by BETH KERY
“Dylan? It’s Sidney.”
Dylan blinked at hearing the name, trying to clear the number-strewn contents of his brain.
“Sidney? Is anything wrong?”
“I thought I was supposed to be the one asking you that,” Sidney said. Dylan imagined the sharp amused glint in the eminent psychiatrist’s eyes. Sidney had his own private practice in Morgantown, but he also did consulting work for Durand Enterprises on an international basis. It was easy for Dylan to call up an image of the doctor. When he’d been fourteen years old, he’d seen Sidney once a week in the summer months every year before he’d left for college. That, and an adult friendship, had made Sidney one of a handful of true confidants. He’d selected Sidney to be one of his Durand advisors, and often sought his counsel, valuing his psychological acumen on issues ranging from staff motivation to complicated business negotiations.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Dylan said, dragging his glasses off his head and rubbing his burning eyes. He hadn’t been getting much sleep lately, thanks to Alice. He planned to be getting little rest again tonight, and he was damn well looking forward to it.
“Any more nightmares?” Sidney asked.
“No. Nothing obvious. Or that she’s told me about, anyway. But as I’ve said, she’s far from being an open book. She does seem less anxious, though.”
“And she and you are still—”
“Yes.”
He immediately regretted his sharpness. It was guilt that was making him so defensive with his old friend—a man he trusted at this point in his life more than anyone. And Sidney had looked very worried when Dylan had told him he and Alice were sleeping together. It had been an unexpected situation, Alice looking up at him in those stables with desperate, raw need blazing in her eyes.
It’d been an unexpected complication, one he hadn’t been able to resist.
It was too late to go back now. He’d crossed the line. She wasn’t something he was going to give up without a fight. She was worth too much.
Everything, in fact.
Sidney cleared his throat. “You sound worried.”
“Is that a surprise?” Dylan asked gruffly.
“No. Of course not. I had thought, given the way things were progressing from the first, there might be more of these—intrusions on her part. The gong. Her fear in the woods. The vision in the hallway. Fascinating, all of it.”
“She’s not the subject of one of your academic journal articles.”
“Of course not. At any rate, it seems her integration process has slowed. Anxiety isn’t pleasant, but it can signal that something is trying to rise from the unconscious mind. It’s undesirable to slow that process until it halts completely. A pressure is required, a subtle but firm one. Maybe it’s time you stepped up the process, let a little more light into the darkness, so to speak. Maybe you should expose her to more potential triggers instead of less.”
“Do you really think that’s wise?” Dylan asked slowly. “I thought you said if we just dumped the truth on her, it could have unforeseen, potentially catastrophic results.”
“I’m not suggesting we bludgeon her with the truth, perhaps just test her a little more intensely so that we can observe the results. I don’t pretend to be an expert on the precise amount of pressure required.”
“You’re the best expert we have. You’re one of the best in the world,” Dylan said.
“Every human being is different, every mind’s strengths and weaknesses impossible to tally given a specific stressor.”
Dylan exhaled, but the tension remained in his muscles. “I’m starting to think we should just tell her. There are times when I look into her eyes, and she seems … so close.”
“I still think it’d be best not to force the issue entirely. It’s impossible to know precisely, just how much anxiety she’s experiencing. Especially since, as you’ve reported, she disguises it so well. By all reports, she’s functioning adequately at the camp.”
“I told you not to rely on Kehoe’s reports alone,” Dylan said sternly. “He’s taken a dislike to her. My more objective observers tell me she’s excelling as a counselor. She’s compassionate, smart, hardworking, not afraid to try new strategies, and the kids and staff love her.”
“All the better for Durand Enterprises. You don’t suppose Kehoe suspects—”
“No. I don’t see how he could. He’s just noticed my interest in her, that’s all. He suspects it’s about sex, but he knows that’s not my typical MO—to show interest in a Durand recruit—so he’s playing cautious. He’s puzzled and pissed off about the whole thing, but there’s nothing he can do without exposing his own slithering ways. He’s got people sniffing around Alice, but he hasn’t found the trail yet.”
“Watch yourself there.”
“I’m very aware of Kehoe. And I’m keeping a close eye on her around the clock.”
“Good. We all knew this was an unavoidable risk. That’s why I suggested this course of action. It was impossible to gauge her accurately without introducing her to the environment.”
Dylan pressed his fingertips to his eyelids. “When she’s with me, she’s less confused. Less overwhelmed.”
“She’s got other things to occupy her,” Sidney said wryly.
“You said yourself that might not be a bad thing,” Dylan bit out. He took a moment to calm his flash of anger.
“I did say it was possible. The problem is, just about anything is possible in this situation.”
“If you’re so damn worried about the potential damage I’m doing her, why don’t you come and see her yourself?”
“Dylan, I don’t think you’re damaging her. I only meant that we don’t want sex to be too much of a Band-Aid. And yes, I’d like to meet her. Very much. How do we manage that?”
“You could stop by unexpectedly. She has Sundays off.”
“And she’ll be there, at the house with you.” Again, that subtle, but stinging note of condemnation.
“Damn it, Sidney, you know the last thing I want to do is have this blow up in our faces. I wouldn’t have taken things to this level if I didn’t care so much.”
