Out of Her Dreams

Chapter Four

Phyllis was on the stair machine when Sam arrived at the gym and the curious, avid look the woman gave her made her blush. “It’s okay, Phyllis. He isn’t going to sue. But I agreed to stop using the name and the face. The series ends with the one currently in edits.”

The woman pursed her lips and asked thoughtfully, “And what else did you give him for his kindness?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just dinner and a drink.” Her face turned a darker pink.

“You are a lousy liar,” Phyl snorted, shaking her head.

She sure as hell was. She had gone back to her apartment this morning in a mental and physical haze, too confused and dazed to think straight. The amazing night she’d spent in his bed, on his floor, in his shower and other places that she blushed to recall had left her virtually exhausted, in more ways than just one. She swallowed hard and licked her dry lips, trying to appear casually calm. But the calm fizzled as she stared at the console in front of her and tried to focus on a climbing routine.

“He was my dream come true…” Sam’s soft voice died off as a tear slid down her cheek.

And what a dream. She could never have imagined what it would feel like to be in such strong arms, moving in sensuous rhythm with a body that far surpassed even her most heated dreams. To feel the hot, deep movement of his body inside hers as he made her forget everything except his touch, his mouth, his hands, his marvelous ability to make every delicious little dream come to life. What a pathetic ninny she was.

Phyllis stared at her and then said quietly, “You are madly in love with the man and you only met him yesterday.”

Shaking herself back to the moment, she shook her head. “Wrong. I met him when I was fourteen and terrified of life after the accident. He kept me happy for the last twelve years and I owe him my life and my success. That man was my lifeline and he wasn’t even aware that I existed.” She started moving and almost tripped over her own feet.

Her business manager just stared at her. “So, where is your lifeline now?”

“Probably disembarking in Milwaukee, getting ready for a show.” She shrugged and focused on her program. “I left him in his hotel suite this morning.” And she was still berating herself mentally for doing that.

“You walked away from that gorgeous hunk? Are you out of your pea-pickin’ mind? You let that man just walk away?” Her business manager stared at her as if she’d just gone bonkers.

Sam shook her head. “He was my dream. You can’t hold onto a dream. You have to let it go, or it will just fade into nothing.” I think. Too late now. The die had been cast and he was gone forever. Stupid.

Phyllis stared at her with her mouth hanging open then seemed to decide to keep silent. “There went one hell of an impressive ad campaign,” she murmured.

“About time you decided to honor us with your presence, Braza!” Frank exploded when David stepped into his manager’s hotel room at the Milwaukee Hilton later that afternoon.

He was in no fucking mood to listen to another tirade about how he owed his manager his very existence. It was getting old. Way old. “I don’t expect you to understand, so I won’t bother to explain.” David shrugged and walked to stare out the window at the traffic below.

“How’d it go with that broad? She kick out some money?”

“Yeah but I’m not going to accept any of it.” David turned back from the window and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Frank’s jaw dropped.

David shook his head and his eyes met the faded blue gaze of the older man. “No, I’m not. We had a long talk and she agreed to stop using my face and my name. I got a lot of free publicity out of those books. Just let me handle it.” It was a lie but he had no intention of confiding his real plans to Frank. His plans for Samantha Hastings had nothing to do with forgetting about anything. He planned on full vengeance. But not for the fucking books.

Frank stared in open shock at his star client, his jaw working soundlessly. When he finally managed to form a coherent sentence, he shouted, “Are you crazy? You let that broad get under your goddamn skin in just one night?” Black eyes seriously challenged his tone and he cleared his throat, suddenly conciliatory. “Look, you’ll forget her in a week. You’ll get your head together and you’ll decide you want that money.”

David stared at the older man without comment on his thoughts for the future. Forget Samantha Hastings? Fat chance of that-double entendre intended. Green eyes flashed in his thoughts. Her long, slim legs wrapped around his body as she let him know exactly how well pleased she was with his every touch. No faked response there. Forget her? Frank had no friggin’ idea what the hell he was talking about.

