His Allure, Her Passion (3 page)

Hayley stirred, moaned, and opened her eyes. “What are you smiling about?”

Was he smiling? “Nothing.” He sat in an armchair beside the couch. As she sat up, she pulled the comforter up to hide herself. “Hey, hmm, sorry. I didn’t mean to take your bed.”

“I know.” She smiled, and her green eyes shone.

“Was I too much of a jerk?”

“The usual.”

Their eyes locked, and she lost her smile. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much shit about his life, but he was always afraid he’d push her away if she found out every one of his little messes. Wouldn’t it be better, though? For her? To be away from him and his bad influence? But then who would give him pep talks and receive drunken him with open arms in the wee hours of the night? Who would tell him everything would be okay? Who would give him a hug when he was down because of his brother? He had driven many, many times from Princeton to New York just to have one of those hugs.

She was one of those rare jewels, and he couldn’t afford to lose her.

Feeling like a coward, Dylan averted his gaze. “Where’s Chloe?”

“Working. She left early. She wanted me to go to her bed then, but I just couldn’t move.” She shifted leaned back on the couch. “I take it your parents are in town.”

“Yeah. They arrived a few days ago. We tried having a family lunch yesterday. Alexis even flew in from LA, and Celine from London.”

“And it didn’t go well?”

“When does it go well?” The rage from the previous day surged up. “You know what? It’s not important. I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet.”

“Okay.”

He glanced at her. “What were up you to before I came?” He was always afraid of that question, afraid she would say she had a date or had a guy over, but his curiosity outweighed his fear.

“I had a show. Three dresses this time.” She didn’t sound happy or proud of herself.

“Sweet. How was it? Did you sweep the designer off his feet?”

She grimaced, hugging the comforter tighter. “As if.” She pouted. “I gained weight and one of the dresses wouldn’t close. The designer was furious with me. He told me he’ll never hire me again.”

“Wait. You’re as thin as ever. How much did you gain?”

“Half a pound,” she admitted with a low, ashamed tone.

“What? That’s nothing.”

“Well, it was enough for this dress.” She looked at her red nails, playing with them. “Now I have one more designer to add to my rejection list.”

“Are you serious? Because of half a pound?”

“This is serious. Half a pound is too much in my field. In fact, I should lose two or three more.”

“That’s crazy, you know that, right? You’ll disappear.”

“I’m not that thin, unfortunately.” She looked down at herself, but the comforter was still covering her whole body. “I have too many curves.” Her eyes found his again.

“Thank God you do,” he said before thinking. Warmth spread through his cheeks, but he didn’t break the stare.

She did. She cleared her throat, stood up with the comforter and walked to her bedroom. “Be right back,” she said and closed the bedroom door behind her.

Hayley was perfect. Tall, long legs, flat stomach, thin waist, not a single ounce of fat. Even though she wasn’t the ice skating prodigy she had been when younger, he knew she still liked to skate for at least a few hours each week. And he knew she’d practiced Pilates for many years now, and that provided for her lean, firm muscles. She had perfect breasts and hips. Her hair fell like a dark golden cascade down her back and her emerald eyes shone each time she smiled—and she had an amazing smile. All her photos were gorgeous. He had gone to two or three of her shows, and she looked great on the runway. How could Hayley not be the most successful model out there?

If only she had more exposure.

Chapter Four

Hayley tried not to freak out as she paced. She had already taken a quick shower, brushed her teeth, combed her hair and pulled it up on a ponytail, and put on jeans and a large long-sleeved tee. She knew Dylan and the dirty thoughts in his mind. They were friends, but he was a playboy and she knew she was a cute girl—she was a model, wasn’t she? He wouldn’t waste an opportunity to stare at her body. So no tight clothes or short skirts or low cleavage while around him.

Dylan would drive her crazy one of these days.

And she had been hiding from the temptation for over thirty minutes. What if he got bored and left? She didn’t want him to leave, not yet. Despite her doubts, she liked his company, liked talking to him.

After one last look at the mirror to make sure she looked okay, but not too okay, she left her bedroom.

