I scowl at the phone. I guess any discussion on the topic is over.
With a sigh, I hurry to the front of the house where I wait for the car, which arrives with remarkable quickness. I’m then driven to a nearby location. The high-end ritzy side of Belle Meade, where we enter through a security panel-controlled gate and follow a round drive. The center of the grounds, which are quite expansive, sports a round waterfall, while the house itself is modern looking with several levels, almost like two rectangles stacked unevenly.
I’d expected Tyler’s home to be stunning. I wasn’t wrong.
Nor am I surprised to find a valet parking cars. The driver pulls me to the door, and the valet attends to my exit. Soon, I’m walking several levels of steps to the double frosted-glass front doors. I’m greeted by a doorman who opens the door for me and invites me inside. My coat is taken from me and I wonder who the party is for since Tyler didn’t tell me and I didn’t know if I was allowed to discuss it elsewhere. Not when everything could be a test.
I ease into the room where the floors are dark wood and the room is all clean lines, with the fireplace as the modern centerpiece. The furniture is brown, rich, masculine leather. I’d expect nothing less from Tyler Hawk. The kitchen island is a brown and cream combo of my dreams with fancy designer lights hanging low. But the most impactful part of the room is the double doors opened to a spectacular pool area while at least fifty people inside and out mingle about.
It’s a stunning home.
I accept a glass of champagne, which I sip, just in time to have Tyler appear in front of me.
He’s in a suit, of course, because he’s Tyler. He probably sleeps just like he is right in this moment. Or naked. Not that I want to find out. Tyler might be the kind of powerful man I’ve been drawn to in the past, but never again. Of that, I firmly vow.
His blue eyes narrow on me, almost as if he can hear my thoughts, and then slide up and down my body. The blatant inspection that follows heats my cheeks and ends with a burning look of approval and command. “Come with me.”
He turns and starts walking.
I quickly keep pace, praying I don’t spill the drink I should have declined. Our destination is the center of a group of people near the fireplace, and Tyler easily parts the crowd. I join him and suck in a breath, as I find myself standing directly across from, the one, and only, Dash Black.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
My heart is racing.
Tyler is talking to the group, about me, I think, but I can’t process what he’s saying. Not really. Not when Dash is standing right in front of me looking like sin and seduction in jeans, a sweater, and a sleek black jacket he’s paired with boots. And when my eyes meet his eyes, he’s looking at me, too.
I expect to find anger or contempt in his stare at my presence, but that’s not what I find at all. There’s an instant, intense punch of awareness between us that steals my breath and quakes the ground beneath my feet. In my mind, we’re back at that guitar statue, and his hands are on my body. Heat rushes over my skin.
“Meet Allison,” Tyler says, jolting me back to the group. “She’s heading up our new annual charity auction this year.” And then he’s introducing me to people, and I’m shaking hands with one man, then another, then a woman.
The woman, Susie, fifty-something, in a red dress, with light brown hair, eyes Dash. “The charity is your choice this year, correct?” She grins at Tyler. “See? I really read your emails.”
“Nice to hear,” Tyler replies, “though I doubt that’s true. You’re too busy directing mega film projects to read my emails. I suggest you heard about the auction here tonight.”
“It is my charity choice,” Dash replies, and there’s no missing his cool confidence, and comfort in himself, something that contrasts Tyler’s wicked arrogance.
“Allie works for the world-class auction house Riptide in New York,” Dash adds, saying what Tyler has not. “We won’t have her for long, but I have a feeling she’ll leave a lasting impression.”
I’m instantly unsure how to take the comment. Is he complimenting me or reminding me that I don’t belong here?
My eyes meet his again, and that punch is still there, but there is something else, something I cannot read, nor do I have time to contemplate. Susie answers with, “I have a few items from movie sets I can donate. Do you have a card, Allison?”
“I do,” I say, reaching in my purse and handing her a Riptide card. “You can email, text, or call. And thank you for any donations.”
“Of course,” she replies. “Anything for Dash.” She turns to face him. “Let’s talk about your next project. The one you can do with me.”
Dash holds up his hands and says, “Let me get through the one I’m writing now first. Call Bella. She knows more than I know, or so she thinks.”
“She’s always been the brains in your operation,” Tyler says dryly.
“There’s a reason why she’s my agent,” Dash replies, a lift to his lips that isn’t quite a smile nor is it a smirk.
The two men stare at each other, a crackle in the air between them, that’s hard to miss, as if they’ve spoken beyond the obvious words, and nothing pleasant.
Susie though, appearing oblivious to this interaction, be it by choice or ignorance, quickly chimes in with, “We all know who has the creativity in the group,” Susie interjects, “and it’s not me.” She eyes Dash again. “That’s why I need to partner with people like you.”
Tyler’s lips thin. “I need to check on the guest of honor,” he says, glancing down at me with a piercing stare as he adds, “Meet people, Ms. Wright, and remember what we talked about.” With that command, and the reminder that I work for him, not Dash, he fades out of the circle.
Dash arches a brow at me.
And for reasons I can’t explain I react defensively, my arms folding in front of me.
