Six Hot Summer Nights

On a sigh, Mia wiped her damp cheeks. “I can do this on my own. I’m stronger than I think.”

“Yes, you are.”

Mia spun around to see Bronson standing in the doorway of the nursery. “What are you doing here?”

Casual as you please, he lifted a shoulder, but kept those mesmerizing eyes focused directly on her. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be welcome, so I let myself in since I knew your code.”

With slow, easy steps, he crossed the room to stand directly in front of her. Mia tipped her head back to look up into those eyes she’d so easily fallen in love with.

Bronson slid a thumb over her cheek, wiping away one lone tear. “Are those tears over me, sweet Mia?”

The words may have sounded cocky if he hadn’t delivered them with such agony in his own tone, such torment in his eyes.

Mia blinked and cleared her throat. “My tears are over a lot lately.”

His eyes roamed over her face and she just knew she looked like a mess. At this point, though, what did it matter? She was turning into a whale. But, God, she’d waited for him to come to her. Waited and prayed.

“You’re not sleeping well,” he told her, running a fingertip below her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Mia jerked away, shocked those two words came from his mouth. “What are you sorry for?”

She turned back to the boxes, unable to be so close to him.

“Everything,” he whispered in her ear as his hands came to cup her shoulders, pulling her back against his chest. “I’m sorry for everything. For denying this child is mine, for not being the man you needed me to be, but most of all for not returning the precious gift you so freely offered me.”

Mia’s head dropped to her chest. So much for holding those tears back. “And what gift was that?”

Bronson turned her around, lifting her chin with his fingertip. “Love. Your unconditional gift of love was so rare to me. I didn’t believe it, didn’t believe in you or us.”

Hope speared through her, but fear accompanied it. Could she allow herself to let her guard down again? Bronson wouldn’t be here if he didn’t believe her and, dare she hope, love her.

“I know what I did may not have been the right decision, but Bronson, it wasn’t my place to say.”

“I realize that now.” He kissed the top of her head. “If I’d been in your shoes, I can’t say what I would’ve done, but I know that what you did was right. There aren’t many people who make the right decision when they’re under pressure. I was so angry I wasn’t sure if I could forgive you.”

Bronson stared back at her, then reached to pull her into his strong, warm embrace. Mia fell against his chest and sighed.

“And now?” she dared to ask, tipping her head back to look into his eyes.

“Now I’ve fallen in love with a woman who only eats green M&M’s, who has persevered through life no matter what the odds and who I want to spend the rest of my life with so she can try amazing new recipes in my gourmet kitchen. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much you mean to me, how much your loyalty and integrity have made me a better person.” He swiped a lone tear that trickled down her cheek. “I want to wake up every morning and see you next to me. I want to make more children with you so we have a house full of love that can come only from the bond we have. But most of all, I want you to know that I was a fool for ever doubting you. Let me spend the next fifty years showing you how much I love you.”

Mia’s breath caught. “Is that a proposal?”

Bronson stepped back, reached into his pocket and held out a locket. “It’s not to replace the one you have, but I thought you might want a picture of your new family to keep with you.”

“Oh, God.”

Bronson smiled. “How am I doing in making up for being a jerk? Because I’ll grovel more, Mia. I’ll do anything to make you see just how serious I am about loving you and committing myself to our family.”

“Our family,” she repeated.

His image blurred as her eyes collected with more tears than she could hold. They fell down her cheek, one after another, as a laugh escaped her. “You’re amazing. The locket is … God, Bronson, I don’t know what to say.”

Bronson slid the chain around her neck and fastened it, then pulled a small box from his pocket.

“Just how much do you have in those pockets for me?” she joked through tears.

“Not nearly enough to make up for my actions,” he told her, opening the velvet box. “This is the ring my father gave my mother.”

“What? Bronson, I can’t take her ring.”

“When I told her my plans, she insisted. This isn’t her original engagement ring—that one she’ll never part with. He gave her this on the night I was born for this purpose right here. To pass down to the woman I will marry.” He took her hand, sliding the ring on. “Perfect fit.”

Mia eyed the ring on her finger. The glistening diamonds stole her breath, but had someone else worn this before?

“No,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “I didn’t give this to my ex-fiancée. She wanted a new ring, and when she asked to go ring shopping, I didn’t even mention that I had this. I should’ve known then she wasn’t the one.”

Unable to contain her excitement one more second, Mia threw her arms around Bronson’s neck, but their baby stopped her from getting too close.

“Oh, sorry.” She laughed. “Bella is growing pretty fast these days.”

Bronson raised a brow. “Bella?”

“Um, I call her that. It means—”

“Beautiful,” he whispered before capturing her lips for a brief kiss. “Just like her mother.”

His kiss never failed to send a jolt of love and hope through her.

“Let’s start our life together,” he murmured against her lips.

Epilogue

“Are you ever going to put her down?”

With a radiant smile on her face, Bronson’s wife of two months rocked their sleeping daughter. A sight he never tired of seeing.

“She’s just so sweet,” Mia whispered. “I could look at her all day.”

Bronson knew exactly how she felt. He eased off the door frame and crept into the room, loving the look of his family—Bella, with her mother’s dark wispy hair and almond-shaped chocolate eyes, and Mia with her glow that never ceased to clutch his heart.

He knelt down beside the plush rocker they’d ordered on their trip to Italy. “You’re going to have to let her sleep on her own, you know.”

Mia’s lips brushed the top of Bella’s head. “I know. I just want her to know how much she’s loved.”

“I’m sure she knows.” Bronson wrapped an arm around Mia, leaned his head against hers and watched his child sleep, nestled against Mia’s chest. “I love you, Mia. Love you more every day.”

“I love you, too.”

“I just hung up with Anthony.”

“Bella’s a heavy sleeper. Tell me.” Mia’s rocking slowed. “Did you ask him to work with you on your mother’s film?”

“We’ve talked about it. We’re taking this one day at a time. We know how important this is to Mom, and we can’t let our past differences affect the movie. We both want this to be the best film either of us have ever produced and directed.”

Mia adjusted the white blanket over Bella’s tiny hands. “I think that says a lot about where the two of you are now in your journey.”

“Yeah, it does.” Bronson cleared his throat. “I want him to help me produce it, not just direct.”

Mia’s misty gaze came up to meet his. “Oh, Bronson. That’s wonderful.”

Bronson’s heart clenched at the sight of his wife, his daughter and this talk of producing a movie with his half brother. “I haven’t asked him, but I plan on it.”

“I’m so happy for the two of you.”

Bronson kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m happy for me, too. I never imagined I could have everything I ever wanted, but I do.”

Mia’s smile lit her up from within. “Trust me, I know all about dreams coming true.”

Night After Night…

He’d never been in a situation like this before …

But really, what was the big deal? Jason thought. So he and Christy had been dreaming about each other. They were right in the middle of the ‘sex-all-the-time’ part of their relationship. Of course they’d dream about each other.

But the exact same dream? That wasn’t possible. But then again, it kind of explained why he’d had a dream about being a spa guy. A naked spa guy. That was obviously Christy’s contribution.

Jason grinned when he thought about that, choosing to focus on the fact that she thought he was hot. That she’d thought he was hot before they’d officially met. That was cool. Still …

God, he needed a run.

He ran. He swam. He saw his therapist, to whom he said absolutely nothing about his dreams. He was freaked out, but he wasn’t stupid. Talking about shared dreams would be career suicide, especially in the military. They did, however, talk about Christy and what was going on between them.

In the end, Jason agreed with the doc: women were good. Sex was good. He should stop worrying and just enjoy it.

Which worked out great … until he met her for dinner later.

About the Author

USA TODAY bestselling author KATHY LYONS has made her mark with sizzling romances. She adores unique settings, wild characters, and erotic, exotic love. And if she throws in a dragon or a tigress here and there, it’s only in the name of fun! An author of more than thirty novels, she adores the fabulousness that is Blaze! She calls them her sexy treat and hopes you find them equally delicious! Kathy loves hearing from readers. Visit her at www.kathylyons.com or find her on Facebook and Twitter under her other penname, Jade Lee.

