by Francis Ray
“Dillon. We can’t do this.”
She sounded as shaky as he felt. He lifted his head and stared down into her troubled face. “We already did.”
She licked her lips, and he was helpless to keep from kissing her again. She clung to him.
“See?” he teased. Sam was too serious, but he’d change that. “You were meant to be loved by me.”
“No. I’m shameless.” She tried to break free. He let her go because she appeared so upset.
“What is it?” He’d never felt protective of a woman he wanted. He did now. Sam had a way of changing things.
“Please don’t get mad. I really like Marlene and I’m not judging her, but we—we could be related.”
He’d heard the rumors about Abe being his father and never once thought to correct them. Neither had his mother. It hadn’t mattered what people thought. He and his mother had never discussed the rumor of his parentage circulating around town because she’d already told him years before, when at age ten he’d asked who his father was.
It hadn’t been easy for her to tell him about A. J. Reed. She regretted that his father wasn’t a man either could be proud of, but she thanked God for Dillon each day. He’d said he felt the same way about her being his mother. It was never discussed again.
Softhearted Sam would be racked with guilt if he didn’t tell her the truth. Palming her face, he stared down at her. “Abe wasn’t my father.”
He saw the relief rushing through her. She didn’t question him further. He hadn’t expected her trust in him to make his chest feel tight. “Thank God. I won’t burn in hell.”
His lips curved into a smile. “No. I intend for you to burn for an entirely different reason.” His mouth took hers again in an openly erotic kiss. “We’ll talk when I get back.” He released her then got into his car and drove away.
Her mood mellow, Samantha opened the door and came face-to-face with her uncle in his silk robe and pajamas. His chest heaved with rage.
“You’re a disgrace to this family!” he yelled. “How could you shame the family name by going out with Daddy’s bastard?”
Samantha bristled. “Stop calling him that, and what’s more, it was a business dinner.”
He sneered. “I saw the two of you on the porch.”
She refused to tuck her head. “Granddaddy was not Dillon’s father.”
“You’d believe anything the man says.”
“I trust him because he’s never lied to me. He wants the company to succeed.”
Her uncle threw his hands in the air. “Get your head out of the clouds. If he does—and I say if—it’s because he plans to take it over when the time is ripe. He’s just stringing you along. Why should he want you otherwise?”
Samantha didn’t have an answer. She’d seen the way women at the plant and at dinner tonight looked at Dillon. “I’m going to bed.”
“I won’t stand by and let you drag the family name through the mud, and ruin the company because you can’t control your lust.”
Samantha spun around. “I’ve had enough of your bullying.”
His eyes widened. “You watch it.”
“No, you watch it.” She came back to him.
“Don’t you talk to me that way. I’m the head of this family.”
“Then why didn’t Granddad—” She clamped her teeth together to keep the words from spilling out. Her uncle looked as if he wanted to strangle her.
“Daddy was sick or he would have left me in charge,” he shouted. “There is no other explanation. You and that no-good are just taking advantage of it.”
Samantha felt sorry for her uncle. Apparently he had no idea how his father felt about his poor performance. Telling him now would only make matters worse. “I don’t want to fight, Uncle Evan. Please, can’t we just work together?”
“I’d rather light a match to the whole thing.”
Shock raced across her face. “You hate me, us, that much?” He said nothing, just glared at her. “I guess there’s nothing else to say.” She headed up the stairs.
“I’m not finished with you.”
Slowly she turned, her fists clenched. “Yes, you are. I’ve bent over backwards trying to keep the peace with you and Aunt Janice. But the more I try, the more you take advantage of me. It stops tonight. My life is my own. If you don’t like it, you can move.”
His mouth gaped.
“The house is half mine. From now on, there’s going to be some changes. The cook and staff won’t cater to just you or Aunt Janice’s dictates, so you better tell her. Another thing, you better start preparing yourself. It isn’t fair to Dillon or me to let people think we’re consultants.”
His mouth tightened. “Dillon. It always comes down to him. He’s using you.”
“Why do you hate him?”
“That should be obvious.”
“No, it’s not.” She came down a couple of steps. “Granddad was a good, honest man who loved his family. He built this house so we could all be together. If either of us had stopped to think, we wouldn’t have believed the rumors for a second. He wouldn’t have abandoned his son.”
“I don’t call getting him into MIT abandoning him. Daddy bent over backwards for Marlene. He never wanted anyone to say a word against her, but he didn’t mind taking me to task in front of people.”
Realization dawned. “It’s Marlene you hate.”
“I wouldn’t waste my breath on that nothing,” he sneered. “It just makes me mad that Daddy couldn’t see it.”
He was lying. Was it jealousy or more? Marlene was a beautiful woman. She was probably breathtaking when she was younger.
“The business dinner tonight was with Frank Thomas. He was certainly impressed with Dillon.”
Something flashed across her uncle’s face. “How dare you go through my old accounts!”
There was no use pointing out that as part owner she had every right. “I didn’t have to. Granddad kept duplicates of all the accounts.”
Astonishment and something else flashed across his face.
