No Longer a Dream Read online

  'Hey.' A concerned Vikki came down on her knees in front of her. 'It can't be that bad.'

  'Worse,' she choked, shaking her head.

  Vikki smiled gently, a beautiful red-head, with snapping blue eyes, a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and a delightful way of being able to laugh at any and everything. She had been Cat's salvation after Harry's death, the two of them sharing this house since that time, more like sisters than just close friends.

  'It's no crime to like a man, to find him attractive, to go home with him,' Vikki chided.

  'I didn't,' Cat swallowed hard.

  Her friend frowned. 'Then where ?'

  'I meant I didn't go home with him,' she explained abruptly. 'I was already there,' she added heavily.

  'Already there? But—' Vikki looked even more confused. 'Luke Steele?' she sounded disbelieving. 'I've seen photographs of him; he's very good-looking. But—'

  'Totally selfish and egotistical,' Cat shook her head. 'And too young. No, it wasn't him. Oh, Vikki, I don't know what I'm going to do!' she wailed. 'I woke up in bed next to the man and—'

  'Next to who?' Vikki gasped her frustration.

  'Mr Steele,' she dismissed. 'And —'

  'Mr Steele?' Vikki repeated doubtfully.

  'Caleb Steele,' she explained impatiently. 'And he—'

  'And you still call him Mr?' Vikki frowned her disbelief.

  'If you'll listen I'll tell you!' she snapped. 'His son put alcohol in my orange juice—'

  'Uh-oh,' her friend grimaced.

  'Yes,' she sighed. 'He says he didn't but— Vikki, what usually happens when I pass out?'

  'I'm not sure I understand what you mean?' Vikki looked more confused than ever.

  'What I mean is, do I do anything, before or after—or during?' she grimaced as she got to what she was really trying to say.

  Her friend's brow cleared. 'Unconscious women do not make love with strange men,' she told her confidently.

  'But that's just it, Vikki,' she groaned. 'Do I stay unconscious or do I ?'

  'Get up on tables and dance naked?' her friend taunted.

  'Vikki!'

  'Well surely he knows whether or not you made love. He wasn't drunk, too, was he?'

  'Doubtful,' she said drily, sure Caleb Steele never lost hours out of his life because of drink. 'And he says we didn't make love,' she frowned.

  Vikki gave her strained face a considering look. 'But you don't believe him,' she realised.

  'It isn't that,' she groaned. 'I—something happened, and—well, it gave me a sense of deja vu.' Colour darkened her cheeks as she recalled watching Caleb in the mirrors above them as he made love to her. At that moment his lovemaking had seemed so—so familiar, as if she really had made love with him before. 'Vikki, I'm just not sure what happened,' she choked.

  'I doubt he's the sort of man who would disclaim making love if you really had,' Vikki derided.

  'He isn't the sort of man who needs another notch in his bedpost, if that's what you mean.'

  A strange expression flickered in Vikki's eyes. 'You liked him,' she stated incredulously.

  'No, I—' She frowned. 'I don't like him. But I'm confused by him. What happened—'

  'Hasn't happened since Harry,' her friend finished gently.

  The sexual torment she had known in Caleb Steele's arms was nothing like the joy she had always known in Harry's arms. But it had been so intense, and for those few brief minutes she had felt more alive than she had for a very long time. It unnerved her.

  She shook off her feelings of confusion, determined to put the incident behind her. 'He's refused to introduce me to his father.' She stood up to strip off her gown and pull on fitted denims and a black jumper, releasing her hair from inside the high collar.

  Vikki stood up too, realising that any more personal confidences about Caleb Steele weren't going to be forthcoming. 'Do you really need his help?' she shrugged.

  'I don't know where his father is,' Cat grimaced. 'And I wouldn't feel right writing the chapter without talking to him.'

  'Then you'll have to speak to Caleb Steele again.' Vikki knew better than to argue with Cat's principle of always talking to people before writing about them.

  That realisation had been slowly coming to her. She would just have to leave it long enough for Caleb to have got over last night.

  The dream came to her for the first time that night.

  Her arms were laden down with books, and it was all she could do to reach the doorbell, ringing it once before quickly moving her hand to stop the pile of books sliding to the floor.

