The white hatted guy was blond, blue-eyed and g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s, gorgeous. The gray hatted guy had dark-brown hair with a hint of burnish, brown eyes and he was h-a-n-d-s-o-m-e, handsome.
And the black hatted guy had black hair, longer than the other two, very tanned skin, much tanner than the other two (who were nicely tanned, might I add), his features were sharper, leaner, stronger but in all his darkness, clothes, skin, hair, he had light blue eyes. Very light blue eyes.
Oh, and he was h-a-w-t, hawt.
And the hottest thing about him was that he had a scar curving from his temple down his cheekbone.
Ultra hot.
Wow.
Yum!
How was it that I was thirty-two years old and I’d never had this good of a dream? It wasn’t fair. This dream rocked!
“Heya,” I called to the hot guys.
“Cora, the exquisite,” the white hatted guy called back, a blinding white smile on his full lips and I liked what he called me. It was freaking awesome.
“That’s me, Cora the exquisite,” I agreed, smiling back.
“Cora!” Aggie chirped desperately, hopping around frantically.
“What?” I snapped at Aggie then went on, “Quit chirping at me, you crazy bird. I’m talking to the hot guys.”
“You’re barely dressed,” a hard, rough, deep, almost impossibly sexy voice came at me and I looked back down at the men. “Go inside, woman, for all the gods’ sakes, and cover yourself.”
It was the black hatted man.
I looked down at myself to see I was wearing the same nightgown as the woman who had danced and tra la’ed through my room. It was the most material I’d worn to bed in my life. Hell, it was the most material I’d worn anywhere in my life.
My eyes went to the black hatted man. “Dude, I’ve got about seven thousand yards of material on up here. I’m hardly barely dressed,” I told him.
I watched his brows shoot together giving him a decidedly ominous (yet mesmerizing and definitely totally sexy) look and then his eyes left me and his head turned to look at the white hatted guy who had also tipped his chin down and was looking back at him.
The gray hatted guy was looking up at me.
“Are you well, Cora?” he called. “This is not a man named, ‘Dude’. As you well know, this man is named Noctorno.”
Oh dear. That wasn’t a great name. Why couldn’t he have been Dashiell? Dashiell was a cool name. You could shorten it to Dash and Dash was a super-cool name.
Oh well. It didn’t matter. Usually with any good dream I had, I always woke up before the really good part. I just hoped I got to at least kiss one of them. I didn’t care which. My first choice was Noctorno (regardless of his name). My second was the dark brown-haired one mainly because I wasn’t all that big on the white hatted guy’s use of red as an accent color.
“I’m perfectly fine,” I answered. “Thanks for asking,” I added as an afterthought because it was important to be polite, even in a dream.
The gray hatted guy smiled a weirdly surprised smile but Noctorno spoke again.
“If you’re well then you’re well enough to walk into your room and don proper clothing,” he informed me.
Dream or not, this dude was way too bossy and, might I add, a bit of a prude.
I put a hand on my hip and felt my eyes narrow. “What’s your gig? It’s not like I’m flashing you.”
“Gig?” the gray hatted guy asked the white hatted guy.
The white hatted guy shrugged and asked, “Flashing?”
Noctorno ignored both of them and growled, “Go inside and dress.”