Buck turned it off and lay back on the pillow. He’d come home last night with a pounding migraine. Feeling like roadkill, he’d taken some pills, undressed and fallen into bed, hoping to sleep through the pain. It had worked. He felt better today.
Especially after that crazy, sexy dream he’d had.
Closing his eyes, he tried to recall it in detail. He’d had erotic dreams before, plenty of them, but this one had been different. It had seemed so...real. The warm silkiness of skin against his body. The taste of that luscious mouth. Even the sexy aroma of her skin. He could remember everything about the woman—except her face.
Damn! He’d gulp down a whole bottle of those blasted pills if it could bring the dream back. His climax had been an explosion of sheer sensual pleasure, so powerful he’d probably drenched the bedding underneath him.
He frowned, struck by an odd notion. He should be lying in a damp spot now. But the sheet beneath him felt perfectly clean and dry.
Perplexed, he sat up, moved to one side and ran his hand across the mattress. Nothing. He shook his head, as if trying to clear out the cobwebs. What in blazes had happened here?
That was when he noticed something else—a subtle fragrance rising from the bottom sheet. Pressing his face to the fabric, he inhaled the sweet, clean aroma, trying to identify it. This wasn’t the softener the hotel laundry used. And it wasn’t one of the expensive perfumes his sexual partners tended to drench themselves in. It was something else, something fresh but somehow familiar. It was her scent, exactly as he remembered it.
There could be only one conclusion—the dream had been real. There’d been a woman in his bed, and he’d made love to her.
But how could that be? There’d been no one here when he’d gone to bed last night. The gate to the property had been locked. The house had been locked. And if the dog had barked at an intruder, he hadn’t heard it.
Was he losing his mind?
He sat up. The room looked the same as usual. Nothing appeared to have been touched except—
His gaze fell on the phone.
Now that his head was clearing, he distinctly recalled turning it off before he went to sleep. But someone had not only turned it on again but adjusted the ring volume loud enough to raise the dead.
Who would play such a dirty trick on him?
Maybe he was still dreaming.
Sliding his legs off the bed, he pushed to his feet and stood on the sheepskin rug. His legs felt as shaky as Jell-O, probably because the pills hadn’t worn off. Maybe if he went downstairs and got some coffee in his system, he’d be able to think straight.
His robe was draped over the foot of the bed. He took a step toward it, then jerked back with a grunt of pain. His bare foot had come down on something sharp—some object caught in the thick wool of the rug.
Bending over, he found it with his fingers, picked it up and held it to the light. It was a small silver earring, inlaid with turquoise and fashioned in the shape of Kokopelli, the humpbacked Native American flute player. He stared at it, recognition slamming him like a mule kick.
Terri’s earring.
Buck sank onto the edge of the bed. Lord, could he have had mind-blowing sex with Terri, who’d always been like a kid sister to him? Terri, that miracle of patience and efficiency who kept the hectic world of Bucket List Enterprises running like well-oiled clockwork?
No, it was unbelievable. But it was the only possible answer. Terri would have the gate code and the security combination for the front door. The dog, who’d bark at any stranger, knew her well. Glancing at the clock, he saw how late he’d slept. That made sense, too—Terri must have come to check on him when he hadn’t shown up at work.
And only Terri would have turned on his cell phone when she left and set the ringer loud enough to wake him. Knowing her, she probably would’ve fed the dog, too. He would remember to check when he went downstairs.
But if Terri was the answer, he still had plenty of questions. Had he really had sex with her? But the dream, which seemed less and less dreamlike the more he thought of it, left little doubt of that. He remembered waking up to a woman leaning over him, remembered pulling her into bed. Remembered her response, and the way she’d made him feel... He’d initiated the encounter, but she’d come willingly.
No way would she have joined him in that bed...unless she’d wanted to.
Holding that thought, Buck showered in the bathroom, finger-raked his hair, and pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt. He was wide-awake now, but going back to work today wouldn’t be a great idea, especially since Terri would be there. Sooner or later he’d have to face her. But before that happened, he had some serious thinking to do.
He took a minute to phone Evie Redfeather and arrange for her to pick up Quinn in Sedona. Evie, a retired air force fighter pilot, had made the short flight before and said she didn’t mind going again. That taken care of, he went downstairs in his bare feet to make coffee.
With cup in hand he wandered out onto the redwood deck and leaned on the railing. His eyes traced the passing flight of a golden eagle, its wings casting a brief shadow against the sunset-hued cliffs. A downward glance into the yard confirmed that Murphy’s food dish was full of kibble, his water bowl freshly filled. Terri had been here, all right. No one else would think to take care of his dog while he was sick.
But what was he going to do about her? Terri was his right-hand woman, the person he depended on for everything from booking tours and flights to hiring and firing employees to fending off Diane. But sleeping with her would change the dynamics of what had been a perfect relationship—a relationship he couldn’t afford to lose. He could get a bed partner anytime he wanted one. But, damn it, Terri was irreplaceable.
Buck sipped his coffee and thought hard. This misstep would have to be dealt with. The question was, how?
He could call her into his office—no, maybe take her out to dinner, apologize profusely and promise it would never happen again. But how might Terri respond to that? At best it would create an awkward situation between them. Or she could be hurt. She could feel rejected, even angry. She could even—God forbid—quit her job and leave.
There had to be a way to put this behind them without harming their relationship.
Buck gazed down at the cooled dregs of the coffee in his cup, thinking hard. What if he were to behave as if the whole thing had never happened? After all, he’d been half-asleep. Surely Terri wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t remember. She might even be relieved.
The more he thought about the idea the better it sounded. Nothing would have to change—no expectations, no awkwardness. Terri could go on working for him as always. Even if she suspected him of knowing, she’d have no proof.
His white lie would save face for both of them.
But it didn’t make him feel any better about what had happened. Sex with Terri had been sensational. With any other woman, he would have been lobbying for a return engagement. But Terri was off-limits. Not only was she his employee but she was Steve’s kid sister, the girl he’d promised to look after when Steve didn’t make it home from Iraq.
And having half-drugged sex with her wasn’t part of that promise.
At
