by Melinda Hale
Chelsea was silent for a moment. She could understand his pain, the need to be something. Even though she resigned herself to working at Walmart and achieving nothing else, her desire to work on websites returned. “Then why the studying?”
Dean rolled his shoulders back and his chest rose and fell with a gentle sigh. Pain etched his face. “I don’t want to look back on my life and realize I based my existence on my inheritance. It disgraces myself. My family. But it’s all people see me as. A millionaire, a playboy. I deserved that reputation, but I don’t want it.”
Chelsea stared at him, noticing the deep furrow of his brows, the intense look in his eyes. It was tempting to reach out and touch him, but she held back.
“You told me you just went with whatever came along?”
“For relationships, yes. But this…” He gestured around the house. “I may be able to have any woman I want, but that doesn’t mean I’m not lonely. So I study. Not just medical stuff, but general knowledge. My way of making up all those years I wasted. My pathetic attempt to show I’m not a failure.”
“You aren’t!” Chelsea insisted, surprising herself. Dean glanced at her, his green eyes wide. She bit her lip, recalling the passion he had shown her in his bed. The need to please her and keep her satisfied. No one could compare to him, or make her forget that memorable night. Yet that all came from his experience. Everything he’d done made him the man he now was.
“You’re a good man, Dean Westley,” she admitted softly, recalling his words to her. “No one’s perfect, but you are to me.”
Chelsea didn’t understand how or why she’d come to that conclusion. All that she’d experienced with him, the way he made her feel, the look in his eyes as his gaze went to her. He was perfect.
Dean leaned forward until there was no distance between them. Lost in his eyes, she waited. Chelsea felt the heat of his breath caressing her skin and her lips parted. She waited for the inevitable kiss. Have I finally made him realize how he feels?
“You want to be with me?”
His voice teased, and her body responded. Chelsea swallowed, the words lost on her tongue as she tried to gather her thoughts.
“Yes, of course,” she whispered.
Dean leaned forward to kiss her. Not out of lust, but genuine emotion. Fear pierced through her need for him, and Chelsea pulled away.
“It’s obvious how I feel for you.”
Silently, she wished she hadn’t interrupted their near kiss. But she had to make it clear. Now she’d made the ultimate mistake of announcing her feelings clear as day. Clear enough for Dean to reject. Chelsea bit her lip, inwardly cursing at herself.
“I know I haven’t said anything definitive, but I do care for you.”
Dean’s assuring smile captivated her and she was drawn to the curve of his lips, longing to kiss him. But that stubborn part of her was resisting. Chelsea couldn’t get involved without the assurance, the security of a relationship. He cares about me. Wasn’t that enough? It held the promise that he wouldn’t think of hurting her now that he respected her feelings.
Her indecisiveness creased her face. Out of all of her thoughts, she knew what she wanted. Before she left, she wanted to feel the pleasure between them one last time.
“Come to bed with me tonight.”
Dean tilted his head back from her, his brow furrowing. “You want to keep it professional between us, remember?”
“I do. That’s what I said. But it’s not how I feel. I want to sleep next to you just for tonight,” she said, then added hastily, “Before I leave.”
Dean swallowed heavily. Just the thought, the memory, of having her warm, soft body next to his was enough to send a spark of arousal through him. The way Chelsea spoke made it seem like an innocent proposal. The comfort of being close to one another without crossing the line and becoming deeply intimate. A woman who knows what she wants, he thought with a smile.
Her hopeful eyes were fixated on his and he felt a guilty twinge in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to hurt Chelsea, and he sure as hell didn’t want to turn away a night of being with her in bed. But he was on a fine line now that feelings were involved. Dean knew any words he said had the potential to hurt her. In a heartbeat he would give her a relationship, and everything she desired. But Dean knew it wasn’t that easy, something which Chelsea was oblivious of.
It was straightforward for her to ignore any obstacles, hoping they could be together. No woman could let go of a dream, a desire. He was hers. He could see it.