  She had spent most of the day at the library, had finally decided she might as well check the books out and continue working at home. Not a single bus had arrived at her stop in the twenty minutes she had waited, it was pouring down with rain, and she was very much afraid the top book was waterlogged. She just hoped it wasn't one of the really expensive ones.

  Vikki opened the door just as Cat thought the books were going to tumble to the floor anyway.

  'Thank goodness.' She breathed a sigh of relief as she hastily moved inside to put the books down on the telephone table in the hallway.

  'My sentiments exactly!' Vikki groaned behind her. 'You're home at last!'

  She turned with a frown on her face, rubbing her wet hands together to try and ward off the cold. 'What is it? The boiler didn't go again, did it?' She grimaced, the image of the hot bath she had been thinking of relaxing in, all the way home suddenly disappearing as she envisaged contacting the heating maintenance again about the boiler breaking down and leaving them with no heating and no hot water.

  'It isn't the boiler,' a ruffled Vikki dismissed as she closed the door. 'I only wish it were,' she added with feeling. 'Where have you been all this time? You said you would be bade about five.'

  She was well aware of the fact that it was now after seven, but Vikki didn't usually get herself in such a flap if she should happen to be late. 'You didn't get dinner ready, did you?' she sighed at the thought of the ruined meal. 'You should have said this morning, and then I—'

  'I didn't get dinner ready,' Vikki interrupted impatiently. 'I just wish you had got home when you said you were going to.' She roughly helped Cat off with her wet coat.

  It wasn't like her friend to get this agitated about anything. And something else occurred to Cat at the same time. 'Why are we whispering?' she whispered, having automatically lowered her voice after Vikki's initial hushed exclamation. 'Have you got a sore throat?' she asked with concern. 'You should have said—'

  'I haven't got a sore throat, the boiler hasn't broken down, and dinner isn't in ruins!' Vikki was really agitated now. 'But you do have a visitor. And he's—'

  'He?' she frowned warily.

  'Yes, he!' her friend hissed. 'He's been sitting in our lounge making polite conversion for over an hour. Since I informed him you were bound to be home soon so he may as well wait! And, Cat,' she groaned her consternation. 'I actually opened the door to him in my rollers! I'd just washed my hair, and I thought it was you, and—'

  'Vikki, who is my visitor?' she asked in a controlled voice, having a terrible feeling she already knew his identity. Vikki wasn't the type to get flustered for no reason, and so her visitor must be someone she didn't feel comfortable with. What was he doing here?

  'Caleb Steele.' Her friend confirmed her thoughts. 'Oh, Cat, I've been boring him out of his mind.' She winced at the memory. 'Talking about everything and nothing. And all the time he's been replying "yes" and "no", with this cold little smile playing about his lips!'

  She sighed, knowing exactly how inadequate Vikki was feeling, also knowing her friend was probably right about Caleb being bored out of his mind, remembering only too well what he had once told her about women that talked too much!

  What was he doing here? she asked herself again. Two weeks had gone by since the morning he had brought her home in her evening dress. She had decided to give him another week and then contact him about anoth
er meeting. She couldn't imagine what had prompted him to come here to her.

  'Did he say what he wants?' she frowned.

  Vikki shrugged. 'Just to see you. He hasn't said much at all,' she explained shakily. 'Just sat there looking at me while I chattered on and on!' she added with mortification. 'I never thought there was such a thing as black-coloured eyes until just now!'

  Those eyes were almost as unnerving as the man, Cat knew that. She squeezed Vikki's arm reassuringly. 'Don't worry, I'll take over now,' she said, with more confidence than she felt.

  'I'm going out,' Vikki grabbed her coat from the hook, hastily pulling it on. 'I told Sarah I might go round tonight; I've just decided it's an excellent idea!'

  It was Caleb's fault Vikki had been driven out of her own home, the visit to her friend something she had just thought of, Cat was sure of it. Well, he could be as rude to her as he liked, but he wasn't going to treat her friends in the same way.