“Why don’t you, me, and Bella have lunch?” Susie asks Dash, unconcerned about Tyler’s absence.
Dash is saved a reply as a good-looking man with sandy brown hair joins our little circle. Susie lights up at his appearance. “The best stuntman in the business,” she says. “Good to see you, Joe.”
Dash uses Joe’s presence as an opportunity to step closer to me, catching my elbow heat igniting with the touch. “Why don’t we go outside and talk?” he asks softly, urging me to walk with him.
And I do because frankly, I’m unable to think clearly when he’s touching me. Really truly, I’m quite angry with him and me, that he can snub me and still impact me this much, this easily. Which is exactly why, the minute we step outside and he pulls me into a corner of the patio rather than melding us with the crowd, I round on him with demand. “Why are you even here? You and Tyler clearly don’t like each other.”
“For you, Allie,” he answers softly, his voice butter soft and silky, but I refused to be seduced. “I came for you.”
My chin lifts in defiance. “Because you wanted to tell me to go home again?”
“I’m not going to tell you to go home again.” His hand not so discreetly settles at my waist, a hot branding that weakens my knees. “I think we can make this auction successful together.”
“But you said—”
“And I was wrong,” he admits, the confession taking me off guard. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I don’t need you to protect me.”
“I know that, too,” he says. “If I made it seem as if that wasn’t the case, I’m sorry.”
My lips part in surprise and for good reason. A second apology drives home sincerity. And most men, or rather, the men I know who are as powerful as Dash Black, never apologize, at least not and mean it. Further unraveling my resistance to his charms this night, he adds, “But I also can’t seem to help myself.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I reply, breathless and I’m not sure why aside from the fact that he affects me in ways no other man ever has. And I barely know him.
“I don’t either,” he s
ays, and it feels like a confession, that only adds to my confusion. “But we’ll figure it out.”
“There you are, Dash. I swear I need a drink and a friendly audience.”
At the sound of Bella’s voice, Dash’s hand falls away, but not before he promises, “We’ll talk later.”
There’s an implication in those words, that “later” means, much later, when we’re alone, or at least I think there is. I’m not sure of anything ever with this man. I’m not even sure I’m over being angry with him and I’m pretty sure I should run from him.
But right then I admit, really admit, what I’ve tried to deny. I’ve been running a lot lately. And I’m also so damn tired of running away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
In unison, Dash and I turn to greet Bella. She’s stunning in a black dress, with a flare at the bottom, her blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. Her blue eyes are so strikingly similar to Dash’s, it’s remarkable.
“Why are his parties always so stiff and uncomfortable?” Bella asks softly.
“Because he’s stiff and uncomfortable,” Dash replies, echoing my thoughts.
“No comment,” she replies, giving me a wink. “I’ll let you form your own opinions without mine, Allison.”
“Allie,” I say. “Call me Allie.”
“Allie,” she says, seemingly delighted at the offer. “How’s the auction going?”
“Good,” I say. “I scored a couple of big items this week and I feel like tonight will help move things along.”
“I emailed my clients and asked for donations. I’ll have some ‘scores’ for you soon.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I really appreciate that.”
It’s right then that Susie finds us again. “Just the two people I want to see together.”
Of course, there are three of us, but she sees only money and success, which means Dash and Bella. But Bella proves her match, brilliantly avoiding the lunch commitment. Her finesse is inspiring but we’re also joined by yet another guest, and our hiding place in the corner becomes Grand Central Station.
Later, much later, after I’ve met too many people to count, and with Bella or Dash by my side at all times, it seems, I’ve received a great many auction donation commitments.
At present, Dash is chatting with the stuntman, while Bella and I are standing by the cake display, eating birthday cake for some up-and-coming TV writer that I have yet to meet, and I share my observation of her party skills. “You’re so smooth I think I need you to be my life agent.”
“I’ll be your life agent if you’ll be mine. You’re pretty smooth, too. The auction has had a good night.”
“If everyone who promised donations comes through.”
“They will. They all need the tax write-offs. And substance abuse is a real issue in our industry and our youth in general. It’s easy to sell the connection, but it’s a real one. Oh jeez,” she murmurs, lifting a discreet finger toward Dash.
I glance up to find Susie by his side again.
Bella scowls. “So much for smooth. I need to go and save him.” She sets her cake on the little round table we’re standing at and heads in that direction.
I’m smiling as I watch her rescue Dash, but as my gaze shifts to the door of the house, my smile flatlines. I now know the “surprise” Tyler spoke of when telling me about the party and most likely the reason he hired me at all. My father, the Super Bowl champ quarterback, is headed in my direction. The world spins under my feet. I told him I never wanted to see him again, and now, he’s here, and the swell of emotions in my chest, tells me I’m not going to handle this well.
Fortunately, his fans are many, and he’s corned by a group of men. I quickly step away from the table and head the only way that appears to be safe—down a garden path. I’ve made it several feet, dim lights around the path guiding me around a corner when someone catches my hand.
I whirl around to find Dash, holding onto me. “Dash,” I whisper, swallowing hard.
He walks me to him, aligning our legs, and I let him. “What just happened?”
