by Melinda Hale
“We should head back,” she decided. “Looks like it’ll rain. But thank you for taking me out here.”
Dean nodded, and whatever he was feeling, she couldn’t read it on his face. Not that she wanted to know, she realized, her heart sinking as reality came back to her. Playboy millionaire, she reminded herself. That was his life, one she wouldn’t be a part of for long.
“My pleasure,” he said.
On their way back to the car, Chelsea noticed Dean was keeping his distance from her. Her stomach was in knots and knowing that he was avoiding her only made her feel worse. But resisting him was for the best – falling for an arrogant, notorious millionaire wasn’t her intention, even though she cared for him.
To harden her resolve against him, Chelsea turned her thoughts to Desiree, the actress Dean slept with but turned away when she left her husband for him. Her reminder of what he was capable of. No doubt he’d hurt many women, seducing them with his looks and charm. She would just be another.
Chelsea swallowed in an attempt to ease the lump in her throat. Dean was indecisive and messing with her feelings for a reason – he didn’t want to get involved with her.
She continued to glance at him, torn between her feelings. How could she allow herself to feel for him? Despite wearing that dress, Dean was the one with the power over her, and he knew it. He offered her his house, and he could turn her away at any time.
As she seated herself in the car, her gaze lowered to the bulge in his pants. I have some power over him, she noticed. Perhaps it was more than she realized. Chelsea quickly looked away. His blatant sign of arousal stirred even more feelings to the surface.
Dean drove back in silence. Chelsea followed him into the house, taking a moment to relax as her gaze went upstairs to her temporary room. Dean glanced over at her and grinned widely, his hair windswept.
“I’ll need to take a cold shower, if you don’t mind.”
He was hinting at the kiss on the beach. Chelsea stared blankly, shocked by his insincerity. How dare he make a dismissive comment about that? But when her eyes locked onto his, her anger faded. His smile was forced, and his green eyes seemed to plead at her to let it go.
Dean was hurting.
She lowered her gaze and held back a snappy remark. Dean’s words stung, but this was his way of letting it go. It had to be.
Chelsea forced a smile, grateful to hear the playful tone in his voice. “Go ahead. I need to use your computer.”
His grin faded. “You know where it is.”
Confused by his reaction, Chelsea went upstairs, the sound of her footsteps soft as she walked down the hall into Dean’s room, her feet sinking into the carpet. Maybe he expected her to come up with a clever retort. She wasn’t in the mood to play around, not after that kiss. His words still shocked her, but she reminded herself that he hadn’t been in a situation like this before. He usually fucked a woman, and moved on.
And it was something she hadn’t experienced. Before Ryan she had two long term relationships, no one night stands or dirty sex. It served as a reminder to how different Dean’s life was from hers. If there was any hope of a relationship, she couldn’t see it working with the media’s attention.
Dean’s room was spacious, with a computer on a desk in the far right corner. The bed was king sized with a white duvet, the carpet a simple beige color with deep red walls. Yet in all its simplicity, it was still extravagant.
Chelsea seated herself at the desk, thoughts swirling through her mind furiously. She pushed the power button on the computer, waiting for it to turn on. Then she shot a look towards the hall, expecting Dean to be there.
She drew in a breath. The first kiss with Dean had been one moment, one time. But the passionate kiss on the beach meant more than that. Whenever she looked at him she felt a rush of feelings, feelings she couldn’t make sense of. How could Dean Westley make her so flustered, horny, and fearful all at once?
Whether it was from the unresolved feelings from her marriage to Ryan or intense lust for Dean, she didn’t know. Opening her heart to him was too much of a risk – for Dean it was easy to turn her away, as it had been with Desiree.
Chelsea pointed out he only wanted sex from her. But even speaking aloud the cold, hard truth didn’t invalidate her feelings. She cared about Dean – as a friend, yet it was becoming complicated far too quickly.
