by Melinda Hale
Dean swallowed, but she noticed the nervousness in his eyes.
“I wanted to take you somewhere memorable. You were the one who suggested sleeping together.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “I wanted comfort before I leave, to actually stop this constant need for you! And you call that memorable?”
“Last night was!” Dean argued. He stepped towards her and she backed against the kitchen counter, her heart racing as her gaze focused on the curve of his lips.
“Hell, I’m not giving you up.” His lips crashed onto hers, a rough hand caressing the back of her head. Dean pressed his bare chest against her, and through the thin fabric of her dress Chelsea could feel the heat from his body, his hardness against her inner thigh. Her mind ran wild with thoughts of him stripping the dress off her.
But then he pulled away, leaving her breathless.
Chelsea stared at him, admiring his firm body. Then her lower lip started to shake.
“Why do you mess around with me like this? Can’t you make up your mind?”
“I’m giving you what you want,” Dean decided. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She hesitated, surprised by his answer. “What do you mean?”
“You want us to be together. So we will. I can’t see myself being without you.”
Chelsea looked at him, the firm smile on his face, the gentle gleam in his eyes. “If you really mean that, then we need time apart.”
Ten
Dean pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. Silence greeted him. After kissing Chelsea, he left her at home, intent on surprising her. They both agreed they needed time apart from each other, and as she stated, time to decide on how they could move forward.
He ran a hand through his hair, still tousled from last night. Their second night together had been more intense and passionate. And he knew it wasn’t only the heated attraction between them – his feelings for her were changing everything.
Dean cared for her deeply. Because of how strong it was, he didn’t want to acknowledge it. He knew he was hurting Chelsea. Arguing with her about it made him feel like a jerk, and he hated himself for it but it couldn’t lead to more. He was a millionaire, he’d used Chelsea for what he intended to, and they would both move on and go their separate ways.
But damn it, he couldn’t let her go. If that meant a relationship, then so be it. It wasn’t an instant decision, Dean learnt that from Jenny. If this was going to happen, he needed to tell her the truth – and everything about his past. Everything had to be perfect, to measure up to the intensity of how he felt for her.
Recalling the shock in Chelsea’s eyes upon mentioning he was sterile, he winced. No doubt she was like any other woman who wanted it all – a family. That wasn’t even a thought to him. But how would she feel about it in five years’ time?
Dean opened the door, looking around warily for any sign of the media. They’d been at the restaurant as he intended, and he told them what he needed to. Once it would be featured in the press, he would no longer be known as a playboy millionaire.
That made it easier. No feelings, no relationship to deal with. Or so he had hoped.
Dean entered the brightly lit store, and went straight to the alcohol section. After selecting a few bottles of wine for Chelsea and beer for himself, he idly browsed a few other shelves. She’d enjoyed the champagne from the restaurant, so he made sure to get an expensive bottle.
Chelsea would be moving out within a few days and he wanted to give her the surprise he’d been preparing. Not just the sum of money he had ready for her, but a memorable night. No doubt she hated him for rejecting her. He needed to find the right words to tell her everything.
As Dean turned away from the snack foods, he heard a curt, female voice behind him.
“Has she left yet?”
He turned to see Rachel, who was studying him with a smug expression on her face. Of all the people to see, it had to be her.
“That’s not any of your business.”
“Well, expect this to take some time to clear up your image,” she reminded him. “It won’t be an instant reprieve.”
“You saw it in the news?”
“Front page of the paper. Smart way of doing it, but aren’t you worried Chelsea will find out?”
Dean shrugged. “She doesn’t read the paper. And it’s done what I intended to. Besides, she’s moving out soon.”
He lowered his gaze. As much as he disliked Rachel, the woman knew how to coax the truth out of him.
Rachel adjusted some items in her grocery basket. “You know, I’ve known you for years. I saw you grow up, I was the first one to be there for you after your parents’ accident. You can’t hide how you really feel from me. You love her, don’t you?”
