by Tia Siren
She laughed. “You think?”
I smiled. “I knew you would help me figure it out. I couldn’t be in that house with him. As of now, he thinks I got my period and had some kind of meltdown. I didn’t bother correcting him.”
“I’m a little jealous.”
I scoffed. “Don’t be. I’ve been sick to my stomach for a straight three days. He touched my boob the other night and I nearly screamed in pain. My boobs are so damn sensitive, I’m not even wearing a bra.”
She was smiling like a crazy person. “You had sex with him again? And bras are overrated by the way.”
I felt myself blush. “Yes. I couldn’t help myself. There is something about him. I feel like a moth drawn to a flame whenever he’s around. I lose all self-control and turn into a mindless, sex-crazed idiot.”
“Now I’m really jealous.”
“How could you possibly be jealous of my situation? I’m knocked up by a man I barely know who doesn’t want anything to do with raising a baby.”
She was still smiling. “Let me count the many reasons why. First, said man is fucking hot. I would kill to be carrying the man’s baby, especially if that meant we could have wild and crazy monkey sex without worrying about me getting pregnant, which is clearly how you got that way in the first place. Second, you get to eat and gain weight and it will all be for a good reason.”
“I don’t want to get fat,” I moaned.
“It’s not fat; it’s pregnant. They are two very different things.”
I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t believe the timing. I may not have a job, an inheritance, or even a family, and I go and get myself pregnant.”
“I’ll be your family,” she said. “I’ll make a great baby daddy if Dylan isn’t up for the job.”
I giggled at the absurdity of it all. “Thank you. I knew you could make me feel better. Can we get out of here now? I want to put my feet in the sand and sit on the beach and forget all about my life in New York.”
“Sure. Let’s go. I think your buddy is growing impatient.”
We both looked at the surly looking security guard who was glowering at us.
“Long Island, then you turn back,” I said to him as he followed us out the door.
“Yes, ma’am. Those are my orders.”
I sank into the passenger seat of Vanessa’s sporty convertible and waited for her to whisk me away from all my problems. If only it were that easy. She put the top down and began the trek out of the city. I couldn’t wait to hit the open road and feel the wind in my hair while inhaling the fresh ocean air.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dylan
Tuesday
I was surprised by how much I missed her. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but I wanted her around. I wanted to see her, smell her, touch her and hold her close. I wanted her in my bed every morning, even when she was being slightly irrational.
For what seemed like the hundredth time, I dialed her number. There was no answer, and the voice mail box was full. I had been calling since yesterday, expecting her to at least check in and let me know she’d made it to Vanessa’s okay, but I hadn’t heard a word from her. If I let myself think about it, it hurt. I wasn’t one to wallow in feelings, and I rarely let myself get close enough to anyone to actually be hurt. Kendall had somehow wormed her way into my life, and I had no idea how to stop thinking about her. I wanted to explore the whole relationship thing with her and had been convinced she was feeling the same way.
My gut told me she wanted to make me chase her. I’d chase her all right. I had let her play hard to get long enough. Now it was time to take matters into my own hands.
“Jonathan,” I said when my favorite PI answered the phone.
“Mr. Parks, what can I do for you? Adams giving you more trouble from jail?” he asked.
I chuckled. “Not yet, but I was wondering if you could track someone down for me. It should be fairly easy. It’s Vanessa, Kendall’s friend, the one I had you run down for me a couple weeks ago. I need the address of her grandparents’ home in the Hamptons.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked, concern in his voice.
“Yeah. It’s fine. I just want to make sure Kendall is okay. She went out there on Sunday.”
“I see. I can do that. Should be easy enough. Give me a couple hours and I’ll get back to you,” he said, hanging up.
I was going to make sure she was okay, with or without her cooperation. Was she upset with me because she’d found out about her father and blamed me? I had wanted to tell her in person, but she had refused to answer the bedroom door and then she flew out the front door without looking back.
Aaron knocked on the door and walked in without me saying a word.
“You look like hell,” he said by way of greeting.
“Thanks. You’re looking dapper as always,” I said, my tone sarcastic.
“Still no word from her, huh?” he asked.
Shaking my head, I put down the pen I’d been using to sign some contracts. “No. What the hell? I don’t understand what I did,” I said, frustration in my voice. “Is this normal? I just don’t get this whole hot and cold dance. She wants me; I want her. Why are we playing games? It’s stupid.”
Aaron took his usual seat in front of my desk. “First of all, I’m not your therapist. But, since you’re my friend, I’m going to give you some free advice.”
“Gee, thanks. This should be good.”
“You’ve got to do something big. A nice gesture to remind her you’re still here waiting for her. I mean, honestly, you guys skipped that whole courtship thing, right? You need to woo her.”
“Woo her?”
He nodded. “Indeed. Court her, let her know you think she’s sexy. She needs to feel wanted.”
“Trust me, she knows she’s wanted,” I muttered.
“Not like that,” he said, annoyance in his voice.
“What? Like flowers? Candy?”
