Night Lover Read online

  “Lizzy.”

  “What?” She held up her hands. “I’m just stating the obvious. Look, you know you have to go through with this now, and it might send your career right into the stratosphere. Finn is a major talent on the classical scene here. You have to do this.”

  I sat up straight. I couldn’t allow old memories to hold me back. Lizzy was right. I would have run into Finn somewhere eventually. Yes, I’d be on his turf, but I’d demonstrate my professionalism. I would be gracious and show him I’d moved on. Heck, we might even be friends.

  Besides, eight years felt like eternity. God only knew I wasn’t the slim thing I’d been in college. I’d put on some pounds and developed a couple of lines. Surely Finn was no longer a musical stud muffin. Why, he’d probably lost his hair. He might have a beer belly. He always did like his Guinness. If I was lucky, he might even have lost a tooth or two, thanks to his penchant for sweets.

  I’d see him and no longer experience the gut-wrenching desire I once did. “Just answer one question. I don’t suppose he’s become an ogre since I last saw him?”

  She cocked a red brow. “Do you want the bad news now or later?”

  I glared at her.

  She sucked air in between her teeth. “I think there’s a chance he might actually be hotter than he was in school. He’s bulked up. Not a starving student anymore after all.”

  “Perfect. Just perfect.”

  “Never mind Finn’s hot bod. This is London. The place is crawling with sexy guys. All you have to do is ask and one will appear.”

  I smiled at my friend, determined not to get hot under the collar for Finn or any other ghosts. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here to work. I’ve come all this way and I’m not letting a man, any man, dictate my life.”

  Lizzy clapped her hands. “Awesome. Now let’s order some Chinese and celebrate over a plate of sweet and sour chicken.”

  »»•««

  We laughed over Chinese take-out that night, and spent our time catching up with each other’s lives. Before long, she confessed her secret lust for the Sonata percussionist.

  “You should see this guy. He’s so fine, I just want to peel each time he walks by.”

  “I thought you didn’t like percussionists. You always say they're too full of themselves.”

  “I don’t care. I want Joseph to bang my drum.”

  I watched her as she talked, her lovely face so animated. When I was a little girl, I coveted the features Lizzy despised in herself. As a freckled redhead, she often complained about her fair features, preferring my dark eyes and hair.

  She picked up an egg roll and started nibbling. “So how did the great Anthony Price take your departure?”

  “He was nice, but really surprised. He wished me well.” I considered. “Maybe I’m reading into the look he gave me, but I have a feeling he might have regretted never giving me a chance.”

  “Good. Let him regret it. And what about Clarissa?”

  I almost wanted to feel vindicated now that I no longer had to put up with Clarissa, but I couldn’t. Ever since she’d bitten her tongue in such savage fashion in rehearsal, she’d toned down the drama. She’d never quite looked me in the eye again. Her behavior made me feel as if I had a scary devil on my shoulder, taunting her. “Well, I think she was happy to see me go, but no, I don’t think she was pleased.”

  “Excellent.” She offered me a wide, satisfied smile. “Now, onto more interesting people. Tell me more about your dreams and this blond dude you thought you saw in the theater.”

  “I did see him. He was from my dream. I’m not making it up.”

  “And you think he’s been sexing you up at night?”

  “Someone has. Lizzy, I wake up and my thighs are…wet.”

  “Those are vivid dreams. Sign me up.”

  “Oh, right. Because we all want to be ravished in our sleep.”

  “I’m sure you just imagined it.”

  “Like a crazy person, right?”

  “You’re not crazy…much. You’re just feeling the strain.” She touched the skin under my right eye. “Look at those dark circles, baby. We need to get some cucumber slices on those things before you see Finn. You know, just to show him how fabulous you’ve become.”

  “Enough about Finn, please.” I munched on some lo mein, not wanting to speculate on my fabulousness. “Back to my dream man. I know what I saw in the theater, Liz. He was there. All handsome and tall and blond, with that damned come-hither smile.”

