by Tara Mills
It looked like her choice would come down to eventually being the woman he had to leave in order to be whole, or the person he wanted to return to because she made him feel whole. Either way, he’d eventually pack his bag.
“Ariela?” Dylan broke into her thoughts.
“Huh?” She jumped and looked around, startled to see all eyes on her—again.
Dylan took her hand. “I might have helped you in the beginning, but I never expected you’d help me too. You restored my optimism, something I didn’t even know I’d lost.” He looked over at Jean. “Thank you for including me in your little celebration tonight.” Lifting his glass, Dylan raised his eyebrows at Ariela, waiting for her to join him.
Oh god, another toast? Unable to forget the shot glasses they’d raised the night before, she picked up her champagne flute.
“Here’s to your future, and your coming family. Congratulations.” Everyone reached into the middle of the table and clinked rims.
“Congratulations,” Ariela repeated with a shaky smile.
***
“Maybe you should move in with me,” Dylan suggested on the way home.
Ariela turned her head so fast, her neck cracked. “What changed your mind?”
“I never changed my mind.”
“Here we go again,” she muttered, watching the city streak past her dark window.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re telling me you didn’t change your mind simply to avoid hurting my feelings for hesitating earlier.”
“What?”
“You hold back.”
“I do not.” He fell silent, pensive. “Okay, maybe I do sometimes. You were reviewing the changes taking place in your life. I was doing the same thing.”
“Do you honestly want me there?”
He glanced at her, the left half of his face lit by the dashboard, the right in shadow. “Yes. We’re already living together at my place. Might as well call it what it is.” He chuckled. “I’ve never even spent one night in your bed. We always camp out at my place. You’ve taken over half the closet. For crying out loud, your clothes are mixed with mine in the basket. We do our laundry together. I’ve gotten used to thinking of it as our place. You belong there.”
If that was off the cuff, he was good. He couldn’t have written it better.
“Really?” Her eyes went soft and misty and she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. Dylan turned into the kiss, capturing her head and claiming her mouth while he kept one eye on the road.
Ariela pulled away. “Easy stud. Focus on driving, please.” She settled back in her seat and added, “We have a lot of details to work out.”
He gave an easy shrug. “I figured you’d say something like that.”
“Well, it’s a small place.” She considered all the pros and cons as she watched the scenery fly past outside her window. “You might get sick of having an extra person around all the time.”
“We can expand the upstairs. I need an actual office, anyway.”
She was beginning to feel like Linda Blair with the rapid head spins. “What are you talking about?”
“I own the house. It was already divided into two apartments when I bought it, but since I only needed the smaller space, I rented the upstairs and left it partitioned off. Their lease is up in August. I can give them notice we won’t be renewing it.”
“You’d boot out your tenants for me?”
“I’d sell the whole damn house if I had to.”
Stunned and relieved by his declaration, she was just as confident she’d never ask it. “We’ll talk about this some more.”
***
Ariela woke when she stretched out her arm and Dylan wasn’t beside her. Slipping into her robe, she went looking and found him at the computer in the living room.
“Let’s move your desk tomorrow,” she whispered, coming up and hugging him from behind.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized as he typed.
“You didn’t.” She read over his shoulder. “Going after Senator Norton again, I see. Did I tell you I read through your scrapbook of old articles while you were gone?”
He turned with a smile of surprise. “No. You did?”
“Very engrossing.” She nodded at the computer. “What’s the old boy been up to now?”
“Where do I begin?”
Ariela walked over to the sofa and sat on the arm, facing him as he read what he’d written so far. “Sixty billion?” she asked in astonishment when Dylan finished.
“And counting. There are more people involved, which is why I keep turning up sources. People start talking. But the truth is, we may never know just how much money was misdirected because no actual record exists for a lot of these 'transactions'.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Appalling. Criminal. These people should be behind bars.”
He leaned back in his chair, swinging around to face her. “What really gets under my skin isn’t that Norton’s corrupt, so many of them are, but he makes no excuses for it. He’s brazen. He dares people to call him out, and no one does. He’s never faced a serious challenge to his office. Hell, he’s won four straight elections, just because voters recognize his name on the ballot. The worst part is, he doesn’t give a damn whether he hurts his own constituents at home or those guys in hostile territory across the world, just as long as he gets his cut. The prick has never had so much money. War’s been pretty lucrative for him.”
“If spelling it out hasn’t accomplished anything yet, and what you’ve uncovered so far hasn’t had any noticeable effect, why beat yourself up over it?”
“It’s my job. I know what that asshole does. Someday, the voters might just take an interest too.”
She gave him a quick smile. “I actually toyed with the idea of calling his office to ask for help in finding you.”
Dylan laughed and reached for her. “You’re a gutsy woman, honey. I’ll give you that.” He towed her over to him and wrapped his arm around her waist, nuzzling her breast in the process. “I think Senator Norton can wait a few hours. I just needed to rant a bit.” He eased her robe open and tongued her bare nipple. Then his mouth closed over it.
Ariela's eyes fell closed and she cradled his head to her, combing through his hair. Maybe writing about domestic issues like this one would be enough to keep him engaged and safe at home with her. She hoped so, but niggling doubts remained.
