The Rebel's Return

by Beverly Barton

  Maddie checked with Alicia, who assured her that she was ready, and with Harvey Small, the annoying club manager, who seemed to have his areas of expertise under control. Just as she began mingling, ever watchful for any sign of a problem, she caught a glimpse of three waitresses she now knew by name—the soft-spoken, friendly Daisy Parker, the tough-as-nails and highly efficient Ginger Walton and the irritatingly syrupy-sweet Erica Clawson. All three young ladies were attired in the white shirts and black slacks that were de rigueur for the waitstaff at the club.

  While she was inspecting the buffet table, Maddie heard a discernable rumble, a soft murmuring at first that quickly turned to a loud hum. What was happening? she wondered, and turned around just in time to see the attractive man from the black Porsche standing at the entrance to the ballroom. It seemed the debonair stranger in his tailor-made tux and emitting an aura of power and success had gained the attention of almost everyone in the ballroom. Maddie’s stomach flip-flopped; her nerves zinged. The guy was drop-dead gorgeous. Broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, with short-cropped, dark blond hair and a rugged, movie-star handsome face.

  Who is he? Maddie asked herself and realized that everyone here tonight was wondering the same thing. Well, whoever he was, his presence seemed to be disrupting the gala before it even began. Doing her duty, she sailed across the room and made her way directly to the man who was now watching her approach. His hot gaze raked over her, searing her with its intensity. She suddenly felt as if he’d stripped her naked. Since vulnerability was not a word Maddie allowed in her vocabulary, she returned his gaze head-on. As she drew nearer, she realized he was grinning—at her. Was he someone she should know?

  “Hello, I’m Maddie Delarue. Welcome to the Lone Star Country Club.” Her heart beat an erratic rat-a-tat-tat as she extended her hand. “I’m the club’s events manager and your hostess for tonight’s party.”

  The moment he touched her, a tingle of electricity zipped up her arm and radiated throughout her body. Oh, dear, this wouldn’t do. She’d never had this type of reaction to a man.

  “Well, hello, Maddie Delarue,” he said, his voice deep and husky, a definite baritone.

  Maddie realized that people were still buzzing with speculation and many were staring directly at them. Defuse this situation, she told herself. She boosted her courage with determination and laced her arm though the stranger’s. “This is a private party, Mr.…er…” When he didn’t supply a name, she continued. “By invitation only. I assume you aren’t a party-crasher.”

  “Oh, no,” he replied. “I’m a lot of things, beautiful Maddie, but a party-crasher is not one of them.”

  She tingled from head to toe. Get a grip, girl, she warned herself. It’s not as if this is the first man who’s ever tried to sweet-talk you. You’ve heard insincere compliments before, numerous times. But oddly enough she believed this man really did think she was beautiful.

  As she led him into the ballroom, she asked, “Since you’re not a party-crasher, would you care to enumerate some of the things you are?”

  Towering over her five-foot-four height, he stopped suddenly and clasped her hand. Taken aback by his bold action when he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her tenderly just above her knuckles, she glowered at him. This guy was suave, sophisticated and doing his level best to impress her. She knew his type only too well, and yet this man seemed different from the regular run-of-the-mill Don Juan.

  “Let me see, sweet Maddie.” He smiled; she glared. “I’m a connoisseur of fine wine, of artwork that appeals to me, of the ballet and the opera and of—” he paused for effect “—beautiful women.”

  “My, how interesting. I’ve known quite a few men who are just that type of connoisseur.” He cocked his eyebrows; she smiled. “That type is usually also a hunter—” she paused for effect “—a fortune hunter.”

  The stranger laughed. A hearty, deep-chested rumble. “I can assure you, Ms. Delarue, that I have no interest in or need of your sizable fortune.”

  “Is that right?” Suddenly she realized that their lengthy conversation was attracting more attention than the stranger’s entrance had. She followed her first instinct—to take him away from prying eyes. “Why don’t I show you the view from the balcony? You can see for miles. It’s quite a spectacular sight.”

  “Lead the way.”

