Daring Dylan (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 2) (24 page)

Nothing
serious?
Who did he think he was
kidding? Apparently, like Baxter, Dylan didn’t let the technicality of having a
fiancée hamper his style.

Was she one
of the “details” which kept him tied here for the weekend? Probably not. Since
he was going to be around anyway and she made it so easy for him, he wouldn’t
see any reason not to continue screwing her.

She felt
like such a fool.

No matter
how much her experience with Baxter had taught her about bastards like Dylan,
here she was, right back in the same situation. Only this time, she was the
other woman instead of the gullible fiancée.

His
footsteps sounded in the hall. She composed herself before he stuck his big
fat, deceitful face inside the room.

Stepping
in, he greeted her grandfather first. “Looks like you’re feeling better, sir.”
Turning to Gracie, he flashed her a possessive smile, one loaded with male
satisfaction and desire as well as promises of secret pleasures remembered and
those yet to come. “Gracie, you ready to go?”

“Sure.”
Using all her willpower, she resisted the urge to rip his smug eyes out, then
and there.

Gracie
dropped a kiss on her grandfather’s forehead. “You behave now.”

She brushed
past Dylan and bolted down the hall. Outside, she headed for the B&B truck
while he veered toward his. He detoured and caught her in the middle of the
drive.

“Hey,
what’s the rush?” He curled a hand around her neck to bring her mouth toward
his. “I missed you.”

Ducking
away from the kiss, she withdrew from the playful, affectionate gesture that
came so naturally to him, but meant so little.

“I thought
we were riding together.” His mouth pulled down in a puzzled frown.

“Change of
plans.” She dug in her purse for her keys.

“Why?”

Should she
play the role of injured party? No, she didn’t play roles well. Her chin jerked
up. “There was a report on the network news about the fire at the cabin.”

“Sorry, I
should have warned you about that.” He grimaced and reached out to pull her
into his arms. Gracie stiffened and sidestepped him. “Are you worried about
running into reporters? Because if you are—”

“That’s not
it.”

“Then
what?”

Now that
the moment of truth had arrived, she found it harder to accuse him of cheating
than she’d expected. Harder than it had been to confront Baxter. Still, she
rose to the challenge. “There was also an interview with your fiancée.”

“
Fiancée
?” His deep voice climbed up a notch.
His shock appeared genuine, she’d give him points for that. But then, how many
times had Baxter looked her straight in the eye and told her he’d been working
when he’d really been working his way through the newest crop of medical
residents? “What in the hell are you talking about?”

Cheating
was bad enough, but lying made it worse. Throat constriction almost prevented
her from speaking. “Think hard.” She pushed past him, moving toward the Liberty
House truck. “I’m sure the name will come to you.”

He stood in
the middle of the drive with his hands spread wide. “I don’t have a clue.”

“Gorgeous
blond… angelic features… neck like a damn swan. Does that narrow it down for
you?”

“Maya
Griffin?” He followed close behind her.

“Bingo. You
got it in one.” She climbed into the truck, eager to put a physical barrier
between them. He reached out a hand to stop her, and she felt a moment of
bloodthirsty anticipation, picturing his fingers smashed in the doorframe.
Fortunately, he managed to pull them away before she slammed the door.

Not that I wanted to hurt him.
She pressed the lock.
Not really
. Or she wouldn’t want to as
soon as this first wave of humiliation, betrayal, and heart-wrenching pain
passed. And that should be any minute. Hopefully before the appeal of running
him down in the driveway transformed from a fleeting fantasy into reality.

He tapped
on the window then cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “She’s
not my fiancée.”

Gracie shot
him a scathing look of disbelief and revved the engine.

“Roll down
the window. Let me explain.”

Damn him,
no. It wasn’t going to be that easy. “Later. I have to go to the festival now.”

With shaky
hands, she threw the truck into gear. Dylan jumped off the running board and
ran to the Navigator. As she turned toward town, he turned right behind her.

She put her
mind on focusing and reviewing the list of chores she had to attend to before
manning the ice cream booth, but her gaze kept drifting to her rearview mirror.
Gracie pulled into the church parking lot, and Dylan pulled into the spot
opposite her. Ignoring him, she darted inside to check on half a dozen last
minute details, hoping he’d give up and leave her alone.

