by Karen Anders
He saw the knowledge of her feminine power in her eyes, strangely juxtaposed with that haunting innocence that made him want to walk over there, bend her back on the sofa and plunge into her body.
She moved with a supple, almost ephemeral, tantalizing quality. There was something in her that was fiercely sensual, alive, primitive; her full mouth was all the more vibrant because of the graceful body that moved with the suppleness of a willow. She placed her booted foot on the arm of the sofa, and with deliberate movements, she pushed up the skirt of the dress, revealing her tight, lace-clad backside to his hungry eyes.
He hadn’t realized he’d moved until he touched the sleek skin of her hips, his groin coming up against the hot skin of her propped leg. Haley was deep into the music and the movement of her body. It took all the strength he had to restrain the force inside him. He touched her as if she might vanish in his hands, a skim of contact when what he wanted was to crush her to him, a brush of his fingers outlining her shape. He felt himself so hard and aching to slide into her, to take her to slake the fire that consumed his skin. He was breathing deeply, unevenly, on the brink of a fierce and all-consuming void. He cupped her bottom, sliding his fingers along her satiny skin.
He wrapped one arm around her waist and pushed his groin harder against her thigh. Haley gasped, her head falling back when he moved his hand from her bottom, over her propped thigh, and slid the lace of her underwear aside to touch her hot woman’s core.
She was slick and responsive. He moved his fingers slowly until she was panting. Her hands went to her breasts and pulled down the bra. Still moving with the music, Haley touched herself, lost in her abandon. Dylan turned her to face him and took her closest nipple into his mouth. Haley cried out, her body moving now with heavy, languid strokes in rhythm to his fingers. He sucked hard and Haley’s hips thrust forward, her eyes wild with her release. Dylan pulled her to him with one arm, his mouth fusing to hers. He penetrated her with his fingers, her soft folds were moist against his hand.
Haley’s body vibrated with her release; his hard, hot mouth sent her into a tailspin.
A knock sounded loudly against the door. Dylan broke the kiss. Not taking his eyes off her, he whispered, “They’ll go away.”
Before Haley could tell him that it might be the woman from his answering machine, his mouth came back down on hers. She forgot all about the interruption when he slid his hand down her hip. Grasping her bent knee in his large hand, he urged her leg around his waist. She hooked her foot around the back of his thigh.
The woman called out, “Dylan, are you in there? I’ve got my key.”
Haley heard the woman’s voice through the door. Two things registered on her foggy brain. The voice was too high-pitched for it to be the woman from the answering machine and the word key. The woman had a key? Did he give them out as door prizes? She pushed on his chest. “Dylan, she has a key,” she said urgently.
The release of the lock was loud in the room. Dylan’s head whipped toward the door. He turned back to Haley, his eyes wild. Everything after that happened so quickly. Dylan lunged at her and dragged her behind the sofa. He threw the raincoat on top of her head. With a slap of his hand he silenced the boom box. It was in that moment Haley decided not to tell him about the other ardent woman on his answering machine. Jeez, three women in one night. He was a juggling fool. Experiencing a funny little cramp in her throat, Haley fought down her disappointment and hurt.
By the time she fought her way clear of the coat, Dylan had opened the front door. She heard a low murmur of voices, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. While she pulled the dress straps up and settled the clinging material over her hips, she wondered who this woman was to Dylan? She had his key. It could mean only one thing. He was involved with her in some way. Who was she kidding? She knew Dylan’s personality. He was involved with her in the carnal way, and he didn’t want this girlfriend to see what he’d been doing with Haley. A sharp stab of pain cut deep inside her, deeper than it should have. She tried to grasp even one solid denial. But she could figure no other explanation for his actions and that left her with nothing but a sick loss inside.
She heard the door close and was about to rise when she heard a female voice say, “So, could I use your bathroom?”
“Sure.”
Then Dylan was again grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the front door.
“I don’t believe this,” he muttered under his breath. As they reached the foyer, Haley heard the distinctive sound of the bathroom door opening.
“I’m sorry about this, Haley,” he whispered.
Again there was noise from the direction of the bathroom. “Dylan. Is there any soap?”
He opened the closet door and shoved Haley inside. Calling over his shoulder, he said, “Under the sink. Look, Mandy, I have to run down to my car. Why don’t you have a seat at the kitchen table?”
He stepped into the closet with her and shut the door. Grabbing the back of her head, he kissed her mouth passionately. “Haley, I thought I swallowed my tongue when I came in tonight. You look incredible and I want nothing more than to live out this fantasy with you right now, but I can’t.”
Jealousy, burning like liquid fire, scorched her insides. She didn’t want to let Dylan go, but she had to. She had no right to be jealous. No right at all. Dylan hadn’t made her any promises. And it looked as if his dance card was full.
The bathroom door opened and they heard the woman walk across the floor.
Dylan kissed Haley again, softly, with regret. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you. I’ll distract her and you can leave. Okay?” he asked, his voice husky.
She managed a weak smile and nodded her head, trying to will away the heavy ache in her chest. “Okay.”
He swore softly under his breath, then the door closed in her face and he was gone.