  “You do realize you’re in lust with your dream stud.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Oh, yes, you are. I’ve seen you through numerous flirtations and I know the signs. You like doing the nasty with ghost boy.”

  “He’s not a ghost.” Was he? I didn’t know what else to call him. “Don’t make light of it. It’s weird and morbid.”

  “It’s nothing. I have sex dreams all the time. My favorite one involved both Steve Tyler and Joe Perry from Aerosmith.” Her eyes glazed over in a decidedly dreamy expression, but she soon shook it off. “Forget about it.”

  “Forget about it, right. You can help me clean my sheets the next time I wake up soaked.”

  She grimaced.

  In an attempt to change the topic, I walked over to the window and leaned on the sill. Lizzy’s flat boasted a good view of Big Ben and Parliament. Listening to the sounds of the city below me, I could almost forget my strange dream life. She joined me and we both stood quietly for a few moments. I sighed as I took in my surroundings. As far as I was concerned, evening was the ideal time to glimpse the famous clock tower. Lights lit up the elegant yellow stone work and the clock face shone mysteriously out into the dark sky.

  “I love this place,” I whispered. Despite different-shaped cabs and interesting accents, I felt strangely at peace. “I feel like I’ve come home. Is that weird?”

  She hugged me. “Not weird at all.”

  »»•««

  Heaviness.

  I opened my eyes, conscious of a heaviness at my chest. Something pressed there, sliding its way up to my throat. Constricting. Choking. Compelling me to notice.

  Clawing at my throat, my mouth open, I struggled to force air into my lungs. A distant memory from the past flitted in front of my eyes. First aid class. How long did the instructor say a person could survive without being able to breathe? Minutes? Seconds?

  Please. Stop. I’ll die.

  Out of the darkness, my dream man appeared in front of me. The man with the blond hair, staring right into me, as if he knew me. Almost immediately, the choking sensation lessened and then disappeared, leaving behind a feeling of sweet relief. Despite my unease, I couldn’t help but be affected by his beauty. His kind eyes sought to comfort me and his gaze felt like a caress.

  All I knew in that moment was anticipation. Cruel and cutting, my need for him sliced into me, leaving me with a palpable pain under my skin.

  For the first time, I noticed his old-fashioned ensemble, something out of the Regency period. Attired in a blue riding coat and tall boots, he could have been the hero of a Georgette Heyer romance novel.

  He held a hand out to me and opened his mouth to speak. “You’re mine.”

  A low ache, a foreign desire, spread like wildfire through my womb. How could I be his? I didn’t even know his name. Was he even a real man at all?

  I wanted to ask but I couldn’t form the words.

  As in all my previous dreams, he led me to a bed and urged me to lay. A few deft touches and my clothes disappeared. His warmth filled me, excited me, and inspired me. I cried out as he took me, and prayed he’d do it again and again because it felt so good.

  Every touch, every kiss, changed me.

  A distant clock chimed the quarter hour, interrupting our lovemaking. I awoke and opened my eyes. Whirring, spinning blackness surrounded me, and my eyelids fluttered as I tried to focus. I needed to hold onto the mattress to gain equilibrium.

  Back in Lizzy’s flat, I lay among cru
mpled, sweaty sheets. As I blinked, attempting to see in the dark, I cast a hopeful glance about the room, strangely desperate to find my night lover among the shadows, but he’d disappeared again.

  I reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a handful of tissues. My panties were bunched around one ankle. I kicked them off and wiped between my legs. I tossed the moistened tissues, so redolent of sex, into the small bin next to the bed. I then rolled over and buried my head in my pillow. I wanted to see more of him, wanted him to alleviate the insistent throb in my core. I shut my eyes, trying in vain to will myself back into my dream, but lay awake for the rest of the night.

  His words echoed over and over. You’re mine.

  »»•««

  As Lizzy and I hoisted our bags onto the platform at the Shanley rail station, she eyed me.

