by J. A. Coffey
What a fool. Last night, Dylan had tried to open up, and what did she do? She shut him down! He had a right to his own way of thinking. What if they agreed on everything? How boring would that be?
Headstrong, but not stupid, this time she would tackle her gaffe head-on. She couldn't blow the progress they'd made. Nope. She'd step up and admit that, once again, she'd overreacted.
Shay put the pedal to the metal and headed for Dylan's worksite. She'd stopped by his office first--she could've called him on his cell but preferred the element of surprise--and learned he'd taken off to check on his men.
The ride was twenty minutes in the other direction from Shay's work. So what if she took an extended lunch? Though a dedicated employee, right now she needed to dedicate some time to her marriage. Erin, her best friend and right-hand woman, could handle Shay's load. Erin knew the deal. She'd encouraged her boss to go fix things with Dylan. Erin would cover her butt, because that's how they were.
Not just anyone could run a dozen branches. But she and Erin were a dream team who made it look simple. Their region's performance surpassed all of the others. Shay was a stickler for outstanding customer service. That's what gave them the edge, the secret to their success. Treat customers well and they'll come back. It worked--they did.
The branches were in Erin's capable hands. Shay had more pressing business to attend to, like damage control. What must Dylan be thinking? That he'd married a nut job? Crazy wasn't always a bad thing. She'd put herself out there, throw herself at his mercy. Poor guy. Her actions were so conflicting. She yelled when he didn't share his feelings. She blew up when he did. He couldn't win.
Tonight she'd make sure that he came out on top. What prize would he get for forgiveness? Shay smiled sheepishly. She already had it all planned out. But first she needed to find him, apologize to him, face-to-face. He needed to see her sincerity, needed to know that Booty Camp was still in session.
Ha! She spied his rugged Dodge Ram pickup truck exactly where they'd said it'd be. He'd parked between two other familiar cars. The silver SUV belonged to Christian. Of course, the sonic blue, pimped-out Cobra Mustang had to be Nico's, Dylan and Christian's wild-ass cousin.
Shay's tires slid across the loose gravel, spitting pebbles into the air and clink-clinking against her chrome rims. She came to a choppy stop, parking beside the Mustang. Damn. She didn't need scratches on her pampered beauty. She treasured her Lexus sport coupe, the one thing in life where she'd actually splurged without any regret.
Cutting the engine, she sucked in a lungful of air. She calmed her savage heartbeat, collected her scattered thoughts. Unlatching the car door, she slipped out into the gorgeous day. The sun shone bright, warm and all encompassing. She forgot about her car and gazed up at the cobalt sky. The sun's rays washed over her face and she smiled. It could only get better from here. She smoothed her hands down her black pencil skirt, and re-tucked her silky blouse.
Be sincere. Be open. Be really apologetic. Shay went over the plan. She caught a shadow in her peripheral vision and her head automatically turned toward it. Her heart rate spiked. Dylan. Headed her way, he wore a bewildered look on his face, carried a clipboard in one hand.
"What are you doing here?" he asked genially, yet questioning. He looked her up and down, but mostly up, especially her breasts. His gaze was glued to the tiny wedge between two of her blouse buttons. He seemed very preoccupied with the inadvertent peek-a-boo space.
"Hey," she said, smiling sweetly. "Working hard?" His coming outside had caught her off guard. She couldn't think of anything else to say at the moment. So much for an elaborate speech. Oh, well.
"They are." Using his chin, Dylan indicated the large house behind him. "I'm just supervising."
"Supervising is good." She laughed.
"Did you drive out here to chat about work?"
"No." She cleared her throat. "I came to apologize for last night." There. She'd said it. What a relief.
"You could've called." He shook the cell phone in his other hand. "Instead of coming out here and getting all dirty." His finger smoothed her open collar.
"I could have. But I wanted to surprise you."
"That you did."
"Anyway...I was out of line last night and I'm sorry."
His lips peeled into a sexy grin. "All this way to deliver that message in person?" His finger dipped between her buttons. It searched and prodded creamy cleavage. "Must've meant a lot to you."