As soon as Haley heard them speaking in low tones, she slipped out the front door. Making her way down the hall, she pushed the button on the elevator. As the doors opened, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his door. She stepped inside the car, colliding with a small, dark-haired woman impeccably dressed in an Armani navy-blue pinstriped suit. She gave Haley a curious look and then looked back down the hall. As Haley watched, the woman approached Dylan’s door. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back as the elevator doors closed. That would be the woman from the answering machine, the kind of woman who would fit perfectly into his life.
HALEY COULDN’T FACE going home. So she hailed a cab and gave the cabbie Margo’s address. Soon she was knocking on her friend’s door. When Margo opened the door, her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect little O. “Don’t tell me you’ve been running around the city looking like that.”
Margo grabbed Haley and dragged her into her apartment.
“Looking like what?” Haley said. “Something the cat discarded when he finished toying with it?”
“Oh no. What happened? Weren’t you supposed to, you know, trip the light fantastic?” Margo ushered Haley into the living room.
“Margo, are you on something? This is not some forties movie, this is my life.” Haley stood in the middle of Margo’s posh living room and thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown.
Margo giggled and Haley followed suit. “Jeez. The light fantastic,” Haley grumbled, running her hand over her face, trying to clear away some of the concern.
“Well? Was it fantastic?”
“The first part was,” Haley said with a sad shake of her head.
“How about the second part and the end? Did you get an encore?” Margo directed her to the couch and they sat.
But Haley was up again, pacing back and forth, and that was no mean feat in a pair of spiked boots. “No. We got interrupted by one of his many women.”
“You didn’t get pissed and tell him off, did you?” Margo asked, alarm clear in her eyes.
“What I got was jealous. He shoved me in a closet!” Haley said with outrage.
&
nbsp; “What?”
Haley plopped down on the couch and sighed. “It’s like Grand Central Station over there. Women coming and going.”
“Which were you? The one coming?”
“Very funny. You should take that act on the road. Are you going to behave like a comedian or my friend?” Haley shot her friend a look and Margo sat back and sighed.
“I’m sorry, Haley, but you look…ravished, sexy and gorgeous, as if your skin was lit from the inside out. Whatever you’re getting, I’d like some.”
“You’ll have to take a number, Margo.”
Margo shrugged. “So, there were women there. That’s not a surprise. You expected it, right?”
Haley sat up straighter. “Yes. I guess I did.”
“So, what happened to your mantra? Sex is sex, Haley. Don’t let your heart get involved.”
“Easier said than done.”
Margo’s eyes narrowed. “No, it’s not. He’s not right for you. You said that and you’re an intelligent, determined woman. I know that. Keep it businesslike.”
“Easier said than done. Tell that to my stupid, mushy heart.”
Margo sighed. “All right, I guess it isn’t easy, especially with a hunk like Dylan. But what alternative do you have? You have two more fantasies to go. Two more chances to make your point to Kate that you are the person to fill a writing slot.”
“How do you know?” Haley was startled that Margo knew what Dylan looked like. How could she know? It made her uneasy.
“Because your writing is amazing,” Margo said, totally missing what Haley was getting at.
“No. How would you know Dylan is a hunk?”
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you. He showed up at the office today asking for you.”
For a split second Margo looked…guilty. Then the expression was gone. Haley chalked it up to her hellacious night. “When?”
“Just after you left to prepare for the fantasy, but I didn’t tell him anything. I knew you wanted to surprise him.”
“He came looking for me, in person?”
“Yes. After he left, the whole office came over to ask me who he was. His eyes are amazing.”
“Did you tell them?”
“I said he was a friend of yours. Nothing else.”
“Good. He asked me to keep his part in the fantasies quiet because of the advertising campaign he just landed.”
“What advertising campaign?” Margo perked up and leaned forward.
“He’s been hired by the NAPTA to come up with a campaign to encourage teenagers to abstain from sex.”
Margo laughed and Haley looked at her sharply.
“Don’t you find that funny and ironic? He’s doing an ad campaign about abstaining and you’re, well, you’re jazzing up his sex life.”
She shook her head. “No, I fail to see the humor in that, Margo.” Haley shrugged out of the coat.
“And what a hot little number you are. That dress should be considered a lethal weapon. It’s a wonder you didn’t get arrested.” Margo studied Haley. “What? No snappy comeback? This calls for drastic action. Come on.” Margo grabbed Haley’s arm and pulled her up from the couch.
“Where are you taking me?” Haley protested, tired and still jealous.
“We’re going out to drown your sorrows,” Margo said purposefully and with great firmness. That meant Haley was going out.
“Where?”
“To the clubs. Loud music and alcohol is what this doctor orders.”
Haley groaned. “You’d better prescribe me something else to wear, Doc. I can’t go in this outfit.”
Margo looked her up and down and then rolled her eyes. “No kidding. I’ll give you something to wear. We’ll leave this little number in Dylan’s fantasy where it’ll be safe.”
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG to change and hail a cab. Haley found herself jamming to the wild beat of loud, can’t-hear-yourself-think music in one of the hip, popular Manhattan clubs Margo and Haley frequented when they needed to blow off steam.