“I know that. Perhaps that’s the issue at hand.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dylan demanded, immediately recognizing the other man’s misleadingly mild tone for what it was.
Sidney sighed, sounding a little regretful that he’d broached the topic. “No one knows as well as I do how much guilt you harbored in regard to this girl. I know you care, but as your onetime psychiatrist, I can’t help but feel that the majority of your emotional baggage in regard to her relates to a misplaced sense of responsibility and guilt for—
“Cut the psycho-crap. I’m not your patient anymore, Sidney. You’re not my doctor. And Alice and I are consenting adults. You aren’t in my head. You don’t know what this means to me, even if you’re convinced you do.”
Again, Sidney sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“Good,” Dylan said, stifling his anger.
“I am curious to see her,” Sidney said thoughtfully after a pause. “I would imagine she’s quite special, despite what you’ve told me about her history. There must be a glimmer of what could have been.”
Dylan clenched his jaw hard. Sidney hadn’t meant to sound patronizing. It was just that his scientific brain couldn’t help but be fascinated by this unprecedented circumstance.
“Come by and meet her. I think you’ll see a hell of a lot more than just a glimmer. She’s a beacon.”
“Or a boatload of fireworks with a cloud of sparks flying in every direction around it?” Sidney asked quietly.
Dylan firmly changed the subject to a safer one.
SHE and Dylan had agreed that he would wait for her at the tree line that Saturday after she’d finished work for the day. He’d suggested that they were going to spend the night together—the full night for once, since Alice had Saturday evenings and Sundays off. However, their parting on Friday morning h
ad been hurried and furtive because they’d heard a cabin door opening and closing through the trees. There hadn’t been time for them to exchange many details about what they’d be doing Saturday night.
Alice had mentioned in passing to Kuvi that she shouldn’t be surprised if Alice didn’t return over the weekend. Kuvi’s conspiratorial wink at hearing this made Alice’s guilt swell. It was only a matter of time before Kuvi and Dave figured out she wasn’t stealing away at night to be with Thad. She’d just have to cross that bridge when she got to it.
She wasn’t sure if she should pack a bag or not. The idea of showing up to meet Dylan carrying an overnight bag made her feel too vulnerable, her expectations exposed. What if Dylan had changed his mind about his plans in the interim? So she skipped the bag. She’d deal with the need for a change of clothes if and when the situation arose.
Since it was the first time they’d met secretly in broad daylight and Alice now knew about the entrance to the woods leading to the castle, Dylan had grudgingly agreed it would be safe for her to approach alone. Besides, from his observation post at the edge of the trees, Alice knew he could watch the majority of her solitary walk toward him.
By the time she left for their assigned meeting at half past three that afternoon, her nerves were jumping in anticipation of seeing him again, no matter how much she told herself to relax. It seemed like forever since they’d parted in the darkness early on Friday morning.
A lot had happened with her work since she’d last seen him. Just an hour ago, she’d pulled Judith aside, and told her she’d liked the way she’d turned around the situation with Darcy last night. Presently, Alice recalled their conversation with a combination of irritation and bemused satisfaction.
“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” Judith had asked stiffly, referring to the note Alice had left last night. Her attitude wasn’t quite as defensive as it had been last night, but it wasn’t exactly welcoming, either.
“Yeah, in part,” Alice agreed. “As you probably know, the counselors are expected to choose a student team leader this weekend.”
“So?”
“After watching you with Jill all week, and after seeing how you managed to get past your pride last night and say something meaningful to Darcy, I was considering making you team leader. The kids respect you, grudgingly at times, given your attitude, but they do. They’d follow you.”
Alice might as well have dropped a bomb. Judith looked that stunned.
“You’re shitting me,” Judith stated flatly.
“No.”
“What about Noble D? Everyone says he’s been team leader the past two years.”
“He’s the obvious choice,” Alice said matter-of-factly. “You’re the right one.”
“You think so?” Judith bristled.
“Yeah. I think so. And that’s what counts,” Alice said with more confidence than she felt. “So, do you want the job or not?”
Judith blinked and shook her head, half dazed and half cynically disbelieving. “Me, lead this bunch of losers?”
“If you agree to do it, you’ll have to stop calling them losers. They’ll be yours, Judith. Yours to care about. Yours to protect.”
“Is that the real reason you’re picking me?” Judith asked, her nasty attitude making a flaming reappearance.
“Maybe,” Alice replied edgily. She noticed Judith’s extra-offended expression and exhaled, silently begging for patience. “I’m asking you to do it because I think you’d be fantastic at leading. If you can ever come off that damn pedestal and stop playing the lone bitch, that is.”
“Quit calling me a bitch, bitch,” Judith seethed, taking an angry step toward her, fists bunched tight. Alice stepped in just as aggressively.
“I’m not calling you a bitch. I’m saying you act like one sometimes,” Alice grated out, now eye-to-eye with the girl. “I think you can do this, Judith. But you’re going to have to sacrifice the pedestal and show the kids the humanity I know you have. In spades. So what’s it going to be? Are you going to take the easy route and back down from this? Or are you going to accept the challenge?”
