Talking in Your Sleep...

“Joy!” he called from across the street, setting the cords down and seeing she was surprised he knew her name. Crossing to meet her, he tried to ignore the way she tensed up when he neared.

“Sleeping in late on Saturday, huh?”

“I’ve been busy. How’d you know my name?”

“Bessie mentioned it.”

“Bessie?”

He tilted his head toward the house across the street. “Bessie? The older lady who lives there, in the white house—just lost her husband?”

“Oh, yes. Right.”

“I caught her trying to hang some Christmas lights and almost killing herself up on a ladder, so I’m helping her out. Wondered if you might want to come over and give us a hand? I could use someone on the ground to feed me the extension cord while I’m up on the roof. She makes a mean chicken soup.”

“Sorry, I have to get going. I need to replace those groceries.” She didn’t bother hiding the stiff accusation in her tone. “And run some errands.”

“Don’t you ever relax?”

She was clearly taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re always so tense, so tight. You’ll give yourself high blood pressure.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I guess you’re an expert, seeing as you’re an EMT?”

He smiled. “You remembered.”

“Impossible to forget conversations with men who storm in my door in the middle of the night.”

“I hardly stormed your door. Though I probably would have if you hadn’t answered.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“I thought you were in trouble. I didn’t know you were talking in your sleep,” he added, his normally easygoing personality giving way to the urge to taunt her.

“I do not—never mind. I have to get going.”

She stepped around him, and he let her go, shaking his head, but thanking her silently for the reminder that he still needed to go to the store to pick up that tape.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’D DO without you, Joy—you’re a total lifesaver.”

“I had fun. The guys did most of the heavy lifting, and I can’t wait to get back and get those chairs and dressers cleaned up—they’re really gorgeous. You might want to consider selling them rather than using them—I think at least one is an antique.”

They’d been moving some furniture donated by an estate sale into the Second Chance shelter that Pam ran, and were taking time out for a late lunch. It had been a busy afternoon.

“Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like the idea of replacing some of the crappier stuff, make the rooms nicer.”

Joy grinned, relaxed for the first time in days as she sat with Pam Reynolds at the cheery sidewalk café, munching panini sandwiches and talking. Pam was the first friend she’d made in San Diego after she’d moved. The people who had owned Joy’s house had left some old furniture, and Joy had been looking for a place to donate the stuff. She’d discovered a shelter a half mile away and when she’d called Pam, she’d not only taken Joy’s donations, but had ended up talking her into doing some volunteer time at the shelter.

It was a great place. Second Chance did more than give people a meal or a cot for the night; Pam was really trying to change people’s lives. The shelter housed up to twelve residents at a time. The men came from all walks of life, but they all wanted a second chance, and that was what she gave them. Pam had arrangements with local colleges, employers, businesses, high schools, doctors…. Whatever it took to give a break to those who were willing to work for it.

Joy had been so inspired by the project that she’d become a regular volunteer and supporter. Even when she was involved in the most menial tasks, Joy was doing something real, something worthwhile. She was contributing to people’s lives. She spent a lot of her weekend and weeknight time at the shelter, helping out how she could, but also visiting with Pam. They’d become close friends over the years. Though Pam was about ten years older than Joy, the age difference meant nothing to their friendship.

A San Diego native, Pam hardly looked her age either; her curly hair, almost black, framed skin kissed by the California sun. Pam’s family lived in an exclusive neighborhood northeast of the city, and she’d been born into privilege that no one would imagine given her no-nonsense clothes, almost always jeans and T-shirts. She was pretty, but didn’t bother with makeup; she almost didn’t need to. Joy envied her strong features and flawless skin.

“Any chance you can cover me tonight for a few hours?” Pam asked tentatively and then waved her hand. “Never mind. You’ve been working all day, and it’s Saturday night.”

“You have a hot date?” Joy teased.

Then the most amazing thing happened: Pam’s beautiful skin turned beet-red. Joy’s jaw dropped.

“You do! You’re seeing him again, aren’t you, this mystery man you’ve been stealing away with….”

“Oh stop that—we’re not ‘stealing away’ anywhere. It’s simply a Saturday night out.”

“With the same guy?”

Pam seemed very tense, and Joy didn’t get it. They usually talked about everything, including men, but on the topic of her love life, Pam was unusually silent. Joy didn’t push, but it was the single snag in their friendship that she worried about; why wouldn’t Pam confide in her? Wasn’t that what best friends did? Joy told Pam everything, not that there was much to tell—she’d dated some guys from work, but nothing much ever came of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to push. I just want you to know you can talk to me if you need to.”