The computer loaded quickly, a welcome change to the older model she’d left behind. Chelsea clicked on the place she bookmarked earlier. A simple one bedroom house – not as homely as her last one, but it was sufficient. She maneuvered to her email and opened the reply to her inquiry. All she needed to do was agree, and then it would be time to move in.
Chelsea exhaled loudly, her brows creasing heavily as she considered her options. If she stayed with Dean, her feelings would deepen. Then she would end up hurt when the time came for him to push her aside and move on to another woman. He doesn’t care for me that much, she told herself. It’s just a game to him.
Dean’s playful comments were proof of that.
Pushing away the feeling she could be wrong, Chelsea began typing her reply. She chose the date she would move in next week. Andrea could loan her some money to pay a month of rent. To make up for the daily living costs, she would take up more hours at Walmart.
The thought made her flinch. It wasn’t what she longed for, but there was nothing else. Before Chelsea could stop herself, her thoughts went to Dean. She heard the shower turn on downstairs, cascading water down his firm, defined body.
She repressed her smile, feeling herself blush deeply. Fantasizing about him was harmless, but part of her wanted it to be more than that.
Dean’s eyes would be on her as she peeled off her clothes, stepping into the heat of the shower with him. Steam would brush against her skin as he pulled her against him, and she could finally feel that broad, firm chest, naked and wet. His skin would glisten in the light, his lips wet as they shared a passionate kiss as he pressed her up against the shower wall.
The phone started ringing, jolting her out of her thoughts. She felt flustered, her cheeks burning. Chelsea hesitated and glanced at the handset perched at the end of the desk.
“Let it go to voicemail!” Dean called out.
Chelsea swallowed awkwardly, her mind still on the fantasy of joining him in the shower. She quickly pushed it aside and waited, letting the phone ring loudly as she tried to continue with her email.
When it stopped, there was a beep and a woman’s voice spoke from the other end.
“Hi, Dean. I hope you haven’t forgotten me. Jenny? Your wife?”
Seven
Chelsea’s mouth dropped open and the pain that shot through her froze her against the seat. The woman continued talking, but it sounded like a distant echo to her. Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried to focus on what she was saying.
“I tried emailing you, and I called you last week but you didn’t call back. I need some money for our son. Thomas will be four tomorrow.”
Son?
Chelsea stared at the phone in disbelief. Who was Dean? Her lip curled in disgust. Supposedly he was a single playboy millionaire and now a married man with a son. Unbelievable!
Her shock quickly turned into anger. This can’t be happening. He’d deceived her, no wonder he played around with her feelings. He was married. She couldn’t recall seeing a wedding ring – that was how little it meant to Dean.
How little she meant to him, to hide away the truth.
Chelsea sent the email with one, heavy click of the mouse and ran downstairs. Her stomach felt heavy, and a deep pain stabbed through her chest. She wanted to get out of this house, to breathe fresh air. She wanted to be away from Dean.
She heard the shower turn off and by the time she made it downstairs to the front door, Dean stumbled over to her, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. Water dripped from his hair onto his shoulders, his lips parted as he stared at her in confusion.
“Why make all
that noise?” he demanded, raising a hand towards the stairs in exasperation.
Chelsea swallowed, burning desire claiming her body as she looked upon his wet chest, his skin gleaming in the light the way it had in her fantasy. Remembering the phone call, she glared at him.
“I started to trust you!” she snapped. “So you have a wife and a son? Why would you hide something like that? I don’t know who you are.”
Dean gaped at her. “Jenny called…”
“Oh yes she did,” Chelsea affirmed, pulling open the front door. The cold air stung her skin, and she welcomed it but it did nothing to cool her rising anger.
“Wait, Chelsea, it’s not what you think!”
“I need some time alone!” she told him, closing the door behind her.
She buried her hands into the pockets of her coat, strolling along the sidewalk as another gust of cold air hit her. Chelsea blinked back tears, feeling confused by Dean’s words. He told me he never had a long term relationship. Or had the marriage been so brief he didn’t consider it as one?
