After the Dawn

by Francis Ray

  “I was embarrassed,” she whispered, lowering her head.

  Gentle fingers lifted her head. “My fault. I should have explained better, but my brain doesn’t function at its analytical best when we kiss.” His thumb grazed over her lower lip. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you rising out of the flowers. You took my breath away. You still do.”

  Her heart knocked against her ribs. If she wasn’t careful, it would plop at Roman’s feet.

  Her cell phone rang. Dillon. Roman handed her the purse and she pulled out her phone, opening the door as she accepted the call. She noticed Roman hadn’t followed. He wouldn’t push unless he had to. She beckoned him inside.

  “Dillon.”

  “Hi, Mama. You beat Roman at putt-putt?”

  Marlene’s gaze went to Roman, his arms crossed as he leaned against the baby grand, and she found she could return his smile. “I did.”

  Dillon chuckled. “Way to go.”

  “How is Samantha?” This time there was no response. Another stubborn man. “I hope you took time to take her out to dinner.”

  “You know things can get hectic the night before qualifying.”

  Translation “no,” but he didn’t want to come out and say so. “Just remember, you know people and the routine, Samantha doesn’t. She might get lonely.”

  “Not likely with the way Carson and some of his crew are acting,” Dillon snarled. “You’d think they’d never seen a woman. I’m trying to teach her about motors and vintage racing, and they kept butting in.”

  Jealousy. She’d begun to lose hope that he’d care enough for a woman to be jealous of her. “Oh, Dillon.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Good luck tomorrow for the qualifying runs.”

  “Thanks, Mama. I better get back, but can I speak to Roman first?”

  “Is this about the audit?”

  “No, it’s about the best mother a guy could ask for.”

  “That’s because you’re the best son.” She crossed the room and gave Roman the phone. “I think he wants to discuss wrinkled shirts.”

  “Hey, Dillon.” He caught Marlene’s hand when she started to move away.

  “Mama sounded happy. Keep it that way.”

  “Will do,” Roman said, staring into Marlene’s eyes. “I don’t take lightly the trust either of you have placed in me.”

  “Later. Tell Mama I love her and I’ll call her tomorrow after the qualifying runs. Night.”

  “Night.” Roman ended the call and gave the cell phone back to Marlene. “Dillon said to tell you that he loves you and that he’ll call you after the qualifying runs tomorrow.”

  For a second, Marlene wondered what it would feel like for a man to say he loved her and mean it.

  Roman’s dark eyes narrowed. He pulled her to him, his hand splayed at her waist. Her heart rate accelerated. Her gaze dropped to his tempting mouth. “See me and no other man.”

  “When we’re this close, I don’t have a choice.”

  “Marlene.”

  He whispered her name, wrapping his arms around her seconds before his mouth closed over hers. With exquisite gentleness, his tongue traced the seam of her mouth. She opened for him, her tongue sweeping lazily against his. Desire began a slow burn. She could feel reason slipping away and need taking its place.

  They drew back at the same time, stared at each other. Her arms slid from behind his neck and rested on his chest.

  “Maybe we should do something else.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “No. Bad choice of words.” He blew out a breath. “I better get out of here.”

  It was for the best, but her body wasn’t very happy with her. “All right.”

  He didn’t move. “What are you doing this weekend?”

  “Working on Saturday, cleaning the house, working in the flower garden,” she answered. Missing you.

  “You need another pair of hands in the garden?”

  If she was brave, she’d ask for them on her body as well. “You have to be tired of driving back and forth to Dallas.”

  “Knowing I’ll see you when I get here makes it easy.”

  “All right. The garage closes at one. I’ll feed you before putting you to work,” she told him.

  “You and great food. A man couldn’t ask for more.”

  They both knew he could, but he was willing to wait. Not many men would. “Promise me something.”

  “Anything.”

  “That you won’t let my fears push you away.”