It left a sour taste in his mouth to think that she had played him for a jackass, using that incredible little Mata Hari body and that sweetly innocent smile to make a fucking sap out of him. And he had fallen for it. Settle with her? For money? No, it wasn’t her money he wanted. He wanted far more than money.

David just shrugged and sauntered out of his manager’s room without another word to find his own suite. Let Frank think that. He knew exactly what he wanted. He would flush her out and drag her back if it took every damn dirty trick he knew. He wasn’t going to let her get away with using him, then dumping his ass. No way.

Phyllis was sitting at her desk when Sam stepped into the office. She raised her eyes from the pile of paperwork and smiled broadly. “Well, the book sale receipts for March are in and you and I are both a whole lot richer.” She stretched her arms over her head and kicked her feet up onto the edge of her desk. “So, what is our next project, since you don’t plan to continue with the series?”

Sam returned her smile guiltily. Not being able to write more in the series about her dream man was seriously cramping her style. Book six in the series was in edits, but there would be no book seven. She had seriously tried to write a totally different hero. It had so far been fruitless. She hadn’t managed to put ten words on paper since that night in his hotel room.

Every time she tried to think up a new hero for a new book, she would be assailed by the memory of dark, slumberous eyes that could almost see through her soul. Hands that cupped and teased and heated her body until she almost orgasmed just thinking about them. A hard, sensuous body moving over hers in an erotic dance that melted her body and mind into putty, and lips that left her breathlessly aching for still more wicked pleasure.

“I’m sorta up against a brick wall here, Phyl. I’ve genuinely tried to work up another hero and build other plots. I’m just…stuck!” She twisted her hands irritably into the hem of her sweater, frustration eating at her. “I seriously can’t write another book right now.”

Phyllis’ jaw dropped and her face went pale. “You can’t be serious. I have advance sales posting on book six, and we owe your publisher another book before end of year. I don’t care what the hell you write about. Just write, for Pete’s sake! You can’t dump your career just because you can’t write about one guy!”

Sam sighed and sank into the big chair opposite Phyllis’ desk. “I’ve tried for the past ten days. I just keep drawing a blank. Or I start writing about Chance again and I can’t do that. I promised.”

Oh yes, she had promised. And like an idiot, she had walked out and decided to never see the man again. And now she would have to live with that utterly asinine decision. Try as she might, she couldn’t get him out of her mind, out of her system or out of her fevered dreams. She was so damn pathetic. One night with a hot body and she was a complete basket case. How disgusting.

Phyllis’ voice brought her back to earth. “You damn well better pick up that phone and call him, or I will.”

“Call him for what?” Sam frowned. She hated it when Phyllis was right about things. She had wanted to call the damn man for the past week but she had made her decision and she would stick by it, come hell or high water. Besides, he hadn’t called her either.

“To get his damn ass back here and give you back your inspiration. You are about to throw away a multimillion-dollar writing career because of your damn pride!”

Sam sighed and shrugged. Phyllis was going to be no help at all, she could see. Every damn time she closed her eyes, she was back in David’s arms. She had to get her head screwed on straight again even if that meant she had to buy a one-way ticket to Mars.

And Council Bluffs might as well be Mars…

“It’s about time I took a long vacation, Phyllis. I’ve already made reservations and the ticket is paid for, so don’t try to talk me out of it. I’ll keep in touch and of course I will try to formulate some other characters, but I don’t plan on being back in Cleveland for at least ninety days.” She needed time to get him out of her system for good.

The older woman’s mouth worked soundlessly and Sam patted her hand gently. “Oh, and make sure you pay David Chance that money I promised to send to him. Unless you want a lawsuit of biblical proportions.”

“You can’t just walk off when I’m sitting on the damn hot seat!” Phyllis’ mouth was working like a guppy out of water.

“Oh yes, I can. Watch me. Here I go.” Sam rose from the chair and turned to walk to the door. “You’ll survive. Just give me some room to breathe for the first time in the past two years. I’ve pumped out five best sellers for you and I’m damn tired. I love you, Phyl, but I can’t do this anymore until I get my head screwed back on straight.”