***
Dylan stepped out of his sweats, his eyes locked on Ariela as she slipped off her robe and dove under the covers.
“Join me,” she said, holding up the blanket and sheet for him.
The mattress sank as he accepted her offer. They rolled into the center of the bed and held each other for a minute before easing back. Tonight was about touch, taste, texture, and tenderness. Her skin, under the pads of his fingers, felt warm and silky. He followed along her hairline with all eight fingers, fanning them out across her brow. He smiled when Ariela moaned. Then he swept back around and began again, following the arch of her nose, down around her eyes with a delicate touch. He rubbed her temples as his thumbs stroked along her cheekbones. That brought a sigh.
She laughed at the tickle when he lightly brushed across her lips with the back of his finger. He had to kiss that mouth. No, he pulled back and moved up to the space between her brows and pressed his first kiss there instead.
Smiling, she murmured, “I like that.”
“Good,” he replied, just as softly.
He slipped his fingers into Ariela’s hair and held her in place while he kissed her eyelids, one at a time. They fluttered under his lips. Only then did he kiss her mouth. She kissed him back, the kiss deepening. She held him tight, drawing him down to her. Her legs wound around his and she pressed her body against him. He gripped her back, her breasts crushed between them.
Dylan was exactly where he was meant to be, where he wanted to be. When Ariela arched up beneath him, inviting him into her body, he’d neve
r felt more welcome anywhere. He was home.
There was no reason to rush. No alarm clock set to go off in the morning. The stiffness in his leg faded into the recesses of his mind as Ariela consumed him, body and soul. She was his. He was hers, for as long as she’d have him.
She looked up at him, tracing his dark outline as they moved as one. Even without the light, he knew how those eyes were looking at him. He felt it with every slow thrust, every gentle caress. They didn’t speak their love tonight, they expressed it. The dark brought clarity to their feelings, openness to their thoughts, and unity of purpose. The world receded and it was only the two of them, straining to fuse their bodies into one harmonious whole.
Muted gasps and ragged breaths escaped them. Ariela’s fingers dug into his arms. Dylan’s clutched her buttocks as he raised her higher, entered her deeper. A powerful rush of heat swept through her and she cried out as it carried her away. Feeling it, responding to it, Dylan stiffened, momentarily braced against the force, but he couldn’t withstand the wave of ecstasy when it hit either. They clung to each other, shaken and shuddering, as their bodies were buffeted by invisible blows. Only when they fell silent did they hear an anguished answer to their passionate cries.
Max was pacing outside the door, anxious and howling.
They collapsed, amused and exhausted.
“We’re okay, Max. Go lie down on your couch,” Dylan called to him.
The dog settled down, and so did they.
“I love you, Ariela,” he said softly.
She gave him a tender kiss. “I love you.”
Enough to forgive me for what I’m about to do? He wondered, squeezing his eyes shut at the promise he was going to break.
Chapter 20
Dylan wandered into the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee. Lifting it to his nose, he took a deep drag of the aroma, glad he’d brewed it strong. The flavor was rich, bracing, and oh so necessary given what he was about to do. He tried to put the prospect of Ariela’s predictable and justifiable anger out of his mind. Losing her over this was a terrifying possibility to contemplate.
“Damn it, Jim. I don’t want your fucking life—or your death. I hope you enjoy your last laugh, wherever the hell you are.”
Dylan had loved the man, but despised his flippant predictions. His friend had made his choice where his love life was concerned. Dylan didn’t feel he had one. He reached for his phone with a heavy heart and dialed.
“Hello, Dr. Hadad. It’s Dylan Bond again. I’m sorry to call you while you’re working, but my friend Paul just got through to me. It’s like I thought. He can’t help us personally, but he did give me the names of two private contractors who’d be willing to take a little business on the side. He said they’re trustworthy and professional…Right, that’s what I thought too. He warned me, though, they won’t come cheap…I’ll see what I can do on my end. I might be able to arrange something…Uh-huh. Sure. I’ll call you again when I know something…That would be better, yes. Let me write that down…Okay, got it. I’ll be in touch.”
Dylan closed his phone and tossed it onto the counter, watching it skate across the top before it struck the toaster. Fuck. He downed the last of his coffee in one painful gulp then put down the mug harder than intended. He was losing it. Gripping his hair in frustration, he kicked the lower cabinet with his bare foot. The regrets were mounting this morning. He limped back to his desk, swearing the entire way.
There was one avenue he couldn’t afford to ignore, as tempting as it was. If what they were planning was going to work, he needed some important strings pulled, by someone with the clout to do it. Time was of the essence. Sometimes you had no choice but to make a deal with the devil. No one said he had to be happy about it.
Hand curled around his mouse, Dylan opened the file he’d named I Spy. That was where he kept his more identity-sensitive contacts. Leaning over the screen, he searched through the names, finally finding the one he wanted. Time to make another call.
