Remember the Dreams (4 page)

He'd found swimming a very effective way to cool off.

Toni's dark lashes narrowed. "But we just ate."

Kyle's napkin fell over his half-eaten dinner. "You won't sink."

"That's not what I meant," she returned, eyeing him dully. "You get cramps if you swim too soon after..."

"Then let's get into the spa."

"I told you that I don't have a bathing suit."

She would have to remind him of that. He was trying not to think about her, and now all he could picture was her naked body glistening. . . . "Then let's. . ."

"What's the matter with you, Kyle?" Toni's brow lowered as she looked across the table at him. He'd been acting so strangely during dinner. She wasn't even sure he'd been listening to anything she'd said, though he hadn't seemed to take his eyes off her for more than a few seconds. Maybe he was still preoccupied with the seminar. "Why are you so antsy? Am I that boring?"

"Boring?" he repeated dryly, scraping back his chair. With an exaggerated stretch, he cleared his throat. "No, it's ah . . . I just need to do something physical." Deliberately he avoided her eyes. "Sitting on the plane for three hours finally got to me, I guess."

"Well," she suggested, following him with her plate to the sink, "why don't we go for a walk then?"

Her hand was snatched up the second she put her dishes down.

"Let's go," he said, practically hauling her across the floor.

"Kyle!" Toni had hardly expected the sharp jerk he gave her arm, and she slammed right into the middle of his back. It was only by bracing herself against those rigid muscles that she kept from landing in a heap at his feet. "A walk! Not a . . ."

At the same time she had balanced herself, Kyle had turned to catch her. Finding herself smashed up against his chest now, her eyes only inches from his throat, the rest of her words suddenly forgot to come out.

Kyle's arms were around her, and she was so close that she could feel the heat of his body radiating against her. A sharp intake of breath did nothing to stabilize her already rubbery legs. His scent, that warm blend of musk and something that was unmistakably Kyle, filled her nostrils and set up a chain reaction of tremors that started at the top of her head and ended somewhere at the tip of her toes.

"Sorry," he mumbled, pulling his arms away to jam his hands into his pockets. "I take it that you weren't ready to go?"

"You never were very patient," she managed, determined to sound as casual as he looked. "And, yes, I am ready. Just as soon as we get the dishes done."

"Leave them." His instruction was tossed over his shoulder as he headed through the living room. "Madeline can take care of them in the morning."

Taking a deep breath and telling herself quite firmly that she had felt nothing, nothing, just a moment ago, she followed Kyle out the front door.

❧

When Toni awoke the next morning, she swore that she'd never go for another walk with Kyle. She had expected a nice quiet little stroll down the street. Not a four-mile marathon down the hill and back up again.

One thing was painfully clear to her as she stumbled into the shower—other than the fact that her legs ached like crazy, that is. She was definitely getting out of shape? It had only been a month since she'd abandoned her twice-weekly visits to the health club back in New York, but she had to get started on some kind of exercise program soon. Kyle had quite unnecessarily pointed out as much last night, politely suggesting that she might want to use his pool to swim laps. She didn't know which had been worse, the fact that he had suggested the very thing she had just been thinking about, or his infuriating grin as he watched her struggle up the hill after him.

A half an hour later, her hair smoothed in its usual neat knot and a pale blue turtleneck tucked into her beige wool slacks, Toni followed the smell of freshly brewed coffee into the kitchen.

Madeline—the pear-shaped little woman Toni, in a rush because she'd overslept, had literally run into on her way out the door Wednesday morning—stood at the stove stirring a pot of something that looked delicious.

"Morning." Toni smiled, tossing her wool jacket over one of the chairs at the table. She stopped and gingerly rubbed the back of her leg.

"Morning," the matronly woman returned. Her warm brown eyes crinkled in a smile as she handed Toni a steaming cup of coffee. "You look like you could use this."

Toni gratefully accepted the proffered cup. "It shows, huh?"

Madeline arched her graying eyebrows and, with an empathetic nod, turned back to the

stove.

Toni figured that Kyle was already at his office. When she had worked for him, he'd always spent his Saturdays there. So it was more for the sake of conversation that she asked, "Where's Kyle?" Then, not waiting for the expected response, she added, "And what are you making? It smells wonderful."

The creases in Madeline's round face deepened with her beaming smile. "Kyle's having a party in a couple of weeks, so I thought I'd freeze up a couple batches of Swedish meatballs now and make more canapes next Saturday. I don't like having to do it all at once." She frowned at the pot, and with a shrug of her ample shoulders she dropped in a couple of cloves of garlic. "And," she continued, "Kyle's downstairs working out in the weightroom. He said I wasn't to disturb you. Guess he thought you'd want to sleep in this morning. But now that you're up, I'll go get your sheets and towels and throw 'em in the laundry."

