His Sleeping Beauty Read online

  “That’s good of you, but my aunt is more worried about the tree than her house. You can replace a house, but a tree like that…” She looked up into the branches that towered above her, and felt a little dizzy. That’s what came from sleeping in a strange bed and being awakened so rudely and so suddenly. She’d been working long hours, too, trying to finish a project. Because of her past medical problems, she always tried to avoid the stress of deadlines by getting her work done ahead of time. Her aunt had said she looked pale and hoped she’d get some rest while she was house-sitting. Not with this Paul Bunyon next door, she wouldn’t.

  Sarah had been bogged down researching a paper about the gold rush for the next meeting of the Northern California Historical Society. She loved the subject, but with the hint of spring in the air and the promise of warm weather just around the corner, she’d been distracted.

  Maybe she’d be able to concentrate better away from the office. She hoped so, because she’d informed the staff she’d be working from her aunt Mary’s this week. Her boss wasn’t too happy about it. In fact, Trudy had been in a bad mood for the past six months, uncharacteristically taciturn and closed off from the easy camaraderie they’d shared in the past. Still she agreed to Sarah’s working from home for a week. After all, Sarah hadn’t taken a vacation in three years.

  She didn’t need time off, no matter what other people thought. She might be a little dizzy right now, but it was only because she’d changed her environment. She’d gone from city to suburb, from concrete to grass and from tall buildings to tall trees. Speaking of trees, she really had to be firm with this man.

  Sarah put her hand on the fence to steady herself and her arm brushed against his. She felt a zing of electricity run up her arm, but from the look on his handsome face, Max didn’t feel anything at all. She really had to get a grip on her reactions. She jerked her arm away and took a deep breath.

  “Just to give you some background, the tree is older than any building standing around here,” she said, gathering her thoughts at last. “The tree was standing when the Ohlone Indians lived here. Why, they might have danced around it to celebrate the beginning of spring. They’d have their skin painted, and their long hair bound and dyed.” She stared off into space, easily imagining the scene, almost hearing the beat of the drums. Her enthusiasm made her one of the foremost experts in her field; she lived and breathed the history of early California. If that made her a nerd, so be it.

  “Really?” he said, raising an eyebrow, a half smile on his lips. “Funny you should mention it, because that’s just what’s going to happen here this afternoon.”

  “A Native American ceremony, here?” she asked, wide-eyed. Now that would be something to see.

  “I don’t know about the Indians, but there will be dancing, and you might see some dyed hair and some painted skin. You’ll come by, won’t you?”

  “Come by?” she repeated. What on earth was he talking about? Why would she want to come by unless it was for real?

  “To the pool party I’m throwing this afternoon. This house happens to be a great place for parties. Part of my job is entertaining clients and courting new ones. I’ve been afraid the noise of a party would disturb your aunt, so knowing she was going on vacation, I planned it for today. Now that you’re here, I don’t need to worry. See you at four.”

  “Uh…I’m not sure. I usually work on the weekends,” she explained. No way was she going to a party to hang around a pool with a bunch of half-naked strangers. She hadn’t come to the quiet of the suburbs to be forced into awkward and stressful social situations. She learned long ago to avoid anxiety-producing situations whenever possible. Let people think she was antisocial. Her life was just the way she wanted it. Besides, she had much too much work to do.

  “Work, on a day like this?” he asked, with a glance at the blue sky above. “Three hundred years ago you wouldn’t catch the Ohlone Indians working if they had a chance to play, would you?”

  “Probably not,” she admitted. “They took every opportunity to dance and sing and feast, but I’m not a Native American.”

  “But you know a lot about them,” he said, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

  “I should. It’s my job to know about California’s history.” It’s my life also, she thought. She never understood why anyone, Aunt Mary included, thought it wasn’t enough of a life. Living in the past, some people said about her, shaking their heads. So what was wrong with that? The past was full of exotic characters, ranchers and explorers, swindlers and miners, spellbinders and promoters. In Sarah’s experience, people today weren’t all that exciting.