Her eyes dropped to the gravelly ground. Thank you for letting me off so easy. Her hand brushed the front of his dress shirt. "It does."
"Maybe later you can show me how much."
Nice. They were back on the same page. Shay chewed the inside of her cheek. "That's the other reason I stopped by."
His dark brows pulled together. He displayed a mouthful of even white teeth. "Oh?"
She leaned in close and took a long whiff of woodsy cologne. "Tonight I'm going to give you a slow massage." She licked his manly throat. Then she laid a mind-shattering kiss on those gorgeous lips.
Dylan gave it right back. Even with his hands full, he still managed to press her body up against his, raising the heat to a combustible level. Every part of her shuddered. God, she missed making out with him. Their relationship had always been physical--touching, kissing, holding hands. The hunger from their early days had yet to wane.
Packed with emotion, with breathless moans and whimpers, the kiss went on for days. Shay knew she needed to save some for later. Reluctantly, she broke the spell. Dreamily, she locked her gaze with his. Shay cleared her throat, found her voice. "Then I'm going to give you a slow something else." She tucked loose hair behind her ear and watched his expression go from high interest to outright lust.
He took her fingers and kissed her knuckles. "How the hell am I supposed to get through the rest of the day?"
"Just think," she said, with a fierce smile. Shay twisted her hand to look at her wristwatch. "A few hours from now, you're going to be..." She let the words hang in the air.
"Dylan!" An urgent voice screamed out.
They both spun at the same time. Dylan's baby brother had a distressed look on his face that couldn't be good. "Hold that thought," he said to her, and hurried toward Christian.
Christian ran full speed ahead. "Nico broke his ass."
"What?" Dylan stopped suddenly. He grabbed Shay's hand when she caught up to him. "How?"
"He fell off the scaffold," Christian said, through choppy breaths. "He looks pretty bad, man."
"Shit! How'd he fall?"
"I don't know. But hurry. We already called an ambulance."
Shay's heart thundered as the three of them charged to the worksite.
*****
One minute Shay had been whispering sweet promises to Dylan, the next she was pacing shiny white floor tiles. No word yet on Nico's condition. They knew he'd been conscious throughout his ordeal, so that had to be a positive. He was also coherent, and it appeared that he'd broken the fall with his body, not his head. Right now the doctors were doing a battery of tests to assess the damage.
Dylan and Christian marched back and forth, up and down the sterile corridor, worrying, waiting for news. It'd been a frightening experience for Shay, who didn't scare easily. The sight of Nico sprawled out on the floor in agony with an open gash above his left brow, blood gushing out and streaming down his face, had been disturbing. One arm had been twisted beneath him, noticeably fractured in a god-awful way. Judging by the distance he'd fallen, it'd be a miracle if he didn't have internal injuries.
She was fond of Dylan's cousin, a dedicated, hard working, decent guy. He was also like a brother to Dylan and Christian. Dylan always spoke about work, and how Nico kept the men entertained with his brash sense of humor. At family gatherings, he brought life to the party. Spontaneous, rambunctious, somewhat unruly, he'd been a fixture in Dylan and Christian's lives ever since they were kids.
Uh-oh. She heard the exaggerated Spanish accent that belonge
d to none other than Nico's outlandish mother. "Ay, Dios mio, que paso?" The buxom blonde approached with clanking wooden heels and a wildly troubled face.
"Tia, it's okay," Christian said to his aunt.
Dressed in denim capris and a tight hot pink top, her shoulder-length hair layered in a shaggy style, she grabbed Christian's forearm to steady herself. Charo's heavily made-up eyes searched her nephew's face. "Is that what the doc-torr said?"
Dylan stepped forward and hugged his aunt's shoulder. "That's what he's going to say as soon as he comes out."
Charo measured her nephews. Shay knew how well she got along with them, sometimes better than with Nico. Dylan had the most patience with her, probably since he was the oldest. Charo looked from Dylan to Christian. Both men wore the same hard expression. "Estas seguro?" Charo seemed unconvinced. She dug in her purse and pulled out a pack of gum.
"You know Nico," Christian said.