Council Bluffs had been her hometown a long time ago and it held many fond memories for her. It would be a comfortable place to lounge around and take long walks in familiar parks. Of course, nobody lived there who remembered her anymore. Not since her mom had died. But it did feel like home, to some degree. Sort of. Okay, not really. But it was far enough away from Cleveland to make her feel comfortable. Nothing here reminded her of her career or of a breathless night spent living her fantasies. In fact, nothing here even smacked of a fantasy.

She had traveled cheap and fast.

The hotel room was anything but luxurious but it would serve her needs nicely. It had an internet connection and cable TV, so she was set. She didn’t need luxury.

She had only stayed in one four-star hotel in her life and it had been the one night she would never be able to forget. A night spent with a man who had taken her, body and soul, into a world she had only seen in dreams. Into a realm where even a plain, scarred woman could imagine she was somebody special, beautiful, desirable. And, oh my God, had he ever made her feel totally desirable! She shook away the memories and swore at her own inability to get her mind off him. She had to!

If she was lucky, she would get to sleep in until noon and be a lazy slob, letting the maid clean up after her. Eating out and not having to worry about dishes. She owed herself the rest. She owed herself the vacation. She owed herself the time to be alone and think.

She opened the wire door of the small pet carrier to allow her fluffy white cat to step out and check out the locale. She unfolded one of the disposable litter boxes she had bought, fitting a plastic liner in and dumping in a container of deodorized litter. She felt in her bag for the can opener and opened dinner for the cat, which sank down on the floor beside the bed and gobbled hungrily, purring loudly. Pulling the small water bowl from her stuffed purse, she filled it at the bathroom sink, setting it beside the food. Finally, she unpacked her clothes and picked up the TV Guide. She planned to do nothing but veg out in front of a TV for a week or so and then she would figure out what she wanted to do. No commitments. No deadlines. No pressure. No listening to Phyllis harangue her about her writer’s block.

Too bad she couldn’t escape her dreams. Maybe sleeping pills. She stroked the cat’s soft fur gently then flopped onto the bed, where she flipped through the TV Guide and sighed. So many cable stations, so little time.

She watched a tennis match then some polo before fixing her own supper from the little store of junk food she had brought with her. Tomorrow she would go out and have a real meal but for now, she just wanted to kick back. Go barefoot. Enjoy being free of commitments for a few days. And avoid reading romance books.

She was flipping through channels when she came across a UFC match on one of the less well-known cable channels and she watched for a while, wincing when one of the men bloodied the other or got the other guy in a nasty hold. Barbaric. She was about to switch channels when a commercial break came on and she heard an excited man saying, “And stay tuned for the FPW cage match coming up next on CBYN! The Wolfman is gonna take on FPW’s bad boy Chance Braza for the FPW heavyweight Championship! Nine thirty Eastern, eight thirty Central.”

Her hand went numb. She couldn’t press the button. She stared at the face on her TV screen and swallowed hard. It was him. Dear God. Just her luck to land on this channel. She frowned and put her thumb over the red button and bit the corner of her lip.

Come on, just push the frigging button. Okay. Don’t push it.

Okay. So would it hurt just to watch a few minutes? Just a teensy amount of time to ogle that gorgeous body again from a safe distance? Like through a TV set? She glanced at her watch and saw that the UFC matches would end in about twenty minutes. Decisions, decisions.

No. She wouldn’t watch. Pro wrestling was a complete farce. A lot of stunt work and choreographed fighting for the benefit of a screaming crowd who didn’t know the difference between real wrestling and phony wrestling. She’d heard all about it. She started to turn off the TV once more and found herself sitting there like a lost puppy, still unable to force her finger to press the damn red button.

Wuss. She threw the remote on the floor and found a large pillow and wrapped herself around it to protect herself from the sudden need to cry. So it was silly. So what? Okay. This is what the man did for a living. She would force herself to watch, just this once. Then she would know what pro wrestling was like and she could forget about it. Forget about him. Forget about a night spent with a man who had rocked her world in a way that she had never dreamed possible.

Oh, who the hell was she trying to kid? She just wanted to see him again, even if it was on a TV screen. Pathetic. Totally pathetic.