When she
had done everything but wash the windows and scrub the floors, she couldn’t
delay any longer. She returned outside to discover Dylan talking to Jake
Armstrong at the bottom of the steps. Or rather, Dylan listening to Jake talk.

“Saw it on
TV,” Jake boomed. “Haven’t had time to run out there, myself, but your camp
looks like a dead loss.”

Dylan
trained his gaze on Gracie.

“And poor
Lana Harris,” Jake continued. “I guess there wasn’t much left of her either.”

Dylan
hooked Gracie’s elbow as she edged around them, impervious to the scathing look
she shot at him.

“Hello,
Gracie,” Jake acknowledged. “Great weather for the festival, isn’t it? Lulu’s
heating up the first kettle of chowder for our booth now. You two should stop
by for some. On the house.”

“Thanks,
Jake. I’m sure Dylan would love to, but I’ll be busy at the ice-cream booth.”
Intending to put distance between herself and the two men, she started moving.
“Excuse me, please. I need to get over there.”

Dylan’s
grip on her arm tightened as she tried to jerk away from him. “See you later,”
he said to Jake.

“I’ll go
with you.” He lumbered along beside them. “Did you see the piece about the fire
on TV, Gracie? I was telling Dylan that’s the first time East Langden’s made
the national news since his father died.”

“I saw it.”

“Did you
see his fiancée on
Secret Edition
?
She’s a real looker. Who’d have thought it, eh? Not that he’d have a looker for
a girlfriend, but that he was engaged.” He poked Dylan in the side. “Awful
closed-mouthed about that news, eh?”

“We’re
not
engaged.” Dylan continued to hang
onto Gracie despite her efforts to escape.

She didn’t
want him touching her. Not now, not ever again.

“A dazzling
girl,” Jake went on. “Blond, beautiful, a bit bony for my taste, but that’s the
way those models are, I guess. She’d be a tasty treat for any man, am I right?”

“She is a
bit bony,” Dylan agreed.

Gracie took
pains not to peruse her own body, which would look positively round next to the
slender, elegant lines of the fashion model. She wasn’t in competition with
anyone. Jealousy wasn’t making her so furious. It was Dylan’s deceit that made
her want to scratch his eyes out.

She may
have to put up with the men’s company, but she didn’t have to talk or listen to
them. Humming a happy tune, she acted as if she didn’t have a care in the world
and their conversation interested her not in the least. Which it didn’t.

She took a
deep breath as they neared the streets blocked off for the festival. Nothing
else smelled as good as the Spring Blossom Festival.

Flowers
bloomed everywhere, their scent heavy in the air. Salty ocean spray added a
tang to the mix of food booths that offered everything from Lulu’s lobster
chowder to common street fare like corn dogs and cotton candy. Gracie
associated the unique combination of aromas with East Langden and home.
Unfortunately, the man attached to her like a barnacle threatened to ruin the
moment. She hummed louder and increased her speed, enough to leave Jake gasping
at the pace. Which rendered him blessedly silent.

“Where’s
your booth?” Dylan asked Gracie as they neared the waterfront.

“Just
here,” Jake answered, pointing to Lulu’s spot across the street. He lumbered
off in that direction. “Don’t forget to drop by later.”

The
church’s booth stood farther down the block. As much as Jake’s steady chatter
had grated on her nerves, Gracie liked Dylan’s sole company even less. She
pressed onward with the determination of MacDuff after a woodchuck.

He pulled
her to a stop beside a picnic table. “Hang on a second,” he commanded. “We’re
going to talk about this.”

The booths
around the docks buzzed with volunteers preparing for the expected crush. Not
too many festivalgoers thronged the area yet, but enough of Gracie’s friends
and neighbors were within sight to make her hesitant about creating a scene.

“Okay,
talk.” She looked at her watch. He took a seat on the middle of the plank
bench, and Gracie perched at the far end. “You have five minutes.”

“She’s not
my fiancée.”

She
wondered if he was always that tenacious or just that practiced of a liar. “Do
you have any kind of relationship with her?”

“We went
out a few times,” he admitted. “It was mutually beneficial, but never serious,
never exclusive.”