  “Never.” His hands cupped her face. “I see you and my heart skips a beat. Although you don’t need me to, I want to fight your battles, strut when we’re out together. There’s a need when I see you, a possessiveness I’ve never felt before. You bring happiness to my life that I didn’t have before.”

  “Roman.” His name trembled across her lips, lips she pressed to his, felt them warm beneath hers. No kiss had ever consumed her, made her thoughts swirl, her body yearn.

  She heard Roman groan, felt his hand cup her breast, felt her nipples harden. Her mind said to move away. She moved closer and whimpered when he inserted his thigh between her legs when she began to throb. She pressed against him as the ache intensified.

  Roman felt reason slipping from his grasp. No woman, no kiss, had ever affected him this way. His body ached as her tongue licked his. He wanted her naked and wanton beneath him, wanted to hear her cries of pleasure as he filled her.

  And then what? Intimacy would destroy their fragile relationship, not bring them closer. He knew it as surely as he knew his name. Before they made love, she had to believe without a doubt that he cared, because if she didn’t, in the back of her mind she’d always think he wanted her body more than he wanted her, and it would eventually tear them apart.

  Lifting his head, he pulled her to him. The incredible feel of her warm body, the slender curves against his, almost had him taking her mouth again.

  “I did it again.”

  “Do you see me complaining?” His hand swept down her back, felt her tremble.

  “No,” she whispered, her cheek against his chest. “I’ve never met a man as patient as you.”

  He kissed her hair, inhaled her sweet fragrance. “I hope that’s good.” Seconds ticked by without her answering. Beginning to worry, he was about to lift her head when he heard her voice, so soft that he had to strain to understand her.

  “Someone abandoned me when I was two. I grew up in a series of foster homes, some good, some bad. I aged out of the system at eighteen, worked to put myself through secretarial school because it was the only training I could afford. I got the first job I applied for because I could read Abe’s writing and take his rapid dictation.”

  She stopped talking. Roman pulled her closer, kissed her on the head. Somehow he knew she was debating whether she should tell him about Dillon’s father.

  “Three years later I met a business associate of Abe’s who was older, wealthy. I didn’t care about the money. I thought I had found a man to love me as I’d always wanted.” Her voice trembled, then firmed. “He only wanted one thing. I learned he was married the same day I found out I was pregnant with Dillon. He didn’t want either of us.”

  Rage swept through Roman. He hoped the bastard had a hell on earth.

  She pushed against him. He didn’t want to let her go. “Please.”

  He let his arms slowly fall away, but if she thought she was walking away from him, she’d better think again. He cared about her even more. Cared. Hell. He was halfway in love with her and falling fast.

  Incredibly sad eyes lifted to his. She looked lost. Alone. “I’m what you probably hate. I was the other woman.”

  The shame in her shaky voice tore at his heart. His arms ached to hold her, take away the shame, the misery. “It’s not your fault he lied to you. You survived all the hell and misery life dumped on you. You didn’t just survive, you thrived. Alone, you raised a man any parent would be proud of. You’re respected and loved
by half the town, and I should know because I’ve met most of them. Be proud of yourself. Don’t let that bastard take any more from you.”

  “I thought you’d despise me when you learned the truth,” she murmured in surprise.

  He did hold her then. He couldn’t wait another second. “Never. There’s no deception in you. What you see is what you get, and one day I’m going to be the lucky man who gets to see it all.”

  She laughed as he’d intended. They still had a chance.

  “I better hit the road. I’ll be knocking on your door at one thirty tomorrow.” Holding her hand, he went to the door, leaned over, and kissed her on the cheek. “Dream about me.”

  Then he was gone.

  * * *

  Marlene slowly went back to her bedroom. Roman hadn’t branded her the other woman, hadn’t thought less of her. She’d seen the outrage in his eyes, the softening, just before he’d pulled her into his arms. He was right, she needed to let the past stay in the past. Easier said than done.