  He draped her arm over his and obediently followed her halfway across the room, then abruptly took a detour and all but dragged her onto the dance floor. Had it not been for creating a scene, she would have responded rather sternly to the man’s brazen tactics. Forcing herself not to stomp on his feet, she allowed him to take her into his arms and guide her through the slow, seductive dance steps. His hand drifted down her back to her waist. She sucked in her breath, then released it slowly when he nuzzled the side of her face with his nose.

  “Just exactly who are you and what are you doing here tonight?” She managed to speak without her voice quivering, which amazed her since her insides had turned to mush. Her nipples tightened and peaked. Her femininity moistened. This guy was lethal!

  “Ah, straight to the point,” he said. “Have you decided that there’s no longer any need to be polite?”

  “I’m politely asking you a few questions,” she told him.

  His hand strayed lower, coming to a halt at the base of her spine. She lifted her hand from his shoulder, reached behind her and grabbed his wrist. When she tried to move his splayed hand upward, he resisted and instead dragged his hand and hers down and onto one satin-clad buttock. Maddie gasped.

  “Let go of me,” she ordered. “Don’t touch me that way. People are watching us.”

  Chuckling, he raised his hand back to her waist; she returned hers to his shoulder. “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you, much better.”

  “As for who I am and what I’m doing here…I’m an invited guest who came here to enjoy himself, and I’m certainly doing just that dancing with you.”

  Maddie rolled her eyes. “We aim to please.”

  “Do you indeed?”

  “Only in my capacity as your hostess,” she amended her statement.

  “Of course.”

  Don’t you dare blush, Maddie warned herself. If he saw evidence that his flirting was affecting her, he’d assume she was vulnerable to his charm. She’d dance this one dance with him. That was all. Then she’d dismiss him from her thoughts. But as the dance continued, her body betrayed her by molding itself to his, fitting them together like two halves of a whole.

  “Do you really have an invitation?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “May I see it?”

  “I left it with the gentleman at the door.”

  “Oh.”

  The music ended and before the band began the next melody, he took her hand and led her off the dance floor and straight toward the doors that opened up onto the balcony. Her mind warned her to resist, to put a stop to his take-charge maneuver. But her instincts, primed by an odd sense of anticipation and curiosity, kept her at his side. Once on the balcony, where only a handful of guests mingled in quiet, dark corners, Maddie pulled free of the stranger and asked, “What sort of game are you playing?”

  He grinned. “Do you like games? You must, to spend your life planning things that entertain a bunch of rich, bored Texans.”

  “The Mystery Gala happens to be a charity event, with proceeds going to the Red Cross. If you received an invitation, then you know that you were expected to make a sizable donation for the privilege of participating in tonight’s event.”

  “I’m here as a guest of a Lone Star Country Club member,” he told her.

  “And just who might that be?”

  Before she realized what was happening, he pulled her into his arms. “Still the same cautious yet curious Maddie.”

  “What?” She looked up, because even wearing three-inch heels, she wasn’t at eye-level with him.

  “You honestly don’t remember me, do you?”<
br />
  “Am I supposed to know you?”

  He lowered his head. She held her breath. His lips brushed hers softly, tentatively. She sighed. You’re insane if you let him kiss you, she told herself. But when his mouth covered hers, she disregarded the warning and participated fully in the experience. His kiss possessed an equal combination of passion and tenderness that ignited a longing within her like none she’d ever known. Strangely enough, the only other kiss that had ever come close to matching this one was the time Dylan Bridges had—Dylan Bridges! My God! Could it be?

  Breathless and stunned by the possibility, she jerked away from the stranger and surveyed him from head to toe.

  “Honey, you reacted to that kiss the same way you reacted to the one I gave you seventeen years ago.” His smile widened, revealing a set of straight white teeth.

  Dylan Bridges! Had she known, subconsciously, who he was? Physically he bore only a slight resemblance to the sixteen-year-old boy she remembered. Gone was the long, pale blond hair, the gold earring, the grungy jeans and tattered T-shirt. He was taller, broader, and an air of alluring self-confidence had replaced the cocky bravado he’d once displayed.