  She picked up the pile of books and marched through to the lounge, almost faltering as her gaze clashed with a black one, her dreams suddenly a vivid reality. She had never had dreams like them before, would wake up shaking with fulfilment, knowing it was this man's lips and hands that had given her that ecstasy. They were so real, so vivid, that as she gazed at him across the room she felt as if she had known every intimacy there was with this man.

  She had had those same dreams every night for the last two weeks, would deny them even to herself, only to have them return, when sleep came to her. She daren't talk about them, daren't acknowledge them, had thrown herself into a frenzy of work, hoping to be too tired to dream when she finally fell asleep. It never worked.

  'Cat.' Caleb stood up in one fluid movement, the green shirt tailored to him, as were the close-fitting black trousers. 'Let me take those.' He plucked the books out of her arms as if they weighed nothing at all, discarding them on to the side table. 'How have you been?'

  How had she been? The last thing the two of them had between them was politeness!

  'You look terrible,' she told him with brutal honesty, lines of tiredness beside those dark eyes, deep grooves beside his grim mouth, 'Is it Luke? she asked with premonition.

  He gave a ragged sigh of confirmation. 'He was involved in an accident—'

  'No!' Compassion darkened her eyes.

  Caleb's mouth twisted. 'Don't worry, he isn't dead,' he derided, his mouth suddenly tightening. 'Although he thought he was going to be.'

  'What happened?' she prompted quietly.

  'He decided to see if he could fly his car off the top of a bridge!'

  She swallowed hard. 'Drugs?'

  'Who knows?' his father grated. 'I didn't come here to talk about that, only to tell you that when he thought he was on his death bed he decided to confess his sins!'

  'Oh.'

  'Is that all?' His eyes widened. 'My son tells me he got several of his female guests to undress you and put you in my bed after you passed out from drinking vodka and orange juice and all you can say is "oh"!'

  She shrugged, turning away, grateful at least that it wasn't Luke himself who had undressed her and put her in his father's bed. 'I already told you that had to be what happened,' she dismissed.

  'And I didn't believe you,' Caleb snapped. 'Once Luke is walking again—he broke a leg,' he explained at her questioning look. 'Once he's back on his feet I'm going to knock him off them again! Do you realise the gravity of what he did to you that night?'

  'Do you?' she returned softly.

  His mouth was tight. 'When I climbed into that bed all I knew was that there was a warm and inviting woman there. You were lucky I was too tired to do anything about it!'

  It didn't matter that he hadn't made love to her that night, he made love to her every other night, in her dreams! 'You really didn't have to come here—'

  'Of course I did,' he scowled. 'I owe you an apology.'

  And how difficult he was finding it to make it! Regret and remorse didn't sit well on his shoulders at all. 'Take it as said,' she dismissed. 'Now if you wouldn't mind I'd like to take a bath and get warm?' She was aware that her hair was drying in wild disorder.

  He frowned. 'What are you doing with all these books?'

  Her mouth twisted. 'Research. "Looking up the history of the time, it's all in there",' she derided.

  His eyes were cold. 'Afraid of hard work, Miss Howard?'

  'Not at all, Mr Steele,' she returned as formally. 'But it would be so much easier if I could just talk to your father.'

  'I realise that,' he nodded. 'But as I've told you before, my father doesn't see anyone.'

  'Why?' she frowned.

  'He has his reasons,' Caleb dismissed harshly.

  Cat sighed. 'I'm sure he does. But not being able to talk to him is making it very difficult for me to write about him.' The preliminary work she had done on the chapter had come out very stiff and documented, rather than the interesting flow she was aiming for.

  'I'm sorry.'

  The lack of sincerity in his voice made her stiffen. 'You've made your apology…' she said pointedly.

  'No, I haven't,' he derided. 'Have dinner with me?'

  'Why?' she returned suspiciously.

  He shrugged. 'As part of my apology for misjudging you.'

  'No, thank you,' she refused primly. 'I have to take a bath, and then I have some work to do. And I'm sure you would like to go and visit your son.'

  'I've just been with him.' Black eyes compelled her to look at him. 'I want to have dinner with you, little cat.'

  She swallowed hard. 'Why?' she asked again.