  “So I heard,” he said, leaning over the fence and studying her with narrowed gray eyes. She couldn’t help thinking how unusual that was. She’d never known anyone with gray eyes. Gray eyes, a firm jaw and broad bronzed shoulders. What a combination. She suddenly felt breathless again. She inhaled deeply. She was fine. No wheezing, no reduced air flow. Just a case of jitters. Pretty silly for a twenty-five-year-old historical scholar. She’d better pull herself together and remember why she was there.

  “About the tree,” she said, shifting from one foot to the other. After all, that’s what this was all about—the tree.

  “Beautiful tree. Don’t worry, I’d never do anything to endanger it. Especially now that I know what it’s been through in the past three hundred years. You’ll have to see it from this side.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary, the view from here is enough. I appreciate it just fine so don’t count on me, I mean…”

  “Come on over anytime,” he said, as if she hadn’t explained she wasn’t coming at all. “The band will be tuning up around four.”

  “A pool party would be wasted on me,” she said. “I don’t swim.”

  “Don’t or can’t?” he asked, drawing his eyebrows together in a puzzled look.

  “Both. Either.” There. That ought to get him off her case. She didn’t have to explain why she didn’t swim, run, jog or ride a bike. All she wanted to do was to stop him from cutting down the tree. She didn’t want to socialize or go to any parties. She had piles of paperwork to do. Besides the research, she was also editing a pamphlet on the Missions of the Bay Area.

  “No problem. Swimming is not required. In fact, most of the women I know don’t want to get their hair wet. But schmoozing is required. You do schmooze, don’t you?” He was leaning so far over the fence, she could see the laugh lines around his eyes and the stubble of beard on his chin.

  “I’m not sure,” she said, taking a step backward. “In any case, I won’t be schmoozing today. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I have work to do.”

  “It’s Saturday,” he said. “Don’t tell me you have to work all day.”

  “Wait a minute. Don’t sound so shocked. You said entertaining was part of your work. So you’re working on Saturday, too.”

  He held up his hand. “Touché,” he said.

  “I love my work,” she said, and turned to go. Besides, she didn’t know how much longer she could be exposed to his bare chest without staring as if she’d never seen a half-naked man before. He was having an unsettling effect on her. It must be that she hadn’t had her coffee yet.

  “That’s what your aunt said about you,” he said.

  I’ll bet she did, Sarah thought. I bet she told you all about me. Aunt Mary might have even told him she needed to go to a party with a bunch of people she didn’t know so she could expand her horizons. Funny how people always seemed to think they knew what was best for you. Her parents sure did. They had hovered over her for years, giving advice and checking up on her daily even after she’d left home and had a life of her own.

  Sarah loved her aunt dearly, but why couldn’t she see that she was doing just fine the way she was? She turned back to face him. “Did she also tell you I’m here to keep an eye on you?”

  “Can’t keep an eye on me from over there at your house. You’d better come to the party or I’ll have to
come and get you.” He grinned at her which annoyed her.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said firmly, and this time she made it back to the house without a backward look. But even then, she couldn’t shake the view she’d had of his tanned torso, quizzical gaze and granite jaw.

  Yes, he was some hunk of man. If her aunt had mentioned that, she hadn’t heard it. And if she had, she wouldn’t have done anything differently. She hadn’t drooled over him, she’d merely confronted him about mutilating the tree. Hopefully she could last the week without another run-in. One thing was for sure, she had no intention of going to his party. She looked forward to a long, peaceful afternoon immersed in another century.

  Max stood at the fence, absently scratching his jaw, watching Sarah walk across the lawn, shoulders back, hips swaying gently under those baggy pants. It was her. Sleeping Beauty. Only not such a beauty behind those awful glasses and that oversize T-shirt. He was torn between immediately blurting out what had happened last night and keeping his mouth shut for the moment. Sooner or later he’d have to tell her. It looked like it was going to be later.