“Why do
people think otherwise?”

“We went to
a movie premier together, a couple of charity events, things like that. Places
where there were photographers. They liked the pairing of Dylan and the Diva, I
guess. Maya liked the publicity.” With each sentence, he inched along the bench
toward her. “I’d just as soon the media not discuss the details of my private
life. But they’re going to anyway, and my mother always advised ignoring it.
Trying to set them straight usually makes it worse.”

Damn
. She wished she didn’t believe him. “There’s
no engagement, no understanding between the two of you?” She wanted to leave no
room for further misunderstandings.

“None. Did
Maya
say
we were engaged?”

She took a
moment to think back to the model’s exact comments. Directly beside her now, he
settled an arm around her shoulders. His closeness fogged her thoughts. “No.”

“Believe
me, if we were engaged, Maya would announce it with fanfare.”

“She wants
to be married, but you don’t?” Not completely reassured, she allowed him to
keep his arm around her.

“She wants
my money and my fame. And I might want to be married, but not to Maya.” He
touched a finger to her chin. “Maybe someday, to—” He tipped her chin upward,
his mouth hovering above hers. “Someone else.” He finished the thought with a
kiss.

“To someone
like Maya?” Gracie asked against his mouth.

“
Nothing
like her.”

She
believed him and let him kiss her the way he seemed to want to, the way she
wanted. And she didn’t remain aloof. She couldn’t. His kiss gave too much for
that, demanded too much from her. She kissed him and kissed him until she could
no longer breathe.

They pulled
apart to discover a group of Gracie’s friends and neighbors gathered around
watching. Cheering, actually. A couple of them had cell phones in hand,
recording the moment. And unfortunately, a stranger with a professional camera
took aim just a few feet away.

“Damn.”
Dylan turned her away from the spectators, hiding her face in his shoulder.
“Welcome to my world.”

Jumping up,
he pulled her along with him. She had no idea where they were headed, only that
they were headed there fast. The townspeople dispersed, going about their
business. The photographer tried to follow, but Dylan zigged and zagged an
erratic path through the booths. A little way along the block, he looked over
his shoulder before ducking into McStone’s.

“We don’t
have time for a beer,” she objected.

“Diversionary
tactic.” Standing in the shadows, he watched out the window until the
photographer passed by. Dylan turned toward the bar and Guidry. “Is your
waitress here?”

Guidry
shook his head. “Nell has the night off.” He crossed his anvil-sized arms and
eyed Dylan suspiciously. “Why?”

“Gracie
needs a change of clothes.” The two men studied her as if she were an alien
species. “You sell T-shirts or anything?”

“We’re
selling festival sweatshirts, like everybody else in town.” Guidry reached
under the bar and pulled out a purple one.

“Great.”
Dylan took the garment and slipped it on over her tangerine-colored T-shirt.
“What do you have that will hide her hair?”

“How about
a cloth napkin?” Gracie suggested.

Guidry
unrolled some silverware from a black square and tossed it to Dylan.

Standing in
front of her, he tried to hold her hair back while tying the cloth. When
tendrils of hair escaped down one side, he scooped them up and tried again,
only to repeat the exercise on the other side. With her chest pressed against
his, she smiled as his frustration grew.

Finally, he
thrust the napkin into her hands and turned her away from him. “You tie. I’ll
gather.”

With a hand
behind each of her ears, he stroked his fingers through her hair much more
sensually than doing the job required. She focused on his face in the mirror
above the bar as he concentrated on pulling her hair back. When she lifted her
arms to tie the napkin like a kerchief, she was very aware of his heat
surrounding her, his breath fanning her neck. And of Guidry watching them.

“Chances are
that bottom-feeder doesn’t know what you look like,” Dylan said. “He only
caught a glimpse of you. If you go out there on your own, maybe he won’t
recognize you.”

“On my
own?”

“We should
separate for the time being. Maybe he’ll shove off now that he has a picture.”
His gaze shifted toward the window again. “Hmmm.”

“What?”

“I thought
I saw someone I recognized.” He craned his neck to see down the block. “I’m
going to check it out.” He dropped a kiss on her lips. “How long will you be
working at the church booth?”