Dream Lover

  DREAM LOVER

  Cassie Walder

  MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-227-X

  Mobipocket (PRC) ISBN # 1-84360-228-8

  Other available formats (no ISBNs assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), & HTML

  (c) Copyright Cassie Walder, 2002.

  All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave.

  Ellora’s Cave, Inc. USA

  Ellora’s Cave Ltd, UK

  This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by email forwarding, copying, fax, or any other mode of communication without author permission.

  Edited by Martha Punches

  Cover Art by Darrell King

  Warning:

  The following material contains strong sexual content meant for mature readers. DREAM LOVER has been rated HARD R, erotic, by three individual reviewers. We strongly suggest storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view this ebook are unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy…

  Prologue

  Edwina heard footsteps, heavy, masculine footsteps, coming down the hall towards the lab. Everyone who worked with her in the lab had long since gone home for the day.

  “Liebling, have you not worked enough for one day?” Klaus asked impatiently in rapid German from the doorway.

  She pressed the button on the remote control to turn off the security cameras. The security guards didn’t need to see this reunion. Then she turned and smiled at him as she looked at the face she knew so well and loved. He was still wearing his heavy cashmere coat. Flakes of snow had not yet melted from the shoulders. The coat was unbuttoned revealing beneath it one of the dark worsted wool suits that he wore for business in the winter. He was every inch the successful businessman.

  Still, she would have loved him even if he hadn’t had two pennies to rub together. How could she not? He had swept her off her feet when they had first met and he had continually found new ways of making her fall more deeply in love with him. Sweet, strong, sexy—he was all that and more. She had loved him for years before she had met him.

  She smiled at him. “Actually, I have a bit more work to do. Another couple of hours should be sufficient,” she teased.

  He shook his head negatively. “Nein, mein Frau. You work too hard and play too little. Come. The work will still be there in the morning. I am here now. Come play.”

  “Is that a request, or a command, Herr Baron?” she demanded softly as she unbuttoned her lab coat.

  He walked towards her, lithe and graceful, like a panther stalking its prey. No man should be so beautiful, she thought. As he walked toward her, the expression on his face transformed into one of savage male hunger.

  Her heart leapt. She felt her breasts tingle and begin to become hard. Her legs trembled. She felt herself grow wet in preparation for him. Her anticipation was so acute it was almost painful. She had expected him to be home today after an overseas trip. He had been away just over a month. The anticipation of reunion had been building all day.

  “Do not push me Liebling,” he warned lowly as he pushed her lab coat from her shoulders and down her arms. “I am at the edge of my control.”

  “Control is so over-rated Klaus my darling,” she said lowly as she unfastened the single button that held the lined deep-green silk wrap dress together. She opened the dress to reveal her body, naked, except for the garter belt and stockings that he liked her to wear.

  She watched him as he shuddered. Then she closed the remaining distance between them, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him hungrily.

  He backed her up against the wall. She reached down and unfastened his trousers and pushed them, and his boxers, out of the way. His penis was hot and heavy in her hand. How she wanted him!

  A bottle of his favorite champagne was chilling waiting for them at home. There would be a light supper, soft lighting, softer music, and satin sheets on the big canopy bed. There would be time for gentle love play later tonight. But now was the time for quick, hot, and primal. She needed this as much as he did.

  “Frau!” he moaned as she wrapped her left leg around his hip, under his coat, and guided him into her.

  She had never felt more intensely female than she did at this moment. She felt every inch of his smooth, hard penis as he thrust hard into her, nudging her cervix. She cried out at his possession. This was her man, the only man she had ever loved, the only man she would ever love. The intensity of the love she saw on his face only made her love him more.

  She had expected him to take her hard and fast. Yet he surprised her. He kissed her again, a kiss as gentle as any he had ever given her. His hands were softly tender on her breasts as he set about to give her as much pleasure as she gave him. She thought that she would die from the sensual torment of his hands on her breasts, her belly, her hips, and between her legs. When he licked his fingers then stroked them gently over her clitoris, she was certain of her impending death from pleasure. She was not about to tell him to hurry.

  The control he was exerting showed on his face, in the cording of the muscles of his neck, and in the throbbing of his penis still deep within her. He allowed his control to slip only after the contractions of her climax began. Then, not letting her ease through that, he began the hard and fast possession that she had first expected.

  Several moments later, she heard a cry and realized that it was hers. She was lost in the urgency of the moment. He held her tighter as his hips buckled one last time and hot semen spurted into her. Then he cried out.

  A loud noise, not at all like a human voice, penetrated her consciousness. She was suddenly awake, alone, and in her bed in the apartment over the shop. The alarm clock was ringing loudly. It was five thirty and time to get moving. She reached over and hit the snooze button. Ten more minutes.

  She had done it again. She had dreamed of him, dreamed of this man, Klaus, she had long loved and yet had never met. This was hardly the first time that she had dreamed of him with such intensity that the pleasure had breached the dream/reality barrier. The last throbs of her climax still lingered. She had long since ceased to be shocked by the intensity of the dreams.

