His Allure, Her Passion (4 page)

“I’m sorry.” She wanted to reach out and hold his hand. But with the whole pretend dating thing, it was a bad idea. Her soul was already too excited. But she knew, like no one else, how much he suffered because of his older brother’s death.

“And there was the ball thing, too. He forbade me to go because I have no serious relationship.” Dylan smiled up at her. “Well, had, ’cause now I have.” He winked, and she averted her eyes, afraid he would be able to see her true feelings in them. “But I have a plan. I’ll make him eat his own words.”

“What do you mean?”

He set the sketchpad and the pencil down. “Let me work on some details first, then I’ll tell you.”

“Okay.”

Dylan checked his shiny Rolex. “Time to go.” He stood up, went to her room and came back with his shoes on and holding his sweater. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, sadness brewing in her.

Surprising her, he walked to her, leaned down, kissed her cheek, and left.

Hayley stood frozen in space and time, for a long time. Dylan had kissed her cheek before, but this time, after their deal, it felt different. Crap, she was doomed.

Willing herself to breathe and move again, she whirled to the kitchen, planning on organizing it, but the sketchpad on the island caught her eye and she picked it up.

She gasped.

It was her, the profile of her face, strands of her hair flowing back as if a strong breeze had hit her, a single eye looking up, a mysterious shine in it, shadows playing over her skin. It was beautiful. Not her, but the drawing itself. The hard strokes, the shadows, the realism, the style, the simplicity.

They had been friends for three years, and only now she learned this detail about him, like he finally wanted to share this little secret with her. Though, it wasn’t little. Dylan was an amazing artist.

Under the drawing, in a fancy scribble, Dylan had written two words that meant more to her than she wanted to admit:
Thank you
.

Chapter Five

Dylan stopped the car in front of Hayley’s building. As agreed, he’d texted her to let her know he had arrived, then waited outside, leaning against his car, careful not to crumple his suit. A few seconds later, she showed up.

He caught his breath.

She wore a tight black dress. It went down to her shins, with a fancy round neck that lined her shoulders, and a dark pink belt. She had on pink heels and a heavy shawl to match. Her amber hair had been braided to the side, and her makeup made her eyes stand out.

Damn, she was beautiful.

Regaining his natural composure, Dylan whistled and opened the car’s door for her. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Aren’t you taking me to a restaurant? As in, inside and out of the snow?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m not cold.” She slid into his car.

With a smile, he closed the door and joined her.

For the last four days, she’d been nagging him to tell her where he would take her for their first official date, but he wouldn't spill it. It was a surprise—and he couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

It took them a little over thirty minutes to get to the restaurant. When Dylan veered into the Time Warner Center, Hayley’s mouth fell open, and he had to bite his lip not to laugh.

He parked right in front of the main entrance and called for a valet to take his car to the garage. Of course, people stared at him and at the car, but he noticed their eyes shifted to Hayley once he helped her out.

He grasped her hand and felt it shaking. “Are you okay?”

Forcing a smile, she squeezed his hand. “Yes.”

He didn’t buy it, but didn’t pressure her. Had she regretted coming with him? Was she simply cold? Was she already regretting their deal? He couldn’t afford that. He had to show her the benefits dating him would bring to her career.

With a smile, Dylan placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her in the building. When he directed her to the door of Per Se, she gaped again. This time he laughed.

“What? Were you expecting me to take you to Olive Garden for our first date?”

“Nothing wrong with Olive Garden.”

“I know, but you deserve more.”

Her gaze met his briefly, a deep furrow in between her brows. Had he said something wrong?

Dylan's hand was still on her back when they entered the restaurant. He briefly spoke with the
maître d
’, who led them to a private dining room. The East Room could seat up to ten people, but tonight it was only for Hayley and him.

The
maître d
’ helped Hayley sit across the table from him. She barely paid attention to what she did, her eyes widened at the window and its privileged view of Central Park. Dylan found it all too amusing. If he had known going out with her would be fun, he would have invited her a long time ago.