  “I really should have packed some cucumber slices for your eyes. You look like shit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Seriously, Renata. Are you eating your veggies? You’re really pale.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Another dream of sexy ghost boy?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Damn, babe. You sure have elevated avoidance to a fine art.”

  Ignoring her, I attempted to put my dream, and its accompanying feelings of longing, out of my head. I’d have to face Finn today and sing in my first rehearsal with Sonata. All things considered, this should be an amazing day. In fact, if I could force myself to forget the dreams and my nerves about seeing my old boyfriend, I could almost drum up some goose bumps of excitement.

  Once off the train, we grabbed a cab and got settled at the local bed and breakfast, the Shanley Inn. Bearing wooden timbers and crooked angles, it was just the sort of charming building through which William Shakespeare might have wandered.

  I dropped my bags onto my bed and ran my hand over the ancient wood on the wall. “Look, Lizzy. It’s beautiful. I can almost see Mr. Darcy proposing to Elizabeth Bennet in this place.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Mr. Darcy and all that crap.” She did not share my fascination for history and literature.

  From what I could see from my window, the village was very pretty. I could make out a main street and stone cottages in the distance. The church steeple was modest compared to others, but absolutely towered over the other village buildings. “We’ll have to visit the church. I want to see the monuments and gravestones.”

  “You already see enough dead people. Ones who give you the cha cha’s. Let’s stop while we’re ahead.” She elbowed me. “I hope you like this place. It's a little on the small side.”

  I smiled, feeling better than I had in ages. “It’s perfect.”

  Rehearsals would take place in the music room at Dawlish Manor, the ancient seat of the local big wigs, or so Lizzy informed me. I couldn’t wait to see it. Apparently the festival itself would be outside on the sprawling lawns. People came from everywhere to hear Sonata. The more I considered it, the happier I became for Finn. As new head of this prestigious group, he’d earn a lot of acclaim. Despite how our relationship ended, I was proud of him. I’d known how talented a conductor he was, right from our first class together. As a conducting student, he’d often had to conduct the singing students. We’d worked together countless times and each moment with him had only left me feeling awed, and flattered he’d noticed me.

  I remembered practicing a difficult passage with him once in one of the cramped college practice rooms. I’d grown so frustrated at not being able to hit a certain note that lay within my range. He’d helped me attack the note in a new way, producing a sound I’d never heard in myself before. I’d been elated.

  “See?” he’d said, reaching for my hand. “You’re brilliant. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently, Lark.”

  It was the first time he’d called me that and the first time he’d kissed me. My knees still knocked when I remembered how he’d sidled up to me, his lips twitched in a curious half smile. Amazing. I’d had several lovers since, but a college student’s kiss still managed to make my heart palpitate.

  Don’t go there, Renata. You can’t afford to dredge up those memories. No, I had to be adult about this, for me and for Finn. I wanted to show him the school girl had grown up. And knowing how important this gig was to him as well, I didn’t want to let him down.

  Lizzy and I made our way through the village, and with each step, I fell more in love. We walked up the high street and I took note of the buildings on either side. There was a small shop, a post office, and the ubiquitous British pub. Window boxes with geraniums and marigolds gave a dash of bright color to each stone building.

  We stopped at a small café for a bracing coffee. After learning we were associated with the music festival, the proprietress said, “Gird your loins, girls. Dawlish Manor is haunted.” She then cackled and returned to her customers.

  I giggled. “Did you hear her? We’re going to have rehearsals in an actual haunted house.”

  “Renata, this is England.” Liz stared at me, her face deadpan. “Every house here is haunted.”

  We walked to the far end of the village. Before long, we spotted the manor. A gravel pathway led up to the house and the grounds were dotted with large willow and yew trees. I inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of freshly-cut grass. The lawns seemed to go on forever, interrupted only by patches of well-tended flowers. On the furthest lawn, a group of workmen were busy setting up bleachers and tents for the festival.