Dean cleared his throat. “Before we do, I want to take you out for dinner.”
Chelsea’s lips parted in surprise, and she blinked. “Oh! I’m not hungry. I haven’t had much of an appetite.”
Something he’d noticed. It was the little things about Chelsea Levin which got to him.
“You can have as much or as little as you like,” he said. “Then, we can rest in each other’s arms tonight. With clothes on.”
She swallowed. “I meant sex, not literally sleeping together.”
“I know what you meant.”
“Are you…you sure you don’t mind?”
Dean gritted his teeth. Hell, he definitely minded. He preferred to have her naked next to him, to fuck her. But he’d already gone one step too far by sleeping with Chelsea. Tonight he would be content with the burning frustration of feeling her warmth against him, unable to have sex. If she finds out about me…our relationship will end. I can’t do it.
“I don’t mind,” he murmured, reaching out to cup her chin with his hand. Damn it, he couldn’t resist her. The softness of her skin brought back the memory of her body against his amongst the bed sheets. Lying there, with nothing else but each other.
“I enjoy being with you, Chelsea.”
A smile flickered across her face. It was all they needed from each other, all that he could give her. The comfort, the intimacy. But it wasn’t just sex he had found with this woman. Dean knew there was more. A whole possibility that lay before him.
But he couldn’t take it.
Nine
“You should change into something warmer,” Dean told her. “Take my coat.”
He stood, leaning over to grasp the beige coat draped over the side of the couch. Chelsea stepped close to him, the sudden movement of her lithe body causing him to freeze. She briefly met his eyes as she pulled the coat across herself.
Dean tried to be a gentleman and turn away, but his gaze flicked back to the movement of her fingers as she did up the buttons. He swallowed heavily, knowing that having Chelsea close would drive him to think of everything he could do to her.
The burning need for her physically hurt, like a strain in his body, his very soul. But he had to ignore it. They were moving on. It was all too easy to fall into a relationship but at the end, it’s too hard to let go.
He turned away, realizing that he was staring at her. Chelsea snapped her head up to look at him, hesitancy glimmering in her eyes. In the brief moment when their gaze met, Dean knew she wanted to speak, to mention that one possibility between them.
Dean walked over to the mantelpiece. Amongst the ornate decorations lining it, he grabbed his wallet, pausing to look. Candles, a carved wooden ornament of a cat he’d made himself. Each one harbored memories of his childhood, and the parents he lost so suddenly.
Chelsea walked up beside him, and he glanced at her. She looked demure in his coat loosely clinging to her body. But her expression was hard as she studied the mantelpiece.
“I like what you’ve done here,” she remarked, her voice quiet.
Dean saw the flush of arousal on her face. He quickly cleared his throat. “I left it the way my mom had it.”
“Oh!” Chelsea’s eyes widened. “Sorry, I just…”
“Assumed,” he murmured. “It’s fine. Are you ready to go? Is your knee okay?”
Chelsea flashed him a smile. “I’m good. Thank you for doing this, for taking me out to a restaurant after everything that’s happene
d.”
Dean turned away from her and allowed the pain to crease his face. He desperately wanted this to be for her. This was all he needed to change his ways in the media, and he had to keep his motive anonymous. Or Chelsea would end up as Jenny did.
But she isn’t like her.
Dean flinched. Now wasn’t the time for doubts.
He took hold of Chelsea’s arm politely, putting himself at a distance from her so he wouldn’t feel her body. He led her outside into the cool air, the sky darkening above them. A full moon tonight, Dean noted wistfully. Beside him, he felt Chelsea sigh a little. Restraint made his body rigid as he struggled not to kiss her, or stroke her arm. Damn it, I have to resist her.
His desire threatened to make him hard. All that could ease it was having Chelsea again. But he wasn’t the man he used to be – he wouldn’t give into his base instincts, not while Chelsea was vulnerable. You already have, he reminded himself.