He slapped a hand to his forehead. “No. Jesus, you have no game at all, do you? All that is old-school and tired.”
“I have plenty of game, thank you. I’ll remind you I’ve been doing just fine in the lady department for years. I’ve just never had to try this hard.”
He laughed. “One night here and there does not make a relationship. I’ve got game when it comes to keeping one lady happy. Trust me on this.”
I could concede defeat there. “Fine. What do I do if flowers aren’t the right choice?”
“Do you have a date for the charity event on Saturday?”
I groaned. “Crap. I forgot all about that. No, I don’t have a date. Back when it was in the works, I assumed she would be my date.”
“She still could be.”
“How? She won’t call me!”
He laughed. “Don’t pretend you’re not already tracking her down as we speak.”
I grinned in reply.
“Exactly. When you find her, ask her to go with you.”
He was onto something. I would, but first I wanted to pick his brain a bit more.
“I’m going to ask you something, Aaron, but I want you to be serious and not give me any shit.”
Aaron slid a hand over his face, wiping away his smile. “Okay, I’m completely serious. Hit me.”
“What do I do?”
“About?”
I took a deep breath, in total disbelief that I was about to sound like a girl. “I thought we had something different. I liked her being in the house, having dinner with her every night and all that. I thought she liked it too. Then all of a sudden she took off like a bat out of hell without another word.”
“Did you talk to her about it?” Aaron asked.
“No. What was I supposed to say?”
“You could have started with the truth and told her how you feel.”
I wrinkled my nose. “No way. I don’t do that mushy stuff. That is all you.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, me, the guy who is happily engaged. Mushy got me that way.
” He winked.
I threw my head back and laughed. “I don’t grovel.”
“Did you do something wrong?”
I thought about it, replaying the week before she stormed out of the house. “No. I don’t think so. I asked her to eat eggs. Then everything went to shit.”
Aaron looked rightly confused. I was confused as well. “Eggs?”
I nodded. “She hasn’t been eating much at all, so I made her some toast and eggs. She ran from the kitchen, locked herself in her room, and then left the next day. I haven’t heard her from her since.”
Aaron covered his mouth, hiding his grin. “Maybe you should take some cooking lessons if you can’t even scramble an egg. Or better yet, hire a full-time chef.”
“Ha, ha.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. All you can do is move forward and try to fix whatever it is you broke.”
“Thanks. You’re so helpful.” I leaned back, folding my hands across my stomach. “I have an idea. I’ve got to go.”
“Where are you going?” Aaron asked.
I grabbed my phone from my desk and headed for the door. “I’m going shopping for a dress.”
The sound that came from Aaron’s mouth was a cross between a choke and a laugh. He didn’t question me and let me go. I found my security guard and headed downstairs while having my car pulled around. Once I got in the back, the driver asked me where to.
“Uh, I don’t actually know,” I said, suddenly feeling like I had been a bit spontaneous and now had no idea where I was going.
“Is there a general direction you’d like me to go in for a start?”
I felt like a fool, but I asked anyway. “I need a dress, a high-end, fancy dress. Where would I go to find one?”
My driver cleared his throat. “Uh, sir?”
“Not for me,” I growled. “For Kendall.”
“Oh. Well, I may know a few places that have what you’re looking for.”
“Great. Take me there,” I said, leaning back against the leather seat.
I recognized the area. Fifth Avenue wasn’t my favorite place, but I’d certainly spent enough money in the area. I got out of the car, my bodyguard moving to walk with me as I began to stroll down the sidewalk, looking in the windows.
“Here!” I said when I saw a red dress hanging in a store window. I walked inside and was quickly spotted by an eager saleswoman.
“I want to see that dress,” I said, pointing toward the window.
She smiled. “Of course,” she said. She walked on ridiculously high heels toward a rack with similar dresses.
I scanned the rack, checking out the other dresses in the store.
“I’ll stick with the red one,” I said after browsing for a while.
“What size?”
I cringed. “Uh”—I looked at her—“about your height.”
The woman smiled. “That’s not what counts.” She winked, thrusting out her obviously surgically enhanced breasts.
I looked down and shook my head. “I’d say a B cup.”
Her flirtatious smile was making me a little irritated, but I’d go with it for now. She put both hands on her waist before running them down her hips. My eyes followed her hands.
“Slimmer.”
The instant snarl told me I had offended her. I didn’t care. The dress was for Kendall and Kendall was thinner than the woman before me.
“We’ll go with a four,” she snapped, plucking a dress from the rack. She quickly put on her best salesperson face and smiled. “Now, let’s talk accessories.”
I nodded my head. “Let’s. And shoes. That’s important, right?”
She grinned, clearly happy to be making a big sale. With her experienced eye, we put together what I hoped would be a truly stunning outfit. I wanted to impress Kendall while giving myself a little treat as well.
I handed over my credit card, watching her carefully box up the items.
She handed me the package. “Don’t forget the goodies.”
“The goodies?”