  As we approached, I marveled at the beauty of the house. Comprised of a yellow brick, the manor was crowned by a cupola. Whoever had built the place had put much thought into every small detail, from the intricate woodwork on the doors to the decorative windows. I got the sense love had been poured into each slab of mortar. Just looking upon it lifted my spirits. A group of manor employees passed us on the walkway, and I found myself wishing I had the place all to myself.

  It seemed familiar and homey, despite its grandeur. I couldn’t shake the sensation I was exactly where I was supposed to be, that I had been there before.

  I glanced at the main door as it creaked open. A tall man appeared in the entryway, his gaze darting about, as if searching for someone. And then he spotted me.

  Finn.

  I sucked in a breath. Oh, God. He is hotter than before.

  Even as I steeled myself against a barrage of emotion, tearing into me like shrapnel, I couldn’t help but grin. He looked different, and yet wonderfully the same. In college, he had sported a longish hairdo, his bangs always falling in his eyes. Now, he wore his light brown hair cut short. He’d previously worn glasses, but didn’t at present. Perhaps he’d taken them off. And, as Lizzy had warned, he now had muscles. Nice ones. Not like a bodybuilder, but like a man who worked with his hands. Strong. With a build more suited to a hot contractor than a conductor, he oozed control and authority, like any good leader should. I had gone to school with a lot of musicians. None of them looked remotely as fine as my Finn.

  He’s not yours, remember?

  Lizzy ran forward and hugged him. They said something to each other, but I couldn’t make it out. I was too busy analyzing the cut of his jeans, and how well those jeans highlighted his frame. He and Lizzy turned and walked toward me.

  My hearted vaulted into an irregular rhythm. My palms began to sweat so I gave them a surreptitious wipe on the back of my jeans. I choked down the lump in my throat and smiled. “Finn.”

  He stood in front of me, looking me up and down. His lips parted, as if to say something, but he merely looked questioningly at me, as if he didn’t quite believe it was me. His face colored for an instant, but the flush disappeared. Even still, his assessing gaze did not drop. “Renata. Welcome to Shanley. You look good.”

  His accent, always a funny hybrid of English and Scottish, had thickened. With a father who headed up a large supermarket chain, he’d spent his formative years moving all over the U.K. and his lilt was as unique as it was seductive. Each syllable sounded
like music. Heat ravaged my face. I stuck out my hand. “You, too.”

  He looked at my hand and then cocked a brow. “Really? A handshake?” He shook his head, grinning, and enfolded me in a hug.

  I stiffened in his arms, confronted by his wall of a chest. Unsure where to put my hands, I just gave him a weird, platonic pat on the back. Dammit, he still smells so good. A little bit of soap, a tease of deodorant, and sweet warmth. I resisted the urge to bury my nose in his shirt collar and cry.

  He cleared his throat as he pulled away, the apples of his cheeks once more pink. “I’m glad you decided to sing with us. Your audition tape was amazing.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate you offering me the job. Congrats on being made conductor of Sonata, by the way. They’re lucky to have you.”

  “I tell them that every day.” He smiled.

  “Where are your glasses?”

  “Laser surgery. I grew tired of not being able to see the notes.”

  “Ah.” I had to admit, I missed the glasses. He’d always looked adorable with them. There had been something distinctly sexy about the way he’d peel them off before kissing me. Not that new Finn wasn’t adorable in his own way. No, adorable wasn’t the right word. I allowed my gaze to pan quickly over his broad chest, strong arms, and legs.

  Clearly he’d stopped being adorable some time ago. There was no hint of boy about him. He was all man now.

  “The rest of the group is inside,” he said, turning toward the house. “We still have some time before rehearsal. Let me show you around the manor so you don’t get lost.”

  Lizzy jumped in, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “I’m going to pass on the tour. I need to see a man about a horse.”

  “For real?” I asked, smiling through my gritted teeth. I silently begged her not to leave me alone with him.

  She avoided my pointed gaze. “Is Joseph around, Finn?”

  “Yeah. In the music room.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you two at rehearsal. Smooches!” She fled into the manor.

  I made a mental note to put her hand in warm water as she slept. How dare she abandon me with him…when he looked like this?