She hid her face during the remainder of the UFC match, unable to stand the brutality, and she was glad that pro wrestling was just acting and pretending. No one really hurt anyone. It was supposed to be a choreographed act. She could handle that. Fake blood. No broken bones. No huge bruises. No eyes swollen shut and bloody. At least…that’s what she figured. She was pretty sure minor injuries did occur, but she hated to even think about that. She shuddered.

She steadied her breathing as the FPW announcer came on and a few warm-up matches were played out by lesser celebrities in the wresting world. Men who yelled and pointed and played like tough guys and made total idiots of themselves with their antics. She drew a deep breath and nodded. Okay. She could handle the phony stuff. So far, so good. One blond man broke a flimsy chair over a brunet’s back and it bent in half like it was made of tinfoil. Fake prop chair. Okay. No problem.

About thirty minutes into the program and after six commercials, the announcer put on his excited voice again to introduce the main event. She wondered if she should go get some popcorn. But she didn’t, sticking to her perch on the bed, her pillow clutched to her chest protectively.

Then the crowd was on its feet, shrieking and yelling, and she watched an incredible pyrotechnic lead-in as one huge, utterly scary-looking man jogged down the ramp into the arena, his face contorted with what appeared to be maniacal rage as he approached the ring and hopped up the metal stairs at one corner. The monster had to weigh over three hundred pounds. He was about seven feet tall and he shouted obscenities at people in the crowd who booed him.

He was announced as the Wolfman and Sam’s heart dropped to her feet as she realized this was the brute David was going to have to fight. But in the next breath, the crowd was roaring even louder and she saw the tall, massively powerful figure of her dream lover stepping out of the entrance and coming down the ramp at a jog as another light show and explosions roared through the arena.

Oh. My. God.

He was as gorgeous as she remembered and she ached at the sight of him.

She couldn’t take her eyes from him. He was dressed in snug-fitting black and silver spandex that left absolutely nothing to the viewer’s imagination, and matching ring boots. His body was gleaming in the light, as if he’d oiled those rippling muscles for effect. As if he needed oil smoothed over that body to make women hot and shivery. Hah!

Her mouth went dry as she recalled how she had enjoyed that marvelous body so thoroughly just a couple of weeks ago. His bronzed, delicious body had been damp with a sheen of sweat. His muscles had rolled like velvet steel against her body as they lost themselves in the sheer pleasure of a night of nonstop lovemaking. Seeing him half-naked was enough to bring that night back with a clarity she certainly didn’t want or need at this moment.

He also wore the same heavy gold chain around his neck that she had felt pressed into her breasts when he had driven her mindless with pleasure. The ornate cross that hung from it rode over his breastbone and the memories flooded back, making her close her eyes in reaction. Oh Lord. She shivered with each memory that assailed her. And when she found herself touching her own body intimately, she blushed hotly and clutched the damn pillow in a death grip.

She opened her eyes as the announcer told the audience that they were about to lower the cage. A massive metal cage descended on chains from the ceiling, blocking any possible escape from the ring, and she swallowed as she watched David Chance leap onto the corner ropes, raise one fist and shout to the crowd, “Who’s the best?”

They shouted and chanted his stage name and as he turned to face his opponent, the wild look on his handsome face was as scary as that on the face of the hulking brute who was charging him in an attempt to surprise him. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands as she watched the behemoth slam into him and then pick him up and slam him onto the mat onto his back. David’s handsome face contorted with pain and as the giant sought to win the match by grabbing him behind his knees and rolling him up onto his shoulders, he suddenly slammed his leg into the man’s face and rolled away and onto his feet as quickly as a cat.

She shook her head. This wasn’t the same. Those other men had seemed to be play-fighting. But that huge monster was going all out to kill his opponent. The fake fighting seemed to have vanished. She cringed as David floored the behemoth and strained to hold him immobile while the ref clapped a hand on the floor. The giant with the vicious sneer elbowed him in the face-hard. She covered her eyes and gave a strangled moan, then looked to see if he was still alive.

