All Tucked In...

“So, I’ll need to stay over more than one night?” she repeated.

“Probably.”

“On the phone, they said they couldn’t tell me much.”

He tried to ignore the breathless flutter in her voice. And how good she looked. Prettier, he decided, than when he’d tried to marry her. Her hair was longer, past her shoulders, and inky-black corkscrew curls that he knew felt like satin spilled around her face, bringing out her rose complexion and making her round dark eyes sparkle. Summer had always suited her. She was the type of person who was always active, on her feet and moving—the trait seemed encoded in the DiDolche genes—but now she looked remarkably still. And beautiful…so damn beautiful. Coming to his senses, he realized she was waiting for some kind of response. “Hmm?”

“I was hoping that just one night…”

“It usually takes a couple. With something like sleep apnea or nocturnal eating, it’s often just a night, but when dreams are involved…”

When his voice trailed off, she nodded. Years ago, she’d sit and listen to him talk about his work as no other woman ever had, her eyes attentive, the set of her soft mouth rapt. She’d enjoyed those talks, asking questions that even his colleagues wouldn’t think to.

“It would be nice if you can help me,” she finally said.

He hoped he could. “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

“And you’re going to monitor me?”

He’d already said so. He nodded. “Yeah.”

She looked nervous, but she ventured another smile. “When do you sleep, anyway?”

“I still catnap in the day.” He was one of those people who was blessed—or cursed—by only needing a few hours of sleep a day. “Hopefully, we’ll turn your nightmares into dreams, Carla.”

“And if you can?”

“Many times, when we’ve changed the dream content, people report that nightmares never come back.”

As her dark eyes widened, he fought the urge to reach out and touch her. He knew firsthand how the nightmares had haunted her since she was a kid, and now he knew she was hoping that he could whisk them away with one night of therapy. He saw that look on the faces of many people who came to him, looking for a cure. “Seven years ago,” he said, “our research hadn’t advanced to the point it has today.” Before now, he couldn’t have done much for her. He wished he could offer more in promise, but he couldn’t, so he simply remained silent.

She looked around again, slowly taking in an old-fashioned bedroom that was as hopelessly romantic as the rest of the mansion; salmon-painted walls were hung with discreet oils in gilded frames, mostly impressionistic landscapes and ocean views with sailing ships. Two wing chairs had been positioned on either side of a carved oak mantle, and just as downstairs, beaded lamps adorned small round tables. Carla’s eyes trailed from an oriental rug that covered the polished hardwood floor to a four-poster bed stacked high with pillows.

Then she looked at the triparte glass partition again, as if judging the distance that would be between them tonight. Behind the glass were machines he’d monitor. “The room belonged to Marissa Sloane’s lady companion,” he said apologetically. “I’d have put you in the master bedroom, but J. J. Sloane claimed it.”

“The room’s gorgeous.”

He nodded his agreement. “Yeah, it is,” he said. And suddenly he wished he was anywhere in the world other than here, in a bedroom with Carla, especially one with so many nineteenth century frills. No, he really couldn’t believe this was happening. Carla had been having these dreams since she was a kid, and he’d been involved in dream research for a decade, so why did she have to show up now? And in the same week as J. J. Sloane?

Sighing, he told himself he could be a professional.

“Do you really think you’ll lose the lease?” she asked as if reading his mind.

He shrugged. “I’m trying to be philosophical. But I do wish I’d waited a few more months before stumbling onto Cornelius Sloane’s porn collection.”

A smile tugged her lips. “I saw that in the newspaper.” The Pittsburgh Post Gazette had run a picture of the secret room. “Must have been exciting.”

“It was. I landed right on top of a life-size nude.”

“Have you spent much time reviewing—” she paused with mock delicacy “—artwork?”

“Not really. A couple of days ago, during a meeting, Mar—” Cutting himself off, he decided he would rather not mention Margaret Craig, Sandy’s mother. “The Preservation Society put some of the pictures on the boardroom table.”

“You have a boardroom?”

“Dining room,” he corrected. “We use it for meetings.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, I hadn’t seen the pictures for awhile. They’re kept in the safe.” He hated how heat was slowly suffusing his body again. It was bad enough that he was spending tonight with nothing but a piece of glass between him and Carla, but he hardly wanted to stand around discussing porn. “Guess ads are hotter. While you’re here, one of the society members will probably take you downstairs to see them, if you want. Like I said, they’re in a safe.” He was loathe to admit it, but he added, “It really is a worthwhile art collection.” He was just afraid the pictures would wind up being hung in his dream clinic. “I’ll make sure you see them.”

“Thanks.”

Another silence fell, and when it turned awkward, Tobias said, “I’d better let you settle in. Dinner’s in a half hour. When you get downstairs, just about anybody can direct you to the ballroom. That’s where we eat.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

“I’ll be at a staff table, but…”

Somehow, he wished she didn’t look quite so relieved. “Then I’ll wave,” she promised graciously.

“The food’s nothing like your mother’s.” Or hers. When he thought of Carla’s homemade cannoli, his mouth watered. pImages** of candlelit dinners followed, and suddenly, all the memories hurt. Why had she run back down that aisle? In a heartbeat, the question he’d never ask again was on his lips. In the past, she’d tearfully said she didn’t know, but that had hardly soothed him.

He figured it was because of her dreams. Not that curing her tonight—if he could—would make a difference. It was too late now. Realizing they were still standing in the frilly bedroom gawking at each other, he said, “See you downstairs.”

“Thanks,” she said again.

Turning on his heel, Tobias headed down a red-carpeted hallway. When he reached the stairs, he gave in to the urge to look back. Her hands were on her hips, and she was staring at the partition, her dark eyes piercing through the glass as if she was imagining him sitting on the other side. He watched as she took a deep breath, seemingly bracing herself for the long night ahead.

He knew exactly how she felt.

3

“JUST IGNORE ME,” Tobias suggested quietly as he fiddled with the monitors behind the glass partition.

Yeah, right. How was she supposed to do that? With a frustrated sigh, Carla snuggled deeper into the bed, wishing she’d brought shorts and a shirt to sleep in, instead of the new pajama set her girlfriend, Melanie, had given her for her birthday. Not that she wanted to think about Melanie at the moment, since she’d been one of Carla’s bridesmaids.

Just sleep, she commanded herself. She tried to roll onto her side, which would have been more comfortable, but then she remembered the white tabs affixed to her head. “Drats,” she muttered, glancing at the long, multicolored wires that spilled over the pillow and snaked toward Tobias.

“I know it’s difficult,” he murmured from just a few feet away. “You’ll get used to it, though. Do you think you can sleep on your back?”

“I’ll try.”

“You usually sleep on your stomach, don’t you?”

Every time he remembered intimate details about her, she found herself half hoping his memory was every bit as graphic as hers. “Yeah, I do.” Just as he probably still slept stark naked.

As she squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, her mind returned to the pajamas she was wearing. In her drawer, they’d looked like exactly what the receptionist had asked her to bring, something comfortable and unrevealing. Once she’d put them on, however, she’d realized that the bicycle style shorts, while definitely easy to move in, were also incredibly tight. The top wasn’t, but the way the jersey fabric draped her torso didn’t disguise her breasts at all. Because of the slender straps, she hadn’t been able to wear a bra without making her concern obvious. Besides, she’d finally told herself, it wasn’t anything Tobias hadn’t seen before….