Dreams That Bind Us (Romancing The Keys #3)

Chapter 6

K ey West

Anna gnawed on her thumbnail as she paced along the sidewalk, her calf-length dress swishing and flaring each time she swiveled in the opposite direction. She'd arrived on time for the business dinner, but with her anxiety riding high, she hadn't made it to the entrance.

Yes! It's a business dinner, and only a business dinner. Not a date, no matter what he says.

Her gaze drifted down, catching sight of the soft, flowing black silk, and she grimaced. It was her best garment by far with its halter top and open back, highlighting her fair complexion and relative curves. She rarely had a chance to wear it.

She'd grabbed it, assuring herself the dress code would be high for this dining establishment. She definitely didn't wear it for him.

But deep down, she knew she was lying to herself.

What the hell am I doing here? This can only end badly.

Throwing a resentful glare at the restaurant door, she shook her head and resumed her worried march across the uneven concrete.

Theoretically, she should be excited about having dinner at Osteria Francesca. As a relatively new Italian restaurant in Old Town, it had received rave reviews from locals. She'd planned to give it a shot but hadn't found the time.

But instead of being full of anticipation for dinner, she was a ball of nerves. That was her dinner companion's fault. She hadn’t had a moment of peace since she'd crashed into him in that back alley off Duval Street. Or actually, since he stepped foot on the island. And now that she’d met him in the flesh, her dreams had grown even steamier.

She cringed as a sequence from the previous night's dream flashed through her mind.

"Open for me, Anna. Look at me as I take you."

She squeezed her eyes shut as she grit her teeth. This had to stop. She'd regretted agreeing to this dinner nearly the moment she'd said yes and had been thoroughly tempted to text a cancellation to James throughout the day.

But she knew he'd only persist until she eventually caved, so she might as well get it over now and decline any further invitations. She'd make it very clear that he was only a client and nothing would come of their dinner.

Yeah, sure. I’d be a fool to believe that.

With a groan and an aggravated huff, she pivoted on the ball of her foot and scowled at the red brick and sun-bleached coral building. After tonight, she’d spend the next week trying to forget it ever happened. Marching to the entry, she yanked the door open dramatically and fell back with a gasp.

James stood there in the doorway, an amused twinkle in his dreamy green eyes. Apparently he'd watched while she'd worn a rut into the sidewalk debating whether or not to run.

The man was striking as ever with his dark hair and five o’clock shadow, sleek and polished, very much like the picture she'd found of him online. Except this time he was dressed in dark slacks with a light blue button-up that was open nearly to mid-chest. He looked relaxed and so similar to how he appeared in her dreams that it made her shiver.

She lifted her chin, issuing a challenge through her gaze as she arched an eyebrow. "Are you ready?" she asked, feeling like she was walking to the electric chair.

"Whenever you are," he answered, a teasing grin playing around his lips. He pivoted slightly, gesturing her into the restaurant with a slight bow. He knew this was torture for her.

Damn him.

She stalked past toward the hostess stand, making sure they didn't touch as she moved around him. But his intoxicating cologne still reached her nose and the spicy scent triggered an insane urge to lean into his chest for another sniff. "Dinner for two, please."

The girl behind the stand was supermodel gorgeous with long black hair and dark exotic eyes. The woman was physically the polar opposite of Anna and exactly the type of woman who would date a man like James, wealthy arm candy.

But the hostess was no help. She was completely professional, not once flirting or ogling the breathtaking man standing by her side, even though he was currently worthy of a magazine cover. Instead the girl was all business as she nodded and gathered two menus. "Right this way, Mr. Armstrong."

Anna's muscles clenched when she felt his hand drop to her lower back and goosebumps popped out over her arms at the sensation. She edged to the side while throwing a glare over her shoulder.

His hand dropped away, and she missed its comforting weight immediately. "Sorry," he said, his lip lifting at the corner, not looking repentant one bit.

She tightened her mouth and continued to the small table in the back corner where the hostess waited with a bored expression on her face. Anna’s eyes roamed the lit white candles, the set of wine glasses, an elaborate red rose centerpiece, and the round table partially enclosed from the rest of the seating area. Her anxiety ramped up several notches. This was way too romantic and private for her liking.

