“Huh?” He raised his gaze to hers. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“No, you weren’t. You were—” She brought a hand to her mouth and futilely felt around for anything foreign. God, there was probably something stuck in her teeth.

“Okay, so you caught me.” That devilish grin again. “Did you know you have perfect lips?”

She squinted at him, certain she’d heard incorrectly.

“Perfectly shaped. Perfect fullness. Perfect shade of pink. You should be doing lipstick commercials.”

“Mr. Ryder, I don’t think—this isn’t the time or—just knock it off.”

“What?” His eyes widened in genuine surprise, and then he nodded with annoying understanding. “I embarrassed you. I apologize. However, I only meant it as a compliment.” His lips curved in that smile. “Besides, you caught me staring.”

“You didn’t embarrass me.” Right. Heat singed her cheeks and she knew they were redder than an August tomato. “But I would like to stick to the business of the study.”

He threw her a questioning look, and then shrugged. “Of course. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

The hell he hadn’t. She stared down at her notebook so she wouldn’t glare at her subject, piss him off, and then have to go beg and barter for a new one again.

“As I was saying,” she said, slowly, each word deliberate, “I believe dreams do tell us a lot about ourselves, and I will of course, interpret the information you give me, but ultimately only you will know what each dream means to you.”

He snorted.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

“You always make rude noises for nothing?”

Amusement lit his dark eyes, and his mouth started to curve in a slow smile. “Sorry, Doc, I didn’t mean to rile you.”

“Right,” she muttered, and stared down at her notes. They weren’t really notes. Just something to look at while she collected herself.

How could this guy be so charming and annoying at the same time? The laughter that seemed to spring to his eyes was the irritating part. As for the rest of him…

Well, he did have a great chest and shoulders, broad, muscled without being in-your-face. And though Emma couldn’t honestly remember being impressed by a man’s hands before, she found herself periodically studying the way his long lean fingers restlessly, silently tapped the desk. That in itself wasn’t remarkable, but they inspired a sudden erotic image of him caressing her breasts that about knocked her over.

She took a deep breath. What was wrong with her? Having lustful thoughts about a virtual stranger was not her style. Especially not one who could make or break her thesis.

“Are we done here, or what?”

Nick’s impatient voice broke into her preoccupation, and try as she might, she couldn’t do a darn thing about the flush that crept up her neck and ripened her cheeks.

“Tomorrow we’ll get started,” she said calmly. “So it’s important that you record anything and everything you remember about tonight’s dreams.”

“Sometimes they’re a little X-rated.” He smiled. “Is that a problem?”

Great. “Record everything.”

“Everything,” he repeated with a devilish look in his eyes.

“Every last detail you recall.”

“Okay, Doc.” He managed to make the two simple words sound like a threat. “You got it.”

God, she hoped he wasn’t talking about some heavy-duty sexual fantasies. For the sake of the study it would make the data both interesting and thorough, but good golly, what a torturous two weeks for her.

She shuddered mentally, and then caught him staring toward the back. She followed his gaze. “What is it you find so fascinating?”

Something that looked like guilt flickered in his eyes as they met hers. Just as quickly it vanished. “Keep any prisoners back there?”

“Only ones who give me attitude.”

“Oh man, Doc, you’re getting me excited.”

She sighed. Obviously keeping this one on track would be a challenge. “Brenda said you have excellent recall. Do you use any particular method or trick?”

“I read an article that suggested giving a title to a dream as soon as you remember any part of it.”

“Does that help you recall more of the dream as the day goes on?”

“Yeah, I think so. If it was a good dream, and my mind wanders back to it during the day, it seems to unfold more.”

“Excellent. Keep a notebook with you.”

“Right. Record everything.” His voice and expression turned grim. He started to shrug into his jacket, and Emma forced her gaze away from the way the muscles played across his chest. “So, we’re done?”

She closed her notebook. “Yes.” She hadn’t even skimmed the surface, but maybe it was better he wasn’t so curious about her methods and theories. He was skittish enough. “Unless you have any questions.”

He shrugged, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket. “Same time tomorrow, or do you want to get this over with earlier?”

Gee, such overwhelming enthusiasm. “It’ll have to be the same time as today. I don’t get off work until then.”

He nodded absently, looking distracted, before he walked out the door without another word.

Emma waited a minute before she used the shiny base of the engraved brass stapler she’d received as an award to look at her reflection. Of course her image was slightly distorted, but still, her lips looked pretty normal to her. She pursed them. Maybe a little fatter than most, but…

“Hey, Doc.”

At the sound of Nick’s voice her heart nearly exploded and she straightened, almost flinging the stapler against the wall. “Yes?” Remarkably, her voice was intelligible.

His brows drawn together in a puzzled frown, he seemed too absorbed in his own curiosity to have noticed her vanity. “I do have another question.” She nodded, and with his gaze narrowed he asked, “Are you sure there isn’t anyone else here?”

Geez, talk about paranoid. “Positive.”

He sent her a skeptical look, and then a lazy mysterious grin curved his mouth. “Okay, Doc, have it your way. For now.”

HOW THE HELL had he let Brenda talk him into this? Nick checked the rearview mirror to see if anyone had entered the deserted parking lot. Okay, so he was early and the doc had probably just gotten off her shift. He’d have to remember to ask Brenda what kind of work Emma did. Not that he really cared but if she was going to be poking around his head, he figured he had a right to know something about her.

He stared down at the notes he’d taken from last night’s midnight romp. Here he’d purposely instructed himself not to dream and he’d ended up having a couple of doozies…about naked women with long dark hair, long legs and silk thongs.

Shit!

He glanced at the rearview mirror again and this time an older, beat-up white sedan chugged into the parking lot. Doc was behind the wheel. He couldn’t see her face, but he saw the mass of shiny dark hair. Since he was the only one there, he had to suspect she’d seen him, but without any acknowledgment she veered off toward the side of the building and parked out of sight.

A few minutes later, she hurried around the corner, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, the collar of her long tan coat pulled up around her neck. Odd. It had warmed up and wasn’t cold enough for her to be wearing a coat.

He continued to watch as she made tracks in the opposite direction, nearly running into the pink azaleas flanking the stark white lab. If she’d seen him, she was pretending she hadn’t.

He got out of his Porsche. “Hey, Doc.”

She slowed, reluctance in every small jerk of her body as she turned around. “Sorry, I’m running late again,” she called out, slightly breathless.

“You’re not. I’m early.” He closed the car door.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

“All right if I wait inside?”

She touched the back of her hair, and quickly tucked up a stray. “Um, why don’t I make sure things aren’t a mess. Someone else used the lab after we did yesterday.”