Read Wild Men of Alaska 03 - Dreamweaver for Free Online

resist.
    But for sleep or some other reason?
    “Your thermostat seems fine.” Cub adjusted the settings and the heat kicked on. “Must have been a freak thing.” He glanced at her unmade bed and then back to her. “Nice sheets.”
    “They were a gift.” It was hard to admit to this big man, who was currently biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing that she’d trekked down the Star Trek sheets for herself. And they’d been hard to find.
    “A fan?”
    She shrugged. “Somewhat.” She didn’t want to scare him off with the truth.
    He pointed to the autographed picture of Leonard Nimoy framed and hanging on her wall. “I think more than somewhat.” He cocked a brow. Not as impressive as Spock’s famous questioning brow what with Cub being all blond and blue-eyed... and hot. “Don’t tell me your bedroom is ‘where no man has gone before’?”
    “Oh, you’re funny.” She reached around him and shut the door.
    “Guess that was the wrong joke to make?”
    She folded her arms across her chest.
    “What if I admitted that I’m a huge Doctor Who fan?”
    “Nope. Gotta do better than that. Everyone is a Doctor Who fan.”
    He choked out a laugh. “Okay, if you really want to get personal—”
    “You laughed at my sheets.”
    “Personal, it is then.” He cleared his throat. “My favorite movie of all time is... Titanic.”
    Her arms dropped to her sides. “‘I’m the king of the world’ Titanic?”
    He gave her a sheepish look. “Too soon?”
    “Yeah, I think so.” It was her turn to bite back a smile, which she lost. “It’s hard to see the big man in front of me, who it’s been rumored to have stared down a bear, so in touch with his feminine side.”
    “Once. I stared down a bear once. Don’t ever want to do it again, and it was more of a case of being too scared shitless to move than actual bravery. Besides, I thought women liked men who were in touch with their feminine sides.”
    “To a point. Men still must be able to defend hearth and home, kill spiders, and pay attention when picking out paint colors. But we don’t welcome your opinions differing from ours. And above all, there is nothing manly about crying during a chick flick.”
    “Good to know. I’ll be covert when I take you to see the new Nicolas Sparks movie. What do you say?”
    She glanced at him from under her lashes. “So you want to move our relationship beyond the pool?”
    “I’d like to get to know you better, Gemma. You have very impressive paddling skills.” He angled his head to the side. “Did that sound dirty to you?”
    “A bit.”
    “Good. So, you want to take in dinner or a movie sometime?” He leaned in closer. Her back was literally against the hallway wall. But she didn’t feel trapped.
    “On one condition,” she said.
    His finger tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Name it.”
    “We see the new Joss Whedon movie instead.”
    He leaned back. “Don’t tell me you’re a Buffy fan?”
    She nodded. “Diehard fan of not just Buffy, but Angel, Firefly, and Serenity too.”
    He shook his head. “Should have known by the Trekky sheets.” He gave a deep, pretend sigh. “I guess if you can overlook my love for Titanic, I can see past the geek in you.”
    She let go of the laugh. It had been so long since she’d flirted like this.
    Another cold breeze swirled around them. Gemma rubbed her arms.
    Cub looked around, tapped the thermostat, and shook his head in confusion. “I think you have a draft somewhere.”
    She had an idea of where that cold breeze was blowing in from.
    Her Dreamweaver needed some boundaries.

Chapter Eight

    “She’s calling you,” Hansen said, munching on the biggest strawberries Lucky had ever seen. He also knew, from experience, they were the tastiest too. Which was weird since if you were dead, how did you taste things?
    Was it all an illusion?
    Gemma wasn’t. And neither was that claim jumper Cub. What kind of name was “Cub”