“I’m not afraid. I’m not gonna back down.”
“Good. Then I’ll make the announcement. You’re the Red Team’s student leader. Don’t disappoint me, Judith,” Alice warned with a pointed glare before she turned and walked away.
In reflection, it hardly seemed like the joyful event she’d first imagined when she’d heard about her role in bestowing the honor on a student. It’d been more like the prelude to a fistfight. Just the memory of the volatile exchange got Alice worked up all over again, her adrenaline pumping, primed for a fight.
Alice knew firsthand that warm, fuzzy expectations only earned her a slew of disappointment. In reality, things had gone exactly as they should have, given Judith’s issues.
Given Alice’s own.
As she walked through the sunny pasture and all these thoughts swam around in her head, she realized she was perhaps girding herself for her meeting with Dylan … defending herself against more rainbows and sunshine fantasies. There was nothing that created a stampede of wild anticipation and unrealistic expectations than the topic of Dylan Fall.
After he’d told her about his mother being a prostitute, and how he didn’t know the identity of his father, it was like another dimension had been added to how she felt about him. And how she felt about him was already complex enough as it was. No matter how far he’d left that vulnerable boy behind to become the powerful man he was today, it couldn’t have been easy for Dylan to admit that to her. She could only imagine the bravery it would take to speak something like that aloud.
She could only imagine, because Alice herself didn’t possess the courage to speak of a shame like that.
Stepping into the shadow of the thick woods a moment later, she sighed in relief. It was a sunny, humid day. Peering around, she stole deeper into the canopied forest. She’d broken a sweat even during the relatively short walk from the camp. Wiping the moisture off her brow, she squinted, adjusting her eyes to the dimness.
At first, she thought he wasn’t there. Disappointment flooded her. Then a flicker of movement caught her eye.
She started.
He leaned against a wide oak tree, completely still save that movement she’d caught—a lifting of a thumb on the hand that rested on his thigh. Had he made the movement to betray his camouflage and draw her attention? One long leg was bent, one booted foot and his ass resting against the bark of the tree. She went nearly as still as him, her gaze seeking him out in the shadows. Even her heart seemed to go motionless for a split second. She made out the glint of his eyes as he watched her.
“Let me guess,” she said in a hushed tone as the tops of the trees sighed in a brisk lake breeze. “When you were here at Camp Durand, you excelled at woodcraft,” she said wryly, taking a step toward him.
“Never underestimate the ability to take your enemy by surprise,” he replied.
“Is that what I am? An enemy?” she asked provocatively, taking another step toward him. He remained unmoving, his narrowed gaze tracking her. He looked exceptionally good resting against that tree, his lean, powerful body seemingly relaxed, but in reality poised for action. Alice saw that he wore jeans and a plain cobalt-blue T-shirt. Dylan did incredible things to expensive European suits, but it struck her that he was born to wear jeans. They emphasized his ruggedness, his unconventionality, his origins. She realized it was one of the things she loved about him, the unique combination of power, street smarts, sophistication, and bold brute strength.
He shook his head ever so slightly and glanced at the sunny meadow where she’d just approached. “I was watching your face as you walked up just now. You’re not my enemy, but you sure looked like you were spoiling for a fight.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks when she realized he’d read her emotions so easily as she’d thought about her exchange with Judith … and her strong, bewildering feelings for him. She took anoth
er step toward him, coming within inches of his bent knee.
“Maybe I am,” she said.
“Why? What happened?”
“I don’t feel like talking about it right now. I don’t feel like talking at all,” she murmured, her gaze moving over him. He hadn’t shaved this morning. His upper lip and lower face were shadowed with whiskers. He looked good enough to eat. She resented him a little, for creating this rabid longing in her.
His hand suddenly shot out to the top of her back. He pulled her to him at the same time he lowered his bent knee. Air popped out of her lungs as she thumped against his length. He caught her surprised reaction as his mouth seized hers. He kissed her roughly. Thoroughly. Alice moaned shakily into his mouth, tangling her tongue with his, her body going tense with wild excitement. Her hands encircled his waist and she pressed closer, rubbing against him, desperate to mount the friction.
Needy for release from this tension he always built in her.
He cupped her jaw with his hand and ripped his mouth from hers. She strained against him, grinding her breasts, belly, and sex against his hardness.
“You need something to work it out, don’t you?” he rasped against her lips. “Do you want to fuck to get it out of your system?”
“I wish I could fuck to get you out of my system,” she gasped before she could censor herself.
Again, he went completely still. She swallowed thickly at something she saw blaze into his hooded gaze. Why did she always forget she shouldn’t rile him?
Or had riling him been exactly what she’d intended all along?
“I can’t help you with that, Alice.”
A tremor went through her—one of anxiety and lust—because she knew what he was saying. Every damn thing he did was designed to make her remember him until her dying day.
She went up on her toes, seeking his mouth again, begging for euphoric forgetfulness. His head moved back slightly, dodging her seeking lips. Irritation spiked through her, but she’d seen the muscle leap in his cheek and she felt his cock hardening against her. He wasn’t as unaffected and insouciant as he’d have her believe.
