Sex And The Sleepwalker

Sex And The Sleepwalker
Donna Sterling

Brynn Sutherland has a little problem with sleepwalking - especially when she's under stress. And with the reappearance of her old flame Cade Hunter…well, she's about as stressed as she can get.She keeps waking up beside him! With their history, his bed is the last place she wants to be, regardless of how gorgeous he is. But when he suggests a "cure" to her nocturnal wanderings - revisiting their old make-out spots and resolving their past - how can she resist? Maybe once she's had her way with Cade, he'll stop haunting her nights…. Cade has never really gotten over Brynn. So when she climbs into bed with him, he can't turn her away.Problem is, right now he's undercover to protect her from a possible threat and he can't afford to be distracted. Too bad he's preoccupied by their sexy trips down memory lane. One thing he knows for sure - he wants Brynn forever. Looks as if he'll have to prolong their sleepwalking therapy sessions until she admits the same thing!

Cade wondered if he was dreaming

He had to be. No way was Brynn creeping into his bedroom, wearing nothing but a soft, sheer nightgown.

But there she stood, her beautiful face barely visible in the moonlight.

“You want me to keep you occupied, Cade?” Her sexy whisper shot shivers down his spine.

Before he could gather his wits enough to reply, she sank a knee into the mattress and knelt beside him. Her eyes, oddly shining, seemed to look straight through him. “Don’t think for a minute that I can’t ‘keep you occupied.’”

He sat up, stunned beyond words. After all this time, was Brynn trying to seduce him?

“You don’t think I’m up to it?” Her words teased him as he thought of all the ways she could occupy him.

“Let’s give it a go, Romeo.” And with a suddenness that startled him, she yanked her nightgown over her head.

It was all the invitation he needed….

Dear Reader,

Life is complicated enough without having your subconscious mind play tricks on you…such as sending you dreams so vivid and lifelike you can’t help but rise out of bed to participate. I’m talking about sleepwalking. It’s been a curse to me for as long as I can remember. Many times I’ve woken up in places other than my bed with only jumbled, nonsensical memories of how I’d gotten there.

These occasional nighttime adventures inspired me to write Sex and the Sleepwalker. Imagine the complications that could arise when the owner of a bed-and-breakfast inn wanders the halls in her sleep…and wakes up in bed with a sexy male guest.

I hope you enjoy Brynn’s misadventures—and her resulting relationship with a macho U.S. marshal, Cade Hunter. Happy reading, dear readers. And always follow your dreams…but only when you’re awake.

Feel free to e-mail me at donnasterling@mindspring.com. And don’t forget to check out www.tryblaze.com.

Sincerely,

Donna Sterling

Sex and the Sleepwalker

Donna Sterling

To my parents, my husband and my conference roommates—for all the times your sleep was disrupted by my sleepwalking adventures. Feel free to “seize the day.” I’ve got the nights covered.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

1

SHE SPOTTED HIM the moment she stepped onstage.

There he sat in the front row of the crowded auditorium, his muscular arms crossed, his long legs comfortably extended, his mouth slanted in that slight but infuriating smirk she remembered so well from their college days. Cade Hunter. Of all the rotten luck, why did Cade Hunter have to show up at the most important award ceremony of her life?

“It’s my pleasure to present this award to the incredible, incomparable, one-and-only Ms. Brynn Sutherland,” the president of the United States had just announced, a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Brynn’s softball coach in seventh grade, “for running the best bed-and-breakfast in the history of the free world!”

The auditorium had exploded with applause and the audience had risen to their feet. It was Brynn’s shining moment—success beyond her wildest imagining. But as she tried to cross the stage to accept the huge gold trophy—which looked exactly like an Oscar—she found herself moving in slow motion, as if she were walking through dense, soupy muck. And it was all his fault. He was the only one not clapping, the only one not standing and smiling in admiration.

She tried not to scowl at him. She was supposed to be smiling and approaching the podium to accept her award, not fuming over Cade Hunter’s insolent attitude.

Before she managed to tear her gaze away from his rugged but oddly appealing face, she saw his lips move. And though she couldn’t hear his voice, she knew what he said. “Prude.”

Prude! Oh, he knew how to push her buttons! This was an important occasion for her. A business function. A public affirmation of her talent as an innkeeper—not to mention great promo for the Three Sisters Bed & Breakfast Inn. Yet Cade Hunter had taken it upon himself to show up, uninvited, just to rehash old arguments.

Balling her hands into fists, Brynn pivoted away from him and resumed her slow motion trek toward the podium. The president, she noticed, had morphed into Candice Bergen, and the trophy now looked like a mermaid from a tuna can label. Brynn didn’t mind that too much, though.

She was still too ticked over Cade Hunter’s gall. Prude, he’d called her. Didn’t he see that she’d changed? Couldn’t he tell she was no longer the virginal teenager he’d known, but a sultry urban adventuress with more notches on her bedpost than the gals on Sex and the City?

“Prick tease,” he taunted.

That stopped her dead in her tracks, not three feet from the podium. How dare he? Nine years ago, he might have had grounds to call her such a thing—though he never had, to her knowledge. No, he’d never called her anything worse than a prude, which had been bad enough. But now he seemed determined to publicly humiliate her.

And he was succeeding. For some inexplicable reason, another man in the audience repeated the accusation. “Prick tease.” Then someone else said it.