The
maître d
’ left and Hayley turned to him. “Why a giant room for only us?”

“It’s all about the game. People here know me. They will talk about how I brought a stunning girl to a private dining room. They know I wouldn’t do that if things weren’t serious. I bet there will be paparazzi out front when we leave.”

Her gaze fell to her hands, and she started picking at her long nails. She did that whenever ashamed, embarrassed, or nervous. Why was she ashamed, embarrassed, or nervous with him?

“You’re leaving for Flic en Flac tomorrow,” she said, still playing with her nails.

“Yes. I should be back the first week of the year. I’ll call you as soon as I land, so we can resume our dating.” She glanced up, and he wiggled his brows at her.

She smiled. “Yeah.”

The waiter came, wrote down their orders, and brought the wine Dylan had requested when he made the reservation. When the waiter was gone, Dylan raised his glass to her. “Happy twenty-first birthday.”

She froze, her eyes locked on his. “How…how did you remember?”

“I may be a little irresponsible, but I’m not stupid. After knowing you for three years, I think I’d better remember.”

Her cheeks reddened, and she toasted with him. “If I had known you remembered I wouldn’t have agreed to go out tonight.”

“Why? Is it so bad to celebrate your birthday?”

“No, but it looks like I’m trying to score a free birthday dinner.”

“I don’t see it like that.” Dylan fished an envelope out of his pocket. “I’m happy celebrating with you.” He gave her the envelope. A surprised grin on her face, she started tearing it up. “No, no. Tomorrow you open it. After I’ve left the country.”

“Why?”

“Just wait, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Okay.” She sounded suspicious, and he only smiled, sipping more of his wine.

Their food arrived soon after, and their conversation floated around her dreams about her career, which brands she would love to model for, which places she would like to see, which things she would like to buy with her own money. Her words flew from her mouth, especially after two glasses of wine.

But Dylan didn’t care. He actually listened and paid attention to her babbling, enjoying this comfortable mood they fell into each time they were together. It was like they had been friends all their lives.

He liked this. It was easy. Relaxing. He should invite Hayley out more often, even after this agreement was over.

They were almost through dessert when her cell phone rang. She scowled at the screen.

“What? Who is it?” Dylan asked.

She pressed a button, lowered the phone to the table and resumed eating. “Nobody.”

It rang again. Again, she pressed a button, then muted it. Dylan became curious at her annoyance. The cell phone vibrated on the table and Dylan picked it up. He stared at the screen, not believing his eyes.

“Patrick?” he asked, frowning. “Why is he calling you?”

Jealousy boiled in his veins. He hated her ex-boyfriend. They had broken up a couple of months earlier, but she never told him why. She took the phone and turned it off. “He has been calling for the past couple of weeks.”

“What does he want?”

“What do you think? To make up.” She pushed her plate away and huffed. “He probably thinks I’m alone at home on my birthday, and that I may give in easier.”

“If it rings again, let me answer.”

“Why would I do that?”

“The guy never liked me. If he finds out you’re with me now, he’ll leave you alone.”

Her jaw tensed. “He never liked you be—” She swallowed her words.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She glanced at his plate. “Can we go?”

Dylan froze at the unexpected blow. Only two or three times she had directed sharp words at him, and he had been a deserving jerk each time. What had he done now?

Noticing her sudden discomfort, Dylan nodded. “Yes, we can go.”

After paying the bill, Dylan pulled back her chair and helped her stand. With a sudden discomfort of his own, he caught her hands and stared into her eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to upset you.” Surprise registered in her eyes. “It’s your birthday. I was only trying to please you.”

For a moment, she didn’t move. She didn’t even seem to breathe. Then, a faint smile spread over her lips, but not to her eyes. She placed her hand over his cheek, the contact of her skin on his warming him.

“Thank you.”

***

The text message from Dylan came with many website links and no explanation.

With her Pilates clothes still on, Hayley rushed to her laptop and clicked on the links. She gasped.