  She’d always taught Dillon that you made mistakes, you learned from them, and you moved on. However, this time moving on meant letting Roman into her life even more. Intimacy. Tossing her handbag on the bed, she sat down. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone since Dillon’s father. Initially she’d been too busy working full-time and taking care of Dillon.

  She’d cautiously started dating when Dillon was four and whispers and looks no longer followed her. There had been no sparks with the men, so she’d seen no need to continue dating. She’d assumed her pregnancy had affected her sex drive—which was never very high—and went on with her life, until she’d stared into Roman’s captivating black eyes.

  He’d changed everything, frightened her so that she’d tried to push him out of her life. He hadn’t budged.

  Smiling, Marlene stood and began undressing. He was stubborn and patient. He went out of his way to please her. And, Lord help her, she was falling for him. Her smile vanished. She plopped down on the bed with her blouse clutched in her hand. Caring about a man made her vulnerable. Then, too, when the audit was over, Roman would leave. Did she really want a short but extremely hot affair?

  She’d told Roman she was too old for an affair. She’d spoken out of fear. She wanted to explore the sensual side of their relationship. If he hadn’t halted tonight, they would be in bed by now.

  Marlene shivered and accepted the truth. She wanted to be with Roman. She just had to make sure that when he left he didn’t take her heart with him.

  * * *

  If she lived to be two hundred, she would never understand Dillon, Samantha mused Saturday morning. Yesterday he’d become increasingly grumpy while teaching her about car motors, turbochargers, and intercoolers. He’d even snapped at a couple of men in Carson’s crew for trying to help her. Then around six, he’d sent her back to the hotel alone. This morning, he’d awakened her at seven with an unexpected invitation to go to breakfast. Once they’d finished, they’d returned to the racetrack to check out Carson’s car before the inspection by race officials.

  She’d shoved her need and her growing love for him to the back of her mind and concentrated on learning all she could. Despite everything, she was grateful that Dillon was willing to help her turn Collins Industry around. Her uncle certainly wasn’t going to help.

  Her proudest moment was being there for the final check on Saturday. Dillon tested the intercooler, then asked her if she saw a problem. Her gaze went over the entire engine. Everything had to be right for the intercooler to do its job.

  “The battery cable is loose.”

  “Then tighten it,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Without hesitation she did, then stepped back. “Done.”

  Dillon reached out to make sure, then nodded. “We’re ready for inspection.”

  They moved aside as Carson’s team went over the car again. Once they’d finished, it was the officials’ turn. They were methodical and thorough, to ensure the car’s specifications followed standards. Finally, the car was given the all-clear for the qualifying run.

  Carson, who was mobbed by fans—mostly women—finally joined them in his zipped-front racing uniform. “This is it.”

  “She’s ready.” Dillon nodded toward the 1948 BMW. “Sam and I checked.”

  “A lot is riding on this.”

  Dillon slapped Carson on the back. “I know. I wouldn’t have fitted the car with the intercooler if I hadn’t been sure it would work. My reputation is on the line as much as yours.”

  “You have the honor of having the first Collins intercooler,” Samantha added.

  Carson shook his thick head of coal-black hair. “Or the disgrace if I come in out of the top ten.”

  “You won’t,” Dillon said with confidence. “I tested the baby out myself. You’re almost as good a driver as I am. The intercooler will give you the power and speed to finish in the top three.”

  “I’m the better driver, but you know motors and how to get the most power. See you after I cross the finish line.” Carson put on his helmet and got inside the car. His crew pushed him onto the track.

  “No matter how it goes,” Samantha began, following the slow-moving car, “thank you for giving Collins a chance.”

  “You sound as if he’s going to lose.”

  “No.” She dared look into Dillon’s strong face; he had carried her through so much. “He’ll win.” And when he did, she’d lose Dillon.

  Her unshakable faith in him made his chest tight. No words from anyone except his mother had affected him more. He kept walking so they could watch Carson’s qualifying run, pushing away what he wanted with increasing need—to drag Sam to the nearest bed and make a feast of her. He knew just where he’d start.