The crowd was roaring and screaming as the bigger man once again attempted the move that had landed David on his back. But this time, David made a flying leap and his legs were somehow around the giant’s neck. Both men slammed to the mat, with David rolling clear and wheeling around to fling himself onto the bigger man’s chest with a crunching downward elbow that caught the giant across the throat as the crowd came to its feet and raised the roof. Cool move. Okay, this was much better.

A split second later, David was climbing the ropes onto the corner post and she gasped as he launched his body at the other man in a flying leap that was obviously intended to crush the other man into the mat. But the bigger man rolled away and David hit the mat hard, with a sound that made her stomach roll. She put her hands over her eyes and moaned, then peeped between her fingers to see David being held aloft and slammed to the mat once again, his face a grimace of agony as the man wheeled and dragged him up a third time. She caught sight of the blood on the side of his head and she gave a little cry of shock.

That beast was going to kill him!

But this time, when he was poised over the man’s head, he suddenly swung his body outward and the bigger man went crashing down sideways like a fallen log. She watched in shock as David returned to his feet by flipping himself up and then leaped into the air to slam a knee down onto his opponent’s massive chest.

The crowd was absolutely rabid as they screamed and yelled and then the match climaxed with David hoisting the massive body of his opponent over his own head with a Herculean effort and falling backward to drop the huge man with a resounding crash to the mat. Then it was over as David rolled him up instantly and pinned his huge shoulders to the mat for a three count. The steel cage was raised from the ring.

She fell back against the pillows and calmed her ragged breathing as the man she had spent the most amazingly romantic night of her life with leaped onto the ropes and raised his fists as the crowd went wild.

“Who’s the best?” he roared. His body was gleaming with real perspiration and she saw the bulging blood vessels on his neck and arms as he bared his teeth like a savage beast and his eyes widened to look like he was berserk.

“You are,” she breathed softly, staring at the not-so-fake blood that was freely running down his face onto his perspiring chest. He ran the back on his hand across the blood on his cheek and held the bloody fist up again as he crossed the ring to jump onto the other ropes.

She didn’t want to see any more. She had seen all she could bear. She closed her eyes and buried her face in the pillow and wept softly. She had seen him do what he did and she had seen the very real blood. She realized that he must be amazingly athletic to do it, but even a man as powerful and vicious in the ring as her dream lover appeared to be at risk of injury. And she couldn’t watch as someone hurt him. Not for all the money in the world.

Then she heard his voice.

“This is for you, Samantha Hastings!”

She jerked the pillow off her head and sat up with a jolt. He was hoisting a very heavy-looking, ornate belt with a huge oval metal center. His eyes were directly on her face, or so it seemed as he looked straight into the camera.

She swallowed hard as he lowered his voice and said almost in a purr, “You can run but you can’t hide from me forever. I’ll find you again and next time it won’t be so easy for you to walk away.”

The crowd roared as her photo suddenly appeared on the screen.

The photo from the back of the dust cover on her novels? She stared in shock as his scowl was superimposed over the empty space next to her smiling face and his eyes seemed to burn into the camera, into her.

“You won’t get away next time. You just met your match.”

She swallowed hard and shut off the TV with an unladylike groan of frustration. Great. Now the whole world would think her books were based on him. He had said he didn’t want that. What the hell had changed his mind? She pulled the pillow over her head and sank down into the mattress with a moan.

She had no idea how long she lay on the bed, her thoughts muddled and her pulse racing as she recalled every shocking, terribly frightening moment of that wrestling match but it was the plaintive mewing of her cat that brought her back to the real world, as he rubbed his head under the drooping palm of her hand. She sniffed and smiled shakily at the animal and scratched his head, listening to his motorboat purr as she felt the tension drain from her body.

“Thanks, Snowball, sweetie. You always bring me back to earth. What would I do without you?” She hugged the cat to her chest and rolled up from the bed, padding over to pour a dollop of milk into the now empty cat food can from a small container she had bought at a fast food place. She rested her chin in her hands, elbows propped on the bed as she watched the cat drink happily.

“What am I gonna do, sweetie? I have the worst case of writer’s block in the whole world, I’m mad for a violent guy who makes his living smashing the faces of other violent guys and all I can manage to do is moon over losing him like some stupid jerk.” She sighed and rested her chin on her forearms, staring at the cat for a long time.

