Daring Dylan (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 2) (37 page)

Structured, neat, and
fragrant, a reflection of Annabel herself. 

Everything in the house
whispered its good taste in monotonous neutrals. Nice, he supposed, if he went
in for this sort of
Boy Meets World
, mom, and apple-pie hominess.

Which he didn’t.

Not that he had any
reason to dislike sitcom-perfect domesticity. But growing up without a mother
present, he’d never experienced it. This whole scene existed as the polar
opposite of his childhood and adulthood. Both had teemed with loud and
boisterous chaos.

He’d never lived anywhere
that remotely resembled this house or neighborhood, and he’d never dated a
woman with as little fire and flash as Annabel.

Roger trailed him
inside. “Would you go out and come back in again? The lighting in here isn’t
what I expected.”

“Forget it,” Max said.
“We’re not staging anything or doing any retakes.”

“If you’re willing to
settle for a pasty image that makes you look like one of
The Walking Dead
,
fine by me.”

Annabel’s stepdaughter
chewed on her thumbnail and creased her forehead as she eyed Roger from head to
sneaker. Max empathized with her concerns about the two-hundred-twenty-pound
free spirit sporting a ponytail, eyebrow piercing, forearm tattoos, scruffy
jeans, and a concert T-shirt. He attempted to set her at ease. “Roger’s the
chaperone-slash-shooter for tonight. Even though he’s misguided enough to
worship the Dave Matthews Band instead of real rock ‘n’ roll, he’s harmless
when he’s not obsessing about things like camera angles and lighting.”

“If you say so.” Carly
took a small step back, as if reluctant to give them the benefit of the doubt.
“Please take a seat in the living room. Anna said to offer you something to
drink and let her know when you got here.”

A footstep at the top
of the stairs alerted Max to his date’s presence before he could decline the
offer. In spite of himself, he watched Annabel descend.

A nervous smile
flickered and softened her expression before it dimmed and faded into the more
familiar lines of stern disapproval. And he hadn’t even done anything to annoy
her yet. That he knew of.

Roger stepped forward.
He adjusted the camera to zoom in and capture her entrance.

Waiting at the foot of
the stairs, Max assessed her appearance. She’d reverted to full-on Ice-Princess
mode. Black suit jacket buttoned up to her chin, and skirt hem hanging down
past her knees. Sensible, boxy looking shoes. Hair slicked back so tightly at
the nape of her neck he was surprised her eyes didn’t cross.

“Anna, I thought you
were going to wear your hair down.” Carly’s artless comment inserted a drop of
sweetness into the awkward moment.

Annabel smoothed her
fingers over the sides of her hair, as if to harness any rebellious strands
that dared to escape from their prison. “I’m more comfortable with it up.”

“You look gorgeous.”
Roger panned the camera between the woman and girl. He nudged Max in the ribs,
then pulled back to record Max and Annabel’s first greeting. “Doesn’t she look
gorgeous? Give her a little kiss.”

Max’s gaze skimmed over
Annabel’s body again. The classy, understated style suited her.
Too prim and
proper for my taste.
Although the suit did hug her figure nicely. The slit
up one side of her skirt showed an enticing bit of shapely leg and thigh when
she walked. And that mouth with the peek-a-boo smile playing around the edges
almost begged for a kiss.

But the expression of
alarm that crossed her face sure didn’t. Or the backpedaling she employed as he
reached for her.

“Oh, my.” She fluttered
her fingers like crazed bats. “I guess I’m not very good on this side of the
camera.”

“Just pretend I’m not
here,” Roger said as if it would be possible to overlook a supersized gorilla
with a forty-thousand-dollar camera glued to his face.

“Then quit trying to
direct everything,” Max told him. “Just let things happen. And don’t worry,” he
said to Annabel. “I’ll make him stay ten paces behind us at all times.”

“No, no, he’s fine.
He’s just doing his job. Getting a taste of my own medicine will make me more
sympathetic to my subjects in the future.” She flashed the cameraman an elusive
smile.

She excluded Max from
the offering of goodwill. Okay, he got the message. He shoved his hands in his
pockets. “You ready to go?”

“Yes.” She turned to
retrieve some kind of flimsy wrap from the closet. “Do you know where we’re
going?”

“Nope. I was only told
where and when to show up—and what to wear.” He pulled at the knot on his
necktie again. Damn thing. He hated having to wear one on his day off.

“We have a reservation
at Ernesto’s at six.”

Ernesto’s
. The kind of
restaurant Max tended to dodge. A stuffy, over-priced, pretentious place in Mt.
Adams that served prissy little portions of nouvelle cuisine. Sighing, he
resigned himself to the choice and tried not to yawn.

“From there, we’ll go
to the symphony. I hope you like Wagner.”

He chuckled, assuming
she was kidding. But when he checked, her expression revealed nothing but
seriousness. “Wagner? Really?”

“His music’s quite
stimulating. My husband and I used to have season tickets for the symphony. I
gave them up when he—” She stopped and bit her lip. “I gave them up a few years
ago.”

The symphony.
Stimulating? Ri-ight. She must be older than he guessed. What decade had she
been born in anyway? Oh, well, maybe he could catch up on his sleep.

And he’d given up his
poker night for this.

 

Get
Meet Your Mate
now!

Acknowledgments
 

My most important resource is the community
of writers surrounding me. This includes all of the inspiring and talented
women of The Ruby-Slippered Sisterhood, The Pixie Chicks, The Lucky 13s, and
The Golden Network. I am so grateful to have all of these talented and
supportive women in my world.

 

Special thanks to my daughter Sarah. I
could not have accomplished this without her technical expertise. In 2013, she
urged me to consider self-publishing my manuscripts. In 2014, she almost
single-handedly made it happen. In 2015, we’re still going strong.

 

Thank you to my son Evan, for sharing my
love of writing and always making me laugh.

 

Additional thanks to editor-extraordinaire
Annie Oortman, mega-talented cover designer Kim Killion of The Killion Group,
and excellent Beta Reader Donna S.

 

A special thanks to Jenn S. and Darcy W.
for their brilliant title suggestions.

 

The McNattons and the Floyds are the people
who formed me and shaped me throughout my life. For good or bad, they made me
the person I am. I’ll always be grateful for their love and support.

 

Last but not least, thank you, Goble, for making all my
dreams come true. You are the love and the light of my life

About the author
 

Jacie
Floyd writes contemporary romance, romantic comedy, and emotionally-rich stories
about the kind of strong women and bold men you want to read about and know.

 

From
the time she read her first Nancy Drew mystery, she's been an avid reader and
writer in a variety of genres. After many years as a wife and mother with a
nine-to-five job, the desire to create her own stories became her obsession.
While polishing her craft as an unpublished author, she was honored to be named
a six-time Golden Heart Finalist and two-time Golden Heart winner by the
Romance Writers of America. Finally giving in to the inevitable, she abandoned
her day job in order to self-publish the kind of stories she likes to read and
write. She hopes you like them, too.

 

Jacie is happy to connect with readers at
www.jaciefloyd.com
, on
Twitter
,
Facebook
,
Instagram
, and
Pinterest
. She also welcomes
you to sign up for her
newsletter
.

Copyright
 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or they are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,
living are dead, is purely coincidental.

 

Winning Wyatt: ©2015 by Jacqueline Floyd

Cover Design: Kim Killion, Hot Damn Designs

 

1st Edition

 

All rights reserved.

 

In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of
1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book
without the permission of the author constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of
the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this
book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be
obtained by contacting the author.

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