"Wait a minute." She pointed to her right. "How about over there near the window?"

The hostess frowned and turned to James who watched Anna with a knowing glimmer in his eyes. "What's wrong with this one?" he asked softly.

"I don't know…it's just so dark, and the light is better over there, and it has good energy…" Anna dwindled off when she realized she was rambling.

"This one gives us plenty of privacy to discuss business." James indicated the prepared table.

Anna wilted with a deep sigh and moved to the closest seat, jumping a little as James nudged around her to pull out the chair. She narrowed her eyes at the impish grin that stretched across his face, which only made him infinitely more attractive. He was making it impossible to remain immune to his charms.

This was gonna be a long night.

James bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh. It was difficult. Anna was fighting him, but he was more certain than ever that their attraction was very mutual.

In many ways, her resistance was refreshing and something he hadn't seen in a very long time. Women tended to make themselves very accessible when they discovered that his bank account had the same number of zeros as the budget for a sizeable city.

To be fair, he was guilty of taking advantage of their willingness a time or two. But generally those women were fake, shallow, and vapid. They focused on what they could get from him and it made their interactions feel very transactional. He never looked back when they left.

But not Anna.

Not only was she unimpressed with him in general, which really did not sit well. But there was no interest in her pinched gaze about his intent to buy out her entire stock of furniture for the foreseeable future. Most small business owners would be stumbling over themselves to impress him, salivating at the thought of a sale of this magnitude.

Again, not Anna.

What she couldn't hide was the way she gasped every time his hand brushed hers or when his knee accidentally nudged her thigh. It was a small table after all, something he'd requested deliberately when he placed the reservation. He wasn't about to let her put more space between them.

He wondered what she would do if he told her she'd been the center of his erotic dreams for months. She'd probably run for the exit.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked, keeping his tone light as he opened the menu.

She lifted a delicate shoulder. "Sure."

He stared at the ivory joint, imagining his lips coasting along the silky flesh, tracing over the toned muscles and smooth porcelain skin. He could probably spend an eternity exploring her body and never get bored.

Clearing his throat, he forced his gaze back to the menu. "They have several excellent Barolos. Does that sound good?"

She gave a bob of her head as she fidgeted with her fork and butter knife.

The waiter appeared the moment James lifted his head, placing a basket of bread and olive oil on the table. "We'll have a bottle of the Bruno Mascarella, and a caprese salad with our bread."

"Of course, sir." The man nodded and hurried off.

James broke apart several steaming sections, momentarily filling the air with the comforting smell of fresh Italian bread. Dipping a piece in the oil, he took a bite and hummed. Perfection. Just like his dinner companion who was currently doing everything she possibly could not to look at him.

"Have you been here before?" He leaned back in his chair as the waiter held out the bottle. With no shortage of ceremony, the man opened it with a pop and poured a sample. James took a sip and at his nod, the waiter filled their glasses.

"No," Anna finally answered as she reached for her glass, slowly swirling the deep red liquid around. She took a tentative sip. "Oh, this is really good."

James arched an eyebrow. That little comment felt a lot like a compliment. Definitely a promising sign.

"This place hasn't been here that long," she added before giving him a piercing look. "I've meant to give it a shot, but there was this exclusive contract that took up all of my time." Her words dripped with sarcasm and the corner of her mouth lifted almost to a grin. James fought the urge to lean across the table and taste it. The vixen.

He chuckled. "How inconsiderate of me. I'll make it up to you."

"I've been meaning to try out the local restaurants, but I don't like to dine alone.” He took a sip of his wine. “You could show me the best places on the island, help me learn the layout and act more like a local."

Anna blinked, her nostrils flaring out as she took a deep breath but said nothing in response. Instead, she tore off a hunk of bread and focused on swirling it around the olive oil and herb mixture.

"Why did you move all the way down here?" Anna asked after several awkward moments, changing the subject. "I mean, this must be so different from New York City. I can't imagine that you'd be happy here."

