Borrowed Dreams (Debbie Macomber Classics) Read Free

you’d mind putting on a pot of coffee? We’re both going to need it before this morning’s over.”
    Carly opened and closed her mouth. Coffee making hadn’t been listed in her job description, but she complied willingly, rather than argue.
    The two men were deep in conversation as they headed toward the door. Brand stopped and turned to Carly. “Think about what I said,” he murmured, and smiled. It was one of those bone-melting, earth-shattering smiles meant to disarm the most sophisticated of women. But the amazing part of it all was that he didn’t seem to recognize the effect he had on her. The gesture should have disarmed her; instead, it only served to confuse her further.
    She was busy at her desk when Brand returned alone a half hour later.
    “I meant what I said about paying you for some bookkeeping.”
    “I’m sorry,” she returned on a falsely cheerful note, “but I’m busy. There’s an important rescue I’m performing in Denali Park this weekend.”
    Brand didn’t look pleased.
    To hide her smile, Carly pretended an inordinate interest in her work, making a show of shuffling papers around. “Was there anything else?”
    Slowly, his gaze traveled over her. When he didn’t answer right away, Carly looked up. She had been angry at his deception, disliking the way he’d gone about borrowing the truck. But one look and she had to fight her way out of the whirlpooling effect he had on her senses.
    “Think about it,” he said in a slightly husky voice.
    “There isn’t anything to think about,” she returned smoothly, her tone belying the erratic pounding of her heart. When he walked out the door, Carly was shocked to discover that her fingers were trembling. “Get a hold of yourself, old girl,” she chastised herself in a breathy murmur, half surprised, half angry at her reaction to this man. Brand St. Clair had an uncanny knack for forcing her to recognize her own sensuality. And Carly found that highly disturbing.
    *  *  *
    As the week progressed, Carly couldn’t decide if she was pleased or disconcerted when she didn’t see Brand again. Her job was settling into a routine aside from a few minor clashes with George. He gladly surrendered the paperwork to her, preferring that she handle the collection and claims while he took care of the routing.
    On Friday afternoon Brand strolled through the office door and beamed her a bright smile. “Hello again.”
    “Hello.” Carly forced an answering smile. “George is out for the day.”
    “I know. It’s you I wanted to see.”
    “Oh.” She swallowed uncomfortably, disliking the way her heart reacted to seeing him again.
    “I just stopped by to see if you’d be interested in going flying with me tomorrow.”
    Carly stared at him blankly, confronted with the choice of owning up to what she was feeling or ignoring this growing awareness. In all honesty, she’d prefer it if he walked out the door and left her alone.
    “Why me?” She didn’t mean to sound so sharp, but she wanted to know what had prompted him to seek her out. Had she been flashing him subliminal messages?
    His eyes narrowed fractionally. “I want your company. Is that a crime? Come fly with me.”
    Carly hesitated. His challenge was open enough, and she found that the answer came just as easily. She wanted his company, too. True, Brand possessed a dangerous quality that captivated as well as alarmed her. One flight with him could prove to be devastating. But she’d love to fly. “How long will we be gone?” Not that it mattered; she hadn’t planned to do anythingmore than unpack boxes.
    “Most of the day. We’ll leave in the morning and be back in time for me to take you to dinner.” His faint drawl enticed her.
    “What time do you want me to meet you?” she asked. Red lights were flashing all around her, but Carly chose to ignore their warning. Brand St. Clair was a challenge—and she’d never been able to resist that. In some ways it was a fault, and in