of him was stripped to the waist, with a gorgeous, half-naked woman clinging to his leg and reaching her hand up over his groin to touch his six-pack.

Now there was something that could put a guy in a lather.

It brought to mind pictures of the book’s author, gazing up at him with those sexy eyes, her slim hands clinging to his leg and reaching for his damn fly. Opening it with those delicate fingers. Reaching inside to cradle him and…

He had gone out the next day and bought all five books, signed and gave the fan’s book back to Frank for mailing, and then he’d read the other four just as quickly, horrified to see himself laid out so embarrassingly in print. Amazed at the potent sensuality of the books and, realizing she wrote like a man who knew what a man felt, he wondered about the woman who had written those books. It was as if she had known him-his life-intimately. It was as if she had somehow gotten inside him.

He’d mulled over the irking “coincidences” for weeks, deciding how to handle this. He had been traveling back from a pay-per-view tour on the East Coast and had picked up a paper while in Cleveland, waiting for his next flight. It contained a bookstore ad for a book signing. Hers.

Frustrated and angry, he’d switched his ticket and had laid over in Cleveland another day. He was damn well going to the bookstore to see the woman who had bared his soul to the world. And he was planning to scare the hell out of her and find out her sources. Find out how she knew him. At least, that had been the plan. Until he’d gotten here. Until he’d seen her.

He had entered the bookstore at the rear of a milling crowd and picked up a book from an open carton by the counter. He paid for his book, handing over twenty dollars to an older man who took his money and put the book into a bag without even glancing at him. He’d covertly watched from the shadows of a narrow aisle between tall bookshelves as that long line of women, all eager to meet their beloved author, patiently waited.

He’d watched the way she responded to her fans-that dimpled, sexy little grin, the flash of brilliant green eyes. With every laugh, his groin had tightened like it had a damn mind of its own. With every flick of her tongue over those lush lips, he had found his breath catching in his throat and his heart amping up. And as he watched, he’d found himself imagining how fucking good she would feel as he dragged off her prim clothes and rode her with slow, hot strokes, skin sliding over sweat-dampened skin.

He’d stood watching for well over an hour. Fantasizing. Aching. Wanting. What the fuck? Women just didn’t have this kind of effect on him. He’d never before seen a woman he’d felt such an instant, hot attraction to. He was like some horny kid chasing after his first piece of ass. Get a grip, man.

Unable to stand it any longer, he’d stepped out of the shadows and had butted into the line, smiling down at the startled woman behind him and asking her to just let him sneak in front for a moment. An odd glazed look had come over the woman’s face and she’d simply nodded jerkily as he thanked her and waited for the young woman ahead of him to finish.

But it was when she had taken the book and her slim fingers had tangled with his and she had flashed those gorgeous eyes up at him, that he’d felt as if he had been slugged in the gut with a fist. And then he’d spoken to her and he had seen the amazed, almost shocked look that came over her face, and he had wanted to drag her up out of that damn little chair and across that table to kiss her. To do one hell of a lot more than just kiss her. His groin was so fucking tight, he could barely think straight.

And now, as he held her captive less than an inch away and he stared down into those stunning, wet-dream-provoking eyes, with her lush curves soft against his hot, raging body, all he wanted was to drag her clothes off and make hot love to her on top of that dusty old desk in the back corner of the stockroom.

He tilted her face up to his and couldn’t stop himself. He leaned possessively into her slender body and bent to devour those lush, sensational lips as she weakly protested his accusations.

He had never tasted anything so fucking good in his life. He felt her sweetly tantalizing mouth open beneath his and he took instant advantage, deepening the kiss and drinking in the honeyed taste of her, his tongue sweeping hungrily into her mouth as his hands molded the delicious little body that was so carefully hidden under that high-necked, long-sleeved blouse and that trim wool skirt.

He heard her gasp of shock and then a whimper of enjoyment as he slanted his mouth across hers to get even closer. His tongue drove between her lips urgently and he inhaled her sexy-sweet scent, his cock suddenly harder than hell as their tongues tangled in an erotic dance that made him want to shed their clothes and get down to business. Heat surged through him, an intense, wanting heat that made him forget where he was and why he was there.

How the hell had this happened?

