Michael pulled away from the kiss so that she could respond to Paul’s concerned request yet when she opened her mouth to respond, lukewarm water rushed in to fill her lungs. Rather than words, she sputtered and coughed. Her hazel eyes flew open as her head broke the surface of the sudsy water.
What the fuck?
“Sara?” The bathroom door opened just enough for Paul to poke his head in and grin at her. “You look adorable with all those soap bubbles on your head. I think we have a picture of Kristine like that from when she was 4 that we showed to all of her boyfriends when they’d come to the house for the first date.”
Sara wiped the suds from her eyes. “This is the first time you’ve seen me without clothes and you’re comparing me to your kid sister? You’ve got issues, Kellerman.”
“Actually, I can’t see a hell of a lot because of all the bubbles, angel, and I’m talking about my sister to keep my mind off the fact that you don’t have anything on under those bubbles.” His eyes darkened a shade. “Unless you’d like me to join you in that tub, Tancredi.”
Would she like that? Considering the fact that her engine was currently still purring from her apparent dream so loudly that she could still feel Michael’s hands sliding over her skin and her lips still felt swollen from the force of his kisses, oh yeah, she really wanted Paul to help her cool down in the worst possible way. Then again, the water was already cooling and her fingers were turning into prunes. That wasn’t sexy. “If the water wasn’t already cold,” she fibbed.
His eyes stayed locked on hers for an instant too long – so long that she wondered if he could read her thoughts and knew she was a dream slut who’d just nearly cheated on him – before he spoke. “Then I can tell the others you’ll be joining us shortly so we can get this party started?”
She licked her lip, biting it ever so slightly at the end, and then nodded. “Ten minutes, okay?”
“Okay, but Sara…” His eyes went dark again. “It’s a good thing I won’t be joining you because I’ll need a lot more than ten minutes. Your bubbles are starting to dissolve.” He closed the door between them while the implication of his words still hung in the air.
Once he was gone she let out a silent sigh of relief and then pinched herself – twice – just to make certain she was no longer asleep and anything that happened once she pulled the chain to release the water from the drain would truly be happening. With shaky legs, Sara got out of the bathtub and dried herself, slipping into the robe that was not at the foot of the bed, but that she’d brought into the bathroom when she’d run the bath.
Unlike in the dream, her mind was full of self-recriminations while she ran the comb through her drenched red locks. She could blame the cooling water or the 17 days or the fact that it would be bad hostess etiquette to leave a houseful of guests unattended all she wanted to, but she knew good and damn well that Michael was the real reason she hadn’t just invited Paul into her bath. If she was going to be intimate with Paul then she needed to be intimate with Paul. It was that simple. Thinking of Michael the whole time wasn’t going to cut it.
But why was she thinking of Michael? Why after five years was she having the prelude to a very vivid sex dream about the man? That ship had sailed. Her and Michael were friends – just friends. That was what they’d decided and that was what they would stick to. So what if he had a problem with her dating Paul? It wasn’t as though she was overjoyed at the thought of him popping the question to Nika soon. That didn’t mean she’d try to stop him. It wasn’t her place as his friend.
So then why was he in her dreams? Sometimes dreams were little more than meaningless fragments of the past randomly spliced together and then looped in no particular order. Occasionally…Oh, that was the problem. Occasionally it meant something. Did this?
Sara stepped out into her bedroom and her heart leapt up into her chest. Her purse and purchases were on her bed, just as in the dream. She jumped back and spun around, taking stock of the room. She was alone. Her breath came out slowly. Michael must have put them there when she was in the tub.
A small black bag caught her eye and Sara’s heart nearly dropped to her toes. It wasn’t one of her bags. It was Michael’s bag.
Nika’s engagement ring was in there.
He’d brought the ring.
In a haze, Sara went through the machinations of dressing in a sunny yellow sweater, black leggings, wide black belt and scrunchy leather boots that were far more comfortable than they looked. Her eyes managed to refrain from tearing up while she slapped a quick coat of mascara on her lashes and powder on her porcelain skin. Without feeling, she dried her hair into soft auburn waves around her face, reminding her why Paul called her his angel.
Well within her ten minutes, Sara’s hand was on the doorknob, ready to head out to join the others to celebrate her 21st birthday. But her heart wasn’t in a party now. It might never be again.
Michael was going to propose to Nika that weekend.
© 2009, Sydney Katt. All rights reserved. Unauthorized use of content will result in dragon attacks.
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