Madeline had seemed to accept Toni's presence without question, something that had puzzled Toni until Kyle had remarked the night before that he'd told Madeline "all about her"— whatever that was supposed to mean. Toni had been too busy conserving her labored breath to ask many questions. During their little "walk" she'd let Kyle do most of the talking.

Now a perverse little smile tugged at Toni's mouth as she sipped her coffee. So Kyle wasn't at his office. That could only mean that he must be sore this morning, too, and needed to work out the cramps in his muscles. Serves him right, she thought, all too aware of the knots in her legs. Even her knees had cramps in them.

"Does Kyle know that you're headed out somewhere this morning?" The gray curls around Madeline's face bounced over her brow as she nodded toward Toni's jacket on the chair-back. Toni shook her head, wondering why Madeline had even asked. It wasn't like she had to check in with Kyle before she went about her business.

Madeline had a funny look on her face as she wrung her hands on her calico apron.

"What are you doing up so early?" At the sound of Kyle's voice, Toni glanced up. She was just about to take another sip of coffee, but the cup hung suspended in midair for one heart-stopping second before she carefully lowered it.

His large frame filled the arching doorway. A pair of gray sweatshorts clung to his lean hips, and he had a thick white towel slung around his neck. His chest and shoulders were covered with a fine sheen of perspiration, and as he raked his fingers through his tousled hair she couldn't help but notice the hard line of his muscled biceps.

Oh, come on! she chided herself as she mumbled, "Good morning," into her cup. Just because he's half-naked and looks so ... so male isn't any reason to get nervous. This is Kyle! Remember?

Kyle's eyes slid carelessly over her slender form, starting at the toes of her calfskin pumps. When his inspection reached the coil of her hair, he frowned. "You going somewhere?"

Madeline cleared her throat and dropped a metal lid into the sink.

He hadn't waited for Toni's response and was heading toward the refrigerator. The ease with which he moved, lithe sinew and muscle rippling smoothly as he covered the distance of the kitchen, told Toni that he was suffering no effect from their little jaunt last night.

"To the office," she returned, a little jealous of his effortless movements. "I'm surprised you're not at yours already."

He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk. "It's Saturday."

Toni stared at his broad back, wondering if she'd just missed something somewhere. "I had a friend who once told me that you can accomplish more on the weekend when the phone isn't ringing than you can otherwise all week. Don't you subscribe to that philosophy anymore?"

Over the rim of her cup, she watched him drain the tumbler of milk, then put the empty glass down on the counter.

Madeline handed him a wooden spoon. "Give the meatballs a stir in a minute," she instructed. "I'm going to put the rest of the laundry in."

"Yes, ma'am." Kyle saluted, then turned to lean against the counter. He eyed Toni levelly. "I never work on weekends. At least, not unless I have to."

That didn't sound like Kyle at all, and Toni's expression was doubtful. "You're not serious."

"Oh, yes, I am," he returned flatly. "And don't you think you deserve to take a day off?"

"What I deserve"—her mind was already on the stack of work she'd left on her desk, a deliberate effort to avoid thinking about the terribly masculine form only four feet away from her—"and what I get, are two different things."

"Want some friendly advice?"

His tone was making her a little skeptical. "That depends."

"On what?"

Her smile lacked its usual brightness. Something didn't feel quite right. "The advice."

"You're not going to like it."

She already had that feeling. But why? "Knowing you," she said, "I'm probably going to hear it anyway."

He didn't even bother acknowledging her attempt at lightness, and she was surprised at the sharpness in his tone. "You've had that office for a month, and if you'd managed your time properly, you wouldn't have to spend so much of it working now. Learn to delegate. Being a manager and a broker are two full-time jobs."

In the past Toni would have expected his criticisms, welcomed his observations. But now his reproach irritated her.

Maybe it was just because she felt so stiff and achy that the little irritation loomed so much larger. Or maybe it was because there was something about his presence that was so infuriating-ly disturbing. Whatever the reason, she could feel her body growing more rigid by the second.

"Apparently you've forgotten that you were the one who told me that if I wanted something done right, I'd have to do it myself." Her voice was tight, an unmistakable sign of the control she was trying to exercise. Toni rarely lost her temper, and she certainly wasn't going to now. "And I do delegate," she informed him evenly. "But there are some things I don't trust anyone else with. As you so aptly pointed out, I have only been there a month and it takes time to know the people you're working with. Once I . . ."

Kyle's eyes narrowed, their glittering gray depths fixed steadily on hers. "You should know your employees by now," he cut in. "And you should be getting rid of that guy whose been causing you all that extra work. You can't do his job and yours and still expect to . . ."