He was beginning to believe that she had dreamed him, because he sure as hell had dreamed her. But in his own fevered, heady dreams, she had been a nebulous wraith whose kiss and touch had brought him awake dragging in deep breaths of air and shaking from the surreality of making love to her. From sinking his cock hard and deep into a body made for sin. From the feel of a sweet, wet sheath cradling his flesh and milking him as he came so damn hard inside her. The delicious smell of her was straight out of his dreams. The taste of her mouth. The pounding of that heart against his chest. And all he wanted was to experience that dream again. And again.

He barely heard the muffled pounding at the door of the stockroom. It somehow made its way into his fevered brain. He realized that he wasn’t thinking clearly. He realized that he was on the very edge of doing something incredibly stupid here. He realized with a groan that he was certainly not supposed to be kissing this woman, who had basically stolen his life and displayed it for millions of horny, panting female readers. He had to stop what he was doing and drag her into court and get his share of the income from those books. Make her regret using his face and name without his permission. Make her sorry.

But for the life of him, he couldn’t take his hands or his mouth from her. He felt her slender, lushly curved body arching into his, her fingers dragging over his sensitive nipples where she had burrowed under his shirt to touch his naked skin. Her hands, sweetly wicked, moving over his quaking body to drive him mad for her as she too seemed totally lost in the moment. Lost in the scintillating, sexual heat that swept over them both in a tsunami of pure lust.

Sam was shocked that he was kissing her instead of strangling her but she was even more shocked at her own depraved, humiliating need to touch his body. To feel the rippling muscles under that silk suit jacket. She had frantically dragged his shirt out of the waistband of his slacks and had burrowed under the soft Egyptian cotton with trembling hands, seeking the hot, hard muscles of his ribs and chest and back, as she whimpered and allowed him complete freedom to plunder her mouth.

It didn’t occur to her to protest as she felt him drag her own blouse out of the waistband of her skirt to imitate her eager exploration. It was her dream all over again. And it was even better with a real, live man. And then common sense began to kick back in.

Whoa. She shouldn’t be kissing this man. She should be calling her lawyer and asking for legal advice. She should be covering her ass legally and professionally but all she could do was wrap herself around him, doing her damnedest to undress him in the stockroom of the mall bookstore!

Stupid. Stupid. STUPID!

But her body had taken over, leaving her fevered brain in the dust. He was so decadently delicious. He tasted of heat and mint and espresso with heavy cream. He tasted of melted chocolate and incredible man. Oh, the man had such a talented tongue. She shivered as she thought of it on other places on her trembling body. Running over her skin and dipping into-

The pounding on the door didn’t quite make it through to her as she wrapped one leg around his rock-hard thigh and pressed her throbbing center to the heavy ridge of muscle below his hip. Her right hand slid down into his slacks to follow the equally hard ridge of his straining cock. She heard the groan of pleasure that erupted from his throat. Heard the whimper of need that came from her own. Never in her entire life had she done anything remotely this outrageous. This completely wanton. His cock seemed to grow larger, harder, filling her hand as he dragged her hips against his leg and cupped her ass with both hands.

If Phyllis hadn’t managed to shove the door open against their combined weights a couple of inches to groan, “What the hell is going on in there, Sam? You have to get back out here. There’s going to be a riot if these women don’t get to see you and him!” she might have succeeded in forcing herself on the man right on the spot. Oh but he was so hard, heavenly and hot!

“Sam. Open this damn door!”

She managed to return from outer space and shove shakily away from him with a sharp gasp for breath, putting her foot back on solid ground as his hands slid off her butt and went instantly to adjust his mangled tie.

“Okay. Hold your horses. Just another minute,” she rasped, as they both recovered from their momentary meltdown and rapidly tucked and smoothed disarranged clothing like two kids caught playing doctor in the hayloft. Holy shit. She felt her face go bright red with mortification as she realized what the hell she had just been doing and she nervously chewed the corner of her lip as she smoothed her hair back with trembling fingers.

Dazed, David stared down into eyes that could so damn easily control his body and mind. He felt his fevered body still clamoring for her. Felt his cock still hot and hard with need as he cleared his throat and ran his hands around his belt, shoving his shirt back where it belonged as she imitated his actions with her own clothing.

What a fucking rush. Whatever the hell had just happened, it had happened to both of them.

It had been incredibly arousing to feel her pressing her hot pussy against him like a mindless nymphomaniac as his own body had virtually exploded with an unbelievable charge of white-hot lust that had nearly put him into orbit.

