In His Wildest Dreams
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Well, now that he sort of knew who the other woman was, he couldn’t just come out and ask for her name and phone number.
Could he?
He sighed. He had his plate full for right now. Normally talking about sex in any form didn’t bother him, but he could tell he’d startled her, which made him uncomfortable.
To him sex was a game, harmless recreation, but only if both players agreed and got equally as much out of it. Nick very carefully stuck to partners who shared his philosophy. That way no one got hurt. However, he also understood that not every woman agreed with his attitude, and he respected their opinions, too.
Unfortunately, his dreams weren’t nearly as discreet.
He glanced at the binder he’d set on her desk. It seemed to take her a long time just to get a glass of water, and he was tempted to grab his notes and do some creative editing, maybe clean up the details a little, omit some of the more colorful parts.
Before he could think the possibility through, she was back with a bottle of Evian. It sure hadn’t taken nearly five minutes to grab that.
“Anything else before we resume?” she asked, her finger poised over the recorder button.
“I don’t think so.”
She made a face at the recorder. “I thought I’d stopped it. Let me rewind to where we left off.”
He took a long cold sip of the water while she fiddled with the machine. But he nearly spit it out when she stopped and hit play, and he heard his own mutterings. Not of his dream as he’d relayed it to her, but the mild oath he’d uttered after she’d left the room, and then the more damning murmurs expressing his doubts.
Hell, he hadn’t realized he’d said anything out loud. Fortunately most of it was unintelligible.
To her credit, she didn’t even try to listen. She quickly continued to rewind the tape further. She played the last few seconds to remind him where they’d stopped, and then settled back in her chair, her gaze lowered.
He took another sip of water. “Okay, the blonde undid the top three buttons of my shirt, but she stopped when a redhead came in and told her I wasn’t the one. By the way, the redhead had on clothes.”
Doc looked relieved.
“The blonde got angry and said she didn’t believe her, and then tried to unfasten my next button. The other woman said something but it was in another language, and the others started laughing.”
“The other women?”
“Yeah.”
“Where were they?”
“Sitting on the chairs or lying on the sofas. Do you need to know whether they had their clothes off or not?”
“Yes.” Her tone was crisp, professional, but a faint pink crept into her cheeks.
“All but three of them had taken everything off.” At the vivid memory he shifted to accommodate the strong reaction his body was having.
“Were they strangers, or did you know any of them?”
“Never saw them before.”
“Sometimes in our dreams people take on different shapes and forms. Did you believe any of these women to be someone you knew…even though she didn’t look like she was supposed to?”
He thought for a moment. “No.”
She made a brief notation. “How about the room? Did you know where you were?”
“Nope.”
“Any other details about it you remember?”
“Not really.” He shrugged. “I guess my mind was on the women.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she pressed her lips together. “Okay, let’s get back to the women. What else do you remember about them?”
“The redhead had a bag with her and she started taking out scarves and handcuffs and massage oils. When the blonde unzipped my fly, the redhead didn’t say anything. She just kept staring at me while she laid out the stuff she’d brought. But then the blonde reached into my pants to stroke me, and the redhead yanked her hair until she moved back.”
He paused for another sip of water. No surprise, he’d gotten harder than a rock replaying the scene.
“What were the other women doing?” Doc’s voice didn’t sound too steady and her face was getting redder.
He gladly avoided her gaze. “Kissing and fondling each other.” When the silence grew, he chanced a look at her. “Shall I leave out that part?”
“There’s more?”
He nearly laughed at her scandalized tone. “I’m not your first male subject, am I, Doc?”
“No, not at all.”
“Then you know men can have, um, wilder imaginations sometimes.”
“Of course.” She straightened, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Her cheeks were still pink, her voice a little high, but her gaze narrowed suddenly, and when her glasses slipped, she looked over them at him. “There is a major difference between dreams and fantasy.”
“I know that.”
She stared at him in silence for a long torturous moment. “These are dreams you’re describing, and not wishful thinking, right?”
He chuckled. “Trust me. I would not be describing my fantasies to you.”
She blinked, lifted her chin. “As long as we understand each other.”
“Look, I’d be happy to edit some of this. It can’t all be that important—”
She vigorously shook her head. “That would compromise the results of the study. Tell me everything you remember.”
“Okay, Doc, where were we?”
She pressed rewind and kept her gaze on the tape. It took a couple of tries before she found where they’d left off, and each time she had to listen to him describe the dream, her cheeks got a shade pinker.
“There, I think you’ve got it,” he said, taking pity on her, and she immediately stopped the tape and pressed record.
“Okay, so while the other women were kissing, and the redhead and blonde were arguing about something—”
“About what?”