Photos of Dylan and her leaving Per Se filled her screen. None of the articles had more than two lousy paragraphs of text, in which they wondered who she was, complimented her on her beauty, and also accused her of being stupid for going out with such a playboy.

If only they knew.

Dylan had been right. He had said paparazzi would flock their way when they left the restaurant the previous night. Check. He also said they would be might curious about her. Check. And that her pictures would be everywhere in less than twenty-four hours. Check.

She felt sick just looking at the photos and recalling the ferocious wave of paparazzi coming at them. Would it ever get better?

She ran to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and drank large gulps.

“What is this?” Chloe asked after entering the kitchen and leaning over the island.

Hayley glanced at her, bottle in hand. Chloe held up the envelope. “I don’t know yet. What time is it?” It should be late, if Chloe was already home from work.

“Almost seven.”

Hayley set the water bottle on the island and took the envelope. “His flight was at five thirty, so I guess I can open it now.”

“What are you talking about?” Chloe sat on the stool, still in her business clothes, her dark eyes curious.

“Dylan’s birthday gift. He told me to open it after he left for his trip.”

“If I were you, I would throw it away without opening it.” Chloe’s tone was harsh. “This deal you guys made is ridiculous and, let me tell you, it won’t work.”

“But it already has. I’m all over the internet and people want to know who I am.”

“Of course, everyone wants to know where Dylan got such a nice whore, so they can get one for themselves.”

Hayley flinched. “I’m no whore.”

“I know that, Hay, but the rest of the world doesn’t.”

Hayley opened the envelope. “We talked about that. He said he’ll behave so people know I’m not one of his bimbos.”

“And you believed him?”

A nasty retort sprouted to life on Hayley’s tongue, but she held it back. She didn’t want to start a fight with her roommate about this. She was already fighting herself.

Chloe stood, then went to her room in silence, though her words echoed in Hayley’s mind. Dylan wouldn’t lie to her, would he? He promised to behave, didn’t he? It was for two months only. Sure he could lay low for that long. Hoping to get her mind off her doubts, Hayley pulled out the contents of the envelope. A round-trip ticket to her parents’ hometown. For the holidays. In two days. First class!

“What the hell?” she whispered, the ticket trembling before her eyes. She tried to stabilize it and noticed she was the one trembling.

She reached for her phone and called Dylan. She would yell at him, refuse the gift, and send him to hell. What was he thinking? That she needed his charity? It must have been nothing out of his wallet, but it was too much for her. It was sweet, yes, but she couldn’t accept it. Nobody gave things away for free. Not even Dylan. Though it looked like he was trying to buy her so she wouldn’t back out of the deal.

His phone was turned off and would be for the next eight or so hours, if she remembered correctly, until he landed somewhere in Europe, before proceeding south. And only God knew if he would turn on his phone while on layovers, and if the exotic island he was going to had any reception.

How would she yell at him now?

Chapter Six

After spending a week working in Port Elizabeth—including Christmas Eve and Christmas Day—Dylan finally set out for Flic en Flac.

James picked him up at the airport and drove him to the pier where the boat was docked.

“Russ took the girls shopping. They should arrive soon then we can sail away and start partying.”

“Cool,” Dylan answered, following James into the living area of the boat. He felt exhausted from the intense workload and the flight. “I’m gonna take a shower and rest a little until they get back.”

Less than hour later, James burst in his room, his arm draped around a blonde in a tiny bikini and a whiskey bottle in the other hand.

“Come on, man! The party is starting.”

Dazed by sleep, Dylan rolled on the bed and grunted. It was too soon. He needed more sleep.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, but James and the blonde were already gone.

Dylan sat up, rubbed his eyes, and reached for his shirt.

“No need for that.”

His head snapped at the unknown voice. Another blonde in a tiny bikini stood at the door, showing a mischievous smile. He studied her body and an image of Hayley in that bikini invaded his mind.
She would look much hotter
.