  She was certainly an unusual type, even without the sleepwalking. Ms. Plain by day, a beauty by night. Definitely not his type. But then who was, these days? He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost two years, and he wasn’t looking for one.

  He had firsthand knowledge of how a seemingly perfect marriage could go sour and ruin the lives of not only the couple, but everyone else around, including children, friends and extended family. His parents’ marriage had shown him that, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

  Anybody with his job would naturally be discouraged from getting serious about anyone. Sure there were divorce lawyers who were married. Most of them married more than once. Who needed that kind of complication in their life? Alimony payments, recriminations. Unfair settlements. Child custody battles. Not for him. He saw enough of it. He wanted no part of it in his personal life.

  Which was why he avoided serious relationships. Casual affairs, good times…sure. As long as both sides were consenting and had no unrealistic expectations, why not? But after the train wrecks he’d seen in divorce court, the fights, the broken homes and broken hearts, marriage was definitely not for him.

  The way it was, his time was his own. His choices were his own. No compromises. No tears. No tantrums. No sleepless nights. He was a lucky man.

  Chapter Two

  Max knew full well what it was like to work on Saturday and Sunday, too. He’d teased Sarah, but she’d nailed him when she accused him of working today, too. He found his job challenging and he didn’t mind working on weekends at all. He hadn’t gotten where he was by slacking off. If he wanted to stay where he was, which was on top of the game, he had to work twice as hard as the others.

  He got plenty of repeat business, which was a sad commentary on marriage, but when his clients turned to him to help out with the next settlement, he was there for them. Today he’d invited everyone he’d represented in the past few years. Some were good friends, some just clients. Some were remarried, some single, and some soon to be single.

  Now that he thought about it, he didn’t even know why he’d bothered to invite Sarah to his party. She wouldn’t fit in and she probably wouldn’t have a good time. So it was a good thing that she wasn’t likely to show up. It was only that her aunt had not so subtly suggested she needed to get out more. And after last night, he felt he should keep an eye on her. Also he felt bad about waking her up this morning. After a night of sleepwalking, she needed her rest.

  Max wondered if Sarah could remember what happened. The walking, the gathering of nuts, or the kiss? No, of course not. She would have said something. Or given some kind of sign. A look, a frown or a smile. He couldn’t get over how different she looked. And yet there was a hint of that beautiful creature of the night in the way she held her head, the look in her eyes. It was maddening how elusive it was, there for a brief moment, and then gone again.

  He hadn’t realized until this morning how the tree was shading his pool, and he wanted to get out and do something before the party. Anything but worry about the few unhappy clients who felt they deserved more than they’d gotten in their settlements, and were blaming not only their ex, but him, too. It was a gut-wrenching business, dealing with people who’d failed while participating in one of life’s most important unions, and it was sometimes depressing, but somebody had to do it and the proceeds had enabled him to enjoy the kind of lifestyle he’d once only dreamed of.

  But there was pressure to keep it up. Today was the day to thank his clients with his yearly party, show off his new house, and do some general PR for himself. He really didn’t need an extra woman there. One who’d stand out from all the others. He could hear the comments now.

  “Who’s the lady in the glasses? The one standing over there by herself.”

  “Doesn’t look like one of Max’s clients.”

  “Or one of his girlfriends.”

  “Where’d she come from?”

  They hadn’t seen her in the middle of the night. They had no idea how she looked in a sheer nightgown. He felt his pulse kick up a notch just thinking about it. He was sorry he’d invited her, because he definitely didn’t want her at his party. Oh, well, she probably wouldn’t come. So why worry?

  His cell phone rang and he took it out of his back pocket. It was the caterer. They’d be setting up at three and were checking on the facilities at his house. Large oven, microwave, freezer space? Yes, yes and yes.

