Out of Her Dreams

He lifted his face from hers and said shakily, “I don’t plan on fading out of this dream anytime soon, Sam.” And he slowly rekindled the fire that still burned hotly within both of them.

He held her close as they slept. She had seemed somehow…distant. Panic welled inside him for the first time in months. Her lovemaking had somehow seemed almost like a goodbye. It was nothing he could put a finger on. She had enjoyed his attentions as she always had. But she acted almost as if she didn’t plan to be around much longer. And that was unacceptable. She had promised him six months. It had only been three. She owed him three more. Right?

But her words, the way she looked at him, the way she had clung to him and sobbed when she thought he was asleep, scared the shit out of him. Had he pushed her too hard? Had he burned her out? Had he made her grow tired of him? He had never felt so lost before. So uncertain. Maybe he needed to stop treating her like she was a blow-up doll and back off a little. Maybe let her have some breathing space?

That thought made him shiver. What if she decided he wasn’t what she wanted? What if she decided she didn’t need him around anymore? Maybe she had gotten tired of him constantly pawing her. Wanting her. Needing her. He was so fucking pathetic.

He buried his mouth in her fragrant copper curls and closed his eyes. No. He had to make her want to stay. And he wouldn’t let her off the hook. No matter what.

Sam lay awake in the tight circle of his arms. She knew she couldn’t go on like this much longer. She was addicted to the man but her addiction was unhealthy for both of them. There was no way she could write another word when all she wanted was to be in his arms, in his bed, every time he looked at her. It had been a mistake to come to New York. She would fly back to Chicago tomorrow, while he was busy. She would figure out what she needed to do when she got there. But she could not-would not-just continue on as his plaything. This was killing her spirit. Killing her heart. No matter how much she wanted to be with him, this couldn’t continue. She was a living, breathing person, not a toy.

Yes. Tomorrow she would leave. She would figure it out as she went. Tonight she had made love as if there was no tomorrow. And there wouldn’t be.

Chapter Thirteen

Phyllis finished reading the rough draft of the final novel in the series and she turned her eyes to Sam’s face. “You have made him so damn real, I almost orgasmed reading this. I am amazed that this only took you nine weeks. You’ve been like a woman possessed.” She sat up and packed the pages back into the manuscript container. Her eyes slid over Sam’s slender body hunched by the window.

“What are you going to do about him?” Her voice was quiet. “I can’t keep putting him off. Sooner or later he’s going to come flying through my door with a battering ram looking to drag you back home. He’s almost a nutcase over you just up and disappearing like that. Anyone can tell he’s crazy over you.”

Sam shrugged, looking out the window of her apartment at the traffic several floors below. Snowball wound his body around her ankles, plaintively asking for the attention that she seldom seemed capable of giving him nowadays. She relented and bent to scoop him from the floor, hugging him to her as he purred contentedly.

She met Phyllis’ gaze and said quietly, “I realized that I had to back away from the dream to make it a reality in print. I had no choice.” She bent to kiss Snowball’s satiny nose. “I genuinely don’t think I’m going to be able to write that screenplay, Phyl. It will mean working with him too closely. I can’t do that.”

“I think he deserves an explanation of why you took off, Sam. Give the man a chance, for God’s sake. Shit. Most women would be running back as fast as their little feet could carry them. He wants you back.”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants. He got everything from me that he wanted. By now he should be as happy as a clam. He has a fat contract to make the first two movies from the series and he’s in negotiations for the rest. My life is my own again. I can actually do things on my own without having him constantly hanging on me. Constantly wanting me in bed.” She swallowed hard.

Phyllis shook her head and put the manuscript down. “You never were a good liar, Sam. You are crazy in love with him. Oh, why the hell won’t you just admit it and go see him again? He’s called nearly every day for the past two months. He only stopped when you told him to leave you alone.” The woman gave a sound of disgust. “If that man wanted me-”

Sam closed her eyes and raised her hand. “Go get him, with my compliments. He is overwhelmingly possessive and unfailingly horny. You will love it for the first little while but after a few months, it wears sort of thin!” Liar!

Phyllis glared at her star writer. “My God, girl. You are the most stubborn, bullheaded, asinine female ever to draw breath!” She reached for her coat and purse and walked to the door. “I’ll send Carl over to pick up the finished draft. And as for the script and the screenplay, you are under no obligation to write it. They only asked you to do it. We haven’t contracted you.”

Sam stared out the window at the traffic far below.

Snowball meowed again. She glanced at him and frowned.

“Not you too? Does everyone but me think he’s the greatest thing since the powdered sugar donut?”

The cat glared at her indignantly and gave a low yowl of irritation.

“I don’t need this from you, as well as from her. If you want to take his side, I’ll gladly ship you off to him in Chicago. I thought you hated him.”

The cat wriggled out of her grasp and hit the floor at a run, leaving her staring after him. “Okay, just be that way. See if I buy you that canned stuff you like so well. It’s dry food for you, you little fur-ball turncoat.”

She sank down onto the armchair beside her and rested her head in her hands. Things were just too damn complicated. After that last night with David, she had put herself on a flight back to Chicago, where she had made arrangements to return to her own apartment in Cleveland. By the time he had returned from the New York trip, she was gone. Completely. Moved-Left-No-Address.

She had written him a long letter. Had left it on his pillow. She grimaced in pain at the thought. She had told him that she couldn’t write while she was with him. That she needed her space. That she didn’t want to hurt him but she just couldn’t stand the sort of relationship he expected of her. She had offered to pay him whatever he wanted to end the sham of their “arrangement”. She had no intention of coming back. Ever. He should not bother to try to find her. She simply wanted to be her own person once again.

The only things she had taken with her were a pair of earrings he had given her and the clothes she had brought from Cleveland. All the other things he had bought for her were left in Chicago.

She had changed her phone to an unlisted number but he had Phyllis’, so he had called her business manager constantly. Threatened. Cajoled. But Phyl, bless her soul, had simply told him she would pass along the messages. She had never given him her address.

The apartment was not under her current legal name. She had leased it under the name Samantha Drake. Drake had been her stepfather’s name. She hadn’t legally changed her name back to Hastings until she had begun writing the series.

He would never find her unless she wanted to be found and, right at the moment, she didn’t.

“What are we gonna do, sweetie?” She rubbed her face with numb hands and shook her head. “I hoped he would learn to love me. He was only interested in a thrilling bed partner. Hell, I shouldn’t be telling you all this. You’re way too young to have to deal with man-woman problems.” She lifted her eyes to see Snowball yawning at her from across the room.

The cat sauntered slowly across the carpet to leap lightly onto her knees and settle down in her lap, purring loudly. Sam smiled at him and rubbed his ears. “Sorry about being nasty, sweetie. I just miss him so damn much.”

The cat gave a capacious yawn and licked his fur carefully. A moment later, he was licking her hand and purring even more loudly. She grinned at him and said softly, “You always know how to talk me out of the doldrums, sweetie.”

But now she had to figure out how to get her life back on track. Alone. Without some sex-crazed hunk dragging her into bed every time she turned around. Damn. She clenched her fists to keep from reaching for the frigging phone for the twentieth time today. What a wuss. Why the hell was it so damn hard to get through a day without a