Out of Her Dreams Read online

  Out of Her Dreams

  Fran Lee

  She's a best-selling erotic romance writer. Her fans adore her. She's making excellent money. All by writing about a man she dreamed up many years ago. Her hero is handsome, virile, sexy, strong, sensitive and a complete gentleman. He's a hot-headed, sex-on-the-hoof pro wrestler. He has a reputation for being the hottest, nastiest man on the mats. The fact that his face and body are plastered all over a bunch of mushy romance novels written by a woman with a death wish doesn't sit well on those massive shoulders. His agent's demanding monetary retribution from the woman who's dared to use his image on her covers but he has another form of retribution in mind…and it has nothing to do with money. She was his the moment he touched her. He came out of her dreams to claim her, and she wants every hot, throbbing inch of that delicious man. He wants her, naked, at his mercy. One hot, orgasmic night wasn't nearly enough. She ran…but he'll find her.

  Fran Lee

  Out of Her Dreams

  Out of Her Dreams Copyright © 2009 Fran Lee

  To John, David and Christina.

  You have been my inspiration all your lives. Thanks for all your love and support.

  Acknowledgements

  My thanks to my wonderful editor, Helen Woodall, for her patience and perseverance in attempting to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Armani: GA Modefine S.A. Corporation

  Embassy Suites: HLT Domestic IP LLC Ltd. Liab. Co.

  Hummer: General Motors Corporation

  Hilton: Hilton Hotels Corporation

  Nike: Nike Inc.

  Pilates: Joseph Hubertus Pilates

  Science Channel: Discovery Communications, LLC

  Sharpie: Sanford L.P., A Newell Rubbermaid Company

  Sheraton: Sheraton Hotels, Starwood Hotels and Resorts

  SportTix: SportTix, Wordpress Entries Inc.

  Superman: DC Comics.

  Teflon: DuPont Corp.

  TV Guide: TV Guide

  Twilight Zone: CBS TV

  UFC: Ultimate Fighting Championship, Zuffa LLC

  Chapter One

  “I can’t even begin to imagine how you came up with this hero you’ve put into your books, Ms. Hastings! The man is incredibly sexy, sensitive and wonderful!” the woman standing before the book signing table gushed as Samantha signed her book with a flourish and handed it back to her with a smile.

  Sam was used to this comment. She smiled mysteriously and said, “I dream. He is right out of my dreams.” And how. “Thanks so much for buying my novels.”

  “You must have some pretty hot dreams,” the woman sighed, moving away so that Sam could sign the next book.

  Another book, another buck. So far today she had signed over two hundred books. Not a bad day for a book signing. She glanced up at the girl standing in front of her and took the open novel from her hands, poising her Sharpie over the flyleaf page. “Hi. What’s your name?”

  “Angie. Just say something like, ‘Dear Angie, friends forever, love Samantha Hastings’.” The blonde was biting her bottom lip as she waited eagerly for her wish to be granted. At times Sam felt like she’d just popped from an old bottle in a puff of smoke. Granting wishes was her forte. One more wish coming right up. Too bad she wasn’t so good at getting her own wishes granted. But then, you couldn’t have everything you wanted in life. Right? And Samantha Hastings had some pretty graphic wishes she’d love to see come true.

  Sam smiled and wrote exactly what the young woman had asked her to write and handed back her purchase, giving the girl a brilliant, genuine smile. “Thanks for buying my book.” Her face ached from smiling for hours but who was she to complain? She was making money here. And she truly was grateful to the women who bought her books. A little pain was worth it at times. And she was no stranger to pain, was she?

  She reached for her water glass and took a desperately needed sip, before flexing her fingers and reaching out to take the next book dangling in front of her from its owner’s hands. Her fingers collided head-on with warm skin and she winced. “Sorry.”

  She could just read the tabloid headlines now-Author of Lurid Romance Books Attacks and Wounds Customer at Book Signing.