Pam smiled. “I know that. I will tell you about him, once I know how it’s all going to work out.”

“It’s been going on for a while—you guys getting serious? Wait—sorry—I didn’t ask that,” Joy said, holding her hand up, and they laughed. “If you want a night off, I can cover for you. I don’t have any plans tonight,” Joy offered.

“I wish you did.” Pam made the comment offhandedly as she polished off the last of her salad.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Pam sighed, pushing her plate back. “Joy, you’re a jewel and I’m so thankful we met I can’t tell you. It just seems like you don’t do anything but work and volunteer at the shelter. It’s not healthy.”

“I do plenty of other things.”

“Like what? I think you’ve only been out on a dozen dates in the entire six years I’ve known you.”

“I date now and then, but I can’t seem to meet anyone who catches my interest. They’re all so…I don’t know, they’re just not guys I want to go out with more than once or twice.”

“Maybe because you worked with most of them and you ended up talking shop most of the time. You should be fishing in different oceans. Find someone new, with a different job, different interests?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, Pam. I’ve tried the whole dating thing, but I don’t seem to have the same wiring as other women.”

“Meaning?”

“You know. I’ve told you.” Joy lowered her voice and leaned across the table. “I’m no good at any of it. Dating, men, sex…I never have been.”

“You’re being too tough on yourself. You just haven’t met the right guy.”

Joy pushed her own sandwich away, unfinished, and met Pam’s eyes. “You don’t want to talk about your love life, I don’t see why mine has to be under the microscope.”

“Now stop being like that. I’m your friend. I want what’s best for you. I told you, I’ll tell you everything soon, but for now, I want to hear if you’ve met anyone new.”

“Not really, I mean…Well,” she hedged, thinking of her sexy neighbor.

“C’mon, I know there’s some dirt you’re not telling me. Fess up.”

Joy sighed and relented. “I, apparently, talk in my sleep. Loudly and clearly,” she added with sarcastic gusto.

“What does that have to do with—wait—is this something a man told you? Someone who might have spent the night, perhaps?”

“Yes, no—I mean, not exactly.”

“You only had a soda with lunch, right?” Pam teased, and Joy stuck out her tongue at her.

“It’s complicated.”

“It always is. Do you always talk in your sleep?”

“I’m not sure, but…”

Fighting a strangling sense of mortification, Joy went on to tell Pam about the dreams—and her sexy neighbor’s visit in the middle of the night. She hoped for some sympathy, but by the time she was done relating the tale, Pam was smiling broadly, and…laughing.

“This isn’t funny.” Joy wrapped her arms around her middle and became mulish, not enjoying her friend’s amusement at her expense.

“I’m sorry, honey, but it kinda is. I mean, you’ve been losing sleep dreaming sexy dreams about this guy, and he’s hearing it through his window. He’s getting a blow-by-blow, er, you know what I mean. Now he shows up at your door, your knight in shining armor? Ready to take on the guy who made you scream—and that happens to have been him, at least in your dream? No, this is very funny. It’s exactly what you need.”

“You’re losing your mind. No one needs this. I’m exhausted, I forgot a meeting the other day, and Ken was completely pissed. I’m up for that promotion, and that didn’t help. I do not need another guy in my life right now.”

“Maybe not in your life, but you could definitely use one in your bed. There is a difference. Is this new guy hot?”

Joy made a face. “Very. He seems like a nice enough guy, too—he did come over to ‘rescue’ me when he thought I was in trouble. He was helping the older lady across the street with her Christmas decorations. I think I heard him working on Warren’s, my neighbor’s, house.”

“A real live Boy Scout.”

“Would make sense. He’s an EMT. Used to saving people.”

“Sounds like he’s always prepared,” Pam added naughtily, and Joy couldn’t resist laughing, her bad mood melting away as she joined in the joke.

“He did do a good job with tying knots in my dream.”

The two women dissolved in laughter.

“I think you should go for it.”

“Go for what?”

“He heard you talking—and we can only imagine what you’re saying—and he’s coming around, trying to strike up conversations, hoping to save you from dastardly deeds…checking to see if you’re attached. He’s interested, Joy. So be interested back. Have a fling. Give yourself a hottie for Christmas.”

Heat invaded Joy’s face. “No way. Just because I’m having these dreams, that doesn’t translate into reality.”

Pam shoved her chair back and stood, leaving a tip on the table. “Maybe it should. He sounds like a perfect man—hot, willing and temporary. If you’re doing him instead of dreaming about him, maybe you’ll actually get some sleep. In fact, scratch tonight—I want you to get some rest.”

