***
Dylan rubbed the back of his neck. The clock on his desk read ten, which meant he’d spent the last four hours hunched over his computer working. He was in the middle of acquiring another hotel chain, one that operated primarily along the East Coast. Acquisitions always meant additional hours. This time, it wasn’t business alone that kept him working eighteen-plus-hour days.
Working kept his mind busy, kept it focused on something other than Callie. Every time he thought about her, he pictured her that night in her kitchen. She’d been so devastated. Powering off the computer, he decided it was time to call it a day before the outline of his chair was permanently etched in his ass and the pounding in his head got any worse. Thanks to a combination of long hours, stress, and little sleep, he’d had a headache all week. Not quite a migraine, but damn close.
The cell phone in his pocket rang just as he closed his office door behind him. Jake’s number was on the screen.
Jake didn’t bother with a hello when Dylan answered. “Just got to your place. Where are you? Tell me you’re not still at the office.”
Great, he was getting a lecture from his baby brother. “Just leaving, and you could’ve called first.”
“Tried. Your assistant said you were in a meeting.”
He’d been in and out of meetings most of the day. “Ever heard of something called a message? People leave them all the time.”
“Nope. Are you coming straight here?”
Like I have the energy or the desire to go anywhere else tonight. “That’s the plan. Why don’t you make yourself useful and order some pizza or something.” He’d eaten lunch hours ago and had not eaten since. A pizza loaded with everything and a beer sounded perfect to him.
The streets in the city were never empty, but at least tonight traffic wasn’t too heavy. It didn’t take him long to reach his penthouse. Dylan pulled his Aston Martin into his spot and noticed his brother’s Lamborghini parked a few spaces down. Pushing open the car door, he wondered what Jake wanted. While it wasn’t unusual for him to just show up and stay a night or two, he never called looking for him if he wasn’t home. He had a key to the place, so he could come and go as he pleased. Obviously, tonight’s visit was more than just a random event. Jake wanted or needed something. For the life of him, Dylan didn’t know what that could be. His younger half-brother wasn’t the type to ask for anything. He dealt with things himself. He always had, even as a kid.
The rich aroma of pizza greeted Dylan when he walked in.
“Sorry. Just couldn’t wait for you,” Jake said, nodding toward an open pizza box and bottle of Sam Adams.
Tossing his suit jacket and tie over the back of a chair, he walked into the kitchen. “Didn’t think you would,” he replied, opening the refrigerator and getting a beer for himself.
Dylan took a long swig of the beer before saying anything else. “What brings you here?”
Jake finished chewing and reached for another slice of topping-heavy pizza. “Have you seen this?”
He picked up the magazine Jake tossed his way. “Since when do you read this trash?”
“I don’t,” Jake said defensively. “Sara gave it to me.”
Dylan glanced down at the cover, which featured a photo of Callie the night of the fundraiser. She looked absolutely gorgeous. “You came all the way here to give me this?” He reached for a slice of pizza, wondering what Jake was up to. Tabloid headlines never bothered the guy, or if they did, he never let on.
“I met her this weekend. She’s staying in Newport for a little while,” Jake explained between mouthfuls of pizza.
Dylan’s hand stopped on its way to his mouth. “So? What does that have to do with me? Tell me you didn’t come here to tell me that.”
Jake dropped his pizza, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned forward. “She’s not Francesca, Dylan.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Why would you think I’d compare those two? I barely know Callie Taylor.” He knew every word coming out of his mouth was a lie. He knew her in the most intimate way possible. Dylan bit into the pizza, which smelled heavenly, but tasted like saw dust.
Jake opened the magazine that Dylan discarded and pushed it back toward him. “I’d say you know her fairly well.”
Damn it. Pictures of them together gazed back up at him. Who else had seen these? Maybe a better question was, who hadn’t?
“It doesn’t take a genius to see she cares about you. She nearly broke out in tears whenever I mentioned your name.” Jake paused for a moment as if to let his words sink in. “And I’d bet my new car you feel the same way, bro.”
“When did you become Dr. Phil?” Dylan asked sarcastically. Although his brother was right about his feelings, he didn’t have to like it, and he certainly didn’t want to be getting relationship advice from his kid brother.