James bit back a laugh. She was cute when she was subtly encouraging him to return to New York. Or maybe not so subtly…

But in actuality, he loved the way she said exactly what was on her mind. There was no filter with Anna, and it was refreshing beyond measure.

"My mother passed away recently," he revealed.

Her eyes widened and mouth softened.

"She always dreamed of owning a high-end hotel in Key West, but never got the chance." He lifted his wine glass and studied the garnet liquid. "In her will, she asked that I complete the dream for her. So here I am." His gaze snagged Anna's. "I loved my mother very much and I'll do whatever it takes to fulfill her final wish."

Anna gulped—he followed the movement as the muscles in her throat worked, wanting to trace his lips up and down that sleek column.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured.

"Don't be. She went fast, unexpectedly actually, in her sleep and never woke up."

"It still must have been difficult for you."

"The hardest part was that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye." James sighed. "But I'm here now, and I honestly can't say that I'd rather be anywhere else."

Anna's eyes darted away as her teeth worried at her bottom lip.

"You keep doing that and I'm gonna stop resisting the inclination to lean across this table and kiss you."

Her astonished gaze locked with his, her lower lip dropping so her mouth hung open, and her pink tongue flicked out quickly, touching her top lip. He chuckled to himself, knowing he’d caught her off guard.

"So tell me about you." He changed the subject, wanting to put her at ease after dropping that bombshell. "Have you lived here your entire life?"

Anna pressed her lips together and glanced at the ceiling for a moment, as if she were trying to decide what to say.

"I'm a psychic," she blurted out finally, and it was James's turn to gape at her. It was the last thing he expected to hear and he was at a loss for words. "In fact, most of my family is clairvoyant in some fashion. But I'm a medium."

His mind sputtered for a moment, wondering if she only said this to put him off. "I'm sorry. I’ve heard the term before, but I’m not familiar with the difference between clairvoyant and medium. What is a medium?"

"It means I can interact with spirits, both those who are still here and on the other side. They can also speak through me if they choose."

"The other side?"

She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes twinkling almost as if she were teasing him. "Yes, the other side of the veil." Her fingers danced in the air. "Many people call it the spirit world or heaven."

His brows lifted. The concept was difficult to understand. "What about hell?"

Her head tilted to the side in an adorable pose, her lips pursing as she swirled another chunk of bread in the oil.

"Hell doesn't really exist, at least not in the way most religions describe it anyway. It's more of a mental thing." She tapped her temple. "Think of it this way: it can be torturous when a soul is faced with the damage they've created during their life and the wrongs they've committed to other souls. For every action there is a reaction. In other words, there is always karma to pay back. But Hell, in general, is figurative rather than literal."

James blinked slowly, trying to take in her speech. She was serious—he could see it in her twinkling eyes, and it was obvious now she was saying this to turn him off. Unfortunately for her, it was doing the opposite. The way her mind worked was fascinating and he found her explanation more soothing than shocking.

"That actually makes perfect sense." He took a sip of his wine. "Tell me about your creative process. What inspires you to make your furniture?"

She made a sexy purring sound as she drew an 's' through the olive oil with a small chunk of bread, unperturbed at the change of subject. "Nature mostly." She popped it in her mouth and chewed slowly. "Sometimes I'll see something in a tree or flower, a shape that speaks to me. Then I try to make it functional."

"I love that." It was an understatement if he'd ever said one. What she'd just described was amazing and sexy as hell. "When you're not creating dozens, if not hundreds of pieces, for an order…" He almost laughed when her electric blue eyes narrowed. "What is your favorite thing to make?"

She stared down at her plate for a moment, absently twirling her wine glass. He noticed she liked to keep her hands busy.

"Hmmmmm. Probably a Bombay chest. It's highly practical with the storage capacity, but it flows and arches so beautifully. It works with the wood, you know?"

"I do. There was a Bombay chest among the furniture I bought at the art gallery."

Anna nodded. "I've delivered several chests to the gallery. I really love building furniture with a lot of drawers, especially if I can plant them in odd places like corners or within other drawers."