  Caleb looked exasperated with her suspicion. 'Because I haven't eaten, your friend said you haven't eaten, and it would be nice if we could eat together.'

  No time spent with this man could ever be described as nice. Exciting, electric, even nerve- racking, but never nice! 'I usually just grab a sandwich—'

  'I can see that.' His dark gaze swept over her disparagingly.

  Cat looked down at herself self-consciously. She was a little on the slender side, as the clinging black jumper and black cords clearly showed, but it wasn't an unhealthy thin. 'I thought I was perfect?' she reminded him mockingly.

  'You are,' he nodded abruptly. 'You're also pale and hollow-cheeked. You could use a little healthy food inside you.'

  'Mr Steele—'

  'I thought we settled that,' he drawled. 'You can't possibly be that formal with a man you've slept with,' he derided. 'And I do mean slept.'

  She blushed. 'I don't want to go out to dinner with you,' she told him firmly. 'Whatever your name is!'

  His lips curved into that rare smile. 'You know what my name is, little cat,' he drawled. 'And if you don't feel like going out we could always stay here and eat. Although I'd want something more substantial than a sandwich,' he added mockingly.

  'You are not having any sort of dinner here.' She spoke precisely, so that there should be no mistake as to her meaning.

  'You aren't thinking this out, Cat,' he drawled confidently. 'Just think, you could spend the entire evening trying to get information out of me about my parents' marriage.'

  She knew as well as he did that she wouldn't get any information out of him that he didn't want to tell her! 'If you would like to give me a formal interview,' she bit out, 'I'd be happy to fit in with your other appointments. But I'm not having dinner with you on the off-chance that you may make the occasional remark about your parents that you can instantly refute as soon as I try to print it!'

  He scowled with annoyance. 'I want you to have dinner with me,' he rasped.

  She knew that, felt as if she knew this man very well from her dreams. 'And I've refused,' she pointed out dismissively.

  'Several times,' he acknowledged impatiently. 'You've been trying to see me for months, and now that I'm giving you the opportunity you turn me down!'

  What she being foolish to do so? The night she had spent in his bed hadn't been his fault, and he couldn't be held responsible for the viv
idness of her wanton dreams about him either! And there was always the possibility that he might decide to talk about his parents.

  'Can you wait while I bath and dress?' she asked awkwardly.

  Triumph glittered in the dark eyes, although it was quickly masked, his mouth twisted mockingly. 'I can wait,' he murmured.

  Cat gave him a sharp look, but could read nothing from his expression. And yet for a moment, a very brief moment, she had sensed something else in his words. She shook her head dismissively, sure she must have imagined it. And yet what did he get out of the evening if not her!

  'Caleb,' she spoke slowly. 'What do you want?'

  'Want?' he repeated cautiously.

  'Yes.'

  'I'm not sure I—'

  'Why do you, who have avoided me for months, suddenly want to take me to dinner?' She watched him frowningly.

  'I want you.'

  She gasped, unable to hide her surprise. 'Me?' she repeated faintly, stunned at his blunt honesty.

  'Yes,' he confirmed grimly. 'Even before Luke told me the truth about that night I knew I had to see you again. But first Luke had his accident, and then another union row broke out, and I couldn't seem to get away. But all that time I've been seeing you, naked, in my arms. I want you, Cat.'

  'No—'

  'I realise I have to evict the ghost from your bed before I can even hope to join you there myself,' he rasped. 'But I can be a patient man when I want something badly enough.'

  She shook her head, wordlessly denying him and the things he was saying.

  'He's dead, Cat,' Caleb told her with deliberate cruelty. 'And you're young and beautiful and alive.'

  'I love him,' she choked. 'I'll always love him.'

  His mouth thinned. 'He's never coming back,' he told her harshly.

  She was breathing raggedly. 'That's no reason for me to let you into my life,' she said angrily. 'I don't even like you!'

  'You like me to make love to you,' he taunted.

  All the colour drained from her face. 'I— you—what do you mean?' He couldn't know about those dreams, no one could!

  'That morning in my bed…' He stepped closer, the heat of his body touching her. 'If Luke hadn't walked in when he did we would have made love completely. Well?' he prompted as she made no answer.