Anger took hold of her again. How could Dean be so deceitful? Spending time with her and stealing kisses, while hiding the fact that he’s married. And a father. Pain cut through her when she realized he had the life she once longed for. Money. A family.
She’d been foolish to grasp onto the hope she could be with Dean. Chelsea shook her head. That was why she closed her heart off to any man after Ryan. Now she’d harbored burgeoning feelings for Dean only to be hurt again.
He could never be hers, and everything they did was a mistake.
After walking two blocks into the shopping center of Spring Lake, Chelsea hesitated as she reached into her jeans pocket. Relief passed through her when she felt her credit card. It was an old habit of hers to carry her credit card in her pocket instead of taking a purse. She’d been meaning to change that. Recalling the conversation with Dean about change, a stab of pain went through her.
Spending a few dollars on a coffee would help with her mood, even if it wouldn’t taste the same as Starbucks. A deep pain settled into the pit of her stomach as she recalled the look of shock on Dean’s face. He didn’t want me to find out.
Chelsea tried to push the burning pain from his deceit out of her mind. Tears were stinging her eyes. She entered the cozy surroundings of Spring Lake Coffee House, breathing in the smell of coffee and baked goods. After ordering espresso and paying with the IPad system, she took a seat at one of the red couches facing the window. To the right was a bookshelf, and she stared idly at the various titles until her coffee was brought to her by a young, brown haired man.
“Haven’t seen you around here before,” he said kindly.
Chelsea took the cup from his hands and gave him a gentle smile. It was good to hear a comforting voice. Spring Lake was a small town, no doubt he knew all the locals. Most likely he would’ve heard of Dean. Perhaps he comes here with his wife, she thought bitterly.
“I’m from Newark, will be staying here for…a few days,” Chelsea replied. Her smile faded when Dean came back into her mind. He was all she could think about and her resulting feelings were a painful mix of desire and sadness. She couldn’t stay with him any longer.
“You look troubled,” he noted. “Something on your mind?”
She glanced at him and as if worried she were offended by his question, he raised a hand defensively. “Oh, I think I recognize you. Yeah, you were with Dean Westley out on the beach. A guy like him is easily noticed around here. I’m Raymond, by the way.”
“Chelsea. I’m not with him,” she said tersely, and then hastily added, “Dean just offered me his place to stay while I get back on my feet. I’ll be moving back to Newark soon.”
The man studied her face for a moment, a frown creasing his brows. “He’ll be disappointed.”
Chelsea stared at him in surprise. How on Earth did he come to that conclusion?
“I think it would be far from that.”
Raymond’s lips formed a thin line. His brown eyes had been fixated on her, but now he turned his attention out the window. “Before he became the famous millionaire that he is, Dean used to work here. He was a good man. Decent, same as his brother. I didn’t know their parents very well, sadly. I just think all this playboy crap is a façade. Something the media’s come up with.”
Chelsea almost choked on her espresso. Raymond blindly believed Dean had done no wrong. She felt sorry for him. Appearances could be deceiving, as she now knew. “I think you’re wrong about him.”
Raymond shrugged, obviously dejected talking about Dean, and left her alone on the couch. Chelsea stared after him, taking delicate sips of espresso. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but with all of the feelings raging through her, she didn’t know how to cope. Suddenly she wished she had taken her cell phone to call Andrea. A good conversation with her would help.
Remembering their last talk, she flinched. Andrea warned her about him, and still she’d allowed herself to get involved with Dean. Even though they hadn’t slept together, her intense attraction to him made her feel bare, as if every part of her was open to him. To find something like that was rare.
But it hadn’t been real. Dean was only using her for his benefit.
Now it had led to this.