“Please, keep your date. I’m fine, and I love being a part of what you do,” Joy said with sincere emotion in her voice, trying to avoid the temptation to think too much about Pam’s idea.

“I do, too, in spite of the problems lately. We lost a major source of funding last week. All the businesses are strapping down the coffers with the economy in the shape it is. They have less to give, even at this time of year, and you know this is when we count on receiving our big donations.”

“Is it serious? I can’t imagine this place closing—it’s too valuable to the community.”

“No, we won’t close, but we might lose some essential resources if I can’t pull something together.”

“I guess asking your folks…?”

Pam shook her head resolutely. “No. They never approved of me doing this. While we manage to have a halfway decent relationship, there’s no way I would ask them for money, and they wouldn’t give it anyway.”

Joy’s heart went out to her friend. “I’ll do whatever I can to help, Pam.”

“You’re a sweetheart, Joy. I wish I could afford to put you on as paying staff at Second Chance for all the work you do, but it’s not possible at this point.”

“I don’t need the money—that’s why I have a job. I’ll pound the pavement, do whatever I can to help you get this place in the black.”

Joy teared up. She didn’t know why this was affecting her so strongly.

“Thanks, I’ll take you up on that. I hope you’ll also think about doing whatever you need for yourself, as well. Give yourself a gift.”

Joy rolled her eyes, realizing Pam was back on their previous topic.

“I promise I’ll think about it,” she said, knowing that she likely wasn’t going to be thinking about anything else.

4

EARLY MONDAY MORNING, Rafe slipped the disk he’d had converted from the camcorder tape into a paper bag and rolled down the top of the bag with determination. He’d leave it for her with a note. She’d find and listen to it. Then there would be no denying that she was not only sleep-talking, but she was dreaming about him.

Why she would be, he had no idea. Joy was pretty, and he’d admit she wasn’t hard to look at, but she hardly seemed interested—in fact, she seemed the direct opposite of interested. Yet, she had screamed his name in her sleep. He was sure of it. He’d tried to replay it a thousand times, wondering if he misheard or imagined it, but the next night had told the truth—she’d done it again, and he’d gotten the evidence.

He eyed the bag, thoughts simmering in his brain. His major goal was to win—to prove to her that he was right, and that he wasn’t just harassing her. Her attitude toward him all but made him sound like a liar or a perve, and he didn’t like either one. Still, there were other possibilities. What if she dropped the argument, and apologized? What if she admitted the truth? What if she really was attracted to him—that would explain the nighttime fantasies, right? Question was, was he interested back? Maybe. It had been a long time since he’d had sex, or had even been in the mood. When Joy Clarke was in dream mode, her sexy talk got him going, and he might be willing to explore that, if the circumstances were right.

A zing of interest worked through him, unexpected, but welcome. This kind of thing was exactly what vacations were for.

He finished the note and smiled. All set. He didn’t have any plans for today, so he’d hang out here, work on the house and see what happened. Peering out the window, he saw her car in the front drive—she hadn’t left for work yet. Good.

Quickly darting out the door and across the short yard, he left the package on her step, inside the screen door so she wouldn’t miss it.

He thought he heard her singing some top-forty song through the open screen, her voice becoming slightly louder, definitely off-key. Cute.

She was walking toward the front door. After running back to his own porch, he ducked behind a tall plant, watching her come outside, notice the package. She picked it up and looked around, pausing for a moment; he swore she was looking right at him, but she couldn’t possibly see him through the thick foliage.

She opened the envelope, read the note with a roll of her eyes and shoved the disk into her bag. Score!

Smugly satisfied that she would be stopping by later to apologize and imagining how graciously he’d accept, Rafe thought he might invite her out to get a bite to eat. From there, the possibilities were endless.

IT HAD BEEN A COMPLETELY crappy morning.

Joy slid her fingers through her hair as she worked on news spots for the recall follow-ups and knew her mind wasn’t on it. She kept making stupid spelling errors as she composed an e-mail form response to all the angry customers writing the company. She looked at what she’d written in a fit of pique:

Dear Valued Carr Toys Customer:

We at Carr Toys value your business and continued patronage. As complaints go, the wheels falling off a toy is not an earth-shattering problem, so please get over it and stop bothering me. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and I’m really getting tired of your constant complaints about such a trivial issue. Have a nice day, and we hope you’ll continue to shop Carr Toys.

Yeah, that would probably need to be heavily revised.

“Problem?”

