“I guess you could say we’re working things out,” Ivy told her.
“I’m glad. At least this trip wasn’t a total waste.”
“Have you told Blake’s parents?”
“We called them from the road and caught them just as they were leaving for the airport.”
“I’m a disgrace to my family,” Blake said. “And I’m probably out of a job. And a house.”
“And you guys are okay with that?” Ivy asked.
He shrugged and sat on the arm of the couch, beside his new wife. She smiled up at him. “They’ll get over it.”
“Do you have anything lined up?” Dillon asked him.
“Not yet,” Blake said.
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. If you need a job, there’s always a position open for you in my company.”
“I’ll definitely think about it.” He looked down at Deidre and grinned. “Right now I just want to enjoy being a newlywed.”
“We’ve decided to leave early for our honeymoon,” Deidre told them. “We’re going to drive up the coast, then be back in time for the cruise when it leaves Saturday night. Either of you is welcome to stay for the rest of the week.” She shot Ivy a smile. “Or both of you.”
Ivy struggled to suppress the depraved excitement clawing its way to the surface. She glanced over at Dillon and saw that he was trying really hard not to smile. She didn’t doubt they were thinking the exact same thing.
Three days alone, with this big house all to themselves.
Did it get any better than that?
Sunday came way too soon.
After spending every waking hour together for the past three days, the idea of being apart was almost impossible for Dillon to fathom.
As he helped her carry her bags out to the limo that would take her to the airport—his flight wasn’t scheduled to leave for another few hours—it occurred to him that he had gone and done something really stupid.
He had fallen in love with Ivy all over again.
And Ivy had made her position very clear. Her career was the only thing important enough to fill the number one spot in her life right now. She’d worked too hard, for too long, to throw it all away on a man she wasn’t sure she trusted.
Well, she hadn’t actually said that, but he knew that was what she was thinking.
It was kind of ironic. Ten years ago she’d been ready to settle down and start a life with him, but all he’d wanted was to have fun. To goof off. Now that he was finally ready to slow down and be with her, she had already moved on to bigger and better things.
And if it were his career in jeopardy, he couldn’t say for sure that he wouldn’t make the same decision.
They had genuine feelings for each other. Their timing was just way off.
For some reason that didn’t make him feel any better.
The driver put the bags in the trunk, and Dillon opened the door for Ivy. “I had a good time this week.”
She set her purse on the seat and turned to him, the car door between them. “Me, too. Do you think Dale will tell anyone he saw us together?”
“I doubt it. And if he does say anything, I’ll deny it. Your career is safe.”
“Thank you,” she said, but instead of sounding relieved, he could swear he heard disappointment in her voice.
The driver got in and started the engine.
“I guess this is it,” she said.
Dillon nodded. “I guess it is.”
He kept his hands clamped down tightly on the car window, so he wouldn’t touch her. Because he knew if he got hold of her again, he might not be able to let go. And that would be a mistake.
It hadn’t worked the first time, and they had no guarantees it be any better now. Odds were they would have ended up right where they’d been ten years ago. Divorced and bitter and hating each other. At least this time they were parting as friends.
She had a life, and he had a life, and they were both better off keeping it that way.
“Have a good trip.”
“Goodbye.” She rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then she turned and climbed inside the limo. He stood and watched as the limo rolled down the driveway and disappeared around the corner.
It was the second damn time he’d watched that woman walk out of his life.
Ivy had two major problems.
Problem number one was that she was pretty sure her career was officially over.
For the seventh day straight she’d sat at her desk, staring at the computer screen, until her eyes burned with fatigue and strain. Instead of tapping across the keyboard the way they usually did, her hands lay limp and useless in her lap.
Seven days, and she hadn’t written a darned word.
What was once so clear to her, so obvious and logical, no longer made sense. The magic was gone. And the explanation was simple. She was a fraud. A charlatan. She’d been giving millions of trusting, naive women lousy advice.
It was humbling and embarrassing to realize that everything she believed in, everything she knew about her life, was a lie. Or at the very least, grossly misconstrued. It was a wrong she needed to right or she feared it would gnaw away at her, little by little, until there was nothing left. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the slightest clue how to fix it. What her next move should be.
Which brought her to problem number two. Dillon.
She missed him.
She missed him like she’d never missed anyone before in her life. The first time she’d walked away from him had hurt, but it had also been a relief. The fighting, the heartache—it had been over. All she felt this time was pain and loss. A deep, sharp ache in her chest, as though her heart had been ripped out, filleted, haphazardly sewn back together, then shoved back in the wrong way.
