Talking in Your Sleep...

“You’re losing your mind. No one needs this. I’m exhausted, I forgot a meeting the other day, and Ken was completely pissed. I’m up for that promotion, and that didn’t help. I do not need another guy in my life right now.”

“Maybe not in your life, but you could definitely use one in your bed. There is a difference. Is this new guy hot?”

Joy made a face. “Very. He seems like a nice enough guy, too—he did come over to ‘rescue’ me when he thought I was in trouble. He was helping the older lady across the street with her Christmas decorations. I think I heard him working on Warren’s, my neighbor’s, house.”

“A real live Boy Scout.”

“Would make sense. He’s an EMT. Used to saving people.”

“Sounds like he’s always prepared,” Pam added naughtily, and Joy couldn’t resist laughing, her bad mood melting away as she joined in the joke.

“He did do a good job with tying knots in my dream.”

The two women dissolved in laughter.

“I think you should go for it.”

“Go for what?”

“He heard you talking—and we can only imagine what you’re saying—and he’s coming around, trying to strike up conversations, hoping to save you from dastardly deeds…checking to see if you’re attached. He’s interested, Joy. So be interested back. Have a fling. Give yourself a hottie for Christmas.”

Heat invaded Joy’s face. “No way. Just because I’m having these dreams, that doesn’t translate into reality.”

Pam shoved her chair back and stood, leaving a tip on the table. “Maybe it should. He sounds like a perfect man—hot, willing and temporary. If you’re doing him instead of dreaming about him, maybe you’ll actually get some sleep. In fact, scratch tonight—I want you to get some rest.”

“Please, keep your date. I’m fine, and I love being a part of what you do,” Joy said with sincere emotion in her voice, trying to avoid the temptation to think too much about Pam’s idea.

“I do, too, in spite of the problems lately. We lost a major source of funding last week. All the businesses are strapping down the coffers with the economy in the shape it is. They have less to give, even at this time of year, and you know this is when we count on receiving our big donations.”

“Is it serious? I can’t imagine this place closing—it’s too valuable to the community.”

“No, we won’t close, but we might lose some essential resources if I can’t pull something together.”

“I guess asking your folks…?”

Pam shook her head resolutely. “No. They never approved of me doing this. While we manage to have a halfway decent relationship, there’s no way I would ask them for money, and they wouldn’t give it anyway.”

Joy’s heart went out to her friend. “I’ll do whatever I can to help, Pam.”

“You’re a sweetheart, Joy. I wish I could afford to put you on as paying staff at Second Chance for all the work you do, but it’s not possible at this point.”

“I don’t need the money—that’s why I have a job. I’ll pound the pavement, do whatever I can to help you get this place in the black.”

Joy teared up. She didn’t know why this was affecting her so strongly.

“Thanks, I’ll take you up on that. I hope you’ll also think about doing whatever you need for yourself, as well. Give yourself a gift.”

Joy rolled her eyes, realizing Pam was back on their previous topic.

“I promise I’ll think about it,” she said, knowing that she likely wasn’t going to be thinking about anything else.

4

EARLY MONDAY MORNING, Rafe slipped the disk he’d had converted from the camcorder tape into a paper bag and rolled down the top of the bag with determination. He’d leave it for her with a note. She’d find and listen to it. Then there would be no denying that she was not only sleep-talking, but she was dreaming about him.

Why she would be, he had no idea. Joy was pretty, and he’d admit she wasn’t hard to look at, but she hardly seemed interested—in fact, she seemed the direct opposite of interested. Yet, she had screamed his name in her sleep. He was sure of it. He’d tried to replay it a thousand times, wondering if he misheard or imagined it, but the next night had told the truth—she’d done it again, and he’d gotten the evidence.

He eyed the bag, thoughts simmering in his brain. His major goal was to win—to prove to her that he was right, and that he wasn’t just harassing her. Her attitude toward him all but made him sound like a liar or a perve, and he didn’t like either one. Still, there were other possibilities. What if she dropped the argument, and apologized? What if she admitted the truth? What if she really was attracted to him—that would explain the nighttime fantasies, right? Question was, was he interested back? Maybe. It had been a long time since he’d had sex, or had even been in the mood. When Joy Clarke was in dream mode, her sexy talk got him going, and he might be willing to explore that, if the circumstances were right.

A zing of interest worked through him, unexpected, but welcome. This kind of thing was exactly what vacations were for.

He finished the note and smiled. All set. He didn’t have any plans for today, so he’d hang out here, work on the house and see what happened. Peering out the window, he saw her car in the front drive—she hadn’t left for work yet. Good.

Quickly darting out the door and across the short yard, he left the package on her step, inside the screen door so she wouldn’t miss it.

He thought he heard her singing some top-forty song through the open screen, her voice becoming slightly louder, definitely off-key. Cute.

She was walking toward the front door. After running back to his own porch, he ducked behind a tall plant, watching her come outside, notice the package. She picked it up and looked around, pausing for a moment; he swore she was looking right at him, but she couldn’t possibly see him through the thick foliage.

She opened the envelope, read the note with a roll of her eyes and shoved the disk into her bag. Score!

Smugly satisfied that she would be stopping by later to apologize and imagining how graciously he’d accept, Rafe thought he might invite her out to get a bite to eat. From there, the possibilities were endless.

IT HAD BEEN A COMPLETELY crappy morning.

Joy slid her fingers through her hair as she worked on news spots for the recall follow-ups and knew her mind wasn’t on it. She kept making stupid spelling errors as she composed an e-mail form response to all the angry customers writing the company. She looked at what she’d written in a fit of pique:

Dear Valued Carr Toys Customer:

We at Carr Toys value your business and continued patronage. As complaints go, the wheels falling off a toy is not an earth-shattering problem, so please get over it and stop bothering me. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and I’m really getting tired of your constant complaints about such a trivial issue. Have a nice day, and we hope you’ll continue to shop Carr Toys.

Yeah, that would probably need to be heavily revised.

“Problem?”

Ken, the PR director, peeked in her office door, and pasting on a smile, she shook her head.

“No, no problem. I’ve been working on the latest e-mail response to the Toddler Tank complaints.”

“Didn’t I tell you? Barb’s handling that since she was in that meeting you missed.”

The slight note of censure was there, and Joy hated herself for being unnerved by it.

“I’m sorry, Ken. It won’t happen again.”

He stepped inside her door, looking down at the folders in his hand, then back at her.

“Joy, you’ve been acting strangely lately. You should take a break. You’ve got a lot of vacation time piled up.”