  Not giving a thought to her actions, guided by pure feminine instinct, Maddie grabbed the lapels of Dylan’s tuxedo and kissed him. She had to find out if another kiss would affect her the same way the first kiss had seventeen years ago, the way the one tonight had. Pure dynamite. Explosions erupted throughout her body and inside her head as she threw her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. He took his lead from her and within minutes he backed her up against the brick wall, positioned his erection against her flat belly and devoured her mouth with his. The hunger inside her raged, needing to be fed.

  The sound of voices brought Maddie out of the sensual haze that had momentarily overcome her common sense. Taking several deep, calming breaths, she pulled away from him.

  “I—I don’t know what made me do that,” she said.

  “Don’t you?”

  She blushed. Dammit, she hadn’t blushed in ages. “Sexual chemistry, I guess,” Maddie admitted.

  “Yeah, we seem to still have plenty of that, don’t we?”

  She blew out a long, I-need-to-take-control-of-my-emotions breath. “What are you doing here?”

  “In Mission Creek or at the country club tonight?”

  “Both.”

  “I came home to visit my father,” Dylan told her. “Dad and I decided it was time to put the past behind us and see if we can build a new and better father/son relationship.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’m sure your father is very pleased,” she said. “Where is Carl tonight? I know he was on our guest list.”

  “Dad wasn’t feeling well. He thinks he might have caught a bug, but he insisted I come to the Mystery Gala without him.” Dylan looked deeply into her eyes. “He knew how much I wanted to see you again.”

  Dylan’s statement figuratively and literally took her breath away. “Oh,” was all she could manage to say.

  “You’re even prettier than I remembered,” he said. “Maturity becomes you, Maddie.”

  “It does you, too. I didn’t even recognize you. You look so different.”

  “Thanks. I did some growing up at the Reform Center for Boys and a lot more growing up after I got out and tried to make it on my own.”

  She glanced at his expensive tuxedo. “Apparently, you’ve done all right.”

  “Well enough. What about you? What’s the richest woman in Texas doing working as the events manager for the Lone Star Country Club? Whatever happened to Daddy’s spoiled darling?”

  “The spoiled little princess you knew doesn’t exist anymore. The woman I am today likes her job here at the club. And if I do say so myself, I’m damn good at it.” She glanced into the ballroom. “And speaking of my job—I need to go back inside and see to it that this evening’s party goes as planned.”

  “You don’t have a date tonight, do you?”

  “No, I don’t, but—”

  “You do now.”

  Dylan took her arm, escorted her into the ballroom and didn’t leave her side for the next hour while she kept watch over the proceedings. Before the staged murder occurred and the mystery solving began, Maddie introduced Dylan to all the Carsons in attendance, as well as several Wainwrights and a couple he didn’t know—Joan and Hart O’Brien. Dylan had repeated the same explanation numerous times. Carl was home with a virus of some sort. He and his father were in the process of patching up their relationship. Yes, he’d be in town for a while. He lived and worked in Dallas. He was a stockbroker, and yes, he’d turned his life around after his two years in the Texas Reform Center for Boys.

  Dylan pulled Maddie aside. “Looks like your assistant can handle things here. How about you and I slip away for a while?”

  “Allowing Alicia to take charge of tonight’s gala is part of my training strategy. I believe hands-on experience is the best way to learn. But even though she’s doing a wonderful job, I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable leaving her completely on her own.”

  Dylan tugged on Maddie’s arm. “Let’s go. We won’t be gone long. Half an hour.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Come on, Maddie. You know you’re dying to come with me.”

  Before she had a chance to reply, he whisked her out of the ballroom, down to the lobby and outside to the covered portico. He asked the valet for his car and while they waited, he watched Maddie.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” she told him.

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m the first woman you’ve seen in ten years.”

  “I haven’t seen you in seventeen years.”

  A warm flush spread through Maddie’s body. Why was it that Dylan had a way of saying things that affected her in a sexual way? His words went to her head the way champagne did, producing a similar intoxication.