  “Samantha.”

  Dillon looked around to see a man of medium height in a gray polo shirt and jeans heading toward them. Immediately, he knew it was Mark Washington.

  Thirteen

  Dillon’s gaze swung to Samantha. She hadn’t rushed to meet the guy. Neither did she have the look of a woman missing a man. His fists unclenched.

  Samantha waited for Mark to reach them. He was trim and good-looking, and he did nothing for her. She hadn’t felt the slightest twinge at the sound of his voice when he’d called this morning while she was eating breakfast with Dillon. Dillon’s deep voice teased her senses, stroked her, and, yes, ticked her off at times. But he made her feel. Mark didn’t. She wondered if he ever had or if she’d just been lonely enough to settle.

  Mark hugged her. She accepted the hug, but when his lips moved toward hers, she pushed him away. She ignored the angry frown. She’d told him this was business. “Mark Washington, Dillon Montgomery.”

  “Mr. Montgomery, I’ve heard of you, naturally.”

  The handshake was brief. “I can’t say the same of you.”

  Samantha wanted to swat Dillon. This was too important for him to be impolite. “I’m glad you could make it, Mark. Carson is about to take his qualifying run with a Collins intercooler installed in his car.”

  “That’s taking a big risk.” Mark stepped past her and looked down the track. “His car has come in the top five in the last four races.”

  “With my design, it will allow the engine’s hot air to run into the compressor before it runs into the coils. He’ll come in in the top two,” Dillon said. “Carson’s best has been fourth.”

  “No new intercoolers have come out in the past year for good reason,” Mark said. “They don’t work.”

  “Mine will.”

  “We’ll see,” Mark said dismissively.

  Ignoring Mark, Dillon turned as the announcer called out Carson’s name and number. Sam couldn’t have been interested in such an uptight jerk.

  “Here we go. I understand the ’48 BMW has a new intercooler designed by Collins Industry. Rowland is certainly tearing up the track.”

  “Go, Carson. Make it roar!”

  Dillon looked down at Sam, her small fists clenched, excitement on her face.
He’d like to get her excited for an entirely different reason. Lifting his gaze, he stared into Mark’s angry face. Dillon grinned and turned back to see Carson burning down the track.

  “Man,” the announcer said as Carson zoomed across the finish line, “that’s the top speed of the day! Carson Rowland of Rowland Racing Team in a 1948 BMW is in position to take the pole. If he does, it will be his first this year.”

  Dillon folded his arms, turned to Mark, and said, “You were saying?”

  “It could have been a fluke.” Mark caught Samantha’s arm. “Let’s go someplace where we can talk.”

  She threw a glance at Dillon. “Don’t you want to talk to Carson?”

  “Later. I’d like to get more background on the story.” Mark looked at Dillon. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “If I did, you’d be the first to know it.”

  Samantha didn’t watch Dillon walk off. It would have been too tempting to give him a swift kick. Now he was possessive, when he’d ignored her most of the week. “Let’s go to the media room.”

  “They’re always crowded.” Mark stared down at her. “I have a suite at the Bellagio.”

  “It’s the media room or nothing.” Samantha freed her arm. “I called you because I know and respect you as a journalist. I wanted you to get the scoop on the intercooler, but that’s the only reason. If you’ve come for any other purpose, it’s not going to happen.”

  “You just can’t throw away all we meant to each other. We were together three months.”

  “That ended over six months ago.” She touched his arm. She knew how it was when your love wasn’t returned. It hurt like hell. “I’m sorry. I just don’t feel the way you do.”

  “Because of him?”

  Yes, but that was her secret. “We’ll talk about turbos and intercoolers or nothing. I’m sure I can find another newspaper.”

  “Turbos and intercoolers.” Taking her arm, he led her toward the media room.

  Samantha knew that would be his answer. For Mark, his job always came first. One day she wanted to meet a man who’d put her first. They passed Dillon at the Rowland slot. He didn’t even look up.