Finishing off his beer, Jake went to get another. “I don’t know what you did, but you should try to fix it.”
“She didn’t tell you?” He’d been wondering if she’d told Warren. Dylan didn’t know how his stepfather would react to the fact he’d gone along with Phillips’ plan, and Warren’s opinion mattered to him.
“Nope. Don’t think she even muttered your name. I brought you up, not her.”
Dylan pushed his pizza away. “Mum and Marty were worried that Callie would go to the media before Warren did. They thought if she did it would hurt Warren’s campaign.” He blew out a deep breath. “Marty asked me to spend time with Callie. To keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t say anything to anyone before Warren made his announcement.”
“And you went along with that?”
“If I didn’t, Marty planned to hire someone to do it.” Dylan looked away from his brother’s eyes.
“He’d do it too.”
“That was my conclusion as well, so I agreed. I didn’t plan for things to progress as far as they did, and then after a while, I more or less forgot about what Phillips wanted altogether.”
“What went wrong?”
“Callie overheard me talking to Phillips at the fundraiser and learned the truth. When she asked me about it, I couldn’t lie to her.” Dylan took another swig from his beer, still unable to look his brother in the eye.
“I tried to explain everything, but she wouldn’t accept anything I said and told me to get out. We haven’t spoken since that night.”
Jake whistled low. “Ouch. I can see why she’s pissed at you.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Dylan laughed bitterly. The pizza he’d eaten now felt like a lead weight in his stomach.
“You should still try to undo this mess with her.” Jake fell silent for a moment, looking much more serious than Dylan had ever seen him. “I know you, Dylan. You never would’ve let things go as far they did if you didn’t care about her.”
Dylan opened his mouth to protest. His brother didn’t give him a chance. “She’s about as different from Francesca as they come, so stop using her as an excuse. Yeah, Francesca was a bitch, but she was only one woman. You can’t judge them all using her as the standard.”
Dylan stared at the younger man. When had his baby brother become so insightful?
Standing, Jake gathered up his plate and empty beer bottles. “I’m going to watch a movie. Something with a lot of violence. All this Dr. Phil shit is getting to me,” he said. “But seriously, think about what I said. Not all women are like Francesca. Definitely not Callie. You’ll regret it if you don’t at least try to fix this.” Jake got rid of his trash and disappeared down the hall, leaving Dylan alone at the table.
In the other room, he could hear the opening music to a movie, but he had no desire to join his brother. Looking down at the open magazine, the pictures brought memories flooding back. He rubbed at the dull ache in his chest. Most of the photos had been taken without their knowledge, which wasn’t unusual to him. Thanks to who his family was, the paparazzi often took photos without his permission. It wasn’t something Callie was used
to. He wondered how she was coping with it. Maybe staying at Cliff House was her way of avoiding the spotlight and chaos Warren’s announcement had caused.
Dylan’s eyes focused again on the picture taken at the Red Sox game. The night they’d first made love. From beginning to end, it had been a perfect evening. The best date he’d ever been on, and they’d only gone to a baseball game. He’d felt content and liked for who he was as a man, rather than liked for what he was. Callie always made him feel that way.
And he’d gone and blown things with her. Jake was spot on. He did care about Callie.
Admit it, Talbot. You more than just care. You love her.
Though he’d suspected it, he’d been denying it to himself for a while. After what happened with Francesca, could anyone blame him? If he opened his heart again, he ran the risk of having it stomped on. Ran the risk of being betrayed again. You never really knew who you could trust.
Jake was right though. He needed to fix things, or at least try. Callie may never forgive him, but if he didn’t do something, he would never forgive himself and he’d always wonder what if.
There was only one problem—he had no idea how. Expensive gifts like jewelry would work on most of the women he knew, but they wouldn’t help his cause with Callie. She wasn’t like most women. It would need to be something with heart.
“Hey, Jake, do you know how long Callie is going to be at Cliff House?” Dylan stopped at the door to the media room, a partial idea forming in his mind.
The younger man threw him an ‘I told you so’ smile and shook his head. “Mom said they were staying just the weekend. I don’t know about Callie though. I can find out for you.”
“Do that,” Dylan replied before heading to his own bedroom.
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