  But when they came that afternoon in their white van with Countryside Catering painted on the side, they said they’d understood he had a double oven. He looked around the spotless, unused kitchen and wondered if he’d told them he had. Since he’d moved in a month ago, he really hadn’t used the kitchen and he probably never would. He usually ate out or ordered in, so the kitchen was terra incognito.

  While some of the crew set up tables on the spacious patio and started a barbecue going behind the house, others took over the kitchen, mixing salads, arranging appetizer puffs on baking sheets. Max wandered outside and looked across the fence. No sign of his neighbor. She was probably inside buried under a pile of history books. It was better that way. She wouldn’t fit in with the group. He knew it and she probably knew it, too.

  When he first saw her this morning he realized she was exactly what he’d expected from her aunt’s description. And the complete opposite of the exotic creature of last night. Then the longer he stood there the more he was aware of her dual personality and changeable looks. He couldn’t help wondering if she’d walk every night. Did he hope she’d wander in a see-through nightgown every night? Of course not. Now that he knew who she was. But what if she went somewhere else in her sheer nightgown? Down the street? Out into the street? That was a scary thought. He’d have to go after her. And he had to tell her. Or did she already know?

  He also wondered if he was exactly what she’d expected from him. Or hadn’t her aunt bothered to say anything about him except to warn her about the tree? It didn’t matter. If he laid off the chain saw he wouldn’t see her again, unless she walked at night or…No, he was convinced she wouldn’t come to the party. Why should she? She didn’t know anyone. She didn’t even know him. Not as well as he knew her.

  One of the caterers came out to the backyard, wiping her hands on her white apron.

  “Mr. Monroe, it’s almost four and we have to have another oven.”

  “Sorry about that, but that’s all I’ve got.”

  She glanced across the fence. “What about using your neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins’ oven? We catered a party there a little while back. Nice lady. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

  “No, she wouldn’t, but she’s not home.” Too bad he’d gotten off on the wrong foot with Ms. History Buff by waking her up this morning and trying to reconcile her nocturnal self with her daytime persona, and he sure didn’t make up for it by inviting her to his party. She’d made that clear. It was probably the
last place she’d want to be this afternoon. But why not? Would it hurt her to put in an appearance? Lots of people went to parties where they didn’t know anyone. That was the point. You went to meet new people. Why did he care? He didn’t. Well, maybe just a little. Okay, he wanted to see her again. He wanted to see how she’d look dressed for a party. Somewhere between her sleepwalker nightgown and her baggy shorts, he imagined.

  Why shouldn’t she drop in, say hello, look around, and slip away if she was bored? It was a great day, there’d be fabulous food—if he could borrow her oven—and some attractive people there, though given her scholarly interests, she might find some of them on the shallow side.

  “She’s got someone house-sitting,” he said. “I’ll go ask her.” She could always say no.

  In answer to his knocking, she came to the back door, this time wearing a pair of elastic-waist shorts and the same T-shirt. Clearly she was not in a party mood. She was carrying a large book in one hand, no big surprise, and looking owlish behind those glasses.

  “Yes?” she said disdainfully, as if he was a door-to-door salesman or someone handing out religious pamphlets.

  “Hi. Remember me, your next-door neighbor?” he said cheerfully. He didn’t wait for an answer. “I hate to bother you, but it’s about my party, I think I mentioned I was having a party? Well, the caterers need an extra oven. It wouldn’t take long, but they’re baking these…I’m not sure what they are, but they’d sure appreciate it if they could use your oven for a little while. Unless you’re using it,” he added.

  “No, I’m not. I guess it would be all right,” she said doubtfully.

  “That’s great. I’ll send them over. Thanks.” He reached out and shook her hand, the one that wasn’t clutching the book to her chest. “Your hands are cold,” he said. “You should come outside in the sun.”

  “I can’t, I’m…”

  “Working, I know, but you can’t stay inside on a day like this. It’s a crime against nature. I still expect you to drop in at the party. You can spare a few minutes, half hour at least, can’t you?”