Dear Reader,

I have a friend who puts great stock in her dreams. She considers them messages from beyond. Me? I think my dreams are the flotsam and jetsam of my mind, pulling random stuff together and presenting them as a story because that’s what I do. I put stories together from random stuff.

But once, I had an erotic dream. Okay, okay, maybe not so much an erotic dream as a dream about a facial that I was getting for my birthday. But by the time I woke up, I had this great idea about a couple of strangers sharing hot dreams. I mean, do you actually confess to the stranger, “Hey I had this great dream about you last night”? Heck no! So how long before you fess up? How intimate do you get in the real world before the dream world makes an appearance?

When I told my friend about it, she asked me to think about what purpose those images could have. What is the underlying message in a series of erotic dreams? From there, well, Night After Night … was born.

I hope you enjoy your nights as much as Christy and Jason do!

Best,

Kathy Lyons

1

CHRISTY BAKER WAS HAVING a great dream. She knew it was a dream because when, honestly, would a hot marine step into an esthetician’s room and start giving her a facial? Especially since he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Yowza! Ever since she’d hit puberty while living on a military base, she’d had fantasies about soldiers. Didn’t matter what branch of the military so long as they were half-naked and ripped. And as she got older, the “half” part of naked disappeared.

Hence the awesome dream right now of a naked marine gently slathering sea-something onto her face. She was lying on a heated, cushioned table while he slowly stroked therapeutic mud onto her face and her toes curled in delight. Then she let out a purr of appreciation. It was a dream, right? She could purr if she wanted to. He looked down at her, his blue eyes sparkling with humor.

“So you like this stuff, huh?”

“Come over this way.” She reached for his bulging bicep and tugged him down by the side of the table.

He complied, and oh, yes, ripped abs, sculpted torso, and a cute dimple in his left cheek. Sadly, she couldn’t see the lower half of his body, but she was sure it was equally impressive.

“Much better,” she said.

“You know this is a full-body treatment, right?” he said, flashing that dimple again.

“Of course it is,” she said. Because this was an awesome dream.

“Then just close your eyes and relax. Let me do all the work.”

“I leave myself in your capable hands,” she crooned as she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the experience. Except, of course, it wasn’t nearly as much fun without the view, so she opened them a moment later.

He was by the sink, his back to her and his buttocks in full display. Was that a tattoo of a swallow on his hip? It didn’t matter. The tat just made him all the more mouthwatering.

He was mixing the mud, and she caught a flash of his large hands in and out of stuff that looked like rich, dark chocolate. Soon those hands and that stuff would be all over her body. Best. Dream. Ever.

He must have known she was watching, because he looked over his shoulder at her and flashed her a wink. “This will take just a second. The best stuff comes when you’re fully ready.”

She was ready. Any more ready and this dream would have a premature ending. Better to focus on something else. Like his narrow waist. The ripples in his back as he worked. “Listen to those kids,” she said. “Don’t they sound like they’re having fun?”

What? Where had that question come from? And yeah, there were kids laughing and cheering in the background. Probably a playground nearby. But what did that have to do with her full-body treatment?

He tilted his head, obviously listening for something. A frown appeared between his brows, and his eyes grew distant. Worse, he stopped kneading the dark chocolate mixture and she felt she was losing her grip on him.

“Stop thinking so hard!” she cried to bring him back to her. “We were doing something here.” She hated it when her dreams spun off in the wrong direction.

He blinked and focused on her. He had turned to face her again, but she still didn’t get a look at his body. Not the full frontal, but that was okay. He was carrying the bowl of the chocolate mixture over to her side and his eyes no longer had that distant, slightly lost look. Right now he was zeroing in on her. Well, her breasts actually, which were abruptly uncovered for his viewing.

