WANTED (A Transported Through Time book) by Amber Scott Page B

She sat upright, pushing the woman’s hands away.
    “What are you doing?” What happened? She must have passed out in the woman’s kitchen. She was still here, sitting on the awful-colored linoleum. Carla was trying to make her drink something.
    “It’s all right, Sammie. Drink this. You blacked out.”
    Samantha pushed the cup away. Hard. It spilled onto Carla’s low-cut shirt, and the cup clattered to the floor.
    Carla reached after the cup and stood after rescuing it. She ignored Samantha, searching the cup for damages. When the woman held it to her bosom and looked heavenward, Samantha’s little itch of guilt vanished.
    Good. Well, not good. Not bad, either. She looked around her, for what she didn’t know exactly. For a sign of what happened to her, for evidence it wasn’t real.
    That it was over.
    A hollow feeling spread out inside her, pain along the edges. It opened and widened until her whole body numbed a bit.
    “Are you okay?” Carla stood above her, cup set down on the counter behind her. The older woman’s tone wasn’t one of surprise. In fact, it sounded annoyed, even exasperated.
    Samantha tried to stand. The room went all topsy-turvy on her, so she sat back down in the middle of the kitchen floor and glared at the owner of the auction house.
    “Tell me what happened,” she demanded, realizing that Carla probably couldn’t tell her much, but needing to hear some sort of explanation—a run-through of how she went from sipping tea to having the most erotic and realistic dream, outside of all time and place, and then back to here. Sitting in an ugly and old kitchen, staring at the knees of a woman who made her somewhat uncomfortable. “Tell me exactly what happened in the last ten minutes.”
    “Six hours.”
    Samantha blanched. “ Six hours? ” No wonder the dream seemed so long. Oh God, Charles! She had to pick up Charles at the airport. His plane landed hours ago. He would be worried sick. Or raving mad. Or both.
    She again tried to get up. “I have to go.” Again, the dizziness took hold of her, and she pressed her hand to her forehead, sitting back down.
    “If you’d like, I’ll call someone. But I think you should at least drink some water.”
    Carla’s tone sounded strangely concerned. She definitely sounded worried, but for some reason, Samantha didn’t get the feeling the woman was worried about her health. Probably annoyed a customer had gone and passed out for six hours—
    “Why didn’t you call an ambulance or something?” Samantha looked up at the woman.
    Carla had the decency to look caught and a bit remorseful. “I thought you’d wake up?” She said it like a question, one eye squinting dubiously at Samantha.
    A weird thought sprang into Samantha’s mind. “Did you slip something in my tea?” Even saying it sounded ludicrous, let alone thinking it, but she couldn’t seem to stop the words.
    Carla snorted, shook her head, and crossed her arms. “No. Like what? Drugs?”
    Samantha slowly nodded. “Yeah. Drugs. Did you slip me something to try to get my dad’s map and poster from me without paying? Are you trying to steal from me?”
    God, she wished she could stand up, move, or something. Too late, it occurred to her that accusing someone of something like foul play wasn’t done well from a vulnerable and immovable position, such as her current one. In case it was true, probably not the smartest thing to do.
    Carla’s response was anything but evil or villainous. She stammered, gasped, and threw up her hands, only to recross them over her bust. She turned back to the counter, where the cup sat.
    A funny feeling formed in Samantha’s stomach. She suddenly got the idea that she knew Carla from somewhere. That was impossible. She’d never met Carla before. The funny feeling turned to a sour feeling. The hollow became hurting. She didn’t like this, any of it. She almost wished she hadn’t awakened, and that scared her.
    She didn’t want to be depressed or