Dean met her scrutinizing gaze. And then it dawned on him. The reason why his feelings were so strong, why he couldn’t keep Chelsea off his mind. It was love. Crazy, passionate love. The intensity of it scared him, but all along he’d known what it meant. The first time he saw Chelsea at the bank, he knew she was different. Different than any other woman, and he loved her for it.
A feeling he’d never felt before. To hell with this, he realized. I love her. I have to tell her.
But it seemed too late. He’d hurt her more than once over his own repressed feelings. Before he left, Chelsea seemed unsure that he was even serious.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. At first, I hated this idea you came up with -”
“It wasn’t mine.”
“But it may be a blessing in disguise. Chelsea knows about your inheritance, I assume. Does she want to be with you for your money? Or for who you are? Because of your image, you’ll rarely find a woman like that. And you’ve got your future to think about. You aren’t a twenty year old playboy anymore. You have feelings. Act on them. Don’t hide away like you always do.”
And with that, Rachel turned away from him and walked over to her husband. The slightly bald man gave him a friendly wave, and Dean returned it. As Rachel walked away, Dean glowered after her. Always ends up with the last word, he noted. But in spite of himself, he smiled. Her words had shown him the truth he refused to face.
With Chelsea, he viewed it as a casual relationship, as he did with all the women before her. But it wasn’t enough – he had deeper feelings than that, feelings which made him afraid of what he could find with her. The possibility for a future was there, and he’d been pushing it away, reluctant to accept the woman who had come into his life.
And again his thoughts went to the single question he’d been wondering since their last time together in bed – was it love? He knew it was, he could feel it. It was there.
Dean didn’t want to give her up, but to choose a relationship, he would be throwing away his lifestyle, his image. Everything he’d spent years building. To make a commitment was a powerful change, and he’d been afraid to take that step.
But as Dean stood there, with the alcohol sitting in the grocery cart, he knew that none of it mattered to him. All he wanted was Chelsea. And with the façade he’d told the media, he was free. She was his.
Chelsea stepped out of the shower and grabbed a thick towel to dry off her hair. As she pulled on her clothes, she heard a knock on the door which made her hesitate. It couldn’t be Dean – he wouldn’t attempt to knock. A smile curved her lips. If he came in while she was still under the water, no doubt he would’ve asked to join her or just step in, stripping the clothes from his body.
No, he wouldn’t, she reminded herself. She didn’t even know what their relationship was. Even after Dean said he would give her what she wanted, it was still unclear. Maybe their brief time apart would help him realize how he felt.
She walked to the front door, adjusting her wet hair. Chelsea glanced through the glass panel to see a woman with long, straight black hair and a hard expression on her face. She hesitated, wondering if she should answer. The woman glanced up and noticed her standing there.
/>
“Oh, are you Chelsea?”
“Maybe,” she replied warily. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Jenny, Dean’s…”
“Staged wife, I know,” Chelsea finished for her. Her words hung there, and an uncomfortable silence settled in. This was the woman who’d lived with Dean for months. Jenny probably knew him more than herself. I have to ask her about his son.
Chelsea unlocked the door and opened it wide. The dark haired woman smiled gratefully.
“Thank you,” Jenny said, stepping inside. She observed the house for a moment as Chelsea closed the door and turned to face her. Dressed in plain jeans and a white peplum blouse, Jenny’s pale skin had a healthy glow.
“So why’re you here? Is this about the money you keep trying to get from him?”
Jenny pushed her hair back from her face. “He told you about that?”
“No. I overheard.”
“Right,” Jenny said. Then her eyes widened when she noticed Chelsea had just come out of the shower. “I’m sorry if I came at the wrong time.”
“Its fine,” Chelsea assured her. She couldn’t understand why she’d let Jenny in instead of talking to her. Perhaps it was curiosity. She was the one woman Dean attempted to be with long term, even if it was staged.