He held her gaze for a prolonged moment, noting the animation of her expression as she described her art. It was thoroughly satisfying to learn that there was so much more to Anna than just what he experienced in his dreams. The woman was beyond fascinating.

"Before I bought The Majestic, I had an abstract idea of what I wanted the hotel to look like. Something different and unique, more Avant Garde that would stand apart from the rest. When Jack told me that he'd hired a local artist to make the furniture, I was eager to see the finished product."

James planted his elbows on the table. "I was thrilled with what you produced, Anna. I'd love for you to create several cabinets and chests just like you described for The Majestic. Unique pieces for the hallways and lobby. They'll be functional yet catch the eye."

Anna held his gaze, a lovely rosy blush climbing up her cheeks. She obviously wasn't used to compliments. He'd fix that when she was ready for more of his attention.

"I can do that," she finally replied.

James released an internal sigh, relieved that she'd given in on that request. "One of the reasons I've bought your collection at the gallery, other than finding it absolutely magnificent, is that I'm also furnishing the house I bought. I didn't bring anything with me when I left New York because I wasn't certain I would stay. But now…"

He paused for a moment, wondering if he should keep this to himself. "I've decided to make Key West my permanent home. I’d been scouring the island for furniture when Gus recommended I visit the art gallery. And he was right. It’s exactly what I was looking for."

Anna flinched as she awkwardly swallowed her bite of bread and said nothing.

"I was hoping," James continued, "you could stop by my house to help me decide—" He stopped when she began shaking her head. "You're already saying no when I haven't finished explaining yet," he protested.

"I can't be at your house." Her tone was decisive and firm. "Don't ask me to do that."

He frowned. "Why not?" His eyes dropped to her neck, noting her rapid pulse. Something had spooked her. Him, probably.

"It's just not a good idea." There was finality in her voice, but James excelled in business negotiations. He wasn’t about to let that deter him.

He opened his mouth to argue his case when the waiter arrived at their table with the caprese salad and asked for their dinner order. James put a relaxed smile on his face and sat back, biding his time as Anna slowly reviewed the menu and asked questions.

He took the opportunity to really study Anna with fresh eyes. She was obviously skittish. It would take patience, a much softer approach, and some serious persuading if he wanted her to open up. He had to be patient with this and everything inside of him screamed she was worth the effort.

Finally, they were alone again and James stretched the quiet by refilling their wine glasses.

"How do you know Annette?" Anna asked.

James smiled. "Annette was the paralegal of one of my corporate attorneys. Do you know Charli Harris?"

At Anna's nod, he continued. "Charli represented my Boston companies. In fact, she was one of the best corporate attorneys I've ever worked with. Annette handled most of the work until a ball-busting attorney would need to step in. Not that Annette couldn't manage to bust balls, but every once in a while, Charli's expertise was necessary."

Anna bobbed her head, and James watched as she took a bite of the caprese salad. He stared, mesmerized, as a drop of olive oil landed on her lower lip. It would be so easy to stretch over and lick it away. His stomach clenched when her tongue darted out, swiping at the oil. This woman had absolutely no idea how naturally sexy and seductive she was.

"How did you meet Annette?" he finally asked. "I mean, she hasn't lived here long. But she seemed to know you fairly well."

Anna shrugged. "I wouldn't say fairly well. We met about six months ago when I helped her with the ghost of Paradise West."

"The ghost of Paradise West?" He’d never witnessed the ghost in person, who was a legend in Key West. But he’d heard quite a bit about it from Gus over the last few months.

A teasing grin quirked at the edge of her sexy mouth and he wanted to kiss it off. "Are you afraid of ghosts, James?"

She was teasing him, the imp, and he loved it. But it was the playful way she said his name that sent a bolt of longing through his body and straight into his soul.

He chuckled. "No, Anna, I am not. This isn't the first time I've heard about Paradise West being haunted. Annette and Gus have both mentioned her quite a bit. I’ll admit, at first I wondered if it was a gimmick they were using to increase interest in the bed and breakfast. But they swear by her. I've been at Paradise West several times and haven’t noticed anything."

