Free Dare to Dream by Donna Hill Page A

worked really hard to get it the way we… I mean…”
    She lowered her head. “I know. I remember,” she said softly, looking up at him.
    “I didn’t mean to bring up the past,” he said.
    “It’s okay. As much as we may want to, we can’t entirely avoid the past. It’s part of who we are…were.”
    “You’ve changed,” he said as the understanding settled within him.
    “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
    “We’ll have to see, won’t we?” He took her hand. “Come on, let’s get you back to your place or you won’t be about to wake up in…” He checked his watch. “Three hours.”
    Desiree groaned at the prospect as they walked back hand in hand to the truck. She stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye and her stomach did that little flip thing and she thought how good her hand felt in his.

Chapter 13
    I f Desiree didn’t know better she would swear that a new day came early for the first time in history. But although her body and her eyes felt as if they were filled with lead, her spirit was light and her heart beat with anticipation.
    She glanced out of the window at the pale light that peeked through the puffs of clouds. Stretching her long limbs, she pulled herself out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom.
    If Lincoln was remotely like the man she remembered, he would be exactly on time and he would always get that tight look between his eyes when she wasn’t ready.
    She smiled as she turned on the shower. If she also remembered correctly she was always able to ease him into compliance with a few well-placed kisses behind his ears and along the cord of his neck. Preferably on the right side.
    Desiree stepped under the spray of hot water. Yes, it worked every time. Truth be told, most times she was late on purpose just so that she could keep her skills in top form.
    Lathering her skin with honey and almond body wash, she quickly finished up, then rinsed her locks before getting out.
    Taking her time, she smoothed body lotion on her arms, legs, hips and thighs and a little extra on her feet and ankles. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was ashy feet.
    Briefly she stood in front of the closet. Decisions, decisions. Finally she selected an ankle-length gauzy skirt in a pale peach with lemon-yellow splashes, and a yellow handkerchief top that tied behind her neck and around her waist and offered just enough to tantalize the eye without being too suggestive. She added silver teardrop earrings, a hint of lip gloss, peach espadrilles, and she was ready. She squeezed a quarter-sized amount of hair oil in her palms and ran her hands through her damp locks to give them a nice shine.
    No sooner had she stood in front of the mirror to take a last look than the knocking on the front door nearly made her jump a foot into the air.
    She looked at the door, then herself in the mirror. What was she thinking? She didn’t look like a woman going out to see the sunrise. She looked like a woman attempting to attract a handsome man or at the very least jockey for a hot date.
    The knocking came again.
    Momentary panic and indecision kept her rooted in place. Maybe she could pretend she wasn’t there. If she didn’t answer, he’d eventually go away—mad but away. Or maybe she could take everything off, put on her robe and pretend to be sick.
    “Desiree! I know you’re in there,” Lincoln shouted from outside.
    She squeezed her eyes shut and stomped her foot in frustration. What was she going to do?
    “Breakfast is getting cold and you’re going to miss the sunrise,” he singsonged.
    Desiree blew out a breath. This was silly. There was nothing between her and Lincoln. They were just two old friends sharing the beauty of a sunrise. No commitments. No strings. What did it matter what she had on or what he thought about it?
    With that very weak rationale, she pulled herself together and went to the door.
    “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said the instant she opened the door.