Who the hell drove the oversized truck that had just hit his libido smack on and plowed him ten feet under? He’d just given the damn woman grounds to take him to court for sexual harassment, for hell’s sake!

He was just getting his breathing back to normal as she said, “I have no idea on earth where that just came from. I am so sorry. I was out of line completely. I sincerely hope you don’t plan to include molestation in your lawsuit.” She looked pink and flustered and completely adorable as she blinked up at him with those wide, emerald eyes.

Staring down into her red face in shock, he fought to calm the incredible stiffness of his damn cock. Then he found himself bursting into laughter. The startled look in those incredible green eyes was enough to make him want to pick her up and make for that desk in the back corner but he managed to control himself. He saw the confusion on her face and he shook his head in amazement.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever had a woman apologize for me groping her, Ms. Hastings.” His eyes filled with heat as she blushed even more beautifully. “I wouldn’t worry about me suing you for that. But if you refuse my offer of dinner and a drink, I think that would definitely qualify as breach of promise.”

Sam was stunned by his amusement. She watched as a heart-stopping grin spread over that handsome face and she put a hand to her throat to calm her pounding heart. He was making fun of her. He might think it was funny but she knew it wasn’t. She needed to salvage this moment and cover her ass.

“I truly, truly am so sorry for any inconvenience or embarrassment my books have caused for you, Mr. Chance. You’ve got to believe that. I can have the unsold ones pulled and new covers made.” Her voice was breathless and small.

“Call me David, since you appear to know me so damn well. And I think I should call you Samantha.” His voice held a deep rasp of something hot and distracting.

“Sam.” She felt hot and distracted.

“Sam?”

“My friends call me Sam. I was sort of a tomboy growing up. Samantha didn’t fit.” She blushed as she realized she had just given him way too much information about herself. Stop babbling, Sam.

He smiled wickedly down at her, those oh-so-sexy lips curling into an expression that sent her blood racing like she’d just run ten miles. “No self-respecting tomboy would kiss a man like you just did, Sam. But then, no fantasy hero who called himself a gentleman would kiss a woman like I just did, either. So I guess that makes us about even.”

His dark eyes and devastating smile left her body reeling with what she could only describe as pure, unadulterated lust. At least, what pure, unadulterated lust seemed like to someone who’d never actually felt it before. Not in the flesh, anyway. She drew a shaky breath and exhaled loudly, trying to clear her mind and calm her raging pulse. She pointed at the door and shoved her hair back from her hot face.

“Um… I have to go back out there and finish the book signing. You can sneak out the rear door to avoid the ladies. Look, here’s my card.” She patted her slim hips, seeking the pocket her card case was in. “You have to let me know what I can do to make this awful mistake up to you. Or I can have my attorney call you. Whichever.” She stopped patting her sides and then blushed again. She felt like a total ass. She had left her jacket with her business cards in the bookstore at the signing table. “Uh, I’ll call you if you give me your card. Mine are in there.” She gestured with her head toward the other side of the door.

David watched the blush flow so deliciously over her face again and again. He was totally fascinated by the way her eyes lit up with emotion then darted away to hide her soul from him. This woman was a wild ride-in more ways than one. He pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his slacks and drew out a card and held it just out of her reach, his dark eyes searching her face.

“If your lawyer calls instead of you, there will be a lawsuit.” His words came out more like a feral growl than a simple sentence. His eyes noted the shock in her expression. “I expect a call from you the minute you are done here. Understand? Oh and don’t forget my book. I paid for it. I expect you to bring it to me when you meet me for dinner and a drink.” He lowered the card and she took it with shaking fingers.

He pulled open the door to face the agitated and flushed business manager and he said with a sexily crooked smile, “I’ll just go out the back way. Sorry about upsetting the ladies. I promise I’ll make it up to them sometime.” He touched the woman’s cheek with one long, lean finger and turned on the full charm package.

Phyllis just nodded, obviously overwhelmed by the sheer size and magnificence of the man who had just smiled so beautifully down at her. She stared after him until he had vanished out the back door of the store and then she turned back to Sam, who was smoothing her hair with shaking hands.

“My God, Sam. I just found out who that man is. I had no idea you knew any professional wrestlers. What a hunk! How on earth did you get him to let us use his image and name?”