"Her name is Amelia. You should ask Gus about her as she's taken a particular interest in him." Anna leaned toward him. "Would you like to hear the full story, or just the condensed version?"

"The full story, please," he answered, entranced by the gleam in her turquoise gaze. Plus, it was the first topic in which she seemed willing to engage in a prolonged conversation. Any progress was good.

Anna settled her forearms on the table, the expression on her face magnetic. "Amelia Brown and her family lived in the main house of Paradise West in the late eighteen hundreds. Her father was a wealthy shipping merchant, and the family was well respected on the island."

She took a sip of wine and continued. "Sometime during the summer of 1870, when Amelia was eighteen, she met a young sailor named Ian Kennedy. According to her diary, they instantly fell in love and spent every moment they could together, which was not easy because her family would not have approved of Ian."

James held a hand up. "Wait a minute. According to her diary? Her diary is still in existence?"

Anna nodded, her eyes twinkling. "It is. They are. Charli found them wrapped in oilcloth in the Widow's Walk of Paradise West. They were in a hidey hole that Charli tripped on. That was how she found them."

She nibbled at a piece of mozzarella cheese, completely unaware of her overall appeal. "Anyway, Ian and Amelia wanted to marry, but Ian told her he had to sail to Cuba one more time before he could marry her. He had planned to start his own wrecking business in Key West and needed one more trip before he could buy his own boat."

"Let me guess," James interrupted. "He never came back."

"Oh no, he came back. But it was too late."

"What do you mean, too late? Did Amelia die before he returned?"

Anna laughed as she crossed her arms. "Well, if you'd quit interrupting, I'll finish the story."

James chuckled and held up his hands in surrender. "So sorry. Please continue."

"Well, like I was saying, just before Ian left on his trip, Amelia discovered that she was pregnant and they made a promise to marry the moment he returned. But the 1870 hurricane season was bad and his ship was caught in one and went down off the coast of southeast Cuba."

"But you said he came back."

Anna primmed her lips and arched an eyebrow. James laughed out loud. "Sorry."

Anna was obviously annoyed, but he was enjoying this exchange more than he could express. He delighted in seeing this side of her.

"Anyway, it wasn't long before Amelia's family learned she was pregnant, so they shipped her off to stay with her aunt near Jacksonville until she had the baby. Then the family gave the baby—a boy—to her sister to raise, all the while planning to marry Amelia off to a local businessman."

James grimaced. "Good god. That's awful."

"Yes, it must have been beyond horrible, because shortly after she returned to Key West with her son, she jumped off the roof of Paradise West and killed herself."

"Damn." All his enjoyment for the story evaporated. It was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "What happened to Ian? Did he survive the ship sinking?"

"Yes." Anna held up a finger. "By a twist of fate, he had contracted yellow fever at a previous stop. The crew had removed him from the ship to recover at a convent. The ship went down right after that, but no one knew that Ian hadn't been onboard."

"Jesus, this story just keeps getting worse. So Ian comes back to Key West and finds out that Amelia is dead and that his son is being raised by her sister?"

"Yes. But he let Amelia’s sister raise his son. He built his shipping business and became one of Key West's wealthiest shipping merchants."

"Huh. And now Amelia haunts Paradise West. Seeking revenge, maybe?"

"No." Anna shook her head. "Haunt is the wrong word. She resides at Paradise West, but not for revenge. Amelia's motives are loving and peaceful. When Charli arrived from Boston, she and Jack inherited Paradise West together after Charli's aunt died. The inn had fallen into disrepair and they were charged in her aunt’s will with restoring it to its original splendor, fully funded by the estate. Charli unraveled the mystery of Amelia and learned that Amelia had actually been Jack's many-times great grandmother. The young son she had to give to her sister was Jack's great, great, great grandfather, rather than a great uncle as he'd been told."

"Well, this story is full of twists," James commented lightly. "How does this involve you?"

"Annette and Gus drove over to my warehouse one day. At first they only asked if I was interested in the furniture order for The Majestic. But then Annette divulged that after Amelia's mystery had been revealed, they assumed she would be at peace and move on. But she's still around and nothing has changed. So they asked me to speak with Amelia before Paradise West opened and guests arrived."