Dylan sat at one of the stools at the kitchen’s island, a sketchpad and a pencil in his hands, focused on whatever he was drawing.

He glanced up at her and smiled. “Hope you don’t mind.” He gestured toward the sketchpad and pencil. “I found them on the counter.”

“I don’t mind.” She walked into the kitchen. “We leave it here to jot down anything we need to buy for the house.” He nodded and went back to drawing. “What do you want to eat?”

“Not sure,” he answered, his eyes on the sketchpad. “Nothing too heavy, I think.”

She smiled. “Too many drinks last night?”

Dylan snickered, winking at her before returning to the sketchpad. “You could say that.”

“All right. How about yogurt, juice, and toast? And apples?”

“Damn, Hay, how can you eat so…” he faked a cringe, “healthy?”

She grabbed food from the fridge and put it in front of him. “That’s what I have. If you don’t want it, don’t eat.” Then she turned to the toaster.

“Fine. But I’ll skip the yogurt. And the apple.”

Hayley laughed as she loaded the toaster. If only life was always this easy, this uncomplicated. While waiting, she leaned on the counter opposite the island, crossed her arms and spat out, “I’m thinking about quitting.”

The pencil fell from Dylan’s hand, and his wide blue eyes met hers. “What? Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve tried this for almost five years. It’s not working. I can’t even get into an agency. All I do is freelance. And it’s getting harder.” Unable to stand his gaze on her, she stared at the floor. “I’m not fit for it. I should quit and find another job.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” She grabbed the toast from the toaster and put it in front of Dylan, then put two more slices in for herself. “I could work as waitress somewhere for a while. Or in retail. Then try to get into college.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Not really. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”

After finishing one piece of toast, he picked up the pencil. “And give up on the thing you like the most?”

She sat on the stool across the island. “It’s not like I have many options, is it? I can’t keep doing this and starve to death.”

“It can’t be that bad.” He went back to drawing. And it was irritating. He was talking to her but not looking at her? Just irritating.

“It’s that bad.”

Dylan stopped drawing and stared at her, his eyes heavy on hers, clouding her thoughts. “What if I could help you?” He sounded excited, hopeful.

“What do you mean?”

He lowered the pencil, but didn’t release it. “I think I may have a way of helping you. An idea.”

“But?”

“But you gotta help me, too.”

What now? What could he ask of her?

She sipped from her juice, considering. “I know I’m gonna regret this, but shoot. Tell me your idea.”

“I think your popularity would increase if you went out with me. Everywhere. We go out to restaurant, to concerts, balls, trips.”

“But you already do all that. Without me. How would I help you like that?”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath and leaned closer. “You need attention. I can give you that. Paparazzi, covers of gossip magazines, famous people, the red carpet. I can get you all that. All I need you to do is to be there with me. And to go to my father’s ball with me.”

“Your…father’s ball.” Crap, he was going to put her in between him and his father. Oh, this was bad. “I don’t want to stand between you two, Dylan. Don’t pull me into your family problems.”

“You’re not going to be a problem. You’re going to be a solution. He set up this incredible ball on Valentine’s Day to launch his factory in New York. But he forbade me to go because I don’t have a serious girlfriend.”

“Which is true.”

“Shut up,” he pretended to snap at her. “Why the hell he chose such a dumb date to launch the new plant, I’ll never understand. Perhaps he has a contract with some florists and such. Anyway, if you start going out with me now, we have two months to make him believe we’re serious, and he’ll let me go to his ball.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Are you asking me to date you? Seriously?”

“No, Hay, I’m asking you to
pretend
to date me.”

That hurt. She had hoped he wanted to be serious with her. How childish and stupid was that?

She jumped off the stool and walked across the kitchen, needing some distance from him. “I don’t know, Dylan. I don’t think we should play like this. I don’t want to put our friendship at risk.”

“It won’t be at risk. We’re grownups, fully conscious of our actions. Besides, we’ll only pretend. Nothing will happen. We just need to hold hands and smile for the cameras.”