“He told me about you. You claim he has a son. But it’s not possible, you know he’s sterile?”
She stared at her in surprise. “Uh, yes, but…”
“He’s not giving you any money.”
Jenny leveled her gaze and stood there defiantly. Chelsea didn’t look away. This woman had the nerve to keep persisting after Dean’s money, even attempting to blackmail him for it. Obviously he didn’t care much for Jenny. Her instinct was to feel the same, but she couldn’t help but sympathize with her. Jenny cared about Dean, but couldn’t have him. Just how she felt.
Jenny pursed her lips. “It was never money I wanted from him. It was attention. For him to return the love I felt. He isn’t an asshole like all other millionaires seem to be.”
So she goes for the rich guys. Chelsea quirked an eyebrow. “You think he cares? He can’t make his mind up on what he wants! It’s frustrating, it’s…”
She broke off and ran a hand through her hair.
Jenny clasped her hands together. “Wow, he’s really gotten to you, huh? He never really cared for me. A guy can say it easily, but a woman can tell how he feels, it’s in the eyes. Bluntly told me nothing would happen.”
Chelsea hesitated. “Why’d you keep trying?”
“Because I love him. You can’t relate to being in love with someone and never having it returned. Few people can.”
Silence fell between them. Chelsea smoothed strands from her face, her damp hair plastered to her skin. “I’m not dating him.”
“Hon, you’re living with him. Eventually you’ll fall for him. It’s how he plays his game.”
“What happens between me and Dean is not your concern.”
“Oh, but it’s the media’s,” Jenny said slowly, in a tone revealing she knew something Chelsea didn’t. “If you aren’t dating him, you should check out today’s paper. Bottom of the front page. But I’m tempted to believe you. Always trust a woman’s words over a man’s.”
Chelsea swallowed, confused by her proposal. It had to be the restaurant dinner, when the paparazzi snapped photos of them. What made it front page material? She pushed her concerns aside. The media were intrusive. But she could clearly remember the look on Dean’s face, and it troubled her.
She cleared her throat and ran her gaze over Jenny. “Why’re you here?”
“To warn you about him.”
“Message received,” Chelsea said wryly. She glanced behind Jenny towards the door, hoping to catch sight of Dean. For a millionaire, she was surprised he didn’t have security around the place. Recalling how he refused to rely on anyone, a brief smile curved her lips. He was equally as stubborn as her.
Jenny had arrived here to put her off Dean, to make her doubt him. She was still in love with him, and jealous, Chelsea noted.
“You should probably go now.”
Jenny nodded and turned towards the door.
“Oh,” she said suddenly, spinning around to look at her. “He isn’t sterile. He did it by choice. A vasectomy. He never wanted a relationship. Never believed in love.”
“And I’m not going to believe you.”
“Think about it. He’ll pretend he wants a relationship when he has another motive. I’ve known him longer than you.”
Chelsea pursed her lips. While it was true that Jenny knew Dean better than her, she couldn’t believe a word she said, not while she still loved him.
“It’s not really his son, is it?”
Jenny didn’t hesitate. “No.”
The sudden silence between them spoke volumes. Chelsea waved her hand dismissively. “Thanks for stopping by!”
The woman left and closed the door without another word. Chelsea leaned against it and sighed loudly, running a hand through her damp hair. Part of her felt shaken for inviting her in, but Jenny’s words bothered her more. She didn’t know exactly what happened between them – Jenny loved Dean, but he didn’t want her. Did he act the way he does with me to her?
The vasectomy had to be a lie. Dean promised her the truth, and she’d believed him. Chelsea’s gaze went to the side table in front of the couches. The paper was sitting on top of it. Every morning Dean brought it in and threw it out without reading. This time he’d forgotten.
Chelsea stepped away from the door and bit her lip, hoping Dean would return soon. It was better to ask him directly than go by what Jenny said. She walked over to the couch and slumped onto it, taking care to keep her knee at a good angle.
