finally both feet up there and I felt bad when I saw the bloody gash on his brow. He’d smacked his head on the floor, hard. Now I couldn’t fight the vision long enough to walk around the bed, so I crawled over him. His moan reassured me as I dizzied my way into a different time and place, me sitting in this very room, in Dom’s boudoir chair, the seafoam gown she’d sent me now in my lap, or in Dom’s lap, actually.
She was wielding a pair of jewelry pliers to pry the pricey cubic zirconias from their settings, while deep inside myself, a fashion designer cringed.
Dom had taken on a tedious process. While I destroyed the gown, I noticed the empty bed with a different spread, blue curtains, and navy watered silk throw pillows. The lampshades now matched the pillows.
I worked quickly, almost in a panic, determined to get the gems from their settings, but why? All I knew was that my heart beat fast while I did, and my gaze kept straying to the door.
Then I saw the box of rhinestones beside me—rhinestones?—and wished I could ask questions. Like, why would I cheapen the dress? But I was alone. Scary alone, threatening shadows closing in on me.
No one from whom to seek help, no one to explain my task. Just “click, snap, click, snap.”
In Dom’s place, I was ruining the gown I had created.
Then the room tilted in jerky, uncoordinated movements, and the vision changed again. I found myself in Dom’s bed with a man. A great kisser. A wide-shouldered armful with an enviable amount of passion, hands everywhere, big hands, knowledgeable hungry lips, and an uber-talented tongue.
I wasn’t sure if I was kissing one of Dom’s lovers, or Ian, her ex-husband—ugh. Please don’t let it be Ian.
I wanted to open my eyes, but they felt glued shut, as could only happen in dreams. No matter, I felt it best not to know the name of my dream-state lover. Unfortunately turned on, I found it impossible not to return his enthusiasm, all our body parts meeting, dangerously well, ebbing and flowing, a coming together filled with depth and sizzle.
The phantom in my bed cupped my cheeks, held my face in place, made a meal of me, and whispered my name.
My name. Madeira. Not Dom or Dominique.
I woke, pulling from the kiss expecting to look straight into Nick’s eyes. Instead, I was looking into . . . Werner’s?
I jumped from the bed as the door opened.
Eve stood for a minute like a doe in headlights, then she barked a laugh and added insult to injury by applauding. “Sinsational!” she snapped, her grin wide. “Can I tell Nick? Please, can I tell him? Can I, huh?”
“Has the world gone mad?” I asked, finding my bruise the hard way, by smacking it with the palm of my hand. “Ouch!”
“Madeira Cutler, you wicked girl.” My erstwhile friend chuckled. “I’ve never been prouder.”
Werner had never actually awakened. And I didn’t know which made me wince more, the demented porker noises he was making or Eve’s satisfaction in them.
“Do you mind?” I asked her as I sat on my side of the bed to clear my head.
“Not at all,” Eve said, closing the door and coming closer to me, her grin making me want to erase it in a satisfying way.
Hands on her hips as she took in the sight of us, Eve shook her head. “Did you guys smoke a joint or something?”
“No, but I did have crazy dreams, that I’m now afraid might have been real, about zapping Tasers and a man shot down in his prime.”
“Why do you have dry blood on your head? And Werner, too?” she asked. “You into something kinky? I was gonna ask if you were decent when I came in, but now I know the answer. You’re engagingly and interestingly indecent, given that honeymoon-type negligee you’re wearing.”
“Stuff it Meyers.”
“Too bad Sir Galahad is boringly, respectably dressed beneath that blanket. Sheesh, what a downer. Way to burst a girl’s bubble. There go all my fiendish hopes and dreams.”
Eve rescued my cell phone from the floor.
She was wielding a pair of jewelry pliers to pry the pricey cubic zirconias from their settings, while deep inside myself, a fashion designer cringed.
Dom had taken on a tedious process. While I destroyed the gown, I noticed the empty bed with a different spread, blue curtains, and navy watered silk throw pillows. The lampshades now matched the pillows.
I worked quickly, almost in a panic, determined to get the gems from their settings, but why? All I knew was that my heart beat fast while I did, and my gaze kept straying to the door.
Then I saw the box of rhinestones beside me—rhinestones?—and wished I could ask questions. Like, why would I cheapen the dress? But I was alone. Scary alone, threatening shadows closing in on me.
No one from whom to seek help, no one to explain my task. Just “click, snap, click, snap.”
In Dom’s place, I was ruining the gown I had created.
Then the room tilted in jerky, uncoordinated movements, and the vision changed again. I found myself in Dom’s bed with a man. A great kisser. A wide-shouldered armful with an enviable amount of passion, hands everywhere, big hands, knowledgeable hungry lips, and an uber-talented tongue.
I wasn’t sure if I was kissing one of Dom’s lovers, or Ian, her ex-husband—ugh. Please don’t let it be Ian.
I wanted to open my eyes, but they felt glued shut, as could only happen in dreams. No matter, I felt it best not to know the name of my dream-state lover. Unfortunately turned on, I found it impossible not to return his enthusiasm, all our body parts meeting, dangerously well, ebbing and flowing, a coming together filled with depth and sizzle.
The phantom in my bed cupped my cheeks, held my face in place, made a meal of me, and whispered my name.
My name. Madeira. Not Dom or Dominique.
I woke, pulling from the kiss expecting to look straight into Nick’s eyes. Instead, I was looking into . . . Werner’s?
I jumped from the bed as the door opened.
Eve stood for a minute like a doe in headlights, then she barked a laugh and added insult to injury by applauding. “Sinsational!” she snapped, her grin wide. “Can I tell Nick? Please, can I tell him? Can I, huh?”
“Has the world gone mad?” I asked, finding my bruise the hard way, by smacking it with the palm of my hand. “Ouch!”
“Madeira Cutler, you wicked girl.” My erstwhile friend chuckled. “I’ve never been prouder.”
Werner had never actually awakened. And I didn’t know which made me wince more, the demented porker noises he was making or Eve’s satisfaction in them.
“Do you mind?” I asked her as I sat on my side of the bed to clear my head.
“Not at all,” Eve said, closing the door and coming closer to me, her grin making me want to erase it in a satisfying way.
Hands on her hips as she took in the sight of us, Eve shook her head. “Did you guys smoke a joint or something?”
“No, but I did have crazy dreams, that I’m now afraid might have been real, about zapping Tasers and a man shot down in his prime.”
“Why do you have dry blood on your head? And Werner, too?” she asked. “You into something kinky? I was gonna ask if you were decent when I came in, but now I know the answer. You’re engagingly and interestingly indecent, given that honeymoon-type negligee you’re wearing.”
“Stuff it Meyers.”
“Too bad Sir Galahad is boringly, respectably dressed beneath that blanket. Sheesh, what a downer. Way to burst a girl’s bubble. There go all my fiendish hopes and dreams.”
Eve rescued my cell phone from the floor.
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