Dean quickly turned his attention to the garage. The two of them walked side by side under the moonlight as he kept his eyes focused ahead. Each step weighed on his resolve, the temptation to touch her becoming hard to resist. When Chelsea released herself from him, he felt a rush of relief.
He opened the door and slid into the car. Every inch of it was luxurious, and the cost had been a small chunk off the inheritance. My parents’ remains, he reminded himself. The thought sobered him. That was how he had to look at it, to avoid wasting it on all the crap he had done over the years.
Dean playfully started revving the engine, captivated by the deep, satisfying rumble. Chelsea’s eyes were on him and as he shot her a grin, he noticed the amusement in her eyes.
Something struck him.
Since when did Chelsea’s feelings matter so much? Giving into his need for her fulfilled him, but he still wanted more. If he could, he would have Chelsea Levin every night in his bed. Dean’s feelings for her were changing, and going in the direction he never intended them to.
“I can tell you’re loving this car,” Chelsea mused.
Loving. Was that how he felt for her?
Dean forced a smile. “What man wouldn’t? Has all the horsepower I need, handles like a dream.”
He backed out of the driveway and drove into town, taking the coastal route. The view of the ocean held Chelsea’s attention. They talked idly of the weather before she thanked him again. Guilt hit him. Dean hadn’t felt it in a long time, not even with Desiree or Jenny. It was easy to push minimal feelings aside, but Chelsea intensified every emotion he felt.
Dean pulled up outside the restaurant he attended frequently, one he was certain the regular media reporters would be at tonight. Now was his chance to showcase Chelsea to the media, then his past would finally be behind him.
Dean stepped out of the car, running a hand through his hair. Before Chelsea got out, he opened the door for her. She glanced up at him, taken by surprise.
“Thank you,” she said sweetly.
Dean tried not to focus on the petite shape of her body. He’d seen her naked, now he couldn’t stop picturing her that way. Damn it, Chelsea was seducing him in a much more subtle way than he did.
She stepped in close to him and Dean held out his arm for her. A gesture of courtesy. But Chelsea had no clue of the turmoil coursing through his body from having her next to him.
Her arm slid around his. Feeling her tight, firm body inches from his almost made Dean hard again, but he couldn’t push her away. He needed her close as a façade for the media. And also, as he began to realize, because he didn’t want to let her go.
They entered the restaurant, and were surrounded by tables draped with pastel yellow cloths, glittering chandeliers, and white carpet. The walls were a pale pastel orange, a touch of color amongst the rigid elegance.
Beside him, he noticed Chelsea staring in wonder.
“This is nice.”
“There’re better,” he added. “One in New York is particularly nice.”
But his company hadn’t been.
After being greeted by a formally dressed waiter, Dean guided Chelsea to the tables. All eyes were on them as he led her to one in the far corner. He watched as she sat down, smoothing her dress over her legs. Again he was reminded of the night they spent together when he kissed down her thighs, taking in all of her body. At least the coat was covering her cleavage.
When Chelsea met his gaze, she seemed uncomfortable. It didn’t take him long to see why – the other diners were staring openly at them and talking in hushed tones. Gossiping about them, Dean noted. Spring Lake was a small town but not impervious to gossipers.
They were only words, he recalled Chelsea saying. They didn’t matter.
After tonight, they wouldn’t.
He cleared his throat, catching the eye of a brunette waitress. The woman smiled widely and approached them. Dean observed the restaurant. There were the regulars he recognized, a couple of neighbors, but no media.
Chelsea’s wary gaze focused on him.
“You get used to the attention,” Dean told her.
“I couldn’t.”
And there it was. Another painful reason why they could never have a life together. The media would always be a part of his, even if this façade worked. Any public appearance had the potential to be snapped and displayed. Perhaps he was overreacting, but the media were getting desperate.
The waitress came up beside him, shooting him a wide smile. Dean’s attention went to Chelsea. She looked modest, subtly sexy, and not at all vulnerable. The change surprised him, and as she met his gaze, she smiled.
