Christmas in His Bed: Talking in Your Sleep... / Unwrapped / Kiss & Tell. Carrie Alexander

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      No one answered. He started back down the steps to go call the police when the door swung open, and he braced himself to face the guy who likely had caused the scream.

      Instead he faced all five feet six inches or so of his neighbor, wrapped in a short terry robe that definitely showed off things the suit had been hiding earlier, including an absolutely gorgeous pair of legs. Her hair was wild, her face flushed. She looked as if she had been having sex; but she also looked furtive, and maybe a little frightened.

      “What are you doing?” she demanded, taking a step back, closing the door slightly as if afraid of him—or blocking his sight of someone else standing there with her.

      “I heard you scream—you called for help. You called my name.”

      It was dark on her porch though the light was on in the entry hall behind her. He squinted, taking a step closer, searching for bruises or any evidence of harm. Moving away, she started to close the door.

      “I didn’t scream, and I certainly didn’t call for you.”

      He didn’t know why she would deny it, maybe she was embarrassed or maybe she was afraid. He knew from prior experience that someone could be behind her in the doorway, and she could be telling him to leave under some kind of duress. He had to see for himself that she was okay.

      Clearly panicked, her voice rose. There was no way he was going anywhere until he knew what was up. “Leave me alone! I’m fine—are you crazy, coming to my door at this hour, causing trouble—”

      “Okay, have it your way.” He glanced at her, communicating his intention to get help, and went down the step.

      “Wait.”

      He turned, watching her run a hand over her face. He wondered if she was covering for someone trying to escape from the back.

      “Why should I let you in here when I’m alone—I don’t even know you. For all I know this is some ploy to get inside the house.”

      He looked at her steadily. “Do intruders usually bang loudly on your door, shouting for everyone in the neighborhood to hear, and then talk to you on your front porch for a while?” He blew out a breath. “If I wanted in for some nefarious reason, believe me, this wouldn’t be my method.”

      “I’ve seen stranger things on the news.”

      “I’m a friend of Warren’s—doesn’t that tell you something?”

      “Not much. I don’t know him that well.”

      “He lives right next door.”

      “So? Am I required to be best friends with my neighbors?”

      Coming from a close-knit neighborhood, he shrugged—he’d always known his. Sometimes too well. Maybe things were different out here.

      “Listen, I’m Warren’s friend, and I’m also an EMT—though I don’t have any ID at the moment—if you’re hurt, I can help you, and you can call the police or I can, before I step foot in the place.”

      “Why do you keep insisting on thinking I’m hurt?”

      “I told you, I heard you scream. It woke me up.”

      “I’m telling you, it wasn’t me.” She bit the words out, increasingly agitated, but he knew what he’d heard.

      Had she really screamed his name? Out loud? The thought had her cringing inwardly.

      “It was you. What I want to know is why you’re lying. It’s either me or the police, sweetheart, take your pick.”

      Furious, she threw open the door, challenging him, and he had a moment of doubt. Still, he needed to follow through—he had to make sure she was okay, then he’d leave.

      JOY WATCHED HER NEIGHBOR—she still didn’t even know his name—as he prowled around her home. He’d given her one of the most intimate visual inspections she’d ever experienced before he’d started checking out the house. He said he was an EMT, and she supposed his survey was strictly clinical, though it hadn’t felt that way. Given what she’d been dreaming about, that could be her fault, but she wouldn’t admit it.

      He hadn’t laid a hand on her; he’d done nothing inappropriate, but had looked her over so thoroughly, apparently searching for signs of abuse, that she’d nearly squirmed. He was in her bedroom now, convincing himself she was safe. Her cheeks went up in flames.

      She was mortified and impressed all at once that he was so concerned about her safety. Not all neighbors were willing to get involved. She never was. It wasn’t anything personal, but she worked a lot, and had never really gotten to know the people living around her. Still, had she really been in trouble, she was glad to know there was someone who would help.

      However, this situation was getting more embarrassing by the minute. She must have screamed in her sleep the way she had in the dream—in her dream about him—but there was no way she was admitting that. She supposed she could have claimed to have had a nightmare, but that wouldn’t explain screaming his name. She wasn’t exactly good at thinking on her feet in the middle of the night. She hoped that once he saw there was no one else in the house, he’d believe her that he’d heard a voice from some other source.

      As he ran up the stairs, two at a time, she couldn’t stop the rush of heat that flowed right down her spine to her core as she watched the muscles in his back flex, and she almost sighed over the perfect masculine shape of his rear. This man was even more handsome up close than he was in her dreams.

      And, in her dreams, he had been perfect.

      She shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

      When he came back down, he gazed at her with curiosity and announced, “You seem to be here alone.”

      “Yes, I told you that.”

      “So why’d you scream?”

      “No, I … It wasn’t me. It must have been someone out on the street.”

      He shook his head, and then his eyes narrowed. She held her breath—what was he thinking?

      “Do you talk in your sleep?”

      It was as if her deepest secret had been revealed—which in a way it had—and she shook her head in denial.

      “No. No one’s ever said so, anyway.”

      “That has to be it. You must have been having a dream or something—do you remember?”

      She crossed her arms defensively. “No, I don’t. I was sleeping soundly until you came slamming at the door, demanding access to my home, threatening me with the police.”

      There. The best defense was a good offense, right?

      “I thought you were in trouble. It was a pretty loud scream. Woke me out of a … a halfway decent sleep.” His tone took on a tenor of astonishment. “I can’t believe I was actually sleeping, and then you woke me up,” he accused.

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