Haley wouldn’t have heard her cell phone ring if it hadn’t been so close to her on the table. She pulled it out of her purse and flipped it open.
“I’m sorry. Mandy showed up unexpectedly.”
She put her finger in her ear to better hear the voice over the phone.
“What?”
“I said I’m sorry,” he yelled.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me. What you do is your business not mine,” Haley shouted back.
“I want to explain.” She could barely hear him over the blaring music.
This was not a discussion she relished. She didn’t want to get into a personal discussion with him about his other conquests. She had to stay grounded and keep her attention on her goal. “I don’t need an explanation. This is business between you and me, Dylan. You agreed to help me with my fantasies. That’s all I can hold you to. No promises, no strings and definitely no explanations. That’s the way it needs to be.” She’d sounded so cold and businesslike. Good. That was good. She needed the distance desperately.
He sighed. “Is your deadline messed up?”
“Only slightly. Expect a visit from me shortly.”
“Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
“It’s so loud in here, Dylan. I can barely hear you. Don’t worry about tonight. I’ll talk to you later.”
Haley disconnected the call. She closed her eyes. Forget it, Haley. Stop leading with your heart. He won’t want it. He’s collected so many others.
5
THE PHONE WENT DEAD in his ear, and with a feeling of frustration, Dylan put the receiver back in the cradle.
“So, do you want to tell your big sister what that was all about?”
His older sister by two years stood in the living room with her arms folded over her chest and eyed the discarded briefcase, his suit jacket and his tie lying in a heap on the gleaming hardwood floor.
“What?”
“Dylan. You were just talking to that provocatively dressed woman in the elevator. I’m sure of it. Did Mandy’s toilet stop up again and ruin your fun?” She walked over and picked up the jacket, briefcase and tie, setting the case on the coffee table and laying the jacket over the back of the couch. She punched the play button on the boom box that Haley had left behind.
The sultry music vibrated through the room with a steady, seductive beat that made his skin hot and his body respond. God, Haley in that dress. The movement of her hips, her secret flesh against his fingers.
He walked over and shut off the music. “It’s complicated.” He ran his hands through his hair. “And none of your business.”
She ignored the “none of your business” part. “Most relationships are complicated.” A flash of amusement sparkled in her eyes, warming the dark brown of her irises to golden.
His sister was petite with dark tumbling hair that went to the middle of her back. She always dressed in conservative clothes: suits and button-down blouses. He thought she should loosen up a bit. But he adored her, nonetheless.
“It’s not exactly a relationship, but I can tell you Haley Lawton was the woman who was here.”
“Haley?” she said, her eyebrows rising. “I thought she looked familiar.”
He knew that look. She was intrigued. When his sister was intrigued, she would hold on to something like a pit bull.
Her eyes took on a reflective look. “The Haley you were so crazy about in school? The Haley that wouldn’t give you the time of day?”
“That’s the one.”
“I know I’m probably beating a dead horse, but why was she here?”
“Laurel, she’s working on something for her job.”
His sister threw up her hands. “All right, I guess that means I’ll have to weasel it out of you.”
“It means drop the subject,” Dylan said flatly. “Let’s look at Mom and Dad’s gift. I’m almost done with it.”
Laurel shrugged, taking no offense at Dylan’s tone, and followed him ov
er to the kitchen table. He snapped on the overhead light.
Laurel picked up the storyboard and gasped, “Oh, Dylan, this is wonderful. They’ll love it.”
Dylan felt that little glow of satisfaction inside at his sister’s praise. “I don’t know. You know how Dad is.”
“Don’t let him get to you. The storyboard was such a great idea. Now all you have to do is finish the last two frames.” She set the storyboard back on the table and hugged him.
He hugged her back. “I’ll have it done in a couple of weeks. It’ll be ready for their anniversary in plenty of time.”
“I’ll get it framed since you’ve done all this work.”
“That’s a deal.”
Laurel was quiet for a moment. “Haley’s not the only woman to come out of your past. Guess who I saw yesterday at Bloomie’s?”
“Who?”
“Annabelle Mastroni.”
Dylan rolled his eyes.
“I might have been two years ahead of you in school, but she and her whole sorority were after you the whole time you were in college. She asked about you.”
“Good God, you didn’t give her my number?” Panic rose in Dylan. That’s all he needed was Annabelle Mastroni intruding into his life. She was a barracuda, not his type of woman at all.
Laurel chuckled. “No. You’d never get any peace if she knew you were still eligible and a hotshot ad exec with a Village loft.”
“Laurel, why is it that I’m the target for all these women?” Dylan walked away from her and into the kitchen. Laurel followed. He picked up a bottle of wine and looked at the label.
“Dylan. Come on. I might be your sister, but have you ever looked in a mirror? You are drop-dead gorgeous, worth millions. Not to mention a nice guy.”
Dylan groaned. “Oh, please, Laurel. Don’t call me a nice guy.”
“Okay, how about a sensitive guy? You give really good advice. That’s why women flock to you, well, along with your winning smile and come-hither eyes.”
“That’s even worse. Sensitive,” he said, disgusted. He busied himself getting the glasses and pouring the wine.