A/N: Dreams are powerful things. Catherine is about to find out how powerful.

Reunion

Chapter 9

Catherine groaned as she woke, daylight making itself known filtering in through closed eyelids. She didn't want to wake up, didn't want to open her eyes. Instead, she wanted to go back to sleep and dive back into the most luscious dream she'd had in a long time. Keeping her eyes shut tight Catherine pushed her arms above her head and her feet toward the foot of the bed in a long, feline stretch. She felt her lips turn up into a smile and a soft purr escaped her throat as she remembered her dream and the gorgeous hunk of a man who'd filled it.

Unlike most of her dreams about Vincent, this one was happy, exciting. In this dream he hadn't gone away. In this dream he'd searched for her and found her. He'd gathered her in his arms and swept her off her feet, whisking her away in a Learjet to a mysterious, faraway place like a knight on a white steed. She felt her lips drop from a smile into pout, disappointed that the dream had ended before they'd arrived at Vincent's secret destination and before anything else had happened.

And now I'm so wired I'll never be able to go back to sleep and finish this totally awesome dream. Crap. At least today's my day off.

Catherine pushed her arms and legs into another long stretch and slowly opened her eyes, ready to take on the day. As her vision focused her heart started pounding in her chest and she shot upright in the bed. A huge, king-size bed. A huge, king-size bed that wasn't hers. And the very large room the bed was in wasn't hers, either.

Her eyes darted around taking in her surroundings. In the center of the wall across from the bed was a set of brown rattan chairs surrounding a small table. To the right of the chairs was a flatscreen television and small entertainment center. To the left was an oak amour and chest of drawers. A doorway in the wall on the left lead into a bathroom and on the wall to the right was a set double french doors which opened out onto a large deck. The walls were made of rough-hewn logs, shellacked with a shiny, rich walnut-colored stain. She was obviously in some type of log building, probably a fancy bed and breakfast or a rustic hotel of some sort. She glanced at the foot of her bed and saw several bath towels, hand towels and wash cloths neatly laid out with a piece of paper sitting on them.

And then it hit her. Catherine sucked in a startled breath. It wasn't a dream. She wasn't in her condo in Chicago. She was somewhere in Oregon. Vincent had brought her here. In a jet. It was all real. Vague snippets of consciousness from the evening before surfaced. She remembered waking up in Vincent's arms as he carried her somewhere. He'd whispered in her ear that they were here - where ever here was - and that she could go back to sleep and he'd see her in the morning. She was so emotionally and physically exhausted she'd gladly let herself slip back into sleep knowing she was safe in his arms as he put her to bed.

He put me to bed!

Anxiety surged through Catherine and she whipped back the comforter and sheets and looked down at herself. A wave of relief came next, followed by a tinge of guilt as she saw she was clad in her blue bikini panties and her shirt. She glanced over at the chest of drawers and noticed her jeans folded neatly on top with her shoes next to it on the floor. Her matching bra was sitting on her jeans and she remembered Vincent helping her take the bra off without taking off her shirt - a trick she'd shown him in Afghanistan. Vincent was the epitome of a gentleman and he would never have taken advantage of her. He was a good man. Even in their short time together she had learned enough about him to be convinced of that.

As Catherine sat thinking about Vincent peeling off her jeans and helping her maneuver her bra out from underneath her shirt she started to have regrets that he hadn't taken advantage of her. She'd have woken up at his ministrations and would have gladly let him pleasure her. He knew only too well how every part of her body reacted to his touch and she had missed that touch so very much for so many years.

Catherine felt the pout return to her lips. He'd not only been the consummate gentleman as he'd undressed her, he'd obviously even rented a separate room from himself. Well, she would have to remedy that - and soon. With Gabe and Tess and JT and God and everyone out of the picture for a while, it was time to see if Vincent wanted what she wanted, or if the years had dampened his desire, a desire that had rekindled itself in her bones.

Stretching one last time Catherine stood and walked to the foot of the bed, picking up the note waiting for her on top of the bath towels.

Hey sleepy-head. When you wake up and are ready for some coffee - and your surprise - just dial 6 on the phone by the bed. V.

Probably his room extension, so they were most likely in a very expensive hotel or B and B. Faint tingles of excitement begin to stir in Catherine's stomach in anticipation of being with Vincent. But before anything else a shower was the first order of business. She grabbed a towel, went to the shower in the large bathroom, set the water to almost scalding and peeled off her panties and shirt. Stepping into the shower she let the hot water cascade over her head and down her body. It was heaven.