Any other time she might have felt self-conscious. She had nice breasts. Round, full, large. She tended toward the plump side of life anyway. So if this were real life, she’d be covering up the pounds and praying that he wasn’t repulsed.

But this was the best dream ever because when he looked at her, his eyes gleamed. He liked what he saw. He wanted what he saw. And whatever bit of self-consciousness that lived in this dream faded away from the delight in his eyes.

“So, I’m supposed to spread this all over?” he asked.

She nodded. “That’s what happens in full-body treatments. It’s to purify and soften the skin. And since I have skin everywhere …”

“I better make sure to cover every inch.”

She continued playing along. “It’s important that I get my money’s worth. This is a top-end spa.”

“Is that what this is?” he asked, as he looked around curiously.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t work anywhere but in the best places.”

He let loose an outright burst of laughter. “Actually, I work in the worst pits on the planet.”

She waved his statement away. “That’s your day job. This is your night job.” She steadfastly ignored the bright sunlight and the sound of kids’ laughter outside. “Right now, you’re here with me in a luxury spa and I’m waiting for my treatment.”

He smiled at her and wasn’t that a megawatt doozy? It wasn’t that his teeth gleamed or anything. It was just a warm, fun smile like you might get from the guy next door. Especially if the guy who lived next door was hot and naked and intent on touching every part of your body.

“Do I start at your face and work down? Or go straight for the gold?”

“Your choice. I’m easy.” She could be easy in a dream, right? So the double entrendre was exactly what she meant.

He scooped out some of the mixture and squished it between his hands. His eyes never left hers as he worked, and as much as she wanted to watch the play of muscles on his chest, she couldn’t force herself to look away from his beautiful blue eyes.

And then he was finally, blessedly, done with mixing and got down to the stroking. He started on her neck, putting on the chocolate with long strokes that went from her chin down to the tops of her breasts. Wow, that felt good. Like heat and sweetness being rubbed gently into her body. How she could taste the sweetness of him, she didn’t know, but that was the beauty of dreams.

She released a low, throaty purr. He smiled and that dimple flashed at her.

“I love that sound,” he said.

“I love what you’re doing to make me make that sound.”

Oh, why couldn’t she be suddenly witty for just once? Fortunately, her marine esthetician didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her eyes closed, first the left, then the right.

The scent of him was perfect! Her eyelids stayed shut to appreciate the deliciousness of it.

And then his hands found her breasts.

He shaped her, he stroked her, he thumbed across her nipples while her purr dropped to a huskier octave. Okay, so she loved it when a guy spent a long time on her breasts. She loved it even better when he began licking her nipples, sucking them to a point, and sometimes a little nip here and there would send her to the moon.

He did it all. Before she knew it—before she wanted it—she was grabbing his massive shoulders and coming with a cry!

Which woke her right up. Damn! That was one dream she would have loved to stay with for a while. For a long while.

She rubbed her eyes and stretched, hearing herself purr for real. The ripples were still going, though they were fading too quickly. Still that had been a great dream. Hawaii must be having a beneficial effect on her psyche.

She lay in bed, just appreciating the luxury of the new environment. It wasn’t that she was living in a resort or anything. Traveling Officer Quarters, or TOQ, at Pearl Harbor Navel Station were not high living by any standards. But it was a different location than her Cincinnati apartment, and a different job than a kindergarten teacher in an Ohio public school. She was a summer tutor for kids stationed at the naval base. For Christy, that meant a paid summer in Hawaii. Who wouldn’t want that?

It’s not that she didn’t enjoy her regular life in Ohio, but she’d gotten the feeling lately that she was stuck in a rut. She hung out with the same people every day, ate the same food, did the same things. Every day. Her friends and colleagues all knew about her and her very military family, knew that she suffered from chronic joint pain, and knew that she struggled every day to walk and move like a normal person. She never tried anything new because everyone tried to stop her. They were afraid she’d hurt herself. So she gave in and never challenged herself or anyone else. Until the day she heard about the opening at Pearl Harbor. A place far from Ohio where no one knew her at all.

