He wasn’t the only one who had connections in San Francisco. Her aunt lived in Oakland, just a short drive across the bay, and it was the holiday season. Maybe it was time for Charity to reconnect with family and combine a business trip with pleasure. Merry, merry, and all that crap.

Smiling to herself, Charity walked back to the kitchen, where she topped off her glass, then picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts to see if she still had Aunt Maureen’s phone number.

* * *

The dream was so real.

A woman nuzzling up to him, kissing him, her breath hot and warm against his skin as he lay on the bed. James moaned from deep in his throat as she slid her tongue down his chest and lower.

He reacted, his erection hard. Aching.

His blood on fire.

Her mouth slid along the length of him, her tongue slick and hot and persuasive.

Rebecca? He saw her face, though his eyes were closed; her image held for a second, then faded, but the sensations, sexual and thrilling, continued to consume him.

The heat.

The wet.

The need.

Pressure mounted, and just when he thought he could no longer hold back, she was atop him, riding low over his hips, but moving gently . . . so moist . . . so hot . . . moving faster and faster, with the rise in his heartbeat and his breaths . . . Oh, God, oh, God, ooooh . . .

He bucked upward, straining.

A spasm jolted his body.

Then another and another.

He groaned with the release.

His hips dropped against the mattress.

Pain ripped through his rib cage.

What?

His eyes flew open as the woman slid off him.

No dream.

No hallucination from medication.

This woman was in bed with him.

The room was nearly dark, the barest light coming through the partially closed shades, and for a second, he was disoriented. He wasn’t home, he wasn’t in the hospital, but he was . . . oh, holy shit! He fumbled for the bedside lamp, found a switch, and the dark room was suddenly awash in warm light.

Sophia, naked, was now pressed warm next to him, her blond hair tousled, her eyes glittering with amusement. “Good morning,” she whispered and tried to pull the cover back over him.

“What’re you doing here?”

He blinked, trying to orient himself. Not home. Not the hospital. Oh, right. The inn.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Her smile was beguiling as she stretched her arms over her head and tossed her hair over one shoulder, exposing the back of her neck, where a few freckles usually hid behind her thick blond tresses.

“I mean . . .” He pushed himself away from her, putting distance between them on the bed. “Why are you here?”

“You invited me.”

That didn’t sound right. “When?”