All Tucked In.... Jule McBride
“It really is a worthwhile art collection.” He was just afraid the pictures would wind up being hung in his dream clinic. “I’ll make sure you see them.”
“Thanks.”
Another silence fell, and when it turned awkward, Tobias said, “I’d better let you settle in. Dinner’s in a half hour. When you get downstairs, just about anybody can direct you to the ballroom. That’s where we eat.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
“I’ll be at a staff table, but…”
Somehow, he wished she didn’t look quite so relieved. “Then I’ll wave,” she promised graciously.
“The food’s nothing like your mother’s.” Or hers. When he thought of Carla’s homemade cannoli, his mouth watered. pImages** of candlelit dinners followed, and suddenly, all the memories hurt. Why had she run back down that aisle? In a heartbeat, the question he’d never ask again was on his lips. In the past, she’d tearfully said she didn’t know, but that had hardly soothed him.
He figured it was because of her dreams. Not that curing her tonight—if he could—would make a difference. It was too late now. Realizing they were still standing in the frilly bedroom gawking at each other, he said, “See you downstairs.”
“Thanks,” she said again.
Turning on his heel, Tobias headed down a red-carpeted hallway. When he reached the stairs, he gave in to the urge to look back. Her hands were on her hips, and she was staring at the partition, her dark eyes piercing through the glass as if she was imagining him sitting on the other side. He watched as she took a deep breath, seemingly bracing herself for the long night ahead.
He knew exactly how she felt.
3
“JUST IGNORE ME,” Tobias suggested quietly as he fiddled with the monitors behind the glass partition.
Yeah, right. How was she supposed to do that? With a frustrated sigh, Carla snuggled deeper into the bed, wishing she’d brought shorts and a shirt to sleep in, instead of the new pajama set her girlfriend, Melanie, had given her for her birthday. Not that she wanted to think about Melanie at the moment, since she’d been one of Carla’s bridesmaids.
Just sleep, she commanded herself. She tried to roll onto her side, which would have been more comfortable, but then she remembered the white tabs affixed to her head. “Drats,” she muttered, glancing at the long, multicolored wires that spilled over the pillow and snaked toward Tobias.
“I know it’s difficult,” he murmured from just a few feet away. “You’ll get used to it, though. Do you think you can sleep on your back?”
“I’ll try.”
“You usually sleep on your stomach, don’t you?”
Every time he remembered intimate details about her, she found herself half hoping his memory was every bit as graphic as hers. “Yeah, I do.” Just as he probably still slept stark naked.
As she squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, her mind returned to the pajamas she was wearing. In her drawer, they’d looked like exactly what the receptionist had asked her to bring, something comfortable and unrevealing. Once she’d put them on, however, she’d realized that the bicycle style shorts, while definitely easy to move in, were also incredibly tight. The top wasn’t, but the way the jersey fabric draped her torso didn’t disguise her breasts at all. Because of the slender straps, she hadn’t been able to wear a bra without making her concern obvious. Besides, she’d finally told herself, it wasn’t anything Tobias hadn’t seen before….
He was definitely looking at her. Earlier, she’d caught him, and now, with her eyes shut, she kept imagining him drizzling that syrupy brown gaze down the length of her body—over her breasts, to the soft protrusion of her belly, then to her hips and legs. At the thought, each inch of her turned warmer—until she considered tossing off the sheet that covered her, so he really could be tempted. Warmth slid between her legs, followed by a shower of tingles. Blowing out a surreptitious breath, she pulled the sheet higher, tucking it neatly beneath her chin. This was just too weird, she decided. She couldn’t sleep with Tobias in the room, no way.
She opened her eyes.
He truly was gorgeous. He’d removed the sport coat and tie, rolling the sleeves of a blue chambray shirt just above his elbows. Before she could say anything, he smiled encouragingly from behind the glass. “Just keep trying,” he urged in a gentle tone that suited his profession. Calculated to work on patients like a lullaby, his voice stroked her like a caress. “Everybody has trouble at first. It’s hard to sleep while people watch.”
What was he thinking about her? she wondered as she shut her eyes again. Surely, it hadn’t been easy to have her show up at the clinic. Her throat tightened. He was being so nice. And he didn’t have to be. During dinner, she’d been impressed by how well-respected he’d become, too. Obviously, the clinic was hugely successful. All the staffers treated him with deference, and clearly loved his sense of humor.
So did she. After dinner, he’d wound up showing her around the building, since she hadn’t been here for so many years, and she’d been astonished to find herself having fun with him and with the people he was treating. She’d dined with a vampirish night owl named Zeke Tanner whose pale complexion and black attire made him look as if he’d never seen the light of day; he was being treated for delayed sleep-phase syndrome. Seated next to Zeke was Lucy Jones, a housewife from the suburbs who’d fallen asleep twice while she tried to eat because she suffered from narcolepsy. And then there was a sweet elderly man, Mr. Clearview, whose REM behavioral disorder caused him to act out his dreams. He’d informed Carla that he didn’t really care, but he often dreamed about fighting attackers, and last week, just before dawn, he’d accidentally given his sleeping wife a black eye.
Carla smiled now, getting drowsy. Yes, the clinic’s patients were quite a crew. Unexpectedly, she’d felt some relief just from talking to the others. Hearing about their struggles, she didn’t feel so alone. For the first time, she began to think maybe Tobias could help her. Maybe the dreams that haunted her really would end soon. In addition to bearing their burdens with grace and equanimity, the people Carla met had also given her countless ideas about how to improve the café. She shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, who knew more about coffee than the sleep-deprived?
Sighing, she let her mind drift. Yes, Tobias was here in the room, but she had to forget that. She had to sleep. She had to let Tobias cure her….
As she drifted, her mind mulled over their after-dinner walk. Once alone, they’d been careful not to talk too much about the past. They’d simply walked around the mansion and its grounds, and as Carla began to dream, she imagined Tobias reaching over to twine his fingers through hers.
“Nice evening, huh?” he asked as her side brushed his.
Breathing in the complex scents of the summer night, she nodded her agreement as her eyes swept the landscape. “Beautiful.”
Was she really here with the man she’d nearly married? A man she’d never thought would forgive her enough to share such a quiet moment? She’d felt like a princess as they walked across a thick emerald-green carpet of late-summer grass, hugging the interior perimeters of the high wrought-iron fence that separated the clinic’s massive stone structure from Fifth Avenue. With its palatial columns and the stone swags that hung above French doors which, in turn, led to a wraparound veranda, the place looked like a French castle. Inside, room after room bespoke the opulent grandeur of another age, with fabric-covered walls, breathtaking antiques and gold tablecloths laden with thick fringe. Golden August twilight, streaked with the pink fingers of the coming night streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, adorned with sumptuous velvet draperies held back by gold ties.
The place was even more romantic than Carla remembered.
They’d wound up in the old dining room, and she’d been delighted when Tobias had shown her an old framed daguerreotype photograph