But had she lost him? Tonight, on cable TV, he had virtually let the whole world know he was on the hunt to find her. Of course, that might well have been just a publicity push to give his popularity an even greater boost. She drew a shaking breath. No. He really wanted to see her again.

If she had made the same impression on David Chance that he had made on her, she knew that he would want a repeat of that amazing night. Of course he would look for her, because he had certainly enjoyed their night together too. But if she let herself be found, what would happen next?

Her insecurities kicked into high gear again. He would probably get tired of her after a few days or weeks or months. He would realize that she wasn’t the amazing sex partner he had found that one night in his hotel room. She would become passé. And Sam didn’t think she could handle becoming passé. She wasn’t sure enough of her appeal to believe that a man like David Chance would find her interesting for more than just a short fling. It must be the fact that she had left him, instead of the other way around. Some guys had a problem with that.

Men like David Chance didn’t settle for one woman and give up the smörgåsbord. She had managed to capture his interest. She blushed to recall how she had done so. He must have been utterly captivated by her insatiable need to have sex in every possible position for an entire night. He had been amazingly willing to let her have her way with him. Who wouldn’t have enjoyed something like that? She blushed hotly at the memory of her wanton behavior. But then, she had known that there wouldn’t likely be a repeat, so why not take full advantage?

What if he found her? It might not be so bad. It might even last a few months. But she had no illusions. She had watched her own father walk away from her mother and find himself a younger and prettier woman. Phyllis’ ex had left her for his secretary. Good-looking men just never seemed capable of being monogamous. There was always another beautiful face and body that would distract them. And Sam had no illusions about her own face and body. She was not exactly a femme fatale in that department. Nice eyes but her mouth was too big. And her hair was a complete fright. It was wild and untamable. Her breasts were too small for most men’s taste and her body was built more on the lines of a gazelle, when most men preferred nice curves and something to hang onto. She would never be the dream woman men drooled over.

And then there were the scars. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes.

She bit her lower lip. That was why she had turned to writing. She could create a fantasy man who met all her needs. She could create him, name him and dream him to her heart’s content, with absolutely no ill consequences. Except that her dream lover was actually a very real man. One who had stepped out of her dreams and into her arms. One who had just announced to the wrestling world that he was on her trail with a vengeance. She didn’t know whether to feel flattered or frightened.

She got up and undressed and pulled on her pajamas. Tomorrow she would call Phyllis. If he was really looking for her, Phyllis would know it. All she had to do now was get through the night.

He slid his palms down her bare arms slowly, gently leading her trembling hands to his naked flesh. His mouth held her captive as he swept his tongue against hers with a growl of possessive enjoyment. She slid her hands over his hard, satin-smooth cock and listened to the deep groan of need that rumbled against her mouth. “I want to taste every inch of your body, to feel your mouth on me…”

The sound of her cell phone brought Sam up out of a near-orgasmic dream, gasping for air and trembling. She rolled up to sit in the middle of the bed in a rumpled pool of tangled sheets, her thoughts as hot as her body. Morning sunlight poured into her hotel room, bathing her in its warmth as she shoved her tumbled hair from her eyes and fumbled for her phone on the bedside table.

“What!” Her uncharacteristic bark made her flush with regret.

“Well, you sure as hell left me in the middle of a mess, girl. You’ve had your damn phone shut off. I’ve been trying to get you for the past day. Where the hell are you?” Phyllis’ voice sounded agitated.

“What mess?” Sam asked warily.

“I just got another call from Chance Braza’s business manager. His client wants to find you in the worst possible way. It appears that Mr. Braza has put a price on your head.” Her voice sounded dry.

“What?” Sam’s throat went tight. “You’re joking, I hope.”

“Do I sound like I’m joking? But stop panicking. It isn’t ‘dead or alive’. He definitely wants you alive.” Phyllis growled irritably. “What the hell happened between the two of you that night, girl? That man is positively not taking no for an answer.”

Sam swallowed hard. “Well, he’s gonna have to. I have no intention of letting him find me.” She swung her legs out of bed and padded over to pull the drapes closed so she could stop squinting.