Despite the objections from her family, she’d applied and gotten the job. For this summer only, she was a summer tutor in Hawaii. She taught English in a classroom on base from ten to noon Monday through Friday, plus she had private sessions with about a dozen kids. It was a great job and one she was well qualified to do. Better yet, no one knew her here. No one knew that her joints might swell up and make her walk like the Tin Man who’d been out in the rain all day. She was just Miss Baker, summer tutor and English teacher. Perfect and blessedly anonymous. She could do whatever she wanted, be whomever she wanted, and experiment however she chose.

After this summer, she’d reevaluate. Did she want her old life back in Ohio? Or was it time for a bigger, better, more sweeping change? So, simple steps. A little exploration in Hawaii where no one could baby her. And no one would stop her. If it worked out, then maybe she’d make a bigger change after the summer.

She got out of bed slowly, smiling because life was just that good this morning. It helped that her joints didn’t hurt so much. She didn’t know if it was because of the change in climate or her dream, but either way was good with her. Chronic joint pain was something she’d lived with her entire life. Sometimes it was just her knees and hips that ached. Sometimes it was her whole body. Drugs helped—some. Rest helped—some. Mostly, it just was. Some days were fine, some days were painful, and some were just agony. She never knew what to expect. So this morning’s dream plus a lack of pain made everything in Hawaii feel rosy and new.

Her calendar flashed her a morning motto of: embrace the unexpected gift. She thought that was especially appropriate today. Then it was a shower and a sundress. Her first tutoring appointment wasn’t until nine, so she had a little bit of time.

Her hair was still wrapped in a towel when she walked barefoot into the kitchenette. The Traveling Officer’s Quarters (TOQ) was built like a low-budget motel. Her room had a bed, a desk, a television and a bathroom. Plus one other thing: a connecting door that led to a kitchenette that was shared with whoever held the room next door. It was a galley kitchen, barely big enough for two people standing sideways. But she had a box of Froot Loops and a coffeemaker in there, and she went right to work on her breakfast of champions.

She had a spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth when her kitchen-mate walked in. She’d been told when she moved in that she’d be sharing with someone, and she hadn’t given it much thought. She’d had roommates before. No biggie.

That is, until she looked up. Milk dribbled from her spoon to her bowl as her half-naked marine esthetician stumbled toward the coffee.

2

CAPT. JASON WHITE WAS FACED with a no-win situation. He could turn tail and run, never a good option in his opinion. Or he could go for the coffee and face the subject of his weirdest erotic dream.

He had never wanted to be one of those metro guys who dressed fashionably and talked manicures. So why the hell had he dreamed he was giving a facial to his kitchen-mate? Not that it had been a bad thing. Turns out the chestnut-haired schoolteacher had bombshell breasts and he had gotten off on doing wonderful things with them. So had she, apparently, but he felt a little cheated that his own wet dream had stopped before the glorious finish. At least from his perspective. He didn’t mind being gentlemanly in real life. In fact, he insisted on it. But in the privacy of his own nighttime fantasies, he wanted his fair share.

But now he was standing right in front of the object of his most lustful fantasy. And worse, she was wearing a sundress that hinted at the glory of her breasts but didn’t actually confirm anything. And damn it, he wanted to know if what he’d dreamed was anything like the reality.

“Uh, good morning,” she said over her bowl of cereal as she hastily stepped back to give him room. Given the galley kitchenette, there really wasn’t anywhere for her to go, and she backed straight into the refrigerator. Her face was flushed, probably from her shower. And the towel that wrapped her hair started to tilt as it bumped the freezer handle. “Oh!” she gasped as she reached up to grab the towel. But in her hand she had a full bowl of Froot Loops, which was beginning to slosh.

He reacted on instinct. He grabbed her bowl, keeping it from spilling, but also wrapping his hand around one of hers. She had lovely hands, the fingers long and elegant but with blunt, unpolished nails that didn’t stab him. Her free hand went up to brace the towel, but it was too late. The thing came undone and her wet hair tumbled down.