Shay leaned into Dylan, resting her weight against him. "Yeah, I bet he's got everybody laughing in there right now," Shay added.
Charo gave her niece-in-law a sad grin. "Espero que si." She sure hoped so.
Thanks to Dylan, Shay understood a little Spanish. "Would you like some coffee?" she offered Charo, who was fully bilingual, yet spoke in Spanglish. At first it had seemed comical. But hanging around Dylan's family, she'd quickly gotten used to the interesting way they blended two languages. "I'm going to get a cup for myself."
"No gracias, mi amor. I'm already too shaky." Charo turned back to Dylan and Christian and said, "How did my hijo get hurt?"
"Anyone else for coffee?"
The brothers nodded their heads. As Christian recounted the incident to his aunt, Shay went to get a refill. And call Erin. Again. She didn't have to, though. Erin told her to chill out about work. She had it covered. Shay was a worrywart. She couldn't help it.
On the phone with Erin, who of course had nothing new to report, she could hear Charo's gasps and Spanish omigods echoing down the hallway. A little dramatic for Shay's taste, but Charo had always been a decent mother to Nico. The same didn't apply to Nico's father, but then, he'd bailed on Charo, leaving her to raise Nico alone.
She hung up after five minutes of filling Erin in on the latest, which was really nothing since the doctor still remained behind closed doors. At least Nico got his insurance dollars' worth.
Sipping coffee, Shay joined her husband and his family. Work-wise, her day had ended. She wouldn't be going back to the office. Not with all this going on. Besides, she wanted to stay with Dylan, be with him when the doctor had a prognosis.
The double doors suddenly flung open and a nurse came rushing out. "LaCosta family?" she asked with a quizzical, yet confirming look. Obviously, her patient was related to this good-looking bunch. Too much of a family resemblance.
Charo pressed forward. "Is my hijo okay?" She grasped the nurse's hand.
"Yes, ma'am," the young brunette replied. She patted Charo's hand and looked at the family, her eyes lingering a little longer on Dylan and Christian. "The doctor will be out in a minute," the nurse said. She was a striking girl with exotic dark looks and long curly hair pulled back off her face.
The pretty nurse returned her attention to Charo. She warmed her with a sympathetic grin. "Your son is expected to make a full recovery." She stifled a laugh when Charo made the sign of the cross several times. "The doctor will be out to answer all of your questions." The nurse touched Charo's arm before scurrying away.
Twenty minutes later, the doctor came out. He filled them in on the gory details, which didn't turn out to be too gruesome. He then let them visit with Nico, who would be admitted for overnight observation. Of course, Charo was theatrical, but in all fairness, Nico did have a broken arm, stitches over one eye and several bruised ribs. Christian volunteered to spend the night at the hospital, mostly so Charo would go home and give them all some peace and quiet.
Another hour of relentless chatter elapsed before Charo finally left. Shay watched Christian get comfy on the easy chair and pick up the clicker. Nico lay semi-reclined in the hospital bed, practically passed out on painkillers.
Shay gave Dylan a look. He pulled her over to his side and whispered, "You going home now?"
"Yeah." She pressed her hair back and adjusted her purse strap. "Are you?" They probably weren't needed at the hospital anymore. All those meds, Nico was out for the night. If anything changed, Christian would be by his side.
Dylan's eyes went from Shay to Nico, who now snored. Loudly. They both laughed at the goofy sounds escaping his comatose cousin. "I don't think there's much for us to do. At least not tonight."
"What about your work?" Screw work! Shay wanted him to come home with her. But she was empathetic. If he needed to go back to the jobsite, she would understand.
"Steve took care of business. He's been around long enough to handle things." He shot her a look that could only be interpreted one way.
After Nico's ordeal, last thing on her mind should've been sex. But it was. And right now, her desire for him was off-the-charts crazy. She locked eyes with her husband and said, "Want to follow me or should I follow you?" In a perfect scenario, they could have ridden together, but they had two cars.
"I'll follow you."
Her dark gaze narrowed on him. Every part of her felt alive, awake, utterly aware. She twined her fingers with his and leaned in close to his face. "Good," she said, and kissed his lips.