“Doesn’t it flatter you just a little to know that you have one of the world’s most gorgeous, magnificent, sexy brutes drooling over you? His manager says that if I don’t tell him where to find you, he’s going to sic his attorney on me-and your publisher too. I thought you said he’d settled with you?”

“Oh Phyllis. I’m so sorry. I thought that’s all he wanted.” Sam closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

“Well, it appears he’s changed his damn mind about what he wants. And like it or not, the man wants you. Nothing less will satisfy him.”

Sam swallowed hard. She had similar feelings about him. “Where is he now?”

“I believe his manager said he was on his way back to Chicago for a two-night engagement at the Sports Arena. He said to tell you that you still have his cell phone number and he expects you to call him within the next twenty-four hours. And girl, if you don’t, I stand to lose everything I own.”

“He can’t do that, can he?” She swallowed.

“He most certainly can. And he most certainly will. Just do both of us a damn huge favor and dump that miserable pride of yours. I have no idea what happened between you and I don’t really want to know but if you care at all about me as a friend and as your loyal business manager, you will call the man. No maybes.”

Sam pressed the end button and stared numbly at the cat, who sat on the arm of her chair, cleaning his long white fur. “Oh Snowball. What the hell am I gonna do?”

The cat looked up at her and twitched his fluffy tail with a plaintive meow.

“You think I should stuff my pride and call too?”

The cat purred and returned to cleaning, splaying the claws of one paw as his raspy pink tongue licked around the pads gently.

“You’re probably right but I don’t know how I can face him again. He thinks I’m some sex-starved nympho and I have no idea what he wants at this point.” And he was right.

The cat turned his luminous blue eyes on her and meowed again, then almost twisted himself in half to reach the fur at the base of his hind leg.

“Okay, so I do know what he wants but I’m terrified that’s all he’ll ever want from me.” But would that be so damn bad? That was exactly what she wanted from him at the moment.

The cat rose and stretched and yawned and padded down from the arm of the chair to coil up in her lap and purr.

“You’re right. I won’t know unless I talk to him again.” And maybe seduce him again.

David picked up his phone after five rings. She sat there silently, trying to think of something to say but she couldn’t. She was about to hang up, but he seemed to know who was on the phone.

“Is that you, Sam?” His voice alone was enough to send her into orbit. She cleared her throat but said nothing. When she couldn’t form a coherent response, he asked, “Where are you?”

“Um, I’m in my hotel room. What do you want, David?” She managed to get the words out. The sound of his voice was enough to bring a night’s worth of incredible memories flooding in and she shivered.

“What do I want? I don’t think you really need me to answer that, do you?” The disembodied voice was low and rough and it caressed her body like an unseen hand. She chewed her lip nervously. Sam’s stomach felt like it was going to race away.

“You said you weren’t going to sue. Now you’re threatening my business manager?” She did her best to sound indignant but only succeeded in sounding breathless.

“If that’s the only thing you care about enough to jog you out of hiding, then I’m guilty as charged.”

She felt hot color fill her face. “You can have whatever amount of money you want. But please don’t involve my friend. She hasn’t done anything to you. I’m the one you want to sue.”

“We’ll see.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

She swallowed hard. Just considering the possibilities was enough to make her shamefully pre-orgasmic. Play it cool, Sam. Play like you aren’t all trembly and horny. “Let me think about it?” Lame. So lame.

“You know where I am. I expect you to be here by tomorrow night. I have a lease in the Embassy Suites on NW Forty-fifth. Just ask at the desk. If you don’t show, I will bankrupt you and your business manager.”

He hung up without another word and she sat there for a moment before hitting the end button. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply to calm her rapid pulse. The cat meowed and shifted into a more comfortable position.

“You think so, Snowball? Well, I’m not as sure about that as you seem to be. What if he’s just pissed off and changed his mind about more money for the books?” But even as she said it, she didn’t believe a word. He was waiting for her. He wanted her. With a vengeance. And as that thought sank in, a thrill of fear slid down her spine. Oh God. What the hell had she gotten herself into? She shuddered to think what he might want to do to her. Vengeance could be pretty damn scary.