Ken, the PR director, peeked in her office door, and pasting on a smile, she shook her head.

“No, no problem. I’ve been working on the latest e-mail response to the Toddler Tank complaints.”

“Didn’t I tell you? Barb’s handling that since she was in that meeting you missed.”

The slight note of censure was there, and Joy hated herself for being unnerved by it.

“I’m sorry, Ken. It won’t happen again.”

He stepped inside her door, looking down at the folders in his hand, then back at her.

“Joy, you’ve been acting strangely lately. You should take a break. You’ve got a lot of vacation time piled up.”

“Ken, I’ll get back on my game. I have no desire for time off. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” She laughed lightly, hoping he was buying it. “I live for my work.”

Her boss eyed her speculatively, as if he were about to say something, and then nodded.

“Okay, if you say so. I’d rather have you take some time off than not be able to give one hundred percent.”

As if she didn’t usually give one hundred and twenty? Wasn’t she due an eighty-percent day now and then? She nearly had to bite her tongue to stop from reminding him that she’d missed one meeting—one, in the entire time she’d worked there. Exhausted, she’d overslept and hadn’t made it in until noon. Yes, that was bad, but it wasn’t as if she made a habit of it.

“Gotcha. No problem.” She forced a smile.

When he was gone, she sagged in her chair. It was lunchtime, but she had too much to do, and she wanted to catch up and get back in the swing. It had to be the loss of sleep; she’d never been so dragged out.

Maybe saying she lived for work was an overstatement, but she certainly wasn’t as on top of things as she should be, and she wanted that promotion—more money, a bigger office, more job security, and her father would be very proud of her. Maybe once that was accomplished, she could take a vacation. After she’d established herself in the new position, of course.

Her stomach growled. She should see if there were any bagels left in the snack room down the hall. Grabbing her purse, she walked to the outer offices. Reaching inside it to find some change, her hands touched something unfamiliar. Then she remembered shoving the disk in there earlier.

Sitting down at a computer kiosk, she heard muted voices behind her and turned. The representatives of some new potential distributors were congregating outside Ken’s office, getting ready to leave for lunch.

She glanced at the masculine scrawl on the plain white paper, frowning. It was obviously from her neighbor—what was he up to? The note simply read: Play this when you get a chance. Thanks, Rafe. PS: I’m flattered.

It was mysterious and annoying, and she flipped the shiny disk out of its package and slid it into the computer in front of her. What could her neighbor be up to now? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Still, curiosity got the better of her. He said he was flattered—flattered about what?

Squinting, it appeared to be a video, though not a very clear one. There was no image, only a dark smudge that looked like some kind of night shot, and the picture wasn’t good at all, but the sound was exceedingly clear.

“Oh, God, yes…there…harder…”

The sultry voice filled the room, and Joy sat back in total shock—it sounded like her.

“You’re so hard…. Rafe, I need you inside me….”

Realizing it was her, she sprang furiously into action, hitting the keyboard frantically and trying to shut the damned thing off, but somehow, due to the magic of computer technology and recalcitrant fingers, she ended up turning the volume up even louder instead. The room was ringing with moans and sighs. The sound triggered a memory, and she knew exactly what was coming next.

“Oh, no! Stop! I said stop!” She yelled at the console, hitting the button on the little disk slot repeatedly, trying to extricate the disk before it was too late.

Finally the slot popped open, and she removed the disk with shaking fingers, thankfully cutting short some of the more graphic descriptions of how much she loved Rafe’s…equipment.

My God, she thought, totally mortified. She’d never even thought half of the words she’d heard coming out of her mouth, let alone said them.

Disk in hand, she didn’t look up for a few minutes, afraid of what she might find. When she did, her first reaction was gratitude that most of the people had left for lunch. However, the few lingering workers—including one freshman college intern—were all staring at her.

Words of profuse apology forming on her lips, she recalled the distributors and closed her eyes in mortal agony. The sound of someone clapping loudly startled everyone back to life. A sick sense of dread punched her in the gut. She turned to find the men all staring at her, too, some smiling widely. Ken looked horrified.

Unable to process what had just happened, Joy fumbled the disk back into her purse and headed for her office. Slamming the door behind her, she leaned against her desk, trying to catch her breath, but finding it difficult. Ken came in behind her.

“What the hell was that?” Then he backed off, looking at her more closely. “Joy—what happened? Are you going to faint?”

Joy wasn’t sure, actually—she’d never fainted in her life, but she was tempted to give it a shot. The black world of unconsciousness was pretty appealing right now.

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