  Boy. She needed a break and soon. She was as tired as hell and her wrist and hand ached. But this was just another part of the job. You wrote books, you helped sell them at book signing parties. For the past two years there had been no time to rest. It felt as if she’d been sitting here for five days instead of five hours. After checking her nails for possible blood from her customer, she pasted on another big smile as she opened the book to its pristine flyleaf and asked, “What’s your name?”

  “You tell me, Ms. Hastings.”

  The voice was husky. Deep enough to send some pretty gnarly tingles along every nerve she possessed. She blinked at the lean, masculine hand resting on the table and bit the corner of her lower lip. Her eyes moved appreciatively upward toward the face of the person whose book she was about to sign-and her mouth went suddenly dry.

  Her eyes had to travel a considerable distance up the front of a massive, tall frame, over a powerful, Armani-clad chest that would have been hell to stretch a shirt across, to the face she had seen in her dreams for so many years. The same face, with the same night-dark eyes and high cheekbones and chiseled mouth. The very same crookedly sexy smile with the exact same amazingly white, beautiful teeth that flashed as he slowly smiled down at her. Oh. My. God!

  She was hallucinating. She had to be.

  Nope. No giant, intensely sexy hallucination, that. The fingers that had collided with hers were warm. Warm and very solid. She felt a shot of primal heat reverberate though her belly. She couldn’t quite get her breath. Her head felt oddly light and she realized numbly that everyone was looking from her white, shocked face to the giant of a man who stood before her, intently waiting for her to speak.

  “It’s him!” a voice squeaked somewhere to one side and Sam swallowed hard.

  “My God, that’s got to be him!” another voice gasped. An excited murmur arose all through the store and she was dazedly aware of people pressing closer.

  It was suddenly claustrophobic. Mingled perfumes from a hundred female pulse points almost overwhelmed her senses but not quite enough to cut out the hot, clean scent of man. The tangy, heady essence that lightly tickled her nostrils and tongue as fantasies of licking that massive chest danced through her wildly heated thoughts. Memories of dreams left unfinished, needs left unsated, and fantasies left unfulfilled stormed her mind and left her body in absolute turmoil. And in the middle of her search for something-anything-to say, one of the pressing bodies lifted an open book to the apparition and squealed excitedly as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

  “Can we have your autograph too, Chance?” Another woman to the left of the table suddenly held her book up to the man as well but his eyes never left Sam’s white face. Obsidian eyes. Hot, hungry eyes that burned into her and made her breathlessly aware of the heat pooling between her legs and the odd little fluttery threads of lust unfurling inside her belly as she sat glued to her chair. The tips of her fingers still tingled from his brief touch. Every sense was heightened. Every thought was sizzlingly unrepeatable. And she realized with a start that he was reading those X-rated thoughts loud and clear when his gaze dropped to her mouth as she wet her lips nervously.

  With a superhuman effort, Sam attempted to clear her suddenly tight throat and scrambled to gather her thoughts as she placed the tip of the Sharpie on the flyleaf and quickly wrote,

  To the man of my dreams.

  Samant
ha Hastings

  She handed him back the book then rose stiffly from her seat and excused herself, unable to believe she had just written that. Run, Sam, run!

  “Sam, what’s wrong?” her business manager, Phyllis Sharples, asked with a worried look as she brushed past her to hurry wordlessly to the stockroom, where she could try to catch her breath and check her sanity. She could feel Phyllis’ confused gaze on her back as she retreated.

  What’s wrong? What’s wrong? There was really a man out there who looked exactly like the hero in her series of best-selling romance novels, that’s what was wrong!

  “Nothing.” She croaked the strangled one-word response as she picked up speed.

  She managed to get all the way to the privacy of the stockroom before she grabbed the wall and leaned heavily, closing her eyes and dragging in deep breaths of air to keep herself from fainting. Dear God. Even the fans out there had seen it. The similarity. The incredible, uncanny likeness to the imaginary dream man she had sketched for the artist who had designed the cover art for her novels. She put her shaking hand over her mouth and tried to imagine how on earth it had happened. Had she maybe seen him somewhere, not realizing it, and had begun to fantasize about him?