As she sat there, gathering her courage, she closed her eyes and whimpered as heat pooled between her legs and her body shivered with what she realized was anticipation. Would it be the same? Had she built that one experience up to a fever pitch in her damn dreams? Would he feel the same way once he had her in his clutches again?

Oh, who the hell cared? One more night spent with that man would be worth it, no matter what he intended. Let him strangle her afterward. She intended to enjoy the hell out of him before he did.

Sam glanced at her watch. Then she called the travel service she and Phyllis had a contract with.

“When’s the next flight from Council Bluffs, Iowa, to Chicago, Illinois?”

She sank back in the seat, her thoughts a confused jumble as she stared out the window of the jumbo jet. She had managed to find a seat on a flight the following day and had checked out of her hotel with flushed cheeks and hammering heart. She hadn’t had much to pack and it had been a simple thing to catch a cab to the airport.

Snowball was safely sleeping in the pet compartment with two other cats and one French poodle and she was free to close her eyes for a short nap. The flight from Council Bluffs to Chicago was not a terribly long one. She would step off the plane at four thirty and be in a taxi on her way to the hotel by five.

She had just shifted into a more comfy position once the plane had taken off and she was about to drop off into a relaxing nap when a voice came from behind and above her.

“You’re that woman. The one Chance Braza is looking for. Ohmygod. You are!”

Sam looked up over her shoulder into the excited face of a handsome young man sporting a stiff black Mohawk and several facial piercings, who was leaning over her seat from the next row back. She blinked up at his excited face and frowned. “And you are?”

“Joe. Joe Garcia. Wow! I knew it was you the minute you got on the plane. Me and my friends are on our way up to Chicago for the show. We got tickets a couple of months ago. Is that where you’re headed?” The guy talked almost faster than she could listen.

Sam sighed and sat back up. “Wouldn’t it be a lot easier to converse if you weren’t hanging over the seat like a vulture?” She patted the empty seat beside hers and the young man looked like he was going to have a heart attack before giving a whoop and saying excitedly to his pals, “She wants me to sit by her!”

As he moved to the seat next to hers, four more youthful male faces popped over and around the backs of their seats and she said, “Hello. Are you all going to the FPW show?”

Joe seemed to speak for the whole bunch as he nodded and said, “Yeah. And we got pretty good tickets too. I waited for two days at the SportTix office to be first in line when they opened the sales. I got us all seats in the third row back at ringside. They cost a lot but it was worth it. I think Braza is the best but Greg really thinks Wolfman will take him out tonight.” He ran out of breath and stared at her. “You really are gorgeous. You and Chance got a thing going, don’t you?”

Sam blushed slightly and cleared her throat, noticing that several other passengers were standing to look over their seats to get a glimpse of her. “Chance is a really great guy but no, we haven’t got a ‘thing’ going.” She shrugged. “That’s all hype. Just a lot of fun publicity.” The lie slipped smoothly from her tongue. “I write novels and he let me use his face on the covers. Sort of a mutually lucrative publicity thing.”

“I watched Chance’s interview before last week’s pay-per-view and he said different. He said he hadn’t ever met a woman like you and he wouldn’t stop looking ’til he found you again. Sounds like he’s really got it bad for you,” Joe’s friend behind her said excitedly.

Great. This was all she needed. “Of course. He’s a great actor. It’s just part of the show, guys. Do I look like the kind of girl Chance Braza would drool over?” She grinned wryly up at the young man.

The kid nodded and said, “You sure do, Ms. Hastings. I bought your last book just for the photo of you on the back cover.”

She blinked and blushed warmly. Now that was an unexpected statement. “Well, thank you for that lovely compliment. Now I really hoped to get a nap before the plane gets to Chicago, guys, so if you don’t mind?”

Joe stuck his hand out and she shook it, then she shook the hands of the others before Joe climbed back into his own row and the guys continued their lively discussion. But once she was alone again, the curious glances from the other passengers in the row across from her made it too uncomfortable to go to sleep. She didn’t want someone telling the world that Samantha Hastings snored.