Catherine took a long, hot, rejuvenating shower, a luxury she seldom afforded herself given her hectic life as an emergency room physician. She wanted to stay under the hot spray for rest of the day, but groaning her displeasure to no one but herself she stepped out of the shower and toweled off. Wrapping the other bath towel around her wet hair she surveyed her body in the mirror. The swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the small patch of dark curls at the apex of her thighs, her slender legs - she was much the same Catherine that Vincent had known in Afghanistan, albeit a few years older.

Not bad, Chandler, even if I do say so myself, she thought with pride. Then, a sliver of doubt peaked through as she thought, I just hope he still finds me attractive.

Pulling on the soft, terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and sliding her feet into the slippers under the vanity Catherine became aware of the rich aroma of coffee. Following her nose out into the room she saw two steaming mugs of coffee sitting on the table and Vincent sitting in one of the rattan chairs with his back toward the bathroom. He'd brought her coffee and he was protecting her modesty at the same time. God, this man was too good to be true.

"So, are you room service?" Catherine said, a smile curving her lips.

"Kinda," Vincent said. "Are you decent?"

Catherine winced, wishing she wasn't and that he'd turn around and ravish her with his eyes like he used to every time they stole away to their secret rendezvous in the base medical storage supply shed. But that wasn't the case now, so she said, "Yes," trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Vincent stood and turned slowly toward her, angling his chair so it faced its mate and gestured for Catherine to sit. His eyes were bright, a smile on his face.

Catherine sat and glanced at the mug of coffee. As Vincent's smile turned into a smirk Catherine furrowed her eyebrows and said, "What?"

"You told me in Kandahar that what you missed the most were long, hot showers and good coffee. Looks like you haven't changed. Try this," he said, pointing to the mug on the table. "It's dark roast, two sugars and a little cream. That's right, isn't it?"

Catherine smiled and nodded. His smirk grew and Catherine could sense how much more relaxed and confident Vincent was this morning as compared to the day before. "Thank you," she said. She took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes, savoring the deep, rich flavor. "Oh my god, this is wonderful."

"Knew you'd like it. It's from a small, local roaster. There are a lot of small artisans here - all kinds of art, crafts, food, wine - you need something, someone local makes it," Vincent said.

Catherine took another sip of coffee. "So, where in Oregon are we?"

Vincent smiled. "Outside a little town called Sisters, in Central Oregon, just east of the Cascade Mountains," he said. "Come here, I want to show you something." He stood and offered his hand to her. Standing, she set her mug back on the table and took his hand, following him as he walked across the room toward the double french doors. "Bundle-up. We're going to step onto the deck for a minute and its pretty cold outside. But I promise, it will be worth it."

Puzzled, Catherine did as instructed and pulled the robe tighter around herself. Vincent tugged open one door and a gust of brisk winter air made Catherine inhale sharply. He led her out onto a wooden deck covered with a light sprinkling of snow. As Catherine looked up, the view that greeted her stole the breath she had caught only a moment before. Towering in front of her, almost close enough to touch, were four huge mountain peaks covered with snow that glistened in the morning sun. Her gaze followed the mountain sides down to the green forests below dusted with a light blush of snow. Acres upon acres of cross-fenced fields stretched out in front of her all the way to the edge of the forest, perhaps a mile away. Several horses and a dozen cows meandered peacefully, pushing aside the thin coating of snow that sparkled with the sun's light to get at the tufts of grass underneath. The enormity of the mountains played counterpoint to the peaceful, pastoral meanderings of the horses and cattle and all Catherine could do was gasp as she took everything in.

Without taking her eyes off the scene in front of her Catherine whispered, "This is incredible. Thank you for bringing me here to see this."

Vincent stepped up behind Catherine and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. "It is pretty amazing," he murmured in her ear. The heat of his body permeated the robe, flowing over her, warming her both outside and in. She breathed in his scent - an intoxicating mixture of soap and a faint hint of cologne along with a musky male undertone. It reminded her of how close their bodies had been the night before as Vincent cradled her in his arms. She pressed her back against his chest and took in a deep breath, savoring his closeness.

Catherine looked off to her right and then to her left taking in the building. They were, indeed, in a modern log building and it was huge. Their deck was perched high up on the third floor and the building extended at least a hundred feet in each direction. Large windows made up much of this side of the building from what Catherine could see, obviously to capitalize on the incredible view for guests and patrons. Looking down at the parking area she was puzzled there weren't more vehicles, only the black SUV they'd arrived in. With the incredible view, the beautiful building and the luxurious rooms the hotel should be packed, even at this time of early winter.

