An Excerpt From: No Time To Dream

© Copyright Treva Harte, 2003

Prologue

It was the dream again.

She knew it was because she felt the underwater quality to it, the unnaturally slow motion of bodies. She knew because she struggled to stop but, just like an undertow, she sank back into it once more.

They were in the airport. Victor was jiggling his foot while they waited, just as he always did when he had to wait. Jen laid her hand on his leg.

"Less than a half hour, darling," Victor leaned over to tell her. "We'll be out of here. Anywhere in South America you want to go, Jen. Do you think you'll like Rio de Janeiro? Next assignment I'll try for Europe. I know you want to see Paris—"

That was when the loudspeaker announced her name. Jen's stomach knotted as she went to the phone. Victor followed behind her, his hand touching her shoulder. Jennifer listened and began to cry.

"Victor—my parents," she managed. "Cee Cee says they're in the hospital. It was a car accident…Vic, I have to go to them."

Indecision chased over his face. Then, just as she had heard it over and over in her head, done over and over a million times before, she told him, "You can go. It's a new job and they wouldn't understand if you weren't there. I'll catch up as soon as I hear—"

"Is it bad?" Victor asked. "How are they?"

"I don't know. It sounds bad but Cee Cee doesn't have any real information yet. The girls are waiting in the hospital. Someone has to be there for them. They're just teenagers. Vic, I can't go now."

He hesitated. For him, this was the big moment, the big job as a photographer, the chance to finally leave. He had been waiting for this chance forever. He had been waiting for them both to be able to go together. Maybe she was the only other person who knew how desperate he was to escape at last and show everyone that he could do this. She tried to smile. They both knew what his decision would finally be. The airline's crackling microphone announced the final departure for their flight.

"I'll call," he said at last and bent to kiss her hard. "Give your parents my love. Call Jack to pick you up or get a taxi to the hospital. We'll sort it out as soon as we can. Don't worry. Jen, I love you."

"Victor, I love you too—"

She was almost awake now. This was where the dream always ended and she had to wake up, realizing that the worst thing in her life had not only happened but she had to dream it over and over again.

Jennifer let out a deep breath as she woke up. She braced herself. Sometimes what came now was worse because then she knew she was awake. This part was true.

And then it came.

The hurt washed over her again, just like when it hadn't been a dream. The pain was there—it never seemed to lose its intensity. But she hadn't known what was coming when she and Victor had first made their decision, back when the scene in the airport had been real.

She struggled for more sleep, even though she knew the dream and the questions would keep coming back again.

Abruptly, Jen got up. She couldn't go back to sleep and she couldn't bear to keep thinking. Throwing some clothes on, she decided to forget even trying for a normal night.

* * *

Jen sat out on the porch with Poppy curled up companionably next to her. Who needed sleep when the dark night sky had bright stars and the evening breeze started to cool down the heat? It didn't matter if she was alone in the quiet. She didn't need anyone with her.

Despite what she didn't need, she smiled when the Lexus pulled into the driveway next door. Jack was home. He hesitated when he saw the porch light on next door. Obviously he wasn't in the mood for neighborly company.

Jen would have let him go on in and said nothing, but Poppy jumped up and ran over, barking furiously and wagging cheerfully, in her usual confused fashion. Jen stood up to wave and shush the prancing dog.

She felt a little embarrassed, as if she'd been spying on him. Of course that was ridiculous. Shoot, if she waited up to see him every time he came home late, she might never get any sleep.

He walked toward her. She saw the remnants of a tomcat grin on his face, saw in the way he walked that he hadn't been out late working. Or at least not working on anything to do with the firm.

"Nice night," Jen observed. "Too nice to sleep."

"Nothing wrong, is there, Jen?" Jack asked.

What a nice guy. He was looking at her with genuine concern. He did care. Even if he was a ladies' man and she wasn't one of his ladies.

"No. Thanks for asking, Jack." She ran her hand briefly down his cheek. "Did you get lucky tonight?"

He shifted his hands to the back pockets of his jeans and didn't answer. Jen couldn't quite interpret the look on his face but she knew enough about his expression to hastily pull her hand back. The lazy amusement usually in his eyes wasn't there.

"Sorry. That was a little personal. I hope you did. I'm sure she did," Jen hastily changed the subject. "I guess I could use an early night myself. I need to get up earlier tomorrow if I'm going to beat you into the office."

"Try it." Jack was unconcerned as he issued the old challenge. "It hasn't happened yet. But you're welcome to make me coffee if you do get in first."

They shared a smile. The older partners had their secretaries and paralegals wait on them hand and foot. Fetching coffee was just one of the ways the secretaries had to defer to them. Jack had never even hinted she was anything but a professional, with her own work to do. It was one of the things she liked so much about him.

"If I do, be careful about what you find in the cup," she said. "Tomorrow, Jack."

Her long brown hair was braided, the way it usually was. He wished it was loose.

Her thin T-shirt clung to her back. He wished she was walking toward him instead of away.

While he was at it, he wished her shirt was off. He could imagine her, her hair partially covering her skin, concealing and then revealing her breasts. Her eyes, staring at him shyly, desire in them. She wouldn't be sure what to do about what she wanted. He could show her.

He felt the desire hit him again and braced against it. After all, it was nothing new. He could live with it. Just.

"G'night, Jen."

She went inside, shutting the door firmly, with the dog trailing obediently behind her.

Damn it, she'd done it again. Even after he'd spent hours in bed with someone else, she just had to look at him and he was twisted up with desire and despair and now this sick feeling of guilt. He didn't owe her fidelity. He didn't owe her anything but friendship. He gave her that unstintingly. Always.

Jack sank onto the porch chair where she had sat. He could smell her scent on the chair's pillow. Then he put his head in his hands...