The look on her star writer’s face made her blink and groan. She stared in horror as understanding dawned. “Oh Sam. I hope to hell he likes you enough not to take every bit of the profit we’ve made on this damn series. I’ll go belly up! What the hell possessed you to take that liberty without getting written permission?”

Sam shrugged defensively and her eyes looked glazed. “I could not even begin to explain this mess to you, or anyone else, Phyllis. I have never met that man before today.”

“And yet you used his name and used his face and body on the cover of your books? My God, Sam. That’s professional suicide.”

“You don’t understand!” Sam shoved her hair from her face with a shaky hand. “I never even saw him before today. I didn’t just see some hot man I drooled over and slap his face into print. I’m not that friggin’ stupid. I can’t even begin to imagine how it happened.” She paced back and forth in agitation. “I had a wild, crazy wet dream when I was just fourteen and it starred that man. I genuinely didn’t know he existed outside my dreams and imagination. I doubt anyone even knew who he was back then. I don’t know, maybe I’m a closet psychic and got some vibes or something. I just don’t know!”

Phyllis stared at her as if she were completely insane. “Nobody on earth would buy that ridiculous story. They might buy your fantasy romance novels but no judge will buy that wild explanation.”

“I hope it won’t have to go that far. He wants to see me later for dinner. Maybe I can get him to settle out of court. And I won’t commit any money of yours. Just my own. Don’t worry…I can always sell everything I own to pay what he feels it’s worth.” Sam drew a shaking breath. If I survive dinner.

“I have no idea what to tell those women out there, Sam. They are absolutely rabid to get his signature on their books.”

“Well, they’re just going to have to settle for mine. Providing they still want to buy my books.” She straightened her skirt and strode past her friend and business associate. “Lord protect me from my own stupidity.”

The women who had seen him were disappointed that he hadn’t stayed to sign their books and let them feast their eyes on him. Sam found the book that she had signed for him and she tucked it covertly into her shoulder bag, along with his card. As she fingered the edge of the white business card, she had to force down the wave of sheer heat that the memory of their minutes in the stockroom conjured up. She had really gotten herself into a pickle now. And saints preserve her, she desperately wanted to be right back in that damn stockroom with him right now.

The rest of the afternoon went fairly quickly as another two hundred and forty books were whisked off the shelves and out of just-opened boxes and brought for her to sign. As the afternoon progressed, and news circulated that the cover model who had posed for her books had actually been none other than a real live professional wrestler with biceps the size of footballs and a body to die for, she found herself under a barrage of questions…and she had no honest answers.

She found herself avoiding answering questions about how she had met the infamous “bad boy” of the wrestling world. Most of these women had never even seen or heard of the man, just like her, but now they all seemed to know who he was and that he was allegedly the hidden inspiration for her larger-than-life hero, Chance Davis.

There were even a few die-hard wrestling fans standing in line for her novel by the end of the day and when the supply of new books was exhausted, they stripped the shelves of her older books, the earlier parts of the series. It amazed her that gossip travelled faster than the speed of sound.

She lifted her eyes to the face of a young man with rings through his nose and lip, who was grinning down at her. “You’re a fan of my romance novels?” she asked with a look of surprise.

The youth wagged his brows at her and grinned. “Nope but I’m a big fan of Chance Braza!” He indicated the face of her hero on the cover. “I bought the book for my girlfriend but I get to hang the cover on my wall.”

Chance Braza? So that was his pro wrestling name. She smiled wryly and signed the flyleaf, “To Chance’s biggest fan. Samantha Hastings”. He crowed and yelled back over the line to someone standing by the door, “I got it!”

Her day ended an hour and a half after the store had closed its doors for the afternoon. That was how long it took to clear out the crowd of waiting customers who had bought her books. After the last person had vacated the store, she sank back and massaged her aching hand and gratefully took the pair of painkillers Phyllis held out to her with a fresh glass of cool water.

“Well, that seemed like something straight out of the Twilight Zone.” She tried not to sound completely exhausted as she picked up her bag and jacket and shrugged into the sleeves.

“So, where are you going to meet him? You want me to go with you?” The woman’s hopeful eyes searched her face. “For moral support, I mean?”

Sam shook her head and pulled his card out of her bag, frowning at it as she pulled out her cell phone. “No. It’ll be all right. I think he just wants me to grovel a bit more. And I’ll happily grovel. Just pray he doesn’t decide to twist my head off.”

“You sure you want to go alone?” Phyllis asked.

Sam grinned at her and nodded. “I’ll be fine. After all, what the hell can the man do to me in the middle of a restaurant? All he can do is threaten and then call his lawyer, right? I doubt he’ll commit murder in front of a few dozen witnesses.” Besides, she wanted to see him again and she certainly didn’t want Phyllis there to stare and drool.

She dialed the number on the card and after several rings, the line clicked but there was no voice. Assuming his voicemail had picked up, Sam sighed with relief. Thank God! She would just leave him a message and maybe delay the meeting until she had time to consult with her attorney. “This is Sam Hastings, Mr. Chance. Sorry I missed you-”

“You didn’t miss me.” His deep, husky tone interrupted her speech.

“Oh. I thought I’d reached your voicemail.” Her pulse accelerated alarmingly. What a wuss. How pathetic could she be?

“I just finished up here and it’s a lot later than I expected, so maybe we can set an appointment for lunch tomorrow.” She bit her lip.

“No. Dinner. Tonight. Park Regency Hotel. Nine thirty sharp. Ask for me at the desk.” His line went dead and she bit her lower lip a bit nervously. She pressed the end button and put the phone away, meeting her business manager’s questioning eyes. She fought to conceal the flush of anticipation his words had sent racing through her.

“If I don’t call you by eleven, file for my insurance. And I want to be buried at sea. And don’t forget to feed my cat.” She figured a flip attitude might work here. At least she wouldn’t sound so desperately needy.

Phyllis made a wry face. “You think he might hurt you?”

“Only my pride and my bank balance. I was just joking.”

“Well, just try hard to make him see reason, okay? And if that fails, try a blowjob.”

Sam gave a short laugh of shock as she stared at the woman. “Phyllis!”

“Or tell him I will. Just call me and I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

“I don’t believe you just said that, you wicked, wicked woman.” Sam shook her head and grinned at her as she shouldered her bag. “See you tomorrow at the gym.”

“And I want all the gory details.”

So do I. Sam’s thoughts were hectic and hot, just like her body felt. Man, she had to get her brain back into gear here. She couldn’t afford to behave like she had in the stockroom. She had to maintain a businesslike facade of professional pride. Yeah. Sure. And remember not to drool all down his nice suit.

She glanced at her watch as she hailed a taxi. It was nearly eight. She had just enough time to go change into a decent dinner dress. The Park Regency boasted a four-star restaurant and she didn’t want to go all rumpled and bedraggled. She gave her address to the cabbie and as she sank back into the comfortable rear seat, she watched the traffic pouring past, her thoughts wandering treacherously back to those marvelous few minutes in the stockroom of the bookstore when she had actually relived her recurring dreams with a living, breathing, hotter-than-hell man who hadn’t seemed to mind one bit that she’d been mindlessly feeling him up.

Her cheeks burned at the memory of his calloused hands on her body, slipping up under her blouse to cup and gently squeeze her breast through the satin and lace of her bra. Cupping her ass cheeks as he’d pulled her against his thigh while she attempted to hump his leg like a horny puppy. Oh God. How completely embarrassing!

Her apartment was not far from the Park Regency. She probably could walk it in less than half an hour. She paid the cab driver and hurried up the steps to the front doors and swiped her card key to get inside. It took her less than twenty minutes to grab a quick shower and don fresh attire suitable for dinner. She looked at her hair and frowned. Her coppery red hair was so aggravating in its insistence on flying about her head like a wild thing. She brushed it smooth and dragged it into a conservative twist at the back of her head, securing the knot neatly with two Japanese carved faux-ivory chopsticks that she had bought because they looked like expensive Oriental hair pins.

A careful application of muted bronze lipstick minimized the size of her too-wide, too-full lips. She slipped her feet into a pair of four-inch heels so that she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look him in the face again and she tucked her keys, some cash and the book he had bought into a smaller shoulder bag.

She glanced at her watch. Opting for a taxi again because walking in spike heels was a pain in the ass-and the feet-she left her cozy, safe apartment and headed for the elevator. She breathed a quick prayer to any deity or saint who might be listening to help her get through the next couple of hours with as little financial damage as possible, while keeping her head firmly attached to her shoulders and her feet firmly on the floor.