A coy smile crossed her face. “That dress looks best with a little perky lifting.” She winked.
I immediately knew what she was getting at. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.”
That was one department I was familiar with. My security guard took the boxes, carrying them as we headed to my favorite lingerie store. Once again, an eager salesperson quickly pounced on me. I picked out matching panties and a bra, smirking at the thought of her wearing the red thong. There were so many choices, I ended up buying a few more sets in anticipation of her coming home with me and giving me my own little fashion show.
Jonathan called, giving me the address. The man had earned my loyalty. Anytime I needed anything, he was going to be the man I called.
I felt better about the situation and hoped like hell she would take me up on my offer for a date. Just to be sure my gesture had the desired effect, I ordered three dozen roses as well—one dozen for every week we had spent together.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Back to the office please,” I replied, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted. She could still say no, but she knew how important the charity was to me. I knew she was also impressed by the idea of giving to the children and hoped she would show up for that reason.
Aaron met me at the elevator. “Did you find your dress?”
I grinned. “I did. There’s no way she can ignore it.”
“Did you spend a fortune?”
“Of course.”
“Did you send flowers?”
I winked. “I’m a traditional guy. I had to.”
He sighed. “Not roses I hope.”
I grimaced. “Why? Is that bad?”
He rolled his eyes. “Predictable.”
“Romantic, traditional, classic,” I offered.
We walked into my office together, me taking my seat behind my desk, him in the chair.
“It’ll work,” he promised.
“It better. If not, I’m not above carrying her out of that house. I did it once; I’ll do it again.”
“Don’t forget your club,” Aaron joked.
I took a deep breath, ready to get some actual work done. We quickly dove into the business at hand, my mind at peace now that I knew where she was. I had hated the not knowing. It had nearly driven me crazy.
Chapter Thirty
Kendall
Thursday
The sound of Vanessa squealing jerked me out of a deep sleep. I rolled to the side, looking for a weapon of any kind, prepared to fight off an attacker. I had no idea how they had found me, but they had. I stumbled out of bed, carrying a bottle of lotion, ready to beat or slather my attacker.
I waited by the door, ready to spring when they came through. The doorknob turned. I sucked in a breath, preparing to attack.
Vanessa’s red head popped through the door at the same time I squirted lotion, getting her right in the face.
“What the hell!” she screamed.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry. I thought you were one of the bad guys!”
She used one hand to wipe the blob of lotion from her face, glaring at me while she did.
“So you attacked with lotion?”
I shrugged. “It was all I had.”
“Good God. I hope you’re never actually attacked. Were you going to lube him up and slide him out the door?”
“I don’t know. What were you screaming about?”
She held up a Versace garment bag. “This.”
“You were screaming over that?”
“It’s for you,” she said, thrusting the bag at me.
“What is it?”
“Open it. There’s also a flower shop in the living room. If I’m guessing right, I’d say there are three dozen long-stem roses in there.”
“Really?” I said, a little nervous to open the bag.
“Yes. Open it.”
I hung up the garment bag on a hook and unzipped it. We both sucked in a breath whe
n the red dress was revealed.
“Wow!” Vanessa said before letting out a long whistle. “That explains the shoes.”
“What?” I asked, still staring at the dress.
“There’s a box in the living room. There was a pair of shoes and another package wrapped in tissue paper. I got so excited when I saw the garment bag, I pulled it out and ran in here, hence the screaming.”
“I want to see,” I said, leaving the dress and heading for the living room.
I found the small envelope and opened it.
Please wear this to the ball on Saturday. —D
“Dylan.” I breathed out the name.
Vanessa was beside me. “Someone’s got a date,” she said in a sing-song voice.
“I can’t,” I mumbled, my hands moving to the small box and opening it.
“Your man has some killer taste,” Vanessa said, awe in her voice.
I nodded my head. “I guess so.”
“What’s that?” She pointed to something wrapped in tissue paper.
I reached for it, being careful as I unwrapped it.
“Ohhh, damn girl. No wonder you’re knocked up. Your baby daddy is a freak!” she said, grabbing the red satin and lace bra.
I laughed. “He’s not a freak.”
“These are some very risqué drawers. They don’t exactly cover anything. This bra is made to plump and tease. It isn’t functional.”
I ran a finger over the garments and immediately thought about Dylan and our last night together.
“It’s sweet,” I told her.
“Are you going to go?” Vanessa asked.
I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. It will be weird.”
“Why? Because you ran away, tail between your legs, and never looked back? You can’t hide here forever. You have to tell him about the baby,” she said.
I cringed. “That’s going to be a very weird conversation.”
“Yes, it will be, but it needs to happen. Don’t run away from him. Give him a chance.”
I dreaded having to tell him. I didn’t want him to think I had done it on purpose. I wasn’t trying to trap him. It was the last thing I wanted.
“I have to tell him,” I finally conceded.
She nodded. “Yes, you do. Go to the ball and then, when it’s over, tell him you’re going to be turning into a pumpkin.”