After Jenny mentioned her in the news, her curiosity was too strong to ignore. Thinking back to the restaurant and Dean’s expression, something happened between him and the media. And he was hiding it. She recalled the moment she met him at the bank, wondering about his motives. As time passed, she believed he did this for her out of kindness.
Jenny mentioned him having another motive.
Chelsea’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t think of any reason, unless…the media.
She leaned forward and took hold of the paper, unfolding it and smoothing out the creases to see a photo of her staring wide eyed at the camera, Dean sitting opposite her. Her mouth fell open as she read the headline.
‘Interrupted Proposal.’
‘New Jersey’s notorious millionaire, Dean Westley, planned on proposing to his long term girlfriend, Chelsea Levin – but his plan went awry when two local media reporters interrupted their romantic meal.’
Proposal. Long term girlfriend. Chelsea dropped the paper, hearing it land on the carpet. Her mind was spinning and she reached back against the couch to keep her balance. She doubled over, her stomach churning as every moment she shared with Dean came back to her.
The walk on the beach. The meal at the restaurant. The times he insisted he couldn’t give her everything.
Reality hit hard, a sharp sting in her chest, a painful blow to everything she believed she had with Dean. Tears blurred her eyes as she lowered her head to stare at the paper. The truth was blatantly displayed right in front of her.
Chelsea’s voice shook. “He used me.”
Dean’s ulterior motive had been this. His way of keeping the media out of his life. She started to cling to doubts – maybe he planned on telling her they could be together. Maybe it was all a mistake. Chelsea shook her head in disbelief. Her heart felt heavy, and she could feel an aching vulnerability, greater than anything she’d experienced before.
Outside, Dean’s car pulled into the driveway. A sound she was looking forward to, but now it was a dull reminder that he was returning to her. To lie. Chelsea felt light headed. Dean clearly stated he was in a long term relationship with her to the media, while telling her it couldn’t work out. And the proposal?
She gritted her teeth as her shock quickly
turned into anger. How dare he make such a claim! Her stomach felt heavy. Chelsea closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. There had to be an explanation. Perhaps Dean said it to deter the media from them so they could have their meal in peace.
But the truth hurt. That night would’ve been perfect for a proposal. How could he do this?
The front door opened behind her, and she heard Dean greet her in a friendly yet sensual tone.
“I’ve bought all the alcohol we’ll need for tonight,” he said cheerfully. “And I have a surprise for you.”
Another stab of pain through her heart. Dean was acting casual about the fact she was leaving tomorrow, moving out of his house, and his life. He wasn’t attempting to stop her, or talk about his feelings. What he said to the media made it clear – he had no interest in a relationship. He was using her as a façade for one.
“Is this the surprise?” Chelsea demanded, grabbing the paper from the floor. His cheerful expression suddenly darkened. Setting the alcohol on the table, Dean shot a glance at the paper.
“You weren’t meant to look at that.”
“How could you say we’re together?” she snapped, unable to stop her voice from rising as her frustration took hold. “Why do that, you said it wouldn’t work between us?”
“I was stupid, and denying my feelings…”
“What feelings? You don’t have any! But you kept messing with mine.”
Pain etched his features. “Chelsea, listen. I invited you here so I could show the media I was in a relationship. I wanted to keep them out of my life. It worked with Jenny, but I made the mistake of pretending to commit, and I had no feelings for her. With you, it was different.”
“So I was a pawn in your little ‘improve your image’ game?”
“Don’t make it sound so harsh. We were both using each other.”
“Forget it,” Chelsea said bitterly. “I knew there was another reason why you wanted me here. To use for your selfish goal. All you care about is what the media thinks of you.”
“It was more than that!” he insisted. “I ruined the image of my parents’ name, only I could fix it. I had to…” His voice trailed off, his last sentence one of defeat. “I wanted to change my past.”