James's eyes widened. He rested his chin on his hand as he leaned forward. "And did you speak to Amelia? Was she there?"

"I did." Anna stared off for a moment and took a deep breath. "It was the first time I had connected with a spirit in a very long time, so it was as meaningful for me as it was for Amelia."

"Why?"

Anna's brow puckered. "Why what?"

"Why hadn't you connected with a spirit in a long time?"

Her expression became stony. "That's not something I want to talk about."

"Okay." James recognized a wall when he saw one. "Tell me about seeing Amelia. What did she look like? What did she do?"

"Her portrait is hanging in the front parlor of Paradise West. That was Amelia's wedding picture, right before her death. She looks exactly like that picture, but she's happy now. She radiates with pure joy." Anna smiled at the memory, and the sight nearly took James's breath away.

"Her message was that she wished to stay and watch her family grow." Anna shrugged. "So she's still the ghost of Paradise West, and now she’s become more than just an urban myth in Key West. Most guests try their best to get Amelia to reveal herself."

"Interesting. And that's how you met Annette?" James asked lightly, doing his best not to say something that would wipe that smile off Anna's glowing face.

"Yes, she's very persuasive."

James chuckled. "That she is. Annette is a steamroller when she wants to be and a very good friend of mine." His fingers fiddled with the stem of his wineglass. "You know, I've wondered if the house I bought is haunted. I haven't seen or heard anything. But I always have the feeling I'm being watched. It would be interesting to have you walk around and get a read on it."

Her smile slipped, and James felt its loss, suddenly wishing he could take back the comment. He'd pushed too hard and he knew it the moment the words left his mouth. The stretch of silence between them became nearly unbearable before it was interrupted by the waiter delivering their meal.

Anna cleared her throat. "Let me think about it."

James's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't question it. "Okay," he agreed with a smile, but he fully intended to never bring it up again.

"Now let's get down to business." He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pants pocket and spread it out on the table between them. "Based on what we have on the other floors, I wrote down the approximate number of pieces we'll need to finish furnishing the fourth floor."

Anna studied the sheet for a moment, then nodded. "That shouldn't be too bad. It'll take me another two months or so to finish."

"That timeline is faster than I anticipated." He leaned over and wrote a number at the bottom of the page. "Here's the fee I propose."

Anna's eyes bulged, and she coughed lightly. "It's more than generous. Are you sure about that?"

James almost laughed that she was questioning his offer, rather than just agreeing to the bounty he was proposing. This woman was refreshing in every possible way.

"Of course," he commented dryly. "It will demand all your attention for the next couple of months. Precious time that could otherwise be spent fulfilling orders for your other clients." He gave her a teasing grin. "And I know firsthand how much you charge there."

A huge wave of relief crashed over him as Anna's smile returned. He considered it an overall win. "So, this is good?"

She bobbed her head. "Yes. I'll get started right away."

"Great! I'll have my assistant email the contract to you first thing tomorrow." He folded his paper and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Now that we have that done, let’s talk about the pieces I need for my home. The trouble there is that I have no idea what exactly I need from a design perspective. What can I do to convince you to stop by my house? It'd be easier to explain what I'm looking for, plus your expertise would be beneficial with what I already have. Some days I just wander around and try to imagine what else I need, but I can't quite picture it."

Anna huffed out a laugh and fiddled with her fork. "You don't like taking no for an answer, do you?"

"Not generally, no." James held her gaze, trying to persuade her with his eyes. He wasn't sure why but having her in his home felt like a necessity. He recognized it was more than just sex for him—it was important on an entirely different level.

With a small sigh, Anna dipped her chin. "All right. I'll swing by your house, but only for a little while and not tonight. But nothing more than that."

James bit back his triumphant smile. "A few hours should be plenty."

Anna scoffed. "I give an inch and you take a mile. I should have known better."

James chuckled. "When I see something I want, I don't stop until I get it, Miss Kingsley." He lifted his wine glass to her. "To a fruitful partnership."

Anna's cheek twitched like she was fighting a grin as she tapped his glass with hers. "Cheers.”