After she’d kissed Dillon goodbye and the limo had set off to the airport, it had taken her exactly three seconds to realize, to admit to herself, that she loved him. The same as the first time, but completely different somehow.
What they’d had back then was thrilling and complicated and volatile. It had burned hot and fast, but what she felt for him now was more mature and undemanding. Simple in its complexity. And deeper than she imagined possible.
They had come full circle, and by letting go the first time, they had somehow grown together. It was finally their time. She was sure, all the way down to her soul, that they could make it work and that they would both be happy.
At least a dozen times she’d opened her mouth to instruct the driver to turn around, to take her back. But she’d been too chicken to do it. How could she willingly destroy her own career? Admit to millions of readers that she was wrong? And how could she not?
But what scared her the most, was what if he rejected her? What if he didn’t love her the way she loved him?
What a pathetic excuse for a strong, independent woman she turned out to be.
But damn it, she was sick of playing that role. And the honest truth was, that’s all it had been. A role. An act. When she stripped herself down to the core, to the real her, she was still the same old Ivy. Only a little wiser, she hoped.
What it really boiled down to, the thing she had to decide once and for all, was would she rather be successful, or would she rather be happy?
The answer came to her instantly.
Definitely happy.
Well, that wasn’t so hard.
And who knows, May be someday she would be able to manage both. But one thing at a time. First she had to talk to Dillon.
It was a risk. It was possible that he wasn’t willing to give her a second chance. He could have moved on by now. But she knew that was a chance she was willing to take. One she had to take.
Oh, my God, she was really going to do this.
She reached for the phone, hand trembling with anticipation. Nothing in her life had ever felt so scary. Or so right.
The instant her hand hit the receiver she realized that she didn’t have his number. She could call directory
assistance, but she seriously doubted he would be listed.
But she did know where he lived.
Besides, if she was going to grovel, she should at least give him the satisfaction of seeing her face.
She pushed away from her desk. She would go to his house and hope that she was able to get past the front gate. Even if that meant running into his horrible mother. Mrs. Marshall, as Ivy had been instructed to address her, would just have to adjust to having Ivy around again. The same with Ivy’s mom. She would have to accept that Dillon had changed. And if she couldn’t, if she still believed Ivy was making a mistake, Ivy would just have to learn to tune her out. In fact, she should have learned that a long time ago.
And who knows, May be a couple of grandchildren to spoil would lighten them both up a little. Right now, she felt as though anything were possible.
She grabbed her keys off the table in the entryway and stuck her feet into one of the pairs of shoes she’d left by the front door. Her hands were shaking and her heart was about to burst from her chest it was beating so hard, but she was determined to see this through.
She turned the knob and swung the door open and—hello!—almost ran face-first into the wall of man standing there.
It took her brain a second or two to process who it was. “Dillon?”
He stood in the hallway outside her apartment, fist raised, as if he’d just been preparing to knock, and he looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Several days’ worth of dark, coarse stubble branded his face and his clothes were wrinkled. His hair was a mess and when he slipped off his sunglasses his eyes looked red-rimmed and tired.
Good Lord, he looked about as awful as she felt. For some reason that was a comfort.
He didn’t say a word. He just gripped her by her upper arms and tugged her roughly to him. His lips came down hard on hers, rough and sexy and demanding. His beard chafed her chin, fingers dug into her flesh. He tasted like coffee and sex, smelled warm and familiar. Her body went limp and she heard her keys hit the floor.
The kiss was as hot as a flash fire and over just as fast. He set her loose and she stood there, dizzy and disoriented, clutching the door frame to keep from falling over.
Whoa.
If he was trying to knock her off base, he was doing one hell of a job.
He scooped her keys up from the floor. “Going somewhere?”
“Believe it or not, I was just on my way to see you,” she said. “We must be on the same wavelength or something.”
“No kidding. You were coming to see me?” He looked her up and down, and his brow crinkled. “Like that?”
Like what? She looked down at herself and snorted out a laugh. She was still in the baggy pajama bottoms and threadbare T-shirt she’d slept in last night. The sandals on her feet were each a different style and color. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember if she’d even brushed her hair. She hadn’t grabbed her purse, either, meaning she didn’t have her driver’s license. Had she been pulled over, the police might have mistaken her for an escaped lunatic.
“I guess I forgot to get dressed.”
“We have to talk,” he grumbled. It wasn’t a request. It was an order.
“Okay, let’s talk.”
“Can I come in? If I’m going to grovel, I’m sure as hell not going to do it in front of your neighbors.”
Grovel?
Dillon laid down the law. He divided and conquered. But Dillon did not grovel.
Without waiting for an answer, and in typical Dillon form, he strong-armed his way inside and shut the door behind him.
