by Pamela Bauer
She was startled when a man’s voice asked, “Need some help?”
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Dylan standing in the doorway. “Oh! I thought you were Krystal.”
“Does that mean I can’t come in?”
“No, it’s all right.” She attached the rod to its bracket, aware that with her arms raised, the shirt she wore crept up, exposing her midriff. Before she could step down, he was at her side, offering her his hand as she climbed off the chair.
“Thanks,” she said, trying not to let him see how his nearness affected her.
Not that he would have noticed. He was too busy surveying the room. “This certainly doesn’t look like the place where my brothers and I used to wrestle.”
“Your mom wanted to give the house a more contemporary look,” she told him as he made a 360-degree turn. “What do you think?”
“It looks good…and much neater than the way my brothers kept their room.” He gave it one more quick appraisal before saying to her, “I like it.”
Although she knew he referred to the room, the look in his eyes told her he meant the double entendre. “It’s actually bigger than an efficiency apartment. I’ve plenty of room.”
“I can see that.” He stared at her treadmill, which was draped with damp garments. “Do you always use that as a clothes rack?”
“Only on the days I do laundry,” she answered.
“If you lived in Saint Martin you wouldn’t need a treadmill. You could walk beside the ocean every morning.”
“Is that what you do?”
He nodded. “It’s a great way to start the day.” He strolled over to her bookcase, taking time to browse through the titles. Then he wandered over to her desk, pausing in front of her computer. “You on the net?” Seeing her nod, he asked, “What’s your e-mail address?”
“Why? Are you going to send me an e-mail?”
“I might,” he said with a smile that held a tempting promise.
“Is that what you’ve been doing on your laptop? E-mailing your friends?”
“Mostly I’ve been working, although that hasn’t always been easy to do. Mom gets a lot of phone calls, even on weekends. There must be an awful lot of love-sick people in Saint Paul,” he remarked with a shake of his head.
“People like to talk to her about relationships. They don’t have to be neurotic to do that.”
“And do you talk to her about your love life?” She could see the curiosity in his eyes.
“No.”
The curiosity changed to admiration. It was obvious that he didn’t see the need for anyone to seek advice on romance. She decided it would be wise to change the subject. “Why are you working? I thought you were on a short-term disability leave.”
“I am, but I like to be available to answer any questions that might come up. That’s what’s so great about modern technology. An answer to a problem is only a click of a mouse away.”
She gave him a look of admonishment. “Then you’re not really bored here, are you?”
“I guess frustrated would be a better word to use.” He lifted his incapacitated arm as far as the sling would allow. “I’m used to being able to do everything for myself.”
Maddie folded her hands in front of her. “Is that why you came up here? Because you need my help with something?”
“No. I just wanted to see you.” This time there was no mistaking the message in his eyes.
“I’m rather busy,” she told him, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.
He again made a survey of the room. “Looks to me like the housework is done.” He extended his left hand. “You can take a short break, can’t you? I want to show you something.”
The smile on his face and the hand reaching out to her were a temptation she didn’t want to resist. Cautiously she asked, “And what is that?”
He pulled her over to the love seat. “Let’s sit down.”
She knew she shouldn’t, but he could be so very charming when he wanted to be. “Okay, I’m sitting. Now what?”
“You need to reach into my pocket,” he said with a gleam in his eye.
“Uh…I don’t think so,” she said leaning away from him.
His grin told her he knew exactly what effect his request had had on her. “All right. I’ll get it myself.” With his left hand he managed to reach under his sweater and pull a small black rectangular case from his shirt pocket. “Have you seen one of these before?”
She leaned closer and watched as he opened it to reveal a small game board. “Electronic chess?”
“I found it in Jason’s room. It’s pretty cool. You can play by yourself or with a partner. Here. It’s probably easier if you hold it since you have two hands.” He leaned close, explaining the various functions of the electronic device.
Maddie found it difficult to concentrate on the game. He smelled good, he looked good, and being so close to him made her breasts tingle.
“So do you want to go it alone or do it with me?” he asked, his breath warm on her cheek.
“I…” she began, but wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. All she could do was stare at him. At his lips. She wanted to feel his mouth on hers, to know if his kiss could possibly be as fantastic as she’d imagined it to be all those years ago.
“Maddie, what is it you want me to do?” His voice was husky and inviting.
Her lips parted, and she inched even closer to him. In the blink of an eye his mouth was on hers. Her teenage fantasy had finally come true. And just like the fourteen-year-old Maddie would have done, she sat as stiff as a board. His lips moved over hers, coaxing and tantalizing her until she could no longer ignore the response her body longed to give.
Any inhibition she may have harbored disappeared, her instincts guiding her as she deepened the kiss by letting her tongue find his. She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, her body moving against his in an intimate invitation.
“Oops, my fault. Pretend I didn’t come in.”
The female voice was like a bucket of cold water on a newly built fire. Maddie opened her eyes to see Krystal backing out of the room, an apologetic look on her face.
Maddie pushed herself away from Dylan with a groan. “Just great. Now she thinks something’s going on.”
