Brenda's Dreams
Chapter Ten

What had happened just now? Brenda wondered apprehensively. For an instant there had been a flow between the two of them as though they shared unspoken feelings. She would be crazy to believe such an unlikely transfer, but how else could Jax have possibly known what she had called her sculpture when she made it. Grandma Quatermaine had not even seen what she meant to capture with her bits and pieces. Yet this man, who was a stranger, knew right away.

Brenda shivered. Setting the driftwood on an end table besides the couch, she picked up the quilt and draped it over her shoulders. Jax just made a lucky guess, she told herself. There is no other way he could have known.

"I must have said something wrong," he muttered.

He looked really upset that she overcame her uneasiness to give him reassurance. "You just scared me because you called my sculpture the same thing I did when I made it."

He clenched his jaw, his tension obvious. Hesitatingly she reached to him her fingers grazing his forearm.

He took a deep breath, finally relaxing, and put his hand over hers. "You were good at thirteen...you must really be something by now. Do you still work with found objects?"

Brenda shook her head. "I'm not an artist. My sister..." She stopped mid-sentence, knowing that she couldn't tell this man anything about her life.

Too much had already passed between them. She pulled her hand away from him. He was now, tonight, but he wasn't tomorrow, he was not the future. She had to be careful not to give any more of herself to him.

Yet his praise warmed her more then the fire. His understanding of what she had done and her appreciation of her talent gave her an inner glow. No one besides her grandmother had ever liked her creations.

"You make a pretty good peanut butter sandwich," she said eager to change the subject. Even if you happen to be the type to put the butter on before the jelly."

Jax smiled. "Gourmet cooks like me never forget to put the butter on first."

They ate on the floor in front of the fire. Jax had carried some quilts and blankets down from the chest upstairs and spread one out for them to sit on. He had even brought down pillows that they would need for sleeping, the warmest spot in the whole house. She decided she better not think about that right now. Just being near Jax made her edgy enough and she didn't need to go bothering trouble.

She had noticed at their earlier picnic that he was a very graceful eater. Some men were not. Watching his strong, tapered fingers set his empty glass on the tray, she wondered if he could be an artist. Perhaps he was a professional hockey player. Would he tell her if she asked?

It was better not to know. To keep him a stranger as much as possible was best. Why was it though she was beginning to think she had know him forever?

Maybe they were lovers in a previous life, a psychic might say that. No, she wouldn't go there. She only believed in the tangible.

Jax was all tangible, and that was the trouble. Her fingers remembered the feel of his fire-warmed skin, and her lips knew the shape of his mouth. How could she possibly bed down in front of the fire next to him and not reach out and touch him?

He cleared his throat. "The storm has put us in a provocative situation." He paused waiting for her answer.

Brenda gave a terse nod, thinking it had to be the understatement of the year.

"There is no point in denying that we are attracted to one another." He half-smiled.

No point at all. He was what Lois, her best friend back in San Francisco, would call a hunk. Any woman would be crazy not to notice him. What she felt could only be attributed to the fact that Jax was a very virile male and she was a very healthy female. Nothing more. She should be happy about his thoughts on their situation instead of being annoyed that he could be so calm and collected when the restraint she had put on her own emotions was driving her crazy.

His eyes passed over her face and down to where her quilt separated to reveal the fullness of her breasts under the clinging nightshirt. When his hands started to reach for her, she felt her nipples contract with need. Hastily she drew the quilt closed, and his hands dropped to his sides.

He was not as collected as he pretended, which made the situation even more dangerous. Still, they were two mature adults who ought to be able to overcome a mere physical attraction neither one of them wanted to consummate.

What would happen if they failed? If *she* failed? No, she wouldn't even think about that! There was a bond between them, and it had been there from the moment she had first seen Jax on the beach. She must not let anything else happen between them. If she was unsuccessful then she would never be able to forget him. Never.

