Dare to Dream - Donna Hill Mills & Boon Kimani Arabesque

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for her had literally gone up in smoke. This was not part of the plan. He had accountants and lawyers breathing down his neck, not to mention investors. He had commitments to fulfill. He didn’t even know if he should proceed with the opening in the fall—if she was even able to work.

       He had passed what was left of the loft and gallery. Whatever wasn’t destroyed by fire and water, the firefighters took care of.

       The blaring car horn behind him jerked him from his marauding thoughts. He gave the driver the bird and sped through the intersection.

       He had to find her. He had to make her come back. Too much was riding on it. He’d been a fool to let his emotions outweigh his reason. But one thing he was certain of, he didn’t play to lose. He would find Desiree, get her back where she belonged and the exhibit would go on as planned.

       Carl eased the car to a stop in front of his co-op apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. As usual, the neighborhood was quiet. The few people on the street were out walking their designer dogs or jogging in their designer workout attire. The cars glided down the smooth, black-tarred road. A few lights twinkled in the windows, showcasing cathedral ceilings, lavish dining rooms and beautiful people.

       This was his world. Sterile and unimaginative.

       With great reluctance he got out of his car and walked toward his building. Had he not met Desiree he would have been content with this life of illusion. But Desiree put color into his otherwise bland existence.

       He turned the key in the lock and entered his empty apartment, wishing that Desiree was on the other side waiting for him.

      Chapter 9

      Desiree hung up from her conversation with Rachel and couldn’t help but conclude that her dear friend was just a bit too happy about her present circumstance.

       But what Desiree felt like doing was throwing something. How could fate be so cruel? She got up from the bed and stomped off to the bathroom. Maybe a hot bath would help to unfurl her nerves.

       With the sudsy, scented water as hot as she could stand it, she eased her body in and slid down until the bubbles reached her chin, then leaned back and closed her eyes.

       Perhaps she dozed off, but as surely as if she’d summoned him from the depths of the slightly rippling water, Lincoln appeared before her, gloriously naked, stroking the tender inside of her thighs.

       Desiree adjusted herself in the tub to give him more room, better access to the throb that beat relentlessly within her.

       His fingers played with her warm flesh, raising the hairs on her arms as his fingers trailed along her hips, the slight swell of her stomach, up to her nipples that rose to delicate peaks above the water. Involuntarily she moaned when he took one into his mouth, taunting it with wicked flicks of his tongue.

       “Desi…”

       His voice was like music, the deepest bass, vibrating through her like an echo. She trembled.

       “Lincoln…”

       Tears of longing slipped from behind her closed lids. “I still love you, too.”

       A pounding in the distance drew her from the grip of her erotic fantasy. She opened her eyes, bringing the room back into focus, though the remnants of her illusion lingered. The knocking came again. Reluctantly she pulled herself out of the water, took the hotel’s terry cloth robe from the hook behind the bathroom door and wrapped it around her dripping body.

       No one knew she was there, so she certainly wasn’t expecting company, she thought, wiping her eyes as she walked into the front room. It must be someone from the main house. “They could have called,” she grumbled, willing her body to relinquish its grip on her daydream.

       She tightened the belt on the robe, swiped a damp lock off her forehead and pulled open the door.

       “You didn’t come up for dinner, and I thought you might be hungry.”

       Her heart raced so fast she could barely breathe. She swallowed hard.

       “I…” She pulled the robe closer together. “Thank you.”

       Lincoln handed her the covered tray.

       “Smells good,” she murmured, desperately trying to avoid his pointed stare.

      So do you. “I only hire the best,” he said, instead of what he thought.

       “Um…do you want to come in for a minute?”

       He hesitated.

       “Maybe another time. I don’t want to intrude. You did say you wanted to be alone. I’ll respect that.”

       She glanced down at her damp, bare feet, then up at him.

       “I…I’d like that. The some other time.” A faint smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

       Lincoln smiled and nodded his head, but what he wanted to do was reach out and touch her, feel her beneath the pads of his fingers. He wanted to hold her against him and inhale the freshly washed scent of her. His loins ached with denial, and he knew if he didn’t leave right then…

       “Whenever you’re ready, Desi, I’m here.”

       She tugged in a shaky breath. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

       “Good night.”

       “Night,” she whispered and watched him walk away.

       Mindlessly she closed the door with her foot, turned, put the tray on the center of the bed and realized she was shaking like a leaf.

       “Get over it, girl,” she said aloud.

       She wrapped her arms around her body to still the tremors.

      * * *

       He’d been so close. Just the two of them in her bedroom. All she would have to do was ask him to come in one more time and she knew he would have given in. She saw it in his eyes, the way he slowly licked his lips, the way he used to when he was about to say yes to her.

       But then what? she thought. They would have tumbled into bed together, clawed at each other’s clothes and made crazy love until the sun rose over the water. Yeah, that’s what would have happened if she’d pressed a little harder.

       She kicked at her suitcase with her bare foot.

       “Idiot!” she hissed.

      * * *

       Lincoln paced the floor of his suite like a panther in heat. He slung his hands into his pockets, then took them out. He walked to the window and pulled back the curtains. If he stared really hard he could almost see Desiree walking through her room in front of the open sliding doors with the breeze from the ocean blowing through her sheer gown.

       He squeezed his eyes shut and raked his fingers through his close-cropped hair. Groaning low in his throat, he pulled the door open and stormed out.

      * * *

       Desiree sat on the side of the bed nibbling at the grilled salmon, wild rice and Caesar salad. The food was delicious, just as Lincoln had boasted. He always did things in style and it was true that he never settled for less than the best. This place and everything about Lincoln Davenport echoed that fact.

       From the day they had met eight years earlier on the corner of 34th Street and 8th Avenue in the middle of a snowstorm, two days before Christmas, she knew he was something special…

       “Looks like you’re trying to do the same thing I am.”

       Desiree had looked up, trying to focus on the tall dark figure in front of her with the snow swirling around them.

       “Huh?” she shouted over a gust of wind that seemed to carry her voice in the opposite direction. She shielded her eyes by cupping her hand above her brow.

       “Trying to catch a cab,” the man shouted.

      

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