Free Dreams of Reality by Sylvia Hubbard Page B

mentally and emotionally. He wanted Skye to affect him physically just as this woman could do.
    After a moment, she chuckled softly in her sleep and responded, “All yours.”
    The thought was extremely frustrating to not know if she meant that or not.
     
     
    * * *
     
     
    “Be mine . . .” echoed in her brain the next morning as her eyes popped open. Looking around frantically, she saw she was in her bed, not some candlelit bedroom.
    The bedside neon clock read 6:02am. It was early, but it felt like she had not slept a wink. Getting up, she went to the bathroom and without turning on the light she washed up. Going to her computer she put her headphones on, turned on her computer and began to type. Along with the new work she had gotten from Newman Enterprise, she still had to keep up her other accounts.
    This was not difficult with Sheila and Margaret’s help, but taking on new work gave her little time on her hobby, which was the basis of her retirement fund.
    After about three hours of typing, she decided to take a break.
    E-mailing her reports in, she made coffee for herself, then put out two pork steaks for dinner. Just as she was coming out the kitchen the phone rang.
    Answering, she was surprised to hear Trisha’s voice on the other end. Usually, clients never called on Sunday.
    “Mr. Newman dropped off five tapes of a proposal and I’m kind of in a bind. Do you do rushes? We just found out the deadline is tomorrow at three?”
    “Of course. Do you want me to come get the tapes?”
    “Well, I’m driving around now, I can come drop them off.”
    Skye gave her the address and directions, and then took two more pork steaks out. When Trisha arrived she noticed the haggard appearance on Skye’s face.
    “Someone didn’t sleep well, did they?” Trisha teased with caution not sure of Skye’s mood.
    “Actually,” Skye said, “I don’t feel like I did. I’m not usually restless even when I don't sleep."
    “Well I do appreciate you doing this for me.”
    “Why don’t you stay for dinner? I rarely have guests. Matter of fact, you are the first at my new home.”
    “I am honored.”
    Between working on the proposal, Skye cooked. Even Trisha went to the kitchen a couple of times to stir something or take something out the oven.
    By ten that night, they had finished and decided to sit down at the dining room table and eat.
    “Mr. Newman will be so pleased. What do you charge for rushes?”
    “This is a first for your type of account.”
    “He said to pay you whatever you requested.” She took out the copy of Skye’s price list. “The usual proposal is about twenty dollars when we add the extras and sorts, so how about seventy per proposal. Same day rushes should be greatly compensated.”
    “Does Mr. Newman plan to make me a rich woman with his account alone?”
    “Whatever Mr. Newman plans to do, I have no control over it.” She changed the subject. “You are a great cook.”
    Skye flushed not used to compliments. “Thank you. It might be from all those cooking shows I watch.”
    Casually, Trisha suggested, “You should definitely invite Mr. Newman over to taste some of this.”
    “Oh really? As if a man in his position would accept.”
    “He loves good home cooking. His mother never was one to cook. He came over my mother’s home one Thanksgiving and it was interesting to watch a grown man indulge so much. He was like a kid in a candy store.”
    “Mr. Newman gets invited to the mayor’s house, or even the governor’s house for dinner. Not a little, plain typist's home.”
    “You’d be surprised. He would accept.”
    “I doubt it, plus he’s a client," Skye pointed out. "I don’t invite clients to my home.”
    “I’m part of the client.”
    “You work for him. That really doesn’t count, plus I kind of enjoy your company. Trust me, I don’t have a lot of friends. Matter of fact, you’re my first in Detroit.”
    “You’re a nice girl, Skye. Why are you so alone?” Trisha asked