Catherine tilted her head back, turning it slightly so she could catch Vincent's eyes. "Where are the rest of the guests?" she asked. Then a possibility dawned on her. "You didn't rent this entire building just for us, did you? How could you have done that? You'd have to have made reservations months ago - maybe even years ago."

Vincent's smile widened and his eyes twinkled. "There aren't any other guests," he said. "Only we two. Yes, I reserved this place just for us. And, yes, I did it years ago. In fact, I built it five years ago."

It took a few seconds for Catherine's mind to wrap itself around the meaning of his words. As the realization came to her she leaned back further to get a better look at Vincent's face. "You built this? This is your home?" she said.

Vincent nodded.

"But I thought you lived in New York."

"My corporate headquarters is in New York. But I can live anywhere I want. I chose here. And I built …" he paused and gestured with one hand at the house and then out toward the snow covered fields in front of them "… all of this."

Catherine turned and took in everything again and then quietly said, "But, this is my dream."

"You're right. This is your dream," Vincent said. "Your dream became my dream. When you shared your dreams with me in Kandahar I didn't have any of my own. I was just hoping to survive and get back home." Vincent pulled her tighter into him as he continued. "So I borrowed your dream. And your dream was beautiful. It kept me going - it was a gift. When I was finally able to make it come true - I did."

Vincent turned Catherine completely around to face him never letting his grip loosen in the slightest. She looked up at him and his eyes captured hers. "I never thought I'd be able to share this dream with you," he said. "I thought that part of my dream had died in Kandahar."

"This is what you wanted to show me," Catherine said, softly, as the amazing reality of everything began to set in. "You wanted me to see your home - my dream." My dream, come true, she thought.

"Yes," he said, his voice rough and low. He pulled her tighter into him.

As her breasts pushed against his chest she could feel the chiseled muscles under his shirt. The smoldering fire which had been biding its time deep inside her flared to life. As Catherine looked up at Vincent the heat and desire behind his eyes were undeniable. Her body jerked slightly as shivers ran down her spine. But the culprit of her momentary shaking wasn't the cold air. She was anything but cold, wrapped in Vincent's arms. The warmth of his body washed over her, adding to the heat climbing up from her core into her belly and pushing into her chest. She wanted him.

The doubts of yesterday afternoon were gone. Here was the man she'd thought dead and knew could never be replaced in her life. He was in front of her, solid and real. She could feel his heart beating against her chest. The vice-like grip of his hands on her waist and the warmth of his body against hers wasn't imaginary. Catherine's heart sped up and she could hear her shallow breaths echoing off Vincent's chest.

Vincent's gaze enveloped her, overwhelming her with raw emotion she hadn't felt in years. He brought his head down toward hers, angling his lips so they would mesh perfectly with hers. Catherine's breath hitched as he came closer. Vincent paused, his eyes asking for permission. Catherine took in a short breath and felt a smile spread across her lips as she whispered, "Yes."

Vincent's lips crashed into hers as he pulled her toward him even closer, one hand at the small of her back, the other at the nape of her neck. He kiss was hot and needy. His lips pressed hard against hers, his tongue demanding entrance to her mouth. Catherine met him with the same ferocious need, darting her hands up and grabbing his hair, pulling him hard into her. Her mouth was hot and opened willingly, allowing Vincent in, her tongue battling with his with an uncontrolled passion. He pulled harder at her, cupping her butt and lifting her up and into him. Without breaking their kiss Catherine hopped up, the loose robe falling down to her sides allowing her to wrap her legs around Vincent's waist, squeezing him hard with her thighs. She pressed her pelvis into his and his arousal was evident. She could feel the moisture of her own arousal as she ground into him.

Vincent pulled his lips back from Catherine's and started to rain kisses down across her jaw and neck. Catherine closed her eyes and tilted her head back, opening herself to him, losing herself in the passion that coursed through her. As his lips continued to touch every bit of exposed skin they could find Vincent turned with Catherine still wrapped around him and walked back into the warm room, kicking the door shut behind him.

As he stepped toward the bed his kisses stopped, replaced by his voice growling low in Catherine's ear, "God, I've missed you. I want you. And I know you want me. Tell me you want me."

In response Catherine unclenched her legs bringing her feet the floor, then stepped back and shrugged the robe off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet.