by Melinda Hale
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Andrea warned. “He’s not the type for a long term relationship. You saw what happened with Desiree.”
“I know. It’s not going to happen.”
“Don’t let him seduce you into anything. But if it was me, I wouldn’t resist!”
“You’re married…”
“I’m joking, Chel. What’s up?”
Chelsea’s thoughts immediately went to the kiss on the couch in front of the fire. She blushed deeply. That kiss had almost been as hot as the flames. And the way he touched her…
Chelsea smiled into the phone. “Thanks for the concern, but Dean won’t try anything with me.”
“I don’t want you ending up with another jerk like Ryan.”
She flinched. “Dean’s not like that.”
“Or so he wants you to think,” Andrea said. “Any guy can pretend. Remember Joseph? Anyway, aren’t you moving out soon?”
Joseph was one of Andrea’s exes.
Chelsea felt her heart sink. She couldn’t understand why the thought of moving out of Dean’s place made her hesitant – it was a temporary arrangement. But time had passed so quickly. She wanted to stay longer, to experience more of Spring Lake before she returned to Newark. And to be with Dean. What harm was there in enjoying his company?
It felt like they were only beginning to build up a friendship. Dean trusted her enough to tell her about his family, and she wanted to find a way to repay him for his generosity. Candy didn’t seem good enough.
“I’ve got one place organized, all I need to do is say yes and it’s ready.”
The day after the kiss, she used Dean’s computer to locate one of the houses and email an inquiry.
“Great! I’m happy that it’s working out for you,” Andrea enthused. A male voice in the background made her hesitate. “Ah, looks like Mr. Hot Husband wants me. Talk to you later.”
Chelsea said goodbye, then placed the phone back on the nightstand. It was silent, and she longed to be downstairs next to the fire with Dean. But Andrea’s words reminded her of reality. He was a millionaire, she worked at Walmart. They both lived completely separate lives that she didn’t see how they could combine.
Mentioning Desiree brought to the surface a harsh reality: Dean would never be able to offer her what she longed for. Sure, she could distract herself by having sex with him. He wouldn’t turn that offer down. Yet Chelsea couldn’t diminish her developing feelings for him.
She turned towards the bed, and her eyes widened.
Dean sat pensively on the leather couch, staring into the flickering flames as they fed on the wood. Chelsea had been on his mind, on his waking thoughts ever since they kissed that night. And there was one burning question, one that became even more apparent after their conversation earlier: was it possible he could find more with her?
He was intent on seducing her, on fucking her good, even though his initial goal had been to use her to improve his image. But her time with him was almost over, and Dean hadn’t considered it. Chelsea, with her inquisitive blue eyes that promised a night of pleasure, made him start to question himself.
Dean heard her coming downstairs and quickly straightened, looking in her direction. The moment she came into view, her eyes locked onto his. And she was breathtaking. With her dark blonde hair strung loosely in an elegant bun, she was dressed in the low cut strikingly red dress he’d left for her in her room.
Chelsea approached him, wringing her hands together with what he assumed was nervousness. She wore a slash of red lipstick, the first time he’d seen her wearing makeup. As Dean stared at her, he realized what she looked like. A millionaire. It was as if she’d blossomed, and found confidence.
“Thank you for this,” she began, gesturing at the dress. His eyes lowered briefly to her cleavage. “But I’m only borrowing it. I know it would’ve cost a few hundred…”
“A thousand actually,” he corrected her. He couldn’t keep his smile away. Chelsea looked sexy, and it was good to see her happy.
Her eyes widened, and she briefly frowned with disapproval. “I…appreciate it. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Dean smiled. “You look beautiful,” he said. That seemed like an understatement. “But I don’t want you to be cold.”
“It’s warm here near the fire,” she replied coyly. Then she bit her bottom lip, a frown creasing her face. “I know it’s my last night here, and I’m grateful to you for everything. I love Spring Lake. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“You can stay for as long as you want,” Dean insisted as Chelsea seated herself on the couch.
He could see the regret in her eyes. She wanted to stay, and he didn’t want to let her go.
“I know, and…” she hesitated. The orange glow from the fire flickered across her bare legs and Dean stared at them hungrily, knowing what lay beneath that dress, knowing that he wanted Chelsea with everything he had. Fighting to restrain himself was a great effort.
Four days with Chelsea wasn’t enough. The guilt he felt from kissing her and causing the brief distance between them hadn’t eased. Buying her the dress had been a brief comfort. Her eyes were glimmering, and he knew his gesture had struck a chord with her as it had with him.
“I’ve arranged something for you,” Dean announced. He met her gaze and allowed himself to smile. No doubt Chelsea would be pleased with his initiative. “I’ve extended your vacation for two weeks.”
Chelsea’s mouth dropped open. She stared at him as if he’d slapped her.
“Excuse me?”
Not the reaction he expected.
“I called your manager yesterday, and extended your vacation. It uses up the last of your annual leave, but -”
“How dare you!” Chelsea fumed. “If I wanted to stay any longer, I would organize it myself.”
Judging from the conversation he had with her manager, he doubted that.
“She needed a lot of persuading,” Dean admitted. “But once she knew who I was, she was happy to arrange it for you.”
He wouldn’t be able to forget that conversation easily. Chelsea’s manager insisted on a bare chested photo of himself. She’d heard about him on one of the many tabloid reports, and gushed about his body over the phone. Now I know what women love most about me.
It was a small price to pay to have Chelsea as his houseguest for a few more weeks. After all, he hadn’t gotten the media’s attention with her yet, and he needed time.
Chelsea glared at him, obviously torn between her feelings. He enjoyed the fire in her eyes, and the hesitant curve of her lips. She didn’t want to give in easily, and he wanted to encourage her. This was the Chelsea Levin hiding behind the pain from her broken marriage.
“I can withdraw it. You can move out tomorrow if that’s what you prefer.”
Now he had her. As angry as she was at him, Dean knew she didn’t want to move out.
Chelsea exhaled loudly, then her face softened. “Fine. Another two weeks it is. But I’ll move out whenever I want.”
He nodded. “Of course. I feel guilty for not taking you to a restaurant, or a walk along the beach. I haven’t been much of a host.”
Chelsea’s face blushed fiercely. “We aren’t dating. I don’t want to do that.”
Dean parted his clasped hands and shrugged. “Then what do you want, Chelsea Levin? You come down here, looking sexy…”
Her cheeks darkened. “Don’t get tempted.”
“How could a guy not be?” he mused. “I know you want to talk about that kiss, because I do too.”
Chelsea’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “I don’t. We’re keeping this professional.”
“Then as a professional question, why’d you let me kiss you?”
She bit her lip and lowered her head. Immediately he recognized that vulnerability she had when she first arrived. It took every effort not to take her into his arms. The brief embrace on the boardwalk had only fueled his desire for her, and his touch lingered for longer than he
wanted.
“You really think you can keep this professional for two weeks?” he prompted.
When Dean’s parents died, he’d been vulnerable. But the endless sympathy from others only deepened his grief. For Chelsea, he would keep her on edge, unaware of what he would say next. In some way, he wanted to help her move on from her marriage. The pain from a breakup seemed as deep as grief and he didn’t want it to take hold of her.
Chelsea had her life ahead of her out of the public eye, with no attachments. The least he could do was give her that push she needed to step forward, and let go of the past.
When she met his gaze, he noticed defiance in her eyes. “Of course. That’s what we agreed on.”
Her shoulders were rigid. Dean knew she was defensive, but didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. “You know it’s teasing me seeing you in that dress.”
“You bought it for me.”
Dean bought it to make her feel like a million dollars. He didn’t expect her to wear it tonight, and to look so breathtaking in it. But as her blue eyes met his, he noticed a glimmer of sadness.