Jax returned the tray and dishes to the kitchen. The lightning and thunder had gone, but the rain continued to come down in buckets. The wind continued to howl and came through the cracks in the door chilling his bare feet. He checked the gulls box to make sure Larry was warm enough then hurried back to the warmth of the living room.

Brenda had spread several blankets atop the quilt on the floor in front of the hearth, and he held her unfold others for a covering. He smiled when he noticed she had placed the pillows as far apart as the quilts allowed, as if a few inches would make a difference.

He had not finished his carefully planned talk on how honorably he intended to behave. He had just about lost control and if she had not backed away when she did then they would be doing the sheet shimmy. She was a temptation he couldn't afford to take.

What had happened when he had thought he had linked with her over the sculpture? He had tried his best to keep that from happening again. It was probably better to keep his hands to himself, even if he couldn't control the thoughts in his head.

He added some fresh logs to the fire, then blew out the candles while Brenda eased under the covers. After settling himself into the nest of blankets and quilts, he glanced over at her and saw that she had turned on her side away from him.

He lay on his back watching the play of light and shadow from the firelight on the ceiling. The faint scent of smoke brought back memories from his childhood of campfires he head shared with his family. The last one being a camping trip with his father.

"Your a bright boy, Jax. You need to go out and discover what your good at, and when you do, don't waste your time like I did. Go straight to the top. Be somebody!" His father had told him by the fire.

He loved both of his parents and, as a child, couldn't understand why they had quarreled so incessantly. Now he realized it might have something to do with the fact that, though his father made a comfortable living he wasn't "somebody."

Now that his father was dead, his mother refused to remember the fighting. He had come to realize that they had loved each other in their own way but had never resolved their differences.

Was it possible for a man and a women never to resolve their differences? Certainly him and Miranda had never even came close. The bitterness of their divorce so tainted his memories of her he could not recall if he had really loved her at the beginning, or if he had been trapped by his lust. Never again, he vowed silently.

Beside him Brenda shifted slowly and carefully. Even her breathing sounded measured, as though she needed to keep a low profile to avoid arousing him. Hell, the very fact she lay next to him was arousing enough, but he had made up his mind not to touch her.

"I have never attacked a woman in her sleep. I don't plan on starting tonight." He said, trying to reassure her.

She didn't answer. Time passed, and Brenda shifted restlessly beside him.

"Do you believe people have psychic abilities?" She finally asked.

The question took him by surprise. "Let's just say I would need more proof than I've seen so far," he paused for a minute. "Why?"

"I just kinda wondered. Your answer beats around the bush. Are you saying you sort of believe?"

He saw that she had turned onto her back, staring not at him, but at the ceiling. I'm a pragmatist, and I don't take much on faith. While there have been some interesting experiments, I find them inconclusive."

"Do you think the possibility exists?"

"A reluctant yes."

Brenda sighed.

"Does my answer disturb you?" he asked.

"Not exactly. If I'm honest with myself, I guess I feel about the same as you do. Just as reluctantly."

He wanted to find out why she had started the conversation. Had she sensed the silent, inner exchange between them over the sculpture? Another part of him shied away from asking for fear of what she might tell him. To share with Brenda could only lead to involvement. Or worse...it could lead to a repeat of that inner contact.

"You need to rest," he said softly. "Don't fret over what can't be solved, and don't pose problems with no answers. Clear your mind. Relax. Go to sleep."

She turned her head and looked at him, firelight flickering in her eyes. She was so close. So desirable. His breathing accelerated. He heard the rasp of air in his throat as he fought against his urge to gather her into his arms.

Brenda longed to reach out to Jax and shelter in the warmth of his embrace. How strange to feel that safety and danger lay in exactly the same place.

We could share a goodnight kiss, she told herself. One kiss.

That's not all you would wind up sharing, another part of her warned.

She sighed again and turned away from him. She *was* tired, and she *did* need sleep.