  No. Impossible. She would never forget seeing that man.

  But he was right there in the bookstore, as big as life. Bigger. Her thoughts grew hot and wild as she pictured that humongous, muscular body in her fevered mind. Could there possibly be another man on the face of this earth who could be her dream lover’s exact twin? Right down to that incredible, sexily crooked smile?

  She shook her head and wondered what on earth she should do next. Dear Lord, she was in deep shit here. Obviously, he had come to see who the woman was who had plastered his likeness over every newsstand and bookstore in the known world.

  He was probably going to hit her with some massive lawsuit. Or maybe a massive fist.

  Phyllis hurried into the stockroom, chirping excitedly, “My God, girl. This has got to be the best advertising hook I’ve ever seen! Everyone’s asking him to sign your books too. I had no idea he was real. Did you plan this all along, you wicked thing, you?”

  Sam lifted her eyes to the woman’s face and she shook her head. “Honestly, Phyllis, I’ve never laid eyes on that man until just now.” Except in some very hot, very naughty, very personal wet dreams.

  “Oh come on, it’s me, remember? Everyone knows the man from your novel covers. I want his photo on our latest advertising campaign. He’s even more gorgeous in the flesh than in your sketches. You little devil. You sure know how to pull an ace out of your sleeve!” Phyllis rubbed her hands together as she imagined the ad campaign.

  But Sam wasn’t paying attention to her business manager. Her eyes were glued to the shadowy figure standing outlined in the doorway to the stockroom. He seemed to fill the entire doorway. She bit her lower lip and put her hands on her hot cheeks, waiting for the explosion. Phyllis followed her gaze and turned to extend a hand to the man, who simply took it and nodded, his dark eyes never leaving Sam’s red face.

  “I can’t believe you two cooked up this fabulous surprise. I have got to get your bio so we can push this. This is utterly amazing!” Phyllis was still clutching his hand as she babbled almost incoherently, her eyes drinking in this incredibly gorgeous man.

  Sam tapped her business manager’s shoulder and said in a strangled tone, “Phyllis, enough. Can you give us a few minutes? Alone?”

  The woman blinked in shock at the urgency in her star writer’s voice and she allowed Sam to shove her unceremoniously from the room as the man moved quietly inside. Once the door was closed, Sam leaned back against it, her eyes hesitantly lifting to the man’s face. “I am so very sorry. I have no idea how this happened. I certainly didn’t expect there to be a real person. I mean I didn’t… I never…”

  “How did you do it?” The voice was softly menacing, interrupting her panic attack.

  She stopped struggling to speak and stared up at him. “Excuse me?”

  Those amazing dark eyes seemed to pierce her thoughts. “It’s okay. Free advertising for me. In fact, it’s even a bit flattering. But I only want to know one thing.”

  She swallowed hard and managed to squeak, “What thing?”

  “How did you find out all that stuff?” His voice was enough to curl her toes. “Nobody knows the stuff you wrote about me. No one.”

  Sam stared up at him. Every cell screamed for her to reach out and touch that massive, solid-looking body. To run her fingertips over the cotton shirt and see if he felt as delicious as he looked. The things that flitted through her heated mind made her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. She shook herself back to sanity with difficulty and drew a calming breath.

  “I don’t understand. I have no idea at all who you are. I’ve never seen you before in my life.” Her lips quivered with mortification. “I simply made up this character for my books. I sketched the face from my own imagination. It nearly blew me away seeing you standing out there. Honestly!”

  She felt a sense of panic as he loomed closer and even huger. He seemed to take half the space in the room and all of the air. Heat sizzled between their bodies. Heat that made her insides tighten with need and her pulse accelerate so much she was sure that he would hear her heart pounding.