  “Thirty minutes. That’s all,” she told him. “I shouldn’t be leaving the party this way, but—”

  “But you couldn’t resist me any more tonight than you were able to when we were sixteen.”

  The valet brought the black Porsche to a halt in front of the country club. Maddie eyed the car suspiciously.

  “Yours?” she asked.

  “Mine,” he replied.

  “Not borrowed?”

  He chuckled. “Bought and paid for. The bill of sale is in the glove compartment, if you’d like to check.”

  Dylan tipped the valet generously, then shooed him aside when he opened the passenger door for Maddie. Dylan assisted her into the car, then rounded the hood and hopped in behind the wheel. He revved the motor, flew down the circular drive and out onto the open road.

  The evening breeze assaulted Maddie’s hair, which tonight she’d worn in a sophisticated French twist. Tendrils eased free; some curled about her face and others stuck to her cheeks. She’d look windblown and mussed by the time they returned to the club, but she didn’t care. Lately she’d been daydreaming of a man like Dylan Bridges coming into her life and sweeping her off her feet. Little had she realized that the man himself would re-enter her life and make her experience daring, dizzying feelings that prompted her to throw caution to the wind. A thirty-minute escape wouldn’t hurt her. She could allow herself that much time away from reality, couldn’t she?

  Maddie reached up, removed the pins from her hair, shook her head and let her long tresses fall free. In her peripheral vision she caught a glimpse of Dylan stealing a quick glance at her. She tossed back her head and laughed. Leaving behind responsibilities and uncertainties, she raced off into the dark Texas night with a man she’d known only as a teenage rebel.

  Dear God, when was the last time she’d felt this good, and so totally alive with anticipation?

  Four

  Dylan had a difficult time keeping his eyes on the road. Of all the women he’d known in his thirty-three years, Maddie Delarue was one of a kind. She was not only the most beautiful, but the most temptin
g. Yeah, sure, part of the fascination was the fact she’d been the star of his adolescent wet dreams, the girl he’d fantasized about scoring with, the forbidden fruit he hadn’t been able to resist trying to pick. But what the hell did he really know about the woman she was now? Not a damn thing other than she had enough money to buy and sell anybody in Mission Creek, including the Wainwrights and Carsons. And he knew one other thing—he still had the hots for her. How was that possible?

  He’d recognized her instantly, the moment he’d seen her standing in the country club lobby, looking like some fairy-tale princess in her chic black gown and her sparkling diamonds. By the time she’d rushed over to him when he entered the ballroom, he was fighting to tame his body’s reaction. He hadn’t gotten that aroused that fast since he’d been twenty.

  “Where are we going?” Maddie asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “No, I suppose it doesn’t. Just remember you promised to get me back to the club in thirty minutes.”

  “Then we can’t go far,” he said. “I seem to remember a bumpy dirt road not far from here. Is it still there?”

  Maddie laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. Do you really want to take a ride down Memory Lane?”

  “Yeah, why not? I’d kind of like to see how things would’ve turned out seventeen years ago if the police hadn’t shown up.”

  “I’m not sure,” she told him, “but I think I might have gone all the way with you. You were pretty heady stuff for an innocent like me. Your kisses really curled my toes. I’d never experienced anything so powerful.”

  “Lady, you know how to turn the screws, don’t you?” He grinned at her, even though he was hurting in the worst possible way. “You’ve got to know that telling a guy something like that is bound to increase the size of his ego…and certain vital parts of his body.”

  “Are you referring to a swollen head?” she taunted.

  “Red, you’re shameless. You know damn well it’s not my head that’s swollen.”

  Maddie burst into laughter. Dylan loved the sound. It was refreshingly genuine. Just like the woman herself. He’d dated so many phonies, so many women who pretended to be something they weren’t, that being with a woman as open and honest as Maddie aroused him unbearably. He felt he could see right through her, as if she had no defenses, as if she’d lowered her protective shield and allowed him a glimpse at the real woman beneath the polished exterior.