In Your Dreams

by Nan Strebeck

“I suppose you know we’re going to be the talk of the town tomorrow.”  Zeb glanced at Anna, the glow of the street lamps keeping her expression hidden.  “I saw at least two city cops tonight and one of the professors from the college.”

He kept the console down, separating them.  He was afraid without it, he’d drag her across the seat to sit next to him and then he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her.

“Does that bother you?” Anna asked.  “Is that why you’ve never dated anyone from Batesfield?”

Easing into the flow of traffic on the interstate, Zeb took his time answering.  Here was a perfect opportunity to put a little fear into sweet Anna.  And he wouldn’t even have to lie to do it.

“That’s part of it.  I don’t like everyone in town knowing my personal business.  And in a town the size of Batesfield, that’s pretty much a given.”

“What’s the other part?”

“No strings.”

He cut a glance in her direction, but it was impossible to gauge her reaction in the darkness.  “I’m not looking for commitment and most women want a ring and happy-ever-after.  All I want is a night or two of hot and sweaty sex.  No commitments and no regrets when it’s over.”

He waited for the explosion as he pulled into her drive and parked.  That had been obnoxious enough to send any woman screaming.  And the sad thing about it, every word was true.  He’d never been so crass about it, but he’d always been up front about wanting no commitments on either side.

Anna was silent as he opened her door and helped her out of the truck.  Fine.  He could handle the silent treatment.  He’d just see her safely inside, then make his escape.

He watched her climb the porch steps, her behind swaying with each move, and bit back a curse.  Her head bent, she dug in her purse and came up with a key to the new lock.

Still silent, he took the key from her and unlocked the door, standing aside to allow her to enter ahead of him.  Her scent as she brushed past him, reached out and drew him in.  Even the faint, lingering hint of cigarette smoke from the club couldn’t mask the unique smell of her.  She smelled of soap and shampoo and a woman’s musk that was all Anna.

And heat.

He could smell her heat and it made the uncomfortable fit of his jeans tighter.

She turned as he stepped inside.  He braced himself for anything from a slap in the face to a temper tantrum to a quiet demand that he leave.  He’d take the slap if she gave one, knowing it was deserved, then get as far from Anna as he could.  As far away as he should have stayed all along.

“All right,” she whispered.

“All right?”  He croaked.  Those whispered words knocked the breath out of him faster than a slap to the face would have done.  She couldn’t be saying what his fevered brain thought.

“All right.  One night of hot and sweaty sex and then we both walk away.  No commitments.  No strings.  No recriminations.”

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