“Something is going on, Maddie,” he said in a voice that caressed her skin just as the kiss had caressed her lips.
She jumped up from the love seat. “No, it’s not. It most definitely is not,” she said through lips that still tingled from the pressure of his. “You really need to go back downstairs.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke.
“Come on, Maddie,” he pleaded, placing a hand on her forearm.
She snatched it away. “I mean it. I have a boyfriend. It may not matter to you, but it matters to me.”
To her relief, he didn’t try to convince her to let him stay. He slowly walked toward the door, but paused before leaving. “It does matter to me, Maddie, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to apologize for kissing you.”
She looked at him then and desire spread through her the way fire spreads through dry grass. She couldn’t let him know. “I don’t expect you to. I would just appreciate it if you’d remember that I’m not looking for that kind of entertainment.”
“Go ahead and tell yourself that, Maddie, if it makes you feel better,” he said, and before she could think of a suitable retort, he was gone.
Maddie stood for several moments, her fingertips on her lips, trying not to remember how good it had felt to have his mouth on hers. He was right. She’d wanted him to kiss her—but only to fulfill a teenage fantasy she’d had for fourteen years. She was just like hundreds of other women who’d been kissed by Dylan Donovan.
And there would probably be at least a hundred more in the future. She didn’t want to think about it. She wouldn’t think about it. She shook her head, as if the simple motion could erase what had just happened. She returned to the window to drag the chair back to her desk. At the sound of
her housemate’s voice, she turned toward the door.
“I heard footsteps on the stairs so I figured it was safe to come in.” Krystal didn’t wait to be invited in, but padded into her room in her slippered feet, saying, “I am so sorry I barged in on the two of you. I had no idea you were doing that.”
“We’re weren’t doing that,” Maddie denied stridently.
“You weren’t? Then what were you doing?”
“Playing chess.”
That produced a laugh from Krystal. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the game played that way before.”
“It’s not what you think.” Maddie knew her words sounded lame. “All right. He kissed me, but not for the reason you think.”
“Maddie, dear, there’s only one reason a man kisses a woman,” she said, sounding more worldly than Maddie ever could. “He likes you. I picked up on it last night. Every time Jason or I mentioned your name his ears perked up.”
“That’s nothing new. His ears do that whenever a single woman’s name is mentioned. It’s like he has radar,” she grumbled.
“Uh-uh. I flirted outrageously with him and got no-where.” She walked over to the love seat and sprawled across it. “So what are you going to do about Jeffrey?”
“I’m going to do nothing.” Maddie flopped down on her bed, placing her chin on her hand.
“I’d give you advice on how to juggle two guys at the same time, but my head’s plugged and I’m not sure I’d make any sense,” she said with a sniffle.
“I don’t plan to juggle two men.”
Krystal groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to let a great opportunity like this pass?”
“I don’t regard juggling two men as a great opportunity,” Maddie said dryly.
“I’m talking about Dylan. Maddie, he’s gorgeous and he wants you.”
“Well, I don’t want him.” She knew it wasn’t exactly the truth.
“It figures. I’m the one who’d kill for a chance with such a guy and you’re the one who has him following you to your room.” She let out a long sigh of injustice. Then she sat up. “Why was he in your room kissing you if you didn’t want him to be here?”
Maddie exhaled a gust of air that ruffled her bangs. “I told you. He wanted to play a game of chess.”
She chuckled. “I don’t think the game he’s interested in is chess. The game of love, maybe?”
This time Maddie was the one who chuckled, but without humor. “I’m not sure he and I have the same rule book when it comes to that one. In fact, I’m positive we don’t.”
“He’s definitely not the kind of guy looking to make friends with a woman before he gets romantically involved with her.”
“If that’s a dig at Jeffrey…” she began.
“Just the truth, Maddie, dear,” Krystal said placatingly, draping an arm across her forehead so that the sleeve of her robe covered her eyes.
“I’m comfortable with my relationship with Jeffrey.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“I didn’t say there was a problem.”
She lifted her arm to stare at Maddie. “You’re attracted to Dylan. Isn’t that a problem?”
“Not if I don’t act on that attraction.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because Dylan’s like a hummingbird. He goes from flower to flower, always in search of something sweeter.”
“Uh-huh. That’s the attraction. He’s a real bad boy.”
“Exactly. The kind of man I avoid.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t avoid this one. You know what Mae West said—a woman has to love a bad man once or twice in her life to be thankful for a good one.”
“I don’t think I need that particular life lesson, thank you.”
“Looks to me as if you may be too late to stop it.” She pushed herself up from the love seat and headed toward the door. “I feel lousy. As fascinating as this conversation is, I’d better go back to bed. I hope I can get up for dinner. It could be very interesting.”
Not if Maddie had anything to say about it. As soon as Krystal had gone, she reached for the phone and dialed Jeffrey’s number.
“Have you been out? How are the roads? They’re not too bad? Great. I’m coming over to make you dinner.”
