Sweet Dreams by Rochelle Alers Page A

heat and arousal.
    “Please don’t move.” Chandra was pleading with him, but she was past caring, because if he didn’t stop thenshe would beg him to make love to her. It was one thing to fantasize about making love with a faceless specter and another to have an actual live, red-blooded man simulating making love to her.
    Preston went still, but there was little he could do to still the pulsing sensations in his groin. He didn’t know what it was about Chandra Eaton that had him so lacking in self-control. He’d wanted to rationalize and tell himself it was because of her erotic dreams, but he would be lying to himself. He’d told Chandra that he liked her. The truth was he liked her and wanted her in his bed; however the notion of sleeping with Chandra was shocking and totally unexpected.
    “What were we talking about before you decided to hump me, Preston?”
    The soft, dulcet voice broke into his reverie. “We were talking about your dreams.”
    “Even before that,” Chandra said in an attempt to change the topic. Preston had asked what she’d dreamed about, and how could she tell him that her dreams were all about sex, that they were continuous frames of R- and X-rated films with her in the leading role.
    “We were discussing Josette’s father.”
    “Will he have legitimate children?”
    Wrapping an arm around Chandra’s waist, Preston shifted her to a more comfortable position. His erection had gone down and her body was more relaxed, pliant. “No. His wife gave him a daughter, but she died from a fever before she turned two. Since then she has had several miscarriages, thereby leaving him without a legitimate heir.”
    “Is Etienne Fouché wealthy?”
    “Very,” Preston confirmed. “He’d bought out aneighboring planter and is now the owner of the largest sugarcane plantation in St. Bernard parish.”
    “How is Etienne’s relationship with his wife?” Chandra asked.
    “They’re cordial. Theirs is a marriage of convenience. Madame Fouché is what one could call homely, so her father offered Etienne a sizable dowry to marry his daughter. Madame Fouché, who has an aversion to sex, is overjoyed when her doctor tells her that her husband must not share her bed again. She spends most of her free time entertaining the wives of other planters and/ or spending the summers in Europe to escape the heat and fevers that claim thousands of lives each year.”
    Sitting up straighter, Chandra turned to stare up at Preston. “You’ve made Etienne a gentleman farmer who derives his wealth from slaves who grow and process white gold.”
    “The geographic location and family background are key elements of the backstory. I could’ve easily made him a professional gambler, but how would that work for Josette and her mother. A gambler who could win or lose a fortune with the turn of a single card. And if he found himself without funds, then he would use their home as collateral. I know you don’t want to touch on the slavery issue, but remember we’re dealing with free people of color.
    “As the writer I’m totally absorbed in the lives of the characters until the play is completed. Then it becomes the director’s responsibility to get his actors to bring them to life on stage.”
    Chandra swiveled enough so that she was practically facing Preston. “Do you know who you want to direct Death’s Kiss? ” A smile softened his mouth, bringingher gaze to linger on the outline of his sensual lower lip. “What are you smiling about?”
    “I’m going write, direct and produce Death’s Kiss .”
    “Total control,” she whispered under her breath.
    Preston’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you have a problem with my decision, C.E.?”
    Silence filled the room as Chandra boldly met his eyes. Missing was the warmth that lurked there only moments before. “It’s your play, Preston, so you can do whatever you want with it.”
    “It’s not only my play, Chandra.”
    “Who else does it belong to, if not you,