"I don't think I need you to tell me how to do my job anymore." Her interruption was deliberately quiet, her expression a glacial mask.

Even with the hard glare Kyle was bestowing on her, he looked more attractive than she'd ever seen him before. So totally physical. And so aggravatingly self-confident. She was feeling more than just anger at the moment. But she didn't want to define the more threatening things he was making her feel.

Her gaze had never faltered, and she saw a dangerous flicker of certainty in his eyes. "Somebody needs to tell you," he said curtly.

"Well, you don't need to worry about it." She turned and put her cup down on the counter. Her hands were beginning to tremble, and she wasn't about to let Kyle see her slosh coffee all over the floor. She hated not being in control, and that betraying tremor only made her more upset. "I've outgrown my need for ..." She started to say "your approval," but caught herself before the words slipped out. She didn't even know where they'd come fromf

"You've outgrown your need for what, Toni?" Kyle looked only slightly less angry than she did. The fact that he was angry at all thoroughly confused her.

Not about to admit what she'd just been thinking, she reached for the pearl at the base of her throat. Absently she ran it along its chain. "It's not important," she whispered.

Neither one of them said anything then, both choosing to stare anywhere but at each other. They had argued before, but always about ideas or ideals. Never had they argued on a personal level. Whatever it was that was going on now seemed to be more than a simple disagreement between friends.

The uncomfortable silence seemed deafening in the sunlit room. The silence stretched on. Though she wasn't looking at him, her gaze riveted to the toes of her shoes, she could almost feel his eyes burning through her.

When he finally spoke there was a huskiness in his voice that betrayed more than Toni was prepared to recognize. "Maybe it's important to me, princess."

A tight little lump lodged in her throat. She didn't want to admit how much those words meant to her. She didn't want them to mean anything at all! "I can't imagine why," she mumbled.

When he didn't respond, she slowly raised her eyes. He was moving toward her. When he stopped less than a foot away, it was all she could do to breathe.

More than a little intimidated by his physical presence, and upset with herself for being that way, she tipped her head back and forced a lightness into her voice that didn't want to be there. "It really doesn't matter, Kyle." Then, wanting desperately to change the subject, she asked, "Did the lecture you promised me the other night have anything to do with my less than exemplary work habits?"

"Not really," he said quietly. His expression softened as he watched her trying to regain the tiny edge she'd lost on her control a few minutes before. "We didn't get a chance to talk much last night, did we? You seemed to be spending most of your time either complaining about how steep the hill was ... or panting."

He was obviously trying to erase the inexplicable tension that had so suddenly sprung up between them. And Toni appreciated his effort.

Wishing that he'd move—wishing that she could find the strength to move herself—she slanted him a nervy little glance. "I've never been able to carry on a conversation when it takes every ounce of breath I've got to keep my lungs from collapsing." Her gaze was involuntarily drawn to the dark hair curling against his chest. She wished she had the nerve to run her fingers through those soft, springy curls. "And the next time I suggest going for a walk, remind me how my legs feel this morning, would you?"

To her relief, he took a step back. But relief was short-lived. He was staring at the gentle contour of her breasts, rounded beneath her sweater. His eyes seemed to linger there before slowly moving down the sharp crease in her slacks.

Toni felt like she'd just been undressed by a pro.

"Your legs pretty sore?"

She nodded, trying to pretend that she hadn't noticed the way he'd been looking at her. It was difficult ignoring something so blatant, but at least he'd had the decency to sound sympathetic.

"I think I have permanent cramps in my calfs . . . and about a half a dozen blisters on my feet." She really didn't have any blisters. It just felt that way.

A devilish smile lit his face, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'd be more than happy to rub them for you."

"I'll just bet you would, Donovan," she teased, determined to match his mood. She knew that he couldn't possibly be serious, but for a fleeting second she wondered what he'd do if she took him up on his offer. Then she wondered why the thought had even entered her mind. "I'm sure you have your massage technique down to an absolute science."

"Interested?" He grinned.

She managed to look completely appalled at the idea. "After the way you lit into me a few minutes ago, you'd probably start at my ankles and wind up wringing my neck. We'll just leave things the way they are. Cramps and all."

Apology and something else she couldn't quite define shadowed his otherwise playful features. "I really didn't mean to 'light into you," he said, raking his fingers through his silvering black hair. "It was just that I..." He gave a slight shrug, and his mischievous grin returned. "Let's get back to that massage. I've been told that I'm really quite good." He glanced over his shoulder as his housekeeper came bustling back into the room. "Madeline here's one of my biggest supporters."