Chelsea stared out the window onto the street, recalling when she had walked along the beach with Dean, and the passionate kiss they shared. Our last kiss. The guilt from that was overshadowed by the pain from his betrayal. Soon Dean would be out of her life, but she couldn’t bring herself to accept what had happened. The look in his eyes promised so much; it truly felt as though he cared for her too.
Perhaps she was overreacting. After all, they’d known each other for less than three weeks. But with the chemistry they had, living together in that house, her feelings developed faster than she could’ve anticipated.
It also gave Dean an excuse to avoid his marriage, and his son. The words she heard Jenny say were hard to accept. Only Dean could tell her the truth.
Chelsea finished off her espresso and sensing movement beside her, she glanced over to see Raymond. The man leaned against the couch as he observed the quiet shop.
“Not many customers today,” he commented idly. Chelsea gave him a sympathetic smile, and he returned it.
“You should give him a chance,” Raymond suggested. “All these women Dean is with, he never took them out to the beach where people can see him. He’s secretive like that. But doing that with you, it shows he cares for you more than you know.”
Chelsea tasted more of her espresso. It had a different taste than Starbucks coffee, but one that she could get used to.
“No he wouldn’t,” she told him, her voice bitter. “Because he has a wife.”
Now it all made sense. That was why Dean was so concerned with the media and what they thought of him. He wants to keep up a good image for his family.
Deep pain contorted Raymond’s face, and she stared at him, startled by his reaction. Now she knew why he was taking an interest in her – he knew something about Dean.
“That was my idea,” he admitted. “Dean wanted the media off his back; I suggested he hire someone to act as his wife for a short time. After that, he stopped talking to me. Never heard from him again.”
Chelsea shook her head, her eyes wide with surprise. She quickly took a sip of espresso to calm herself. “Why would you do that?”
“He doesn’t deserve all the attention from the media. I don’t think you realize how relentless and brutal they are. Stalking you, hacking into phones. He was still moving on from the death of his parents. And the idea did work, for a time. Until he had that scandal with an actress.”
Chelsea nodded slowly, letting Raymond’s words sink in. So Dean had been telling the truth, it wasn’t how it seemed. Was the son fake as well? Realizing that her mouth was open from the revelation, she closed it. Then she lowered her gaze as the memory of Dean’s face returned to her.
Going along with what someone e
lse said, she hadn’t stopped to listen to him. He has to put up with this all the time, Chelsea realized. Dean had to go through such lengths to keep the media out of his life. Knowing how obsessed society was with celebrities and wealthy men, she could understand it. But she hadn’t considered how much it affected him.
Chelsea closed her eyes and sighed deeply. All of the feelings she kept buried came rushing back at her. She needed to hear the truth from Dean. She had to see him again.
“Sorry you had to hear it from me,” Raymond added, leaving her alone to her thoughts.
When she finished her espresso, Chelsea left and walked back to Dean’s place. Her mind was racing, her heart clenching against her chest. All she could see was the pained expression on Dean’s face when she left. It hurt her more than she realized, but she couldn’t understand why. They weren’t in a relationship, she had no need to be jealous of his staged wife. And there was still the possibility he had a son.
As soon as the house came into view, she saw him leaning against a seat on the patio. Dean’s eyes lit up when he noticed her, but his expression was grim. Feeling embarrassed for the way she reacted, Chelsea walked over to him, listening to the heavy thump of her boots against wood as she cleared the three steps onto the patio.
She met his gaze and swallowed uncomfortably.
“I should’ve listened to you.”
“No, you were right to react in that way,” Dean admitted. “It was my fault for not being honest with you. Jenny’s not my wife.”
“I know, thanks to Raymond. And I understand why you didn’t tell me. Sometimes there are things which deserve to stay buried in the past, but this wasn’t one of them.”
Dean quirked an eyebrow. “You talked to Raymond?”
“Yeah. Funny coincidence, huh? That I happened to talk to him. At least he told me the truth.”
He winced. “I couldn’t tell you, not so soon. And you believe in coincidences?”
Chelsea shrugged. “I do.”