“You can keep it,” he said softly. “It’s yours.”
She looked unsure. “I’ve never had something like this before. Thank you.”
“And I don’t expect anything in return.”
A small smile curved her lips. “I’ll surprise you. I could give it to my mother,” Chelsea joked, her brief laugh echoing around them. It sounded both delicate and sharp. “She always has to get expensive stuff. Like the latest IPad. I forgot what version it is now.”
That was how it was with Jake, with nothing to talk of but the memories. He wouldn’t admit to Chelsea, or himself, how much he missed his brother.
“Two, I think. The next one will be in a few years. Always is.”
Chelsea forced a smile. “They know how to play the marketing game.”
Her hands smoothed down the dress. Dean knew, as much as Chelsea tried to pretend otherwise, that she loved the dress and wanted to keep it. Her sarcastic front was part of her way of deflecting her feelings. Just as I do.
“It’s your gift. I don’t mind what you choose to do with it.”
A smirk curved her lips. “Maybe I’ll donate it to charity.”
“You sure about that?”
She winced. “In all seriousness, I am. Keeping it…”
“What?” he prompted gently.
Chelsea let out a heavy sigh. “It reminds me of this. Us. This life you have, and how easily you can just buy a thousand dollar dress and give it to me. Like it means nothing.”
He straightened himself and studied her. Her slim body sat upright on the couch, her lips slightly parted as she turned her gaze away from him. Something pulled at Dean, a compassionate emotion. Seeing her like that made him feel worse that he was intending to use her for his own benefit.
But she looked so damn sexy.
He felt himself getting hard. Dean stole glances at her, wondering what she would do if he made a move to kiss her again. They both wanted it, he’d felt her need as she lay beneath him, saw the gleam in her eyes. It was only a matter of which one of them would give into temptation first.
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Of course it means something.”
“It’s just…weird. For me. I mean, this is what you’d do for a girlfriend.”
“It’s only a gift. Don’t analyze it. We’re keeping it professional.”
She blushed. “I know, it’s just…Sorry. I can’t find the words to say how much I appreciate this. I didn’t expect anything. It means a lot to me.”
He allowed himself to smile, but it felt forced. Chelsea wasn’t the only woman he’d given extravagant gifts to. Still, Dean was surprised that she was flustered by it. The last woman he gave a gift to smiled and asked for a gold necklace.
“And I should thank you for extending my vacation. I know my manager wouldn’t do it if I asked.”
Her voice pulled at him. Dean knew he wasn’t doing it for her, but for himself. But he could never tell her that. Meeting Chelsea near the beach gave nearby media reporters the opportunity for photos, but he hadn’t recognized anyone. Another pointless effort.
He wanted the media issue out of the way, and off his mind. Seducing Chelsea would come after. He wanted her – and what Dean Westley wanted, he always ended up getting.
“It’s my pleasure.”
Chelsea smiled, but Dean noticed the slight cringe in her lips. She’s embarrassed by how she reacted before, he noticed.
“There’s been no pleasure,” she said lightly.
Surprised by her remark, he decided to push things further. He winked. “And about that kiss…”
“It was a heat of the moment thing,” Chelsea insisted, her smile fading.
Dean watched her, wondering if she believed those words herself. Then he relented himself to a nod. He didn’t want to push her. After all, they had more time to spend together. She’s still moving on from her marriage. It’s not time to get in the way of that.
Before the end of the two weeks were up, he would have her.
“It was,” he agreed. “I’ll get dinner ready.”
Dean went to the kitchen and prepared the meal. Home cooked burger and fries, from the most expensive ingredients he could find. With the money he had he wanted quality, and to impress Chelsea.
As Dean took the plates out to the living room, he caught sight of the astounded expression on her face.
“Wow, you’re quite the chef.”
He shrugged modestly and watched as she shoved a handful of fries in her mouth. When Chelsea ate, she didn’t eat delicately, he noticed. Dean stopped himself from smiling. How could a small habit of hers affect him? She was a houseguest, they were friends. It wasn’t like he’d fallen for her.
“I’m full of surprises,” Dean said wryly. He seated himself opposite her.
Her eyes glittered as she looked at him from across the room. “I know you are. Can I ask you something?”
“Lay it on me.”
In the light of the fire, he saw her blush. Then she cleared her throat before asking, “I know it’s a personal thing to ask, but how did you earn the money to live like this?”
“Since we’ll be spending more time together, I can answer,” he relented. Chelsea glared at him for a moment, no doubt remembering how he called her manager. “It was an inheritance from my parents. They co-founded a law firm, Westley & Greene, in New York.”
“Oh!” Chelsea breathed, her face softening.
Seeing the recognition in her eyes, he continued. “It’s not something I tell anyone, or the media. Luckily they haven’t been able to trace my wealth to the firm. It shut down after my parents died, and with me being out here in Jersey, they haven’t made that connection.”
“Why’d you tell me?”
He paused, knowing he had to choose his words carefully. “I can trust you.”
Chelsea nodded, her face expressionless. “And I trust you.”
Dean almost flinched. He couldn’t tell her the truth. From the look in her eyes, she trusted him without question. And he knew then that he couldn’t tell her about the media, or his past. It was best that she believed him to be a playboy millionaire.
“Aren’t you hungry tonight?” she asked, nodding at his half eaten meal.
“Not for food,” he replied, flashing her a naughty smile. Immediately he wanted to retract that. His flirty comments were out of habit, and knowing that Chelsea wasn’t ready to sleep with him only encouraged it. Always a sucker for the women I can’t have.
Self-control? He didn’t have much of that.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You think I’m going to fall into your arms and want to kiss you?”
He flashed her a playful smile. “Is that what I want?”
“It’s obvious. You showed me the other night.”
Dean stood up and walked towards her, observing her body perched at the edge of the couch, the red dress clinging to her skin colored by
the glow of the fire. He had to stop himself from pulling Chelsea into his arms and tasting her lips. She leveled her gaze at him, obviously intending on seeing what he would do.
Standing less than a foot from her, he could feel himself reacting. As his body started hardening, Dean quickly turned away from her.
“I’ll take you for a walk along the beach tomorrow,” he decided.
“It’ll be cold,” she retorted.
Dean leaned towards her, noticing her breathing quickening. He had to restrain himself from kissing her again as he took the empty plate from the table and stepped away from her. The hardness against his pants lessened, but his need for Chelsea raged throughout his body. He swallowed heavily, inwardly cursing himself for not taking her, for giving the both of them what they desired.
“With me you won’t be,” he shot back, before entering the kitchen.
“You’re so sure of yourself aren’t you?”
Dean smiled, hearing the playful tone in her voice. She enjoyed their banter as much as he did. He put the plates on the counter and turned back to face her, leaning against the doorjamb.
“Always,” he replied with a smirk.
Chelsea stood, her body illuminated by the glow of the fire. She tentatively walked up to him and folded her arms. In her eyes, he could see the defiance in them but as angry as she tried to look, her lips curled with a subtle smile. He knew she liked the way he teased her.
“You think you can have whatever you want,” she snapped. Dean watched her with amusement. He enjoyed seeing her get all fired up over him. “You got my manager to extend my vacation, not because you want to help me, but for sex. Typical millionaire arrogance.”
Drawn to the brilliance of her eyes, the gentle curve of her lips, he reached out with his hand and cupped it around her cheek, unable to stop himself.
“I’m arrogant for a reason.”
“Why?” she asked softly. “You want to push people away?”
“I don’t trust easily.”
“That’s not much of a life.”
As his eyes scanned her face, her features immediately softened. He recognized the hesitant need within them. Dean traced a thumb down her cheek, feeling her soft skin, longing to taste her lips again.