A Dream to Cling To Read Online Free PDF Page A

His strong handsmoved through the air as he spoke, fashioning it into shapes and images.
    “How nice. I’d never thought about doors quite like that.” She crossed her arms and watched him carefully.
    He nodded toward the picture, a half smile softening the line of his jaw. “When you tune in to them, you discover wonderful things. It’s kind of nice—an introduction to the folks who live there. We don’t take time for that kind of craft much anymore. Too bad, really.”
    “Yes …” Brittany murmured, enjoying the rich sound of his voice spinning such nice thoughts. She shoved away the feelings of hurrying him out the door … just for a moment.
    “Ever been to Europe, Brittany?”
    The spell was broken. She nodded, her eyes focusing on the leaping flames of the fire.
    “Where?”
    “Nowhere special. London, Paris.”
    Sam swallowed his smile when he glanced down and read the sadness in her eyes. Traveling to far-off places was a delicious panacea for him, refreshing fuel for his mind. For Brittany, it must have been something far different. “Well,” he said gently, “perhaps you were simply with the wrong person.”
    Her gaze remained fixed on the flickering orange flames that danced off the bricks, leaving eerie shadows cavorting around the room like live jesters. “The brandy,” she said absently. “It’s there on the table.”
    “So it is.” He moved to the table and poured the Courvoisier into the two glasses, then sank back onto the comfortable couch and motioned for her to join him.
    The brandy slid down her throat easily, loosening the tense feeling around her heart and behind her eyes. She settled back into the soft cushions and faced him, her smile back in place. “Now, Sam, about this game for my father …”
    “Yes. About that game.” He lifted one arm over the back of the sofa and rested his fingers inches from herhead. “Help me to understand why a lovely woman like you doesn’t want to help me with a gift for her own father.”
    His husky voice wasn’t helping. She shook her head and tried to be annoyed. “I already told you why. But it doesn’t matter. What matters now is that my family has offered my services to you—”
    One brow rose.
    “Oh, you know very well what I mean!” She dipped her head quickly to hide the blush and fumbled for her brandy snifter. “I simply don’t have time to spend on this … this project. I really don’t. Sara has more time. Or my brother.”
    Her emerald eyes flashed with tiny specks of gold, and her flushed face was framed in a soft mass of wavy hair. He watched as she lifted her hand to drink the brandy. The fleecy purple robe pulled tight against her firm breasts. He swallowed hard around the knot forming in his throat. He took a quick drink of brandy and continued.
    “But according to everyone, Brittany, you’re the one with the memories, the perception I need.”
    His nearness was suddenly taking away air she badly needed. “But, Sam …”
    His fingers closed the space between them and dropped gently onto her shoulder.
    She stared at his hand. “What is that?” She fought in vain to keep her voice smooth and calm.
    “That is my hand touching you in a friendly gesture.” Warmth spilled from his brown eyes and landed somewhere inside her. She bit down hard on her lip.
    “I want only a little of your time, your help,” he said. “I don’t want to cause problems for you—”
    She lowered her head. She
was
being foolish, and she
was
the best person to help him. She knew it, and he knew it, and her family knew it. Then why was her mind sending up flares of warning? Why couldn’t she be more reasonable about this? Was it a fear that Samwould get too close to
her
life in the process? That he would loosen the dust over things best buried and
forgotten?
    Or was it simply Sam—and the fact that in a very short amount of time spent together, he had made her desire him—and it had nothing to do with games or work or