Chapter Eight
Coconut massage, you taste so good.
Nico's accident scared the shit out of Dylan. It also put things in perspective. Practically tailgating Shay, he thought about his wife, his life. Just like that, anything could change. Just like that, it could all be over.
What would happen to Shay if he dropped dead on the spot? Widowed at age twenty-nine, she'd have nothing but the memories. He realized his selfish ways. How dare he deprive her of children? What if they never got the chance? At least if she had his child, she'd never forget him. That sweet little face would be a constant reminder.
He needed to get real. Five years of marriage, a good marriage, it was time. He didn't want to be an old dad. No way. He planned to coach Little League. Boy or girl, he'd actively engage in whatever activity inspired his child. And maybe that was part of the problem. A growing business demanded a lot. Where did kids fit in? Like anything else, he'd make time for important things. He focused on that concept.
Children were important. Shay too. He absolutely wanted to have babies with her. Only she could be the mother of his children. He wanted his daughter to look just like her. Dylan imagined his little princess. Princess. Could he give her the life of a princess?
Shay had him pegged right. He cared too much about money. How had he gotten that way? He'd always been a motivated guy. But lately, he'd become obsessed. Nothing could happen until his company made it. What the hell was that? More importantly, how unfair to Shay.
Have a little faith, man. You made everything else in your life work. He tallied his achievements. He'd grown up with little money, but turned out pretty well. He'd put himself through college, and ensured Christian got an education too. He'd fallen in love with and married the perfect woman. Took the carpentry skills he'd inherited from his father and launched a contracting firm, brought Christian and Nico into the equation, not only to capitalize on their God-given talents. Their future and welfare mattered to him as much as his own.
He realized why he pushed so hard. Dominick Giordano. And his low opinions. To say it didn't bother him... It bothered him, all right. It bothered him a lot. Why couldn't Nick give him credit? He was his son-in-law, for Christ's sake. Couldn't Nick see how dedicated Dylan had always been to his daughter? It should've been enough to see Shay happy. For Nick, shit like that didn't register on his radar. But that was his problem, not Dylan's.
Forget about Nick. If he couldn't see Dylan's attributes, fuck him! Dylan would not feel inferior. He had no reason to. If his company failed, it failed. It wouldn
't be because he didn't pour his soul into it. It wouldn't be because he didn't give everything to succeed.
He would work it out. No matter what happened in the future, one thing was for sure. He'd come out on top. His wife and kids would... He smiled at the image. What a pretty picture, if he didn't say so himself.
His heart weighed a little heavy right now. He thought about Nico, lying in that hospital bed all banged up. Family. Friends. That's what really mattered. Money came in handy for some things, but relationships were vital to everything.
As soon as they got home, he cornered Shay against a wall. His broad body smothered her space. God, he'd never felt more emotional. His lips were right there, a hair away from hers. "Now what were you saying about a massage?" His finger toyed with her blouse buttons.
Her hands went to his shoulders. She rubbed them, slow and firm. Her lips separated and the tip of her tongue peeked out the side of her mouth. "I promised I'd give you one tonight."
His hand moved down her ribcage and cradled her waist. "I want to give you one." He brushed a feathery kiss across her angel lips.
Her half-hooded eyes watched him from under thick lashes. "The plan was for me to do you." She returned his kiss.
He took hold of her jaw and devoured her mouth. His dick saluted. The game had begun. "Change of plans," he said, exhaling a breath.
Shay had only one thing to do. Get naked. He would take care of the rest. Candles. Towels. Coconut oil. Wine. Alicia Keys CD. Still in his work clothes but shirtless, he methodically set up the kitchen while she freshened up. He wiped and buffed the cool tiles of the island countertop, got it massage-table ready. Testing the height, he found it perfect for a few other things, too.
Shay returned to the now dimly lit kitchen in a plush red towel tucked snuggly between her breasts. Her hair hung loose and her feet were bare. A sparkly bracelet adorned one ankle. "This is cozy," she said, taking in his handiwork. Their deluxe kitchen flickered with amber candlelight that danced off the stainless steel appliances. The mood felt serene, seductive. So did the music.