“Yes, can I speak to Marcie Spaulding, please?” He waited while he was transferred. “Marcie, Dylan Bond calling. Listen, I need you to set up a meeting for me with the senator…It’s important…I know, but work something out. I need to talk to him…Don’t say that. You’re my only shot here…Well, transfer me over then…I realize that, but I think he’s going to want to take this call…No, I’m not kidding. I have a proposition for him. Trust me, he’ll want to hear it…Of course, I’ll hold.”
***
When Dylan finally hung up, he felt weighted down by conflicting emotions. His proposal to Senator Norton had been distasteful, but necessary. Now that the deal had been made, he felt sick. He’d compromised his principles in order to get the plan moving and temporarily muzzled himself for the sake of others. Sometimes that’s just how things had to work. He’d also obliterated the line between observer and participant and ignored his rule to not get personally involved where his job was concerned.
Scrolling through his numbers, he made the next call, already sick and tired of phones.
“Dr. Hadad? Dylan Bond again…Yes, I just talked with, well I can’t say who, but it’s a go. Are we shooting for Monday then? …Uh-huh. And you can send them word? The faster we get in and out, the better for everyone …Yeah. I’ll have my friend set it up for us. How about we meet in New York and fly out together? …That’s fine too. I’ll meet up with you in Montreal. Will that work? …Good. You have my number. Let me know specifics and I’ll do the same…Right. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Dylan set his phone aside and sent off a quick e-mail to Paul before turning his attention back to his neglected article. He had to reread it twice just to get back into the right frame of mind before he was able to finish it. Once it was posted, he dealt with the next item on his agenda. This time it was personal. He updated his emergency contact information, stipulating Ariela should be notified in the event of accident or death. That went straight to Human Resources under separate cover.
Shutting down the computer, he realized what he really needed was a will, but he didn’t have the time. Ariela would be back soon from shopping for wedding dresses with Jean. He’d tell her then.
Max wandered over and laid his head on Dylan’s leg. Reaching down, his heart heavy, he ruffled the dog’s soft, floppy ears and wondered if he was about to give up any hope of ever seeing Ariela in a dress of her own. She’d make a beautiful bride. He sighed, feeling even sicker than he had when he’d hung up after speaking with Norton.
“I could really use a beer about now. I’ll bet you’d appreciate a walk too.”
Max went wild and Dylan smiled sadly at him, envying the animal his uncomplicated life.
***
By six-thirty that evening, the spaghetti sauce was bubbling away. Dylan had just stirred it again when the phone rang. He grabbed for it, throwing the kitchen towel over his shoulder.
“Hello?”
It was Ariela on the other end. “Hi babe, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be. Jean has a very specific idea of what she wants and we’ve basically given up on bridal gowns altogether. Now we’re looking at eveningwear. To be honest, I don’t think she’ll be entirely satisfied with anything. Wait a second.” Dylan could hear Jean’s distant voice as she spoke to Ariela. “Oh god, I’m back. Now Jean’s talking about a silver dress.” Ariela fell silent for a moment. “Actually, that might be pretty cool in the style she wants, especially if Ron is dressed in black. They’d look really great standing together.”
“Hi, honey.” Dylan’s smile traveled over the line to her.
That’s when Ariela must have realized she hadn’t given him a chance to say anything beyond hello. She laughed. “Just hearing your voice is like getting a shot of adrenaline. You’ve revived my flagging energy.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Honestly, I’m trying to move her along. Have I fouled up your dinner?”
“Spaghetti will wait. I’ll just munch a little until you get home.”
/>
“I’m sorry about this.”
“Why? What you’re doing is important. She’ll probably do the same for you in the future.”
Ariela snorted. “Don’t tease me.”
He chuckled. “Hurry home. We miss you.”
“I miss you too,” she said softly.
He hung up, feeling a little relieved at the delay. It would give him time to gather his thoughts for the ugly scene to come. What was her breaking point? He was about to find out.
***
Dylan was sprawled on the floor, Max pressed against his side, an old Game Boy held over his face, when Ariela got home. The electronic music was playing when she shut the door.
“Noo…crash and burn,” he groaned, letting his arm fall in defeat. The Game Boy dropped from his hand, startling the dog.
“Your sauce smells good.” Laughing softly, Ariela walked to the end table and set down her purse.
Dylan rolled to his side and grabbed her ankle. “Where are you going?” he asked, loathe to let her go now that he had her.
Ariela dropped down on top of him and gave him a kiss. They had to push Max back with their elbows when he tried to nose his way between them as they sank deeper into the kiss. It was probably their moans that did it.
“Mmm, I’d be willing to skip dinner if you want to get naked instead,” Dylan murmured against her throat.
“Later. I’m starving.” She pushed back from his chest and straddled his hips, moving seductively against his bulge before standing.
“That wasn’t nice.” He gave her a woeful, disappointed pout.
“Aww, don’t look so sad. Consider it a preview of coming attractions.” She smiled and extended her hand to tug him up from the floor.
She had no way of knowing his emotions were genuine.
Dylan took the bread from the oven, and while they served themselves at the stove, Ariela chattered on about her day. She repeatedly told him how exhausting it was to shop for so long. “I don’t think I can face another store for at least a month.”