  Edwina groaned in protest as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The shop needed one more hard day’s work on it before it opened. Yet, before she did anything else, she needed to record this dream in her journal. She always journalized her dreams. Edwina reached for her eyeglasses and the current volume of her dream journal.

  She wondered how many times she had dreamed of him over the years, how many times that they had made love together in her dreams. If she had been so inclined, she could have sat down with the volumes of her dream journal and counted the number of times that she had been with him in her dreams. She couldn’t remember a night since her childhood that she hadn’t dreamed of him. It was during her teenage years that the dreams had become profoundly sensual. The dreams probably numbered into the thousands. She had made love to him thousands of times, in a variety of positions, and the intensity had never been less than mind-blowing.

  Quite a track record for a virgin, she thought with a ragged sigh.

  No man she had ever met had ever even come close to tempting her to take him as a lover. After loving Klaus in her dreams for so many years, she judged every man by his standard. Every man she compared to Klaus came up seriously lacking.

  No sooner than she had finished journalizing her dream, the temperature in the room dropped by a good ten degrees as the ethereal form of a young Victorian woman who called herself Catherine appeared beside her bed. Edwina’s cats howled as they always did when Catherine popped in.

  “Pleasant dreams?” the spirit asked dryly.

  Edwina had almost, but not quite, gotten used to the experience of this spirit materi
alizing. The paralyzing fear that she had felt the first few times that she had seen the spirit had numbed over the months into mere cautious disbelief. Edwina was still not comfortable with the presence of this ethereal personage, but at least now the presence didn’t scare her completely witless or make her run to change her underwear.

  “Go away, Catherine,” Edwina said firmly. “I am entirely too busy this morning to listen to you.”

  “You are always too busy,” the young woman sulked. “You’re not letting me accomplish my assigned task. It is beyond merely annoying.”

  “You should have gotten the message by now. Go haunt someone else. You are not welcome here.”

  “That person of whom you dream is wrong for you, Edwina. Avoid him. For the sake of your immortal soul, avoid him.”

  “Go away, Catherine!”

  The spirit winked out as suddenly as she had appeared, but there was a defiant expression on her face as she faded.

  Edwina shook her head and went into the bathroom for a shower before beginning the work she had to do. It was going to be a very long day.

  Chapter One

  Klaus von Bruner stood just outside the door of the small garden shop that evening. It was a few minutes after seven. The sun had gone down some time before. The streetlights were on. On the glass door was painted in an elaborate Victorian-style font, “A Victorian Garden, Incorporated.” Below that was written on the glass in a smaller sized font, “E.E. Johnson, Ph.D. CEO.”

  He tried the shop door and found it open. He walked in and stood there, his eyes fixed on her back as she stood on a library ladder arranging items on an upper shelf. Debussy’s String Quartet Number 1 in G minor Op. 10 filled the air. It wasn’t one of his favorite pieces but it was one that he could easily listen to with enjoyment. He didn’t recognize the recording, however. It wasn’t by any group that he recognized. Yet, the performance was quite polished. He wondered if this was some of her music.

  For the moment, he was content just to look at her back as she worked. She wore a softly faded black denim skirt that fell in soft folds to mid calf along with a black silk turtleneck, black wool socks, and black leather running shoes. Her long red hair was pulled back neatly into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, fastened with a black cross-grain ribbon bow. The dark clothing only called more attention to her porcelain skin, tall and athletic frame, and flame colored hair. Even dressed casually, Edwina Johnson was one of the most exquisitely lovely women he had ever seen. She was a woman as beautiful inside as she was outside.

  Edwina knew that someone had come into the shop. She had felt the temperature lower somewhat a few moments before. Was the presence she felt behind her human or spectral? Having encountered one of the spirits said to haunt the building, she was in no hurry to meet any of the rest of them about which Jim, one of her tenants, loudly complained. She could have sworn that she had locked the door behind her when she had come back in several hours before after running errands.

  She knew that she had pulled the shades on the windows. She hadn’t heard the buzzer on the door ring. She made a mental note to check that the door buzzer was working properly. She slowly came down the ladder. Only when she was firmly on the floor once more did she turn around to see who was in the shop.

  Klaus? Klaus, here? Edwina had thought that she had only imagined him, conjured him out of her vivid imagination. Yet here he was. Or was he? She removed her eyeglasses with her left hand and rubbed her eyes with her right. Then she replaced her glasses on her face. He was still here. His presence wasn’t a trick of her tired eyes.

  She assessed him for a long moment. He was handsome, forty-something—raven haired with just a hint of gray at his temples—and dressed in the stark black and white of formal evening wear. He was clearly on his way to an event that called for dress wear. There were some men who were clearly uncomfortable in formal clothing. This man wore his evening clothes as though they were his second skin. She rather liked that level of confidence in a man. She liked the looks of him. Period.