After the initial greetings, the waitress handed over the menus. Chelsea glanced at the brunette, noticing the enamored expression on her face as she looked at Dean. He seemed oblivious to her flirting, or possibly used to the way women acted around him.
She chose her meal options, after being shocked by the prices. The waitress brought over a bottle of champagne, and poured the bubbling amber liquid into a glass. Chelsea blushed as she tasted it. This definitely felt like a date, and she didn’t know what to make of it. Dean’s attention was flattering, but it felt forced.
They weren’t together, but this public display of affection had her wondering. Dean mentioned a surprise – was this it? There’s still a chance we can be together.
Chelsea raised her glass in a toast.
“To you, for three weeks I’ll never forget.”
Dean raised an eyebrow, then hesitated before he raised his. Chelsea finished off her drink and sat back, relaxing now that no one was staring at them. Thinking of this as a date filled her with a happiness she couldn’t contain, and Dean’s smiles sent a shiver through her body. She didn’t want to hope for something neither of them intended to happen.
But this had to mean something to Dean.
The waitress returned with two plates of food, and Chelsea eagerly began to eat her sirloin steak with glazed vegetables and garden salad. Noticing movement out of the corner of her eye, she turned her head to see two men approaching with a camera raised. The blond haired man took a few photos, the camera flashing. Chelsea quickly glanced at Dean, surprised by their intrusion.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said. “Your meal looks good.”
Chelsea glanced at his. He’d chosen the same.
She frowned and watched as he stood and walked over to the two men. The media’s approach wasn’t a complete surprise, but it had shaken her. How could Dean be so calm when they could just appear and barge right up to you?
Chelsea absent mindedly grazed her fork across the salad, and glanced towards Dean. The men were leaving the restaurant, and she could hear them apologizing profusely.
Dean strode back to her and sighed. He adjusted his shirt as he sat down.
“Sometimes you have to be firm with them,” he said lightly. His eyes glimmered as he continued eating his meal. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. When Dean looked up at her, his smile was slow and sexy. Chelsea returned it, but was
curious to know what he said to the media. Probably nothing.
“Do they always come at you without any warning?”
“It’s the way they are,” Dean replied. “But they won’t be back.”
After the delicious meal at the restaurant, Chelsea couldn’t stop thinking about Dean. He seemed happy and as he unlocked the front door and stepped inside, she followed, hesitantly standing close to him.
Recalling the night they gave into each other, she felt herself shiver from the memory. Dean glanced back at her, and the motion sensor light turned on, bathing the both of them in a gentle light.
“Are you okay?”
Chelsea nodded. “The media surprised me, that’s all.”
“Hence why I don’t go out much.” Dean closed the distance between them, then pocketed his keys. Chelsea stared up at him, taking in his strong jawline and gentle green eyes. Every nerve in her body was tingling, her skin aching for his touch. She longed to kiss him again.
As she looked into his eyes, she wondered what he wanted. Maybe the meal at the restaurant was his way of testing the waters. Of course a man like Dean Westley wouldn’t settle into a long term relationship easily.
“I…” Chelsea began. Lost in his eyes, in her thoughts, her voice trailed off. How could it have come to this? Not long ago, they were teasing each other, kissing every moment they had. Deciding to keep it professional was a mistake. Fear took hold of her but now it was gone, and all she wanted was Dean.
“I should get to bed,” he decided. His words stung. Chelsea tried to keep her expression even. It was so tempting to ask about their relationship, to persuade him they could be together. But if he cared for her, he would tell her in a heartbeat. She’d told him her feelings. And as she looked at him, in her mind she saw Ryan and the moment he confessed to cheating. Dean had the potential to hurt her as much as her ex-husband had.
“Yeah,” she breathed, and lowered her head. “I should too.”
She undid his coat and pulled it from her body, knowing that Dean was watching every movement. Chelsea thrust it at him, and met his gaze pointedly. Being in his arms, in his bed, had given her pleasure she never expected to feel. Now that it was over, she couldn’t accept it. But it seemed he did.