  “You say you’ve never seen me before? Never heard of me? You could have fooled me.” His voice was barely a whisper. His warm breath fanned the hairs that clung to her sweat-beaded forehead and she felt a wave of weakness flood her with the need to reach out her hands to see if all that rippling, masculine flesh were real or a figment of her overworked imagination.

  Fighting for control of her thoughts, she leaned harder back against the solid safety of the door. Swallowing the tight knot in her throat, she barely managed to force herself to look up, past that powerfully corded neck in its crisp collar and tie, past that strong chin with its sinfully sexy cleft, past those temptingly chiseled lips to those hot, dangerous eyes. They hit her like a fist in her gut.

  He was huge. She found herself wondering how huge he would be in other departments before she once again shook herself back to reality. She had to strain her neck to look up at him as she forced herself to speak.

  “I have no idea who you are. I don’t even know your name. Maybe you could enlighten me, since you obviously know who I am.” Sarcasm usually worked. But for some reason, she felt that it had fallen short of its mark.

  Feeling completely breathless, she wondered what he would do if she simply leaned in an inch, raised herself onto her tiptoes and ran her tongue over that chiseled mouth. What he would do if she shoved that expensive Armani suit jacket off those hard shoulders and unbuttoned his shirt to run her palms over his bare flesh. Oh good grief. What the hell was she thinking? Be a little bit more cautious here, girl. This man was dangerous-and not just to her checkbook.

  If looks could kill, she would be toast!

  The look in those black eyes chilled her to the core as he seemed to debate with himself. “You’re serious?”

  Sam nodded. She bit her lip nervously. His eyes followed the movement and she blushed hotly. “Are you famous?”

  “That depends.” His eyes moved back up to hers, sending a trickle of something needful-hot-through her body.

  “On what?” Her voice sounded strangled even to her.

  “On whether you follow the Federation of Pro Wrestling. I guess I forget that not everyone is a pro wrestling enthusiast.” He seemed to be waiting for a reaction.

  She swallowed convulsively. “You’re…a professional wrestler?” Her frightened eyes dropped down over that massive frame which was less than a comfortable distance from hers and she barely subdued a shiver. “You aren’t thinking about twisting my head off, are you?”

  “Not until you just now brought it up.” His eyes moved over her slim throat thoughtfully before returning to her flushed face once more. He waited.

  Shaking herself out of her trance, Sam wet her lips
and said with an almost convincing measure of asperity, “Look, I have never watched professional wrestling in my life. My tastes in sports lean to swimming and tennis.” She tried to sidle away from his way-too-close body but he planted one large hand on the door, effectively blocking her escape.

  The brush of his massive arm against her ribs set off all sorts of alarms inside her and not all of them were from fear. The heat sizzling off his body seemed to melt her bones. The warm, delicious smell of his skin made her mouth water. Never in her life had she been so damn close to a man who was a walking wet dream and her body wanted a sample so badly, she didn’t know if she could keep from taking a bite. She was lost in her mental molestation of the man when his voice shook her back to reality.

  “Then how did you know all of that stuff?” Again his breath brushed her skin.

  Shivering with a reaction straight out of one of her books, Sam fought back the urge to run her lips over his jaw. “Please enlighten me further. All of what stuff?”

  “Your hero-who just happens to look like me-amazingly seems to have been patterned after other things about me as well, and I want to know where you got personal information that I have never willingly shared with anyone in my entire life.” His voice was a sexy, threatening rumble close above her ear. She could hardly frame a lucid thought as that powerful body brushed against hers and she gave a little whimper of awareness. Oh Lord. She felt just like a dog that chases cars, barking furiously. She wanted desperately to catch him but then what the hell would she do with him once she had him?

  Panic began to rise into her throat. She fought to remain lucid. She had to get away from him, far enough away to be able to think straight. She tried to sidle the other way but a very large, strong hand caught the back of her neck and she felt his fingers tighten slowly as he forced her face up to look into his eyes again. Fear tinged her voice. “I swear to you I know absolutely nothing about you. I don’t even know who the hell you are!”