Dream Wedding(17)

“I can’t,” she said, her voice tight. “I can’t. I have to—” She couldn’t think of a real excuse so she didn’t bother making one. Instead she gathered up her notes and her tape recorder and thrust both into her briefcase.

It was too much to take in. The dream and the man and the fact that she’d known what the scar looked like before she’d even seen it.

“I’ll be in touch,” she managed as she scrambled to her feet and headed for the parking lot.

“Chloe? Is something wrong?”

She held him off with a wave. As soon as she was on the far side of the garden, she began to run. It was only when she tried to fit her key in the lock that she realized she was blinded by tears she could neither explain nor understand. What on earth was happening to her?





CHAPTER FOUR


CHLOE FINISHED STACKING the folders into neat piles. She’d already dusted her computer, rearranged her pencil cup and answered all her messages. Even the boring ones. Still, the busywork wasn’t enough to keep her mind from scurrying around like a frantic chicken, scuttling from place to place, or in her case, subject to subject.

She’d tried lecturing herself on the importance of being professional. She’d scanned a couple of articles on maintaining one’s cool during interviews. She’d taken countless deep breaths, tried a bit of stretching in the ladies’ room and had even sworn off coffee.

It wasn’t helping. The truth was she was scared.

Something strange was happening to her. She didn’t want it to be true, but she could no longer ignore the obvious. Fact number one. Before yesterday, she’d never met Arizona Smith. She didn’t think she’d even seen a picture of him or known who he was. Fact number two. Night before last she’d had a long, detailed, highly erotic dream about Arizona. A dream so intense just thinking about it sent a quiver of excitement through her belly. Fact number three. In said dream, she’d pictured Arizona naked. She knew what the man looked like naked. That was fine. All men sort of looked the same without their clothes. The basic working parts had a lot in common. But it was more than that. She knew about his scars. The one on his knee and the one on his forearm. Fact number four. That very morning she’d had confirmation that her dream had some basis in reality. After all, the scar had been exactly as she remembered it.

Fact number five. Maybe she was going crazy.

Chloe folded her arms on her desk and let her head sink down to her hands. She refused to consider insanity as an explanation to her problem. It had to be something else. Something logical. Maybe along with seeing his picture and not remembering it, she’d also read an article that mentioned his scars.

Or maybe the nightgown was real.

That last thought made her shudder, but in a whole different way than when she thought about making love with Arizona. Anything mystic was just too weird for her. She didn’t want the nightgown to be real. She didn’t want to know her destiny and she sure didn’t want to have to get involved with a man like Arizona Smith. He had a woman in every port. He didn’t even believe in love.

She straightened in her chair. He was wrong about love. It did exist. Unfortunately it wasn’t worth the pain it brought along, but it was definitely real.

“I don’t want this,” she murmured to herself. “I want my life to be normal, like everyone else’s.”

She suddenly remembered she was in the office. Talking to herself in the car was one thing, but in front of others, especially coworkers, was quite another.

This has gone on too long, she told herself firmly and silently. She had to pull herself together. She reached for the pad of paper she always kept by her phone and then grabbed a pen. She would make a list. List making always helped.

First, she would pretend the dream never happened. Every time she thought about it, she would push it to the back of her mind. Eventually she would forget. Second, she was going to act like the professional she was. No more personal conversations, no more freaking out because she saw a scar. She didn’t even want to imagine what Arizona must think of her.

“Professional,” she muttered. It was time to work on her article.

She glanced at the list she’d made, figured she could remember both items on her own and tossed the paper into the trash. Next, she reviewed the background material Nancy had left her. There were a couple of points that hadn’t been clear. Chloe picked up the phone and dialed the reporter’s home number.

When Nancy answered, Chloe introduced herself and politely asked about her pregnancy. They talked about work for a few minutes, then Nancy mentioned Arizona.

“I’ve been seeing the man everywhere on the local news. Is he as impressive in person?”