“Make yourself at home,” she mumbled, annoyed, but only a little.
“So here’s the deal,” he said in that Master of the Universe tone. “I’m not going to let you toss me away again.”
So this was his idea of groveling? Ordering her around again?
She crossed her arms over her chest, stuck her chin up in the air. “You’re not?”
He settled into an identical, defiant stance. “Nope.”
“Do I have a say in this?”
“Nope. I love you, and you love me. Even though you’re too damned stubborn to admit it.”
Oh, she was, was she? Why in the heck did he think she was coming to see him? To tell him she didn’t love him?
“For your information, I do love you. Although at times like this I have to wonder why.”
“Great, so you won’t object to the fact that you’re marrying me.”
A shiver of excitement scrambled up her spine. He wanted to marry her. “If that was a proposal, you really need to work on your delivery.”
“You want me to get down on one knee? Fine.” He dropped down in front of her. “How’s that?”
“Better.” A lot closer to the groveling he’d promised.
He looked her right in the eye and said, “Marry me.”
Another demand. For Pete’s sake, could he drop the macho act for two seconds?
“What about my work? My career? If we get married, professionally I could be ruined. You said yourself that it was too much to ask me to give up.”
The cockiness never wavered. “Too bad. Because I’m asking.”
No, he wasn’t. He was telling. The way he always did. But knowing how hard it must have been for him to swallow his pride and come here in the first place, this time she didn’t mind so much. He was just being Dillon, and she didn’t expect him to change. She loved him, warts and all. This time she was going into the deal with her eyes wide open.
That didn’t mean it wouldn’t be entertaining to mess with him just a little. “And if I say no?”
“You won’t.”
“But what if I do?”
He blew out an exasperated breath. “I’ll ask again. And again. And I’ll keep asking until you say yes.”
The odds of a normal, traditional proposal seemed to hover somewhere in the million-to-one range. “Well, then, I guess I don’t have much of a choice. I guess I have to say yes.”
He rose to his feet and pulled her to him, not so roughly this time, and kissed her again. This time it lasted longer, felt…sweeter. Tender, even. His hands cupped her face, lips brushing lazily back and forth across hers. She heard him sigh, felt him shudder with satisfaction.
The kiss trailed off slowly, his lips lingering above hers. And when she opened her eyes to look at him, he was smiling that lazy, happy smile.
“This could be complicated,” she warned him.
He only shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Our mothers—”
“—will adjust,” he finished for her. He glanced over her shoulder, down the hall. “Have you got a bedroom in this place?”
“I want kids,” she warned him.
“Great.” He lowered his head, nibbled the curve of her neck. A new round of shivers exploded across her skin.
“I’m serious, Dillon.”
“Fine with me.” He licked the shell of her ear, nipped at it with his teeth. Desire ignited in the pit of her belly and burned its way through her arms and legs and into her head.
“I want at least two,” she told him, her voice coming out breathy and soft. “And I want to do it soon, before I’m too old.”
“Good idea.” He walked her backward down the hall, his hands gentle yet determined as they circled her waist, easing her T-shirt up. “In fact, I think we should start trying right now.”
Apparently she wasn’t moving quickly enough, because he lifted her right off her feet and carried her the rest of the way.
He found the bedroom on the first try and shouldered his way through the door, then he all but tossed her on the bed and dropped down beside her. Instead of ravaging her, the way she expected, he just looked down at her and smiled.
“This is going to be good.” He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose. “This is going to be really good.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “it is.” They really had come full circle, and wound up exactly where they were supposed to b
e. She wasn’t going to try to fool herself into thinking it would be easy. They were still both stubborn as hell. But this time, at least, they had maturity on their side.
“You know we’re going to have to work at this,” she said, and he nodded solemnly.
“I know.”
“We’re going to have to keep the lines of communication open or we’ll end up just like we were ten years ago.”
“I understand that.”
“You can’t just—”
He silenced her with a kiss. A long, slow, mind-melting deep one.
When it was over, she felt hot and fuzzy-headed. “What was I saying?”
“Ivy, you don’t have to worry. We’ll do what we have to do. Whatever it takes.” His eyes searched her face, filled with love and affection and respect. “I let you go twice, darlin’. That’s a mistake I won’t be making again.”
Coming soon from Series Press—from half the author team who brought us the bestselling self-help book The Modern Woman’s Guide to Divorce (And the Joy of Staying Single), Not All Men Are Pigs or What Was I Thinking?
ISBN: 978-1-4268-0118-1
BEST MAN’S CONQUEST
Copyright © 2007 by Michelle Celmer
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Best Man's Conquest Page 13