  He was not at all flashy. Yet, he definitely seemed solid, slim, with the build of a runner who also worked on his upper body. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of spare flesh on him. In her dreams, she had touched his firm and muscular body many times. She knew his body as well as she knew her own. Or at least, she did in her dreams. Reality was another matter entirely.

  She didn’t need to look long at his face to realize that her dreams had been spot on. His eyes were gray/green. His facial features were not especially notable in and of themselves, but they went together in a very pleasing way. He was on the pale side. But he wore airs both of power and of bold virility with the same ease he wore his tuxedo.

  “Guten Abend, Klaus!” she greeted him in rapid German as she crossed the room and extended her hands to him in greeting. Now, Edwina wondered, what made her treat him as though he were an old and dear friend? What possessed her to call him by name? She had to be utterly insane. What was she doing acting on her dreams? What if that was not his name? Had she made a fool of herself?

  He seemed taken aback at the warmth of her greeting for a moment, and then he smiled at her, broadly, before he took her hand in his.

  This man was solid and real, not a spectral entity, not a dream, not a mirage. Edwina didn’t know if she was pleased with that or not. It always spooked her terribly for anything from her dreams to come true. This man was such a large part of a vast number of her dreams.

  The way that he was looking at her made her feel more than a bit faint. Just being this close to him was arousing. She was astonished at how her body was reacting to this man. Her breasts were tingling. Her body instinctively began to prepare itself for mating. If this innocent contact was making her tremble, she didn’t know how much more of his touch she could endure. The prospect of discovering how it would make her feel was exciting, almost too exciting.

  “Guten Abend, Edwina,” he said warmly.

  He hadn’t missed the widening of her eyes as he had taken her hand. He hadn’t missed the tightening of her breasts. She obviously wasn’t wearing a bra since her nipples were strongly profiled against the soft silk knit of her sweater. Those reactions were all the encouragement he needed. She was as drawn to him as he was to her. That was good. He could use that. At this point, he’d use whatever of her weaknesses he discovered. He had waited entirely too long for her. He hadn’t anticipated her knowing who he was. However, he took that as encouragement.

  Being this close to her, touching her and knowing that she was responding to him, was evaporating much of his remaining caution. All he could think about was how much he wanted her and how long he had waited for her.

  He still held her hand in his. He raised her hand to his lips. Then, he gently turned her hand over. Lightly, tenderly, he kissed the back of her wrist as he watched her reaction. He could see the pulse in her wrist beat madly. Pure satisfaction coursed through him as he saw her response to his simple act. Her moist lips parted slightly, in invitation, and he doubted that she was aware of the small sound of yearning that had escaped her. He, on the other hand, was very aware of it. The sound burned a path to his groin. It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms. All he could think about was how good things were going to be between them. She was trembling at that lightest of caresses. How would she react to more?

  Edwina found herself trembling. That light of a caress should not have sent her into such a tailspin. Yet it had. She pulled her hand away from him and stepped back. Maybe if she put a little distance between them, he wouldn’t notice how she was trembling at his touch.

  “I fail to recognize the recording of Debussy. Who are the musicians?” he asked after she stepped back from him.

  The warmth of her face was a telltale sign that she was blushing. Of all her least favorite things about herself, her ability to blush was on the bottom of the list. But then again, most people with her fair coloring and red hair had that tendency. “That’s merely a performance by three of m
y cousins and me,” she answered, in English, as she reached into her skirt pocket and clicked the remote control on the CD player.

  “It is an excellent performance,” he said obviously impressed. “There is no need to stop the playing of the piece.”

  She shrugged. “Oh, it’s passable for a group of amateurs. I was just reviewing the recording before we give it to our grandmother for her birthday Monday. And I can’t listen critically to it and talk to you at the same time.”

  “The recording is a most unusual gift.”

  “It’s a birthday gift for the woman who has everything,” Edwina allowed. “It is one of her favorite pieces. Several of us were at a loss at what to get her for her birthday. This seemed to be a perfect solution. At least, we are reasonably certain that this recording will be a unique gift.”

  “You tend to think outside of the box, do you not?”

  “I do try not to limit myself to conventional ways of approaching problems,” she answered quietly.

  He looked at her for a long time without saying anything. His frank assessment of her made her uneasy. Then he remarked, “It is a most unusual line of wares you stock.”

  The pithy comment that she was not among the wares stocked in the shop was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit that back. Instead, she said very politely, “Thank you. I try to meet the needs of both serious and amateur gardeners, as well as those who haven’t the time or the inclination to do the work themselves but wish to have the benefits of a well-tended garden or the products of a garden. How may I serve you this evening?”

  She was proud of herself that she had kept her infamous temper under control. Her anger at the moment was directed at herself for getting carried away by the flood of memories of dreams. Dreams weren’t reliable. For all she knew, this man had a wife and six children at home. Just because she had fallen in love with the image of him in her dreams didn’t mean either that he would reciprocate those emotions or that she would actually love him in reality.