“You didn’t know that, did you?” she asked.
He laughed, but it was hollow. “Of course I did. I had just forgotten.”
More lies. She had gotten a good look at her uncle, and she didn’t like what she saw. He was nowhere near the man her father or grandfather had been. Worse, his own father had seen his shortcomings. And no matter how much he blamed everyone else, it was her uncle’s own fault.
“I’m going to bed. Good night.” Her euphoria gone, Samantha went to her room on the second floor. Plopping on the bed, she lay back and put her arm over her eyes. She had to assume that her uncle would never accept her and Dillon over him. He’d make it tough for her at work and at home.
Although she’d seen little of him the last week, after tonight she didn’t think that would be the case. She didn’t want to have a confrontation every day. Becoming involved with Dillon would only make her uncle worse.
If there was the slightest possibility that she wasn’t just the next woman on Dillon’s long list, she’d take the chance. She knew she was. Collins certainly wouldn’t keep him around. She’d seen the excited way he’d talked about the cars he was restoring, his business, vintage racing.
Collins Industry and she were pit stops, so to speak. She had to be sensible and not let herself care for him any more than she already did.
* * *
Whistling, Dillon entered his mother’s house through the back door. It had been a good night all around. He grinned as he opened the built-in refrigerator for a soft drink. He’d finally had a chance to see if Sam tasted as good as he’d remembered. He was happy to say, it was much, much better.
He snapped the light off and headed to his mother’s room. She’d still be up, waiting on him. She said she was too old to stop now. The can was halfway to his mouth when he noticed there weren’t any lights spilling from her room into the small alcove next to it. She usually left her door open and her flameless candles on in case
she had to get up.
His concern deepened on seeing her door closed. “Mama?” He knocked softly. “Mama, are you all right?”
“Dillon, come on in.”
Still frowning, he opened the door. She was in the queen-sized sleigh bed she loved with a paperback novel in her hand, her eyeglasses perched on her nose. Her eyes were red. He crossed to her in three long strides. “What is it? Are you sick?”
“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice hitched.
“You’ve been crying?” His heart thumped with fear in his chest.
She held up the book in her hand. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.” Scooting over, she patted the bed. “Tell me about the meeting.”
Relief rushed through him. She’d never been sick. He’d thought she was invincible. Abe probably thought the same thing. “You’re sure?” If anything happened to her …
“Positive.” She laid the book aside and pushed her eyeglasses up on her nose. “I bet Samantha looked beautiful.”
“She did,” he said. Then, remembering the hot kiss, he took a long swallow of his cold drink. “She’s becoming a great asset to the company. Frank Thomas’s wife certainly liked her. She’s playful and funny. I’m glad she went with me.” He took another swallow. “If only she’d tell Evan to take a flying leap.”
“It’s more difficult with relatives.”
Dillon eased down on the bed. “I used to want a brother or a sister, cousins. But now I’m glad it’s just the two of us.”
“Being an only child can be hard,” she said slowly.
He grinned. “Not for me. I don’t think I’d share well.” He took another sip. “What’s left over from dinner? I’m kind of hungry.”
She flushed. “I—I ate out. I can fix you something.”
“No, you won’t.” He stood. “I’m heading out in the morning around six. I have appointments at the high-performance garage at eight. It will be a nonstop Saturday and Sunday. I probably won’t come back until late Sunday night or early Monday morning.”
“Wake me up when you get up so I can fix your breakfast.”
“Not happening. And when you hear me bumbling around, don’t get up or I’ll be upset with you.” Leaning over, he kissed her on the forehead. “You taught me how to take care of myself.”
She took his face in her hands. “I’m very proud of you.”
He stared into her red eyes, noted the puffy lids, then reached over and picked up the book. “Maybe you shouldn’t read any more tonight if it’s going to make you this emotional.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” She took the book and placed it on the nightstand. “Good night, Dillon. I’m glad I have you.”
To make sure, he put the paperback in the drawer, then reached for the covers. “In you go.”
Smiling, she removed her glasses and scooted beneath the down covers. “Tucking me in?”
“You’ve done it enough for me. Good night, Mama.”
“Good night, Dillon. I love you.”
“Love you too.” He clicked off the light, went to the door, stared at her as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
“With you in my life, how could I not be? And just because traffic will be light on the road in the morning, try to stay within the speed limit.”
“I’ll try.” Smiling, he went to his room.
His mother was just being emotional because of the book she was reading. He undressed and crawled into bed, his thoughts turning to Sam, how she’d felt so right in his arms, the kiss that he never wanted to end.
“Abe, you old devil. I might forgive you yet.” In less than a minute he was asleep.
* * *
Monday morning, Samantha arrived at work shortly before seven thirty. She wanted to be prepared when Dillon arrived.
She’d rehearsed her speech over and over. Any other relationship between them except a business one would be detrimental to their running Collins Industry. The company had to come first.
When Dillon opened the door shortly before eight, looking hot and mouthwatering in a white polo and black jeans that delineated his muscled chest and strong thighs, it was all she could do not to jump up from her desk and run to meet him, to plaster her lips and body to his. She couldn’t. If she could stand up to her uncle, she could stand up to, and hopefully resist, Dillon.