DYLAN SPENT MOST of the afternoon in his mother’s office, going over an estimate of materials needed for a future project. But he found it difficult to concentrate. His thoughts were on Maddie and how sweet she’d tasted. Just thinking about her made his body ache with longing.
Despite her protests to the contrary, she’d wanted him to kiss her. When it was over, she’d told him that she wasn’t looking for that kind of excitement.
He smiled. It definitely had been exciting. There was no denying the chemistry between the two of them. He didn’t know what kind of a relationship she had with Jeffrey, but Dylan would bet that the English professor didn’t leave her breathless the way his kisses had.
He, on the other hand, had a pretty good idea how to win her heart. For that was exactly the part of her he needed to reach. He needed to convince her that there was more to a relationship than being comfortable.
He closed the file on the concrete estimates and reached for the yellow pages. He found the listing he wanted, then picked up the phone and dialed the number.
“Are you open? You are, but you’re not making deliveries? No problem. I can walk.” He grabbed his coat, pulled on his work boots and went out into the cold.
Besides plowing the driveway, Shane had shoveled the walk in front of the house, as had the rest of the neighbors. Getting to the floral shop was easier than Dylan had expected it to be. Picking out the right flowers for Maddie, however, was much more difficult.
He decided on a colorful mixture that included exotic-looking tiger lilies and traditional carnations. He smiled to himself as he watched the florist put together purples, oranges, reds and yellows in a combination that reminded him of Maddie—vibrant and exciting. He wondered what she would say when he gave them to her.
He never found out. When he got back to the house, he discovered a note on the kitchen table. It read, “Dylan, I’m having dinner at Jeffrey’s. The casserole Jennifer prepared is heating in the oven. All you have to do is take it out when the timer rings. If you need help, Jason told me he’ll be home for dinner.”
Dylan crumpled the note and tossed it in the waste-basket. He was tempted to do the same with the flowers, but then he realized that just because he couldn’t hand the flowers to Maddie personally, it didn’t mean he couldn’t give them to her.
He climbed the stairs to the second floor and set the box outside her closed door. He was about to leave when he heard a voice.
“If those are what I think they are, they should probably be in water.”
He turned to see Krystal standing in the doorway of her room. She had on a bright pink robe that covered her from head to toe and a pair of pink slippers that had bunny heads on their toes.
“Your mom has several vases. Want me to find one for you?” she offered.
“Are you up to it? Maddie said you weren’t feeling well.”
She dragged a hand over her hair. “It’s the flu. I suppose I look like a wreck,” she said on a nervous giggle.
“Not to me you don’t. You look like someone who’s kind enough to offer to help a person in a similar predicament.” He motioned to his injured shoulder. “I’m not full speed, either.” He gave her a smile of understanding.
She came toward him. “Then maybe we can help each other.” She swung the sash on her robe as she stood before him, as if it were a lariat. “Here’s the deal. You help me downstairs, and I’ll find that vase and put those flowers in water for you. I can also put them in Maddie’s room.” She smiled slyly. “I have a key.”
He returned the smile. “You have a deal.” He scooped up the flowers, then allowed her to loop her right arm through his left one before escorting her downstairs and into the kitchen, where he sat at the ta
ble while she tended to the flowers.
“It’s too bad Maddie’s not here to see how beautiful these are,” she said as she snipped stems and placed them in a crystal vase filled with water. She sniffed a purple hyacinth appreciatively. “They smell good, too.”
“You know Maddie pretty well?”
“Well enough to know when she’s running away from something.”
“And what would she be running away from?”
She gave him a coy look. “As if you don’t know.”
Dylan smiled knowingly, then sobered. “Unfortunately, the last thing I wanted to do was to send her running to the poet.”
“You mean Mr. I’ll-give-you-all-the-space-you-need,” she said in a disapproving tone.
“You don’t like him?” he asked, wondering if he’d found an ally.
“Jeffrey? He’s nice enough, but somebody should light a match under the man.”
So he’d been right in his initial assessment of Maddie’s boyfriend—Jeffrey might know poetry, but he didn’t understand women. “He shouldn’t need a match. He’s got Maddie.”
“Exactly my point,” Krystal said, jabbing at the air with the stem of a carnation. “You know, as lovely as these flowers are, I’m afraid they might make her run even faster.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve got long legs. I don’t do too badly when it comes to racing,” he told her with a smug grin.
“I bet you don’t.”
“Anybody home?” a man’s voice called out just moments before Garret stepped into the kitchen.
“It’s a good thing you’re here,” Dylan said as his brother looked at Krystal and then at him as if sizing up the situation. “Krystal’s not feeling well.”
“It’s just the flu,” she answered, then jabbed a finger in Dylan’s direction. “He’s the one who needs the attention.”
“Not true,” Dylan interjected.
“I tend to agree with you, but I wouldn’t want to face Mom if I didn’t make sure everything’s okay,” Garret said, his eyes on Krystal. “Are you sure it’s just the flu?”
Dylan could see that Shane was right. Garret may have wanted everyone to think he’d come over to check up on him, but the truth was he’d wanted to see Krystal.