Daring Time

He jerked up his sweats and stalked back and forth in front of the mirror like a caged beast. After a few turns he paused and drew close to the mirror once again.

The fog around the edge was definitely clearing. The band that remained was perhaps only two or three inches thick. Still panting, he went to the bedside table and grabbed one of his credit cards out of his wallet. He held it up to the mirror a few seconds later, using it as an ad hoc measuring device.

Ryan stepped back and tried his best to review the

unlikely events of the past fifteen or so minutes. He'd touched Hope and she'd touched him. His cock had done the impossible and punched right through the barrier of time.

Either he was going completely, utterly insane or it'd happened just like that.

Don't be a coward, Daire. Pick your sides— believe or don't, but don't be a waffler, Ryan thought. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was a fence dinger.

He either needed to believe that for some bizarre reason he was having contact with an amazing, beautiful woman who lived in the year 1906 or he needed to decide what he was going to do about his encroaching madness.

Time was of the essence, either way. If what he'd been experiencing was true, Hope was in a crisis; if he was hallucinating, be was the one in dire trouble.

That pretty much decided him. Hope took precedence, although Ryan knew deep down there'd never been a chance of him abandoning her to such a horrible fate.

He began his pacing again back and forth in front of the mirror. Every time he had contact with Hope the fog around the mirror narrowed. Every time he encountered her their ability to commune with one another deepened.

If he had it his way, he was going to touch and pleasure Hope repeatedly until the mirror opened wide enough for him to walk straight through into her world. Once he was there, he could try to coax her into coming back with him to the year 2008 where she'd be safe.

There was plenty of time for him to do that and still be back with time to spare for Jim Donahue's sting operation this coming Saturday.

He wouldn't allow himself to dwell on what the hell he was sup-posed to do with Hope after that.

All he needed to worry about for the moment was seeing her face looking back at him once again. With any luck, he could handle things from there. He paused in his agitated pacing and lifted his fingers to his nose. He inhaled deeply before he plunged his first two fingers into his mouth, sucking strongly so as to capture every last remnant of Hope's exquisite essence. His cock swelled and stiffened into complete readiness once again.

I've got your scent in my nose, Hope. I've memorized your taste. Nothing's going to keep me from you now.

Ryan found a rare spot in front of his mother's Lincoln Park boutique and parallel parked.

Ramiro answered his call just as Ryan shifted the car into park.

"Shit."

"Didn't your mother ever teach you how to answer a phone?" Ryan asked mildly.

"Ah, fuck. My alarm clock never went off."

"That's because you never set it," Ryan heard a woman say goggily the distance. He couldn't help but grin.

"Is that Gail? You owe me seventy bucks."

"For what?"

"I reimbursed you for taking her out to lunch."

"So? You were supposed to," Ramiro replied scornfully.

"You owe me for setting you up with her. You've been after her for almost two years now, but all she ever gave you was a view of her ass as she ran away from you."

"She's not likely to run now that she's had a taste of my hard, delicious Latino flesh."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Ryan heard Gail say acerbically.

"Drive yourself into work today. I'm taking a few days off," Ryan said, thinking it would be best for Ramiro if he changed the subject posthaste.

"Is everything okay?"