If he touched her, though, she was lost. She had to stop him before he reached her.
“Kissing you was a mistake.”
Dillon stopped in midstride. His smile died; his eyes chilled.
“We both got a bit carried away Friday night, but it can’t happen again.” She gripped the pen in her hand beneath her desk and tried to remember the rest of her rehearsed speech. “Collins Industry has to be our only focus.”
“Fine by me,” he responded as nonchalantly as if she’d asked about the weather. “Business first is the best all around. I just wanted you to know I’m back. I’m going to work on the intercooler. I worked on it while I was in Dallas and brought it back to finish. I’ll pick up Roman’s and my lunch today. Later.”
Samantha stared at the closed door. She’d done it, but what made her soul ache was that he hadn’t seemed to mind one bit. The kiss that had made her whimper with need had meant nothing to him. He’d completely fooled her.
* * *
“What the hell happened to Sam? Her kisses had set my blood on fire,” Dillon muttered as he headed for the shop. He’d bet her worthless uncle had something to do with it. Dillon spun around and started for Evan’s office, then stopped a few feet from the office door. Sam had to learn to fight for what she wanted. He just hoped that included him.
Changing directions once again, he started for the shop. He was more determined than ever to perfect the intercooler. Once that was done, Sam wouldn’t have to worry about Collins, and she’d be back in his arms.
* * *
“Dillon, we need to talk.”
Dillon glanced from the intercooler he was designing to see Roman. His friend’s usual smile was missing. Another problem, Dillon thought. As if his day weren’t bad enough.
There were too many people in the work area to talk. Sam was in their office. The was only one other place. “Follow me.”
Dillon led the way outside. He stopped at the back of his truck, looked around to ensure they were alone. “How bad is it?”
“It’s not about the financial records.”
Dillon wasn’t in the best of moods as it was. “Then why did you drag me out here?”
“Because what I have to say to you is personal.”
Dillon frowned, then it hit him. “You want to talk about a woman?”
“A very special woman.”
“I didn’t think you dated women while you worked.”
“I didn’t expect this,” Roman told him.
“Yeah. So what?” Dillon mused, thinking of Sam. His feelings for her had thrown him for a loop. Now, she wanted him to back off. Not likely.
“You might think differently when I tell you who it is.”
Dillon’s eyes narrowed and he gave Roman his full attention. “It had better not be Sam.”
“Of course not.”
“I’m having enough trouble with her. She can make me so mad I could shake her. I bet that uncle of hers is behind—”
“It’s your mother. Marlene.”
Dillon had been only half listening, his mind on Sam. Slowly he faced Roman. “What did you say?” Now Roman had his full attention.
* * *
Roman was not going to back down from the sudden shift in Dillon’s posture, the narrowed eyes. “Marlene and I went out Friday night. She doesn’t want to see me again, but I’m not giving up.”
“You touch her?” Dillon asked, his voice deadly quiet.
“We kissed.”
Dillon struck, grabbing Roman by the shirt and pulling him closer to his snarling face. “Touch her again, and suffer the consequences. Pack your stuff and get off my property.”
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br /> “My leaving isn’t going to change anything, and if you hit me, it will upset Marlene,” Roman said as calmly as he could, his arms by his sides.
“You’re pushing it, Roman.” Dillon pulled him inches closer. Good thing Roman wasn’t wearing a tie.
“I didn’t have to tell you, but your mother is being cautious—” Roman felt his temper start a slow boil. “I guess she has her reasons, but I’m not giving up or going away.”
“Damn.” Dillon pushed him away and studied the other man he respected and was proud to call his friend. “She’s my mother.”
“That’s why I let you wrinkle up my shirt and get in my face.” Roman jerked his shirt back into place. There was nothing he could do about the wrinkles. “If I did anything to you, she’d come after me and I’d never get her to go out with me again.”
“She loves me,” Dillon said.
“And has probably always put you first. I’m asking that if you can’t approve of my seeing her, don’t stand in the way or badmouth me,” Roman said.
Dillon shoved his hand over his head, paced away then back, studied Roman. He had known Roman since he was a freshman at MIT. Roman could be methodical in what he wanted.
“Why now? Why my mother?”
“She’s beautiful, intelligent, courageous. She interests me as no woman has in years. I want to get to know her better—if she’ll let me. She’s built her entire life around you. I don’t think she’s ever had much fun in life,” Roman said thoughtfully. “I’d like to change that.”
Dillon thought back to Friday night. His mother’s emotions hadn’t been because of a book. Roman had caused them. She wasn’t easily rattled or upset. She must feel something for him.
Dillon didn’t have to think long to recall that his mother had dated few men, at least that he knew of. It had always been just the two of them. He wasn’t selfish enough to want her to always be by herself. “After today, if she sheds one tear, if you hurt her, I’ll be in your face again and I’ll do more than wrinkle your shirt.”
Roman stuck out his hand. “I’d expect no less. I’d do the same thing to a man who messed with Amy.”