It took a second shower to clean the stench of the nightmare from her body. She rubbed cream all over herself, got dressed.
Realizing that she now wore her prettiest bra and undies was another kick in the gut. She wasn’t intending to let anyone see her in them. There was no reason to take extra care with her makeup and hair.
No reason other than the fact that concentrating on Marcus and sex was far preferable to panicking about what mysteries remained hidden in her brain.
When he picked her up, she was more tongue-tied than ever. His black jeans and grey sweater made his eyes look darker, the stubble on his chin emphasizing his strong jaw. He stood beside the door and helped her in, his fingers warm against her cold ones.
“You keeping the beard?” she teased.
“Shaver wasn’t charged, and I slept too late to mess with a razor one-handed.” He glanced over her, approval on his face. “You look great.”
She’d never been a blusher. Not even when she was young, but right then and there, blood rushed to her cheeks. “Thanks.”
He found them a parking spot, escorted her to the door. Together they moved through the line of people exchanging ticket stubs for tiny portions of different local menu samples. Buffalo steak. West Coast wild salmon. Marcus balanced his plate on his left elbow, using his right hand to point out items for her to try. He’d given her control of the coupons, and in the end he carried both their full plates to the table while she passed over the correct stubs to the woman at the end of the lineup.
Becki eased into the chair opposite him, suddenly glad she’d accepted the invitation to Banff. No matter how far she had to go, being there was right.
Small talk and comparisons of the various foods followed. Becki lifted a forkful of her venison for Marcus to try, and he licked the utensil clean, his gaze riveted on her. The meal was comfortable, and yet not.
Anticipation hovered between them.
Unanswered questions.
Their after-dinner coffees had already been poured before she decided to stop being a wuss and talk to him about something more important than climbing shoes or gasket selections.
“I had another dream this afternoon.” She sipped her drink, watching him over the brim.
His shoulders tightened, focus narrowing. “You okay? Why didn’t you mention—”
“—it earlier?” Becki cut in. “Because I’m tired. And being tired is getting old. I can’t let this get the better of me.”
“Not sleeping makes it worse.”
He had that right. “I keep thinking I’m about to find out the next thing that happens. But then the dream folds over and repeats. Like some twisted Groundhog Day movie in my brain. I see the same scene over and over again.”
“The accident?” he asked. She nodded. “Frustrating. It would be better if it moved forward.”
She snorted. “Part of me thinks it would be better if the dreams went away altogether, but you’re right. Maybe then I could actually know what happened. But even the stupid loop is mucked up.”
Marcus rested his elbows on the table and leaned in closer. “Mucked up how?”
“It changes. It’s still the same scene, it’s always me and Dane, but we’re different. We act differently, show different emotions. One time he was such an ass to me, I woke up wanting to punch him. Well, after I got back to breathing normally. And the next time, oh my God, I could have thrown myself off the cliff. I was such a bitch. Completely out of control and irresponsible.”
She took a deep breath, shook her head in frustration. “I don’t know which of these is the truth. Maybe I did cause the accident. Maybe I was out of line and did something horrible that ended up getting him killed.”
He grabbed her hand. “Trust me. The scenario where you were a bitch? That’s not the one that’s true.”
Yeah, right. “After I ragged on you for no reason this afternoon? I don’t think you’re considering all your facts.”
“Actually, our little debate today is exactly why I don’t think you did anything belligerent when you were out there.” He released her fingers. “Even when you were rightly furious with me you still behaved in a professional manner—well, except for the climbing-out-the-window part, but that’s in character as well.”
Her cheeks twitched with the urge to smile. “I swear I haven’t done anything like that for years. You bring out the devil in me.”
His eyes flashed. Something dark and lust-filled stared back at her. She felt her body heating up. Responding to him as always.
“Talk about bringing out the devil in a person.” Marcus spoke softly. “You had all your medical work done up for the school?”
“Of course. You think there’s something in there that would explain why I can’t remember details?”
He stared at her lips before slowly rolling his gaze down her body. “No. Just making sure your record is as clean as mine.”
Shit. A direct hit of desire to her core burst upward as if he’d aimed a bomb between her thighs. She squeezed her legs together to fight the urge to slip her hand into her lap. “Are you trying to distract me from talking about nightmares?”
“It’s your fault. I’m being distracted by your perfume. Suddenly I don’t want anything more for dessert but you. Any way I can have you.”
Her mouth went dry. “Marcus—”
“You on birth control? Because while I’d prefer to go without, we can use condoms. They’re a little tougher to deal with one-handed. You’ll have to help me put them on.”
“What are you doing?” Becki whispered, glancing around the room to make sure they weren’t being overheard. Their nearest dinner partners seemed oblivious, but Becki wasn’t sure if she should slap him or jump him.
Damn stupid body for mixing reactions.
Then he leaned back and relaxed, his body language shifting from sexual predator to casual friendship. “See, if you were prone to doing something irrational and wild? You would have at least thrown something at me for being a jerk just now, even though we’re in a public place. Only you’re not like that, Becki. You’re a good person. Whatever is hidden in your brain and pushing your buttons, it’s not that you were a crazed lunatic, okay?”
Her pulse was still going a million miles an hour. She was torn between laughing and punching him in the gut, but however twisted his method had been, it had worked. He had a valid point. While she might be impulsive, she had never done anything cruel or malicious, nothing to indicate the whack-job dreams were real.
His method of making his argument, however, had been over the top and outrageous. She smiled. Kind of in character for him as well. Good thing she was bent, but not broken.
One good—deed—deserved another.
“Yes.” She took a deep breath, filling her lungs and forcing her breasts against the fabric of her top. His gaze dropped from her face, involuntarily tracing the edge of her scoop-necked blouse as she arched slightly to make the swells ease upward even farther.
His breathing skipped a notch. “Yes, what? You agree you’re not a crazy woman?”
“Definitely not crazy. Good point.” She dragged a finger through the leftover chocolate on the plate before them, lifted it to her mouth, and slipped the gooey sauce between her lips. Sucking lightly and humming as she stared at him from under her lashes. “Also, yes. I’m on birth control. I far prefer being skin on skin during sex, but I’m picky about who I allow the privilege of partnering with me bare. Although the idea of putting a condom on you does sound . . . intriguing. I think I remember how.”
“Fuck.” Marcus breathed the word on a moan. His gaze lifted to meet hers, heat and desire widening his pupils. His nostrils flared. He adjusted position in his seat uneasily.