“Nothing, I just—”
“What just happened?” he presses gently.
“You’ll think you were right about me being weak.”
To my shock, he pulls me closer, and his fingers tangle in my hair. “I said vulnerable. Vulnerable is not weak. But make no mistake, I am weak when it comes to you, Allie.”
“What does that even mean, Dash?” I whisper barely able to breathe with his touch.
“It means, I tried to stay away, I tried so damn hard, but I couldn’t do it. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wanting you.”
On some remote level, I know that we’re close to the other guests, to the crowd, and I know I should stop this now. I catch his hands near my waist as if this will halt the assault on my senses, but it does nothing except stir hunger in me, a hunger I am helpless to fight.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I manage weakly.
“Why do you think I’ve stayed away?” His fingers slide into my hair and he tilts my gaze, my mouth, to his. “If you don’t tell me to stop now, Allie, I’m going to kiss you.”
It’s exactly what I’ve wanted since I met Dash and yet, I’m terrified right now. Terrified by how easily I believe this man could not only own me, but hurt me. And I try to fight what I need, too. I try so hard, but what I say is, “Don’t,” followed by, “Don’t stop.”
His mouth closes down on mine, his tongue pressing past my teeth in a sultry stroke that seduces every part of me. And just that easily, my arms circle his neck, and more than a year of recoiling into myself and licking my wounds, of protecting myself from being hurt again, evaporates as if the reasons I chose to do so never existed. Every part of me is done denying what I want. And what I want is Dash Black.
His hand molds me closer, a possessive touch that on some level, I know is dangerous. He is dangerous. His ability to affect me, to hurt me, is dangerous, but I can’t seem to care. Voices sound nearby and I want them to just go away, and leave us alone, but it’s too late to save the moment. Dash tears his mouth from mine and does so purposefully. “Let’s get out of here,” he says, catching my hand, his voice low and sounds as frustrated as I feel.
My reaction is an instant mental, yes, please. Let’s get out of here. But Dash tugs me in the wrong direction, toward the voices, not away, forcing me to dig in my heels. “I can’t go back out there.”
The voices are just around the corner now, and I quickly explain. “Rob Wright is my father. And he’s—”
“Here,” he supplies. “Yes. I saw him.” And he reads my rather obvious lead and adds, “But you don’t want to see him.”
“No,” I admit feeling no guilt at my words. Not after what my father put me through. “No, I do not want to see him.”
He studies me, searches my face, and when I think he might question why, he doesn’t. “Come with me.” And then he’s leading down the path again, but this time, away from the party and I go willingly. Every step that places distance between me and my father, allows me to breathe just a little easier. And every step, somehow, brings me closer to Dash.
Our escape leads us to a side gate exit in a shadowed corner of the garden. “Where is your car?” Dash asks.
“Tyler sent a driver. I need to call for a ride.” I reach for my purse to grab my phone.
He catches it and my hand. “I drove,” he says. “Come with me, Allie.”
It’s a question filled with promise that I will not end this night alone, nor will he.
Come with me, Allie.
Simple words, but when spoken by this man, on this night, are not simple at all. And while my first reaction is another, yes, please, there is a voice of reason and self-preservation that has me saying, “I think you’re dangerous, Dash Black.”
His hand settles on my hip. “More than is good for you, baby, but tonight, I say, why don’t you find out for yourself?” With the challenge, his hand slides to my lower ba
ck, fingers splaying there as he adds, “You need to know that I won’t take you to Tyler’s house. If you leave with me, you go with me, Allie.”
There’s a hint of something sharp in his tone, that I cannot name—jealousy, I decide. He’s jealous of Tyler. This sexy, talented, confident man is jealous. And as proof of just how fucked up I am, this pleases me. It pleases me to near excess. “With you,” I whisper.
His eyes warm, telling me, this pleases him.
He lifts my hand he still holds to his lips and kisses it, and somehow, it’s the sexiest thing ever. “Stay here. I’ll pull around and get you.”
And then he’s walking away, all confidence and swagger, leaving me alone to talk myself out of this. I wonder if he knows this, that time breeds regret and second thoughts.
But it doesn’t matter his motivation, not on this.
I just want out of this place. And I want out with him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
My coat is inside Tyler’s house, but I don’t have any intention of going back in that house to get it.
Instead, I wait on Dash to pull his car around and do so as I hug myself against the chilly night and the even chillier reality of my relationship with my father. I cannot believe he showed up here. I don’t know what Tyler’s role was in sideswiping me, but I do know that my father intended just that—to sideswipe me. And it worked. I cannot get out of here quickly enough, but I also don’t even know what car Dash drives.
I’m contemplating the need to exit the garden and walk out toward the driveway where I might risk a run-in with my father when the gate opens and Dash is standing there.
“Come on, baby,” he says, catching my hand and pulling me through the gate, my belly fluttering with the endearment.
But when I think we will finally escape this party, and my father, Dash has no such idea. At least, not yet. He halts, just outside the garden, his hands catching my waist. “Ready to back out?”
My fingers curl on the hard, warm wall of his chest. “Why?” I challenge. “Because I’m a lamb and you’re a lion?”
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