In His Wildest Dreams. Debbi RawlinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
thing he realized before he bolted out the front door was that she’d been wearing a thong. A red, silk one. Thongs did scary things to his heart.
He managed to close the door softly behind him, and then stood in the cool air and broke into a sweat. She couldn’t be Emma Snow. Not from what Brenda had told him about the woman. Emma was a serious student, determined to complete her thesis, had no social life, no interest in dating or men in general, and was totally off-limits to him—as if he’d be interested in someone like her.
So who was this woman? Another student, or test subject? A friend of Emma’s maybe?
After checking his watch, he decided to give her another five minutes before knocking. The extra time wouldn’t hurt him either. His physical reaction needed to settle down.
Another couple of minutes and he heard someone moving around inside. He adjusted his jeans, and then knocked this time.
The door opened immediately. A brunette wearing oversized black-rimmed glasses smiled at him. “Nick?”
“Yeah.” He tried to look past her. The other woman was obviously still in the back.
“Come on in. I’m Emma.” She waited until he got inside and then offered her hand. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you filling in like this.”
Her hand was small, fragile, but her handshake was firm. He gave her another look. Hazel eyes, clear skin, no makeup. The only outstanding feature was her lips. Naturally pink and full enough they looked cosmetically altered. But indulging in vanity didn’t fit the profile Brenda had given him.
Her general appearance did. The outdated glasses and tight bun at her nape made her look older than she was. In grade school they would have called her a bookworm, and a few other less flattering names.
“If you’ll take a seat at the desk I have some paperwork for you to fill out,” she said, gesturing to a battered gray fabric chair. The back was high and the numerous pills looked as though a cat had used it as a scratching post.
“What kind of paperwork?” He moved closer to the back room door and tried to get a glimpse of the other woman. No luck. “This is all confidential, right?”
“Of course. Any information you give me is strictly for the purpose of the study.” She smiled, and his gaze riveted to her mouth. Her lips and her friend’s legs. Now there was a combination to be reckoned with. “But I don’t think you’ll find I’ll be asking anything too personal. This basically asks statistical information.”
“And then what?”
“I’ll explain what we’ll be doing for the next two weeks.”
He took the seat at the desk and stared down at the questionnaire. Innocuous enough questions, but this part he’d expected. It was her poking around his psyche, trying to figure out what his dreams meant that he dreaded.
It wasn’t anyone’s business. Not even his, as far as he was concerned. Dreams were dreams. They didn’t mean a damn thing. Merely something to do while you slept so you wouldn’t get bored.
“I’ll be in the back getting set up. Let me know when you finish filling that out.”
“Hey.” He waited until she turned around. “You said this is all confidential, right?” She nodded. “Nobody else will be here.”
“Not a soul.”
“What about now? Anyone back there?” He gestured with his chin toward the back room.
“Nope. It’s just us.”
He frowned. So where was the mystery woman? Maybe there was a back door. Or maybe…
He gave Emma another once-over. Baggy khaki pants, a white lab coat over a navy-blue cotton shirt. Hard to tell what she really looked like under all that stuff. He doubted she’d be wearing a red silk thong, though. Not this woman. And the hair…it couldn’t be that long and fit in that small tight bun.
“Any other questions?”
“Let me get this straight.” He took another furtive glance toward the back. From what he could see, the room looked really small. “This is just going to be you and me. No one else is involved.”
Her gaze narrowed with concern. “Look, I really appreciate you doing this, but if you have any reservations that might prompt you to drop out mid-study, I need to know now. I can’t afford the time to look for someone else.”
Man, he’d give just about anything to take the opportunity to bolt. But anything didn’t include the Aspen house. Hell. “Nah, I’m okay, Doc, just a little nervous about you finding out all my deepest, darkest secrets.” He gave her his most winning smile.
She frowned. “We’ll talk more after you’ve filled that out.”
Emma hurried to the back room. She hoped he took a while to complete the questionnaire because she needed time to regroup. Her sudden imbalance had little to do with him, of course, or that he was supposed to be some kind of lady-killer. Frankly, she didn’t see it. Running late always made her a little nuts. That was her problem.
Granted, there was something appealing about him. Nothing blatant, nothing even easily identifiable. Sure, his thick dark hair was attractive in a messy, touchable sort of way, and he had a disarming smile that could probably melt many a resolve. But so did a lot of other guys she knew.
Except his face had character, from the crinkly lines fanning out from the corners of his dark eyes, to the small moon-shaped scar over the left side of his upper lip. A small chip marred otherwise perfect teeth. Clearly he wasn’t vain or driven by perfection, or he would’ve had these minor flaws fixed.
Her uniform lay in a heap where she’d left it in her haste to get into her street clothes. She gathered them up, stuck them in a bag to add to her laundry and then checked her hair. It was a mess. She’d misplaced a couple of bobby pins and her usual bun was a little wobbly, but it would do.
After waiting a couple more minutes, she went out to check on Nick’s progress. To her surprise, he’d already finished and was talking on her phone.
“Let’s have Chinese tonight,” he said just as she walked in. Although he hadn’t seen her yet, his voice lowered. “I’ll leave dessert up to you.” His laugh was husky, sexy, and then he looked up and saw her. “I have to go. I’ll see you at eight.”
Emma sighed, pitying the poor sap on the other end who fell for his sad lack of originality. “Did you have any questions about the paperwork?” she asked as soon as he’d hung up.
“Nope.”
She paused a moment, waiting for him to get out of her chair. He didn’t. If anything, he leaned back and got more comfortable, so she took the visitor’s chair facing the desk and turned the questionnaire around to face her.
After a quick perusal she looked up to find him staring at her. She cleared her throat. “I’ll give you an overview of what we’ll be doing in the next two weeks.”
He grimaced slightly.
Her stomach tightened. “If you have a problem committing to two weeks—”
“No.” He shook his head, his expression agitated. “I just—go on.”
God, she had a bad feeling about this. But Brenda had told her not to worry. Nick had his faults, but backing out of an agreement wasn’t one of them. She sure hoped Brenda was right.
“I don’t know how much you care to know about the theories upon which I’ll be basing my interpretations—” There was that wince again. “What?”
“Nothing.” His expression was sheer innocence. “I’m listening.”
She hesitated a moment, tempted to call him on his obvious negative reaction to their conversation. But on the other hand, did she really want to hear what he thought? Did she want to give him an opening to withdraw from