towel.
He held it up for her as soon as she turned off the water and stepped out. She offered up a tentative smile and wound the thick fabric around herself.
“Thanks. Your turn now. Do you mind if I just hang in here while you shower?”
This was some kind of punishment for his misdeeds. “No, it’s fine. I won’t take long.”
He shucked his pants and turned the shower back on, hurried inside and closed the door, then buried his face under the water, concentrating on soap and washing, not on Isabelle. When he finished, he turned the water off, realizing he’d have to step out naked. He blew out a breath and opened the door. Isabelle was combing her hair. She stopped and stared as he walked by. He grabbed a towel in a hurry.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good. I’m going to get some clothes. You going to be okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine now.”
Fine his ass. She gaped at him as if she was pondering licking him all over. Dalton was a man. He recognized sexual hunger in a woman. So did his body. He needed to get out of this bathroom-and fast, before things started to become … obvious.
“Great. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He pivoted and went into his bedroom, shut the door, and blew out a breath. Christ, that had been difficult. What was with Isabelle? There had always been an attraction between them, but this was different. There was something powerful going on between them, and he was being counted on to be the strong one and resist.
Well, goddammit. He wasn’t that strong. Isabelle was beautiful, desirable. He’d wanted her from the beginning. Why was he required to be so fucking noble and push her away?
He grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt and got dressed, then dragged his hands through his hair. It was time to figure out what was going on.
Isabelle was already in the kitchen, sitting at the tiny round table. Her hair hung in damp tendrils down her back. She looked up when he walked in. The hunger he’d seen earlier was gone. Now he saw only curiosity. Misery. Confusion. Those emotions wringing her dry made him feel like hell.
“Thanks for the tea.” He pulled up a chair and took a long swallow.
“I figured you’d be thirsty. It was hot out there today. You need to replenish.”
He laid the glass down. “So do you.”
Her lips lifted. “It felt good to do something physical for a change. My muscles were atrophying from sitting around.”
“We still have a lot to do, so plan on working those muscles even more.”
“Good. I like physical work. Keeps my mind occupied on something other than myself.”
She was avoiding the topic. So was he. He wasn’t even sure how to bring it up.
“What’s happening to me, Dalton? It’s not like me to walk out naked in the backyard. What’s worse, I can’t remember anything. Can you tell me what I did?”
She asked for the truth. He owed it to her to give it to her. He cupped the cool glass with his palm and looked at her. “I was cleaning weapons on the patio. You came up behind me, so I turned around. You were naked.”
She blinked, then nodded. “Go on.”
“You … uh … pressed yourself up against me. Said you wanted me, needed me. You asked me to touch you. Then you kissed me.”
Her cheeks turned pink. She palmed them. “Oh, God. I don’t remember that. I swear, Dalton, I don’t remember doing that.”
“It’s okay.”
“You stopped it. You pushed me away, didn’t you?” He saw tears glistening in her eyes.
“Yeah.”
She leaned back in the chair, wrapped her arms around herself, and laid her chin on her chest, closing her eyes. He could feel her pain and embarrassment.
Dalton wanted to move, gather her up in his arms, drag her onto his lap and comfort her. But somehow he knew that touching her right now would be the wrong thing to do. For both of them.
“Isabelle. Look at me.”
She did.
“I didn’t want to stop you.”
She inhaled sharply. “What?”
“You’re beautiful, the most desirable woman I’ve ever known. And when you kissed me, touched me … oh, hell no, I didn’t want to stop you.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. If it was you, really you out there, I wouldn’t have stopped you. We wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”
“We wouldn’t?”
“No. We’d be in bed.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks pinkened even further. And he hardened, thinking about having her in that bed. Naked, under him. Christ. Wrong thing to think about.
“But it wasn’t you out there. We both know that.”
She lifted her chin and nodded. “Yes. You’re right.” She finally seemed to relax. “We have to figure out what’s going on with me.” She seemed to ponder it for a minute or two. “Do you think I’m possessed?”
“I doubt it. It’s you … but not you. It’s not like it’s someone else taking over your body. When you were out there in the yard with me, you were definitely Isabelle. You reminded me of that night we spent on the yacht together.”
Her lashes drifted down. “When we had sex.”
“I meant the look on your face. Intense. Driven. It still seemed like you in many ways, but deep down I knew all of you wasn’t there.”
“Oh.”
“Does that make sense?”
“Yes. And obviously I know I wasn’t all there. And this isn’t the first time it’s happened to me since we left Sicily. I just don’t know what triggers it.”
“Do you remember any other times it’s happened?”
“Besides the nightmares?”
“But that’s pretty common. Most people can’t remember their dreams.”
She leaned forward, cupped her hands around her glass of tea. “These aren’t dreams, Dalton. It’s like I’m really there. Like the demons come for me as soon as I close my eyes and drift off. And it’s so real when I wake up, as if they’re trying to hold on to me and don’t want to let go. But I lose memory of what happened as soon as I’m fully awake. It’s more real than dreaming. I can’t explain it.”
He nodded. “Okay. Any other times?”
“Just the one time … the night before.”
He cocked a brow. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure how to explain this. But since we’ve been here … this is really embarrassing, Dalton.”
“Tell me, Isabelle. Don’t be embarrassed.”
She blew out a breath. “Okay. There’s been a couple times I’ve lost it when I find myself staring at you in … that way.”
“What way?”
“God, are you dense? In the way a woman stares at a man. When she wants him.”
“Oh.” He was dense. And flattered as hell. And worried. “Well, thanks. I think.”
She laughed. “You’re welcome. I think.”
He pulled up the chair next to him and placed his foot on it. “So it’s in your dreams. And it’s focused on me. Or at least tapping into your sexual desires.”
“Great. So we’re at least pinpointing something. Now what do we do about it? How do we stop it from