It might not be risky for him, but it would be too risky for her. The crush she had for him was buried deep, locked away in an infinite abyss. She couldn’t let those feelings surface.

“Why do you even want to go?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s going to be a huge event and my entire family is going to be there.” He averted his eyes.

“And?”

“No and.” He pressed his lips tight. “That’s it.”

No, it wasn’t. At least, it seemed like it wasn’t. At any rate, she had to think about herself and what she would do.

She sighed. “I can’t.”

“Don’t you want to be a model?” She nodded. “A famous one? Or at least one who can pay her bills and save enough for retirement?” She nodded. “Hang out with me publicly for two months, and you’ll get it. I guarantee. The press will be after us, trying to find out all they can about you. Even at my father’s ball.”

She didn’t see any flaws with his plan. Even if it didn’t bring fame to her overnight, hanging out with Dylan would certainly set her apart, bring attention to her. People would hear about her, recognize her. It might be the push her career needed.

There were two points to consider, though. One, her attention freak-out mode. With the whole press after them, as Dylan promised, she would get sick and hide in a hole and never come out.

Hayley glanced at him. Dylan was smiling at her, still hopeful, blue eyes shining and melting her guts. But there was something about him. He was so sure of himself. When he walked, each of his steps was precise and strong. Could he give her strength by staying by her side during the moments that made her sick? Or at least make her less uncomfortable in front of the cameras? Well, she could always hide under his arm.

Two, and more important than her sickening timidness, was she ready to have her heart broken? Hanging out with him, she would experience his playboy side first hand. She would see him flirting with other girls and jealousy would feed on her insides. Why the hell should she care? She knew him, she knew how he was, what he liked to do. He would hook up with other girls right under her nose.

“I may accept,” she finally said, “with a few conditions.”

“Name them.” Dylan tapped the end of the pencil on the counter, causing her irritation to escalate.

“You won’t try anything with me. We’re friends, and we’re not going to put our relationship at risk.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said, very serious.

Ouch. “And, the most important rule. You’ll behave while we’re playing this game.” His brow cocked up. “You won’t hook up with other girls. Not publicly, at least. I don’t want to be confused with one of the sluts you usually go out with. I want a serious career, and for that I need to be in a serious relationship.” One corner of his lip curled up and the butterflies in her stomach batted their wings, ready to fly. “Got it?”

Dylan rubbed his chin in a teasing manner. “Celibate for two months?”

“Those are my terms.” She extended her hand to him. “Deal?”

With his charming, cocky smile, Dylan pulled her closer, caught her hand, and kissed it. “It’s a deal, baby.”

What had she agreed to? She had to think about her career. It would be good for her career.

Hayley pulled her hand free of his, picked up her toast, and stuffed her mouth before she said or did anything stupid.
This is for my career. Only for my career
.

As if pretending to date a girl was a normal deal for him, Dylan resumed his sketching while humming a happy tune, unaware of the nervousness swimming around—and inside—her.

His rapid pencil strokes caught her attention. She peeked at his drawing, curious, but with both of his hands over it, she couldn’t make out anything. “What are you drawing?”

“Nothing,” he said, pulling the sketchpad closer.

She sighed. Typical. She had seen him drawing many, many times, and he always hid his sketches from her. The only reason she didn’t get mad at him was because she believed he hid them from everyone.

“Your classes are over, right?” He nodded. “What are your plans for the next few days?”

“Go out with you. Then I’m going to Flic en Flac for the holidays.”

“Flic en what?” She had never heard of such place.

“An island southeast of Africa.” He examined his drawing and added a few more strokes. “And you? When is your next gig?”

“Don’t have any.” She picked up the empty plates and glasses, and placed them in the sink. “Might have the suckiest Christmas ever, without money to buy gifts. Can’t even visit my parents.” Dylan smiled, and she held her breath. She was already falling. Bad, bad girl. “Speaking of parents, what happened yesterday?”

Dylan’s hand stilled over his drawing. “My father and I had another argument. About the same things. He wants me to be like Bryan was. He just can’t accept that I’m the opposite.”