Before I Wake Read Online Free PDF

Spade bag I had bought on the street last spring.
    “I think I miss you.”
    My throat tightened. “I miss you, too. Look, I’ll be home for Christmas. If I can, I’ll see if I can swing a few days before that.”
    Part of me hoped I wouldn’t be able to.
    Awful, isn’t it? To love your family and miss them, but at the same time dread seeing them? Actually, it wasn’t them I dreaded; it was the expectations they had of me.
    “Okay. Do what you can. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.”
    My throat got tighter. Pretty soon I’d be choking on air. “Love you, too.”
    I hung up. Two seconds later—and I mean two seconds. I didn’t even have enough time to process any of the conversation I’d just had with my sister—the phone rang again.
    “Hello?”
    “Ivy call you?” It was my brother, Mark.
    Laughter loosened my throat. “How’d you know?”
    “I was talking to her earlier. I tried to call before she got to you, but as soon as I got your voice mail three times in a row, I knew she’d gotten you.”
    It had felt much longer. “Trying to run interference, were you?”
    “I figured if I called first, she might get tired of trying and give up.” There was a slight pause, and his voice changed—lost some of its usual humor. “She give you a hard time?”
    I shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “A bit.”
    “You okay?”
    “I will be.”
    “You wanna talk?”
    I twisted the phone cord around my finger. “Not really.”
    I could almost hear his relief. My brother, as good-hearted as he was, was not good with feelings. “All right. I’ll let you go then.
    Night, Tink.”
    I smiled. “Night, Idgit.”
    This time when I hung up I vowed to let voice mail answer if it rang again.

    I ran a bath and sorted through my assortment of bath products as the tub filled. I needed something to relax me—ah, Cinnamon Buns bubble bath. That would do it. If I couldn’t eat them, I could at least soak in water that smelled like ’em.
    I pinned my hair up, grabbed the latest Bon Jovi CD and the newest romance by Lisa Kleypas, and tossed my robe over the towel rack. I settled into the hot, sweet-smelling water and read until Jon stopped singing. By that time I smelled delicious, had muscles as limp as Paris Hilton’s eyelids, and had a head full of fantasies involving me and a darkly dangerous hero. If anyone tried staking David Boreanaz in my dreams tonight, I was going to be seriously ticked off.
    I climbed into bed and was asleep shortly after my head touched the pillow. I drifted into my secret world and allowed the dreams to come:
    I was on my way to the opera with Clive Owen, but before things could get interesting, I somehow ended up at my old high school, where I learned that I had forgotten to study for an exam. Clive was there, too, but he was attracted to the charms of Amy Dufresne—a skinny, skanky girl I sat behind in history class. I never did like her.
    Then Amy and Clive were gone, and I was in a bedroom—an old one. It was like I was in a production of a Jane Austen novel.
    The bedroom was huge, the walls covered with paper that was hand-painted with hundreds of colorful birds. I touched it and felt the slightly uneven texture beneath my fingers.
    My hair hung around the shoulders of my long cotton nightgown, which was pristine and unwrinkled. I was naked underneath it—not even underwear. Who was skanky now?
    The door opened. In the lamplight—why had I not noticed how dim the lighting was before?—I saw a man enter the room. He came toward me, his boots falling heavily with every step. Out of the darkness he came, into the light.
    He was beautiful. Tight black pants, leather boots, open white shirt, and tanned, muscular build. There was something familiar about his pale eyes, but I couldn’t place it. He was like something right off the cover of a romance novel, only better. He was a complete personification of everything I thought physically attractive in a man, and he made my knees