“There’s an overlook on the ridge,” Maddie said, a wide smile on her face. “It won’t take ten minutes to get there and the view is magnificent. Just take Goldenrod Road for about two miles. I’ll tell you where to turn.”
“Is this a lover’s lane?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. It’s on private property and is posted with signs stating that fact.”
“Are you trying to get me in trouble with the law again?” he asked teasingly.
“The land belongs to me,” she replied.
“Ah, I should have known. Just another part of Delarue, Inc.’s vast holdings.”
“A very small part.”
He turned off onto Goldenrod Road and checked the mileage gauge. “So, why did you decide not to take over the reins of Delarue, Inc., when your father died?”
“Oh, but I did take over. At least for a while. I found out rather quickly that I hadn’t inherited any ruthless, cutthroat genes from my father, personality traits necessary to command a business empire the size of Delarue, Inc.” Maddie looked straight ahead, taking note of the passing scenery, visible by the light of the three-quarter moon. “I have a say in whatever major decisions are made, but I prefer to leave the day-to-day running of the business to men and women who thrive on it.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t find yourself a husband who would’ve loved to take charge.”
“Turn left at the next four-way stop,” she told him. “Are you applying for the position?”
Dylan stopped at the four-way intersection, and not seeing another vehicle in any direction, he idled the Porsche and turned his gaze on Maddie. “Is that what you think this is all about? You think I’m interested in getting my hands on Delarue, Inc.?”
“You tell me.” Maddie stared directly into his eyes. “I heard you telling people that you’re a stockbroker in Dallas, which tells me that you’re a shrewd businessman. Shrewd enough to afford a Porsche and an Armani suit and a Rolex watch and—”
He reached across the console, lifted his hand to her face and caressed her cheek. “I don’t need Delarue, Inc. I don’t want Delarue, Inc. I’ve got more money than I’ll spend in two lifetimes.”
“Then you’re very rich?”
“Not as rich as you, but then few people are.” He ran the tip of his index finger across her slightly parted lips. “I’m a multimillionaire and I get richer every day. I seem to have the Midas touch when it comes to making money.”
Dylan returned his hands to the steering wheel, switched on the blinker to indicate a left turn, then headed the Porsche down the dark country road. Neither he nor Maddie said a word as they drove along the winding lane that led to the ridge overlooking the valley. He pulled his car up to the edge of the paved overlook and parked, but left the motor running. He punched the CD player and instantly the still night air filled with hauntingly sweet jazz.
“So, if you’re not interested in my money, what are you interested in?” Maddie asked, keeping her gaze focused straight ahead at the starry summer night sky.
“Honey, do you really need to ask me that?”
“Yes, I’m afraid I do.”
“Been bushwhacked a few times, have you? One gigolo too many?”
“Something like that. You remember Jimmy Don Newman, don’t you? Well, I was engaged to him briefly when I was nineteen. All of two weeks. I found him in bed with my college roommate and he laughed in my face. He told me that the only reason he’d ever dated me was because I was the heiress to the Delarue fortune.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Yes, he was. And my only regret is that I wasted so much of my time with him. But Jimmy Don wasn’t half the cad my second fiancé was. Nigel Pennington, the Earl of Cimberleigh, latched on to me when I vacationed in Europe the summer after I received my master’s degree. It was my first vacation without my mother and I must admit that I was raring to do something wild and fun. Nigel wasn’t very wild, but he was a lot of fun.”
“So what happened with dear old Nigel?”
“On the night of our engagement party, which took place at the castle of some friend of his, I inadvertently discovered that not only was Nigel knee-deep in debt, he already had a fiancée. The woman was posing as his devoted sister.”
“You’re right. I believe Nigel’s duplicity tops Jimmy Don’s.”
“There have been a few others,” she admitted. “Not fiancés, just temporary boyfriends. And not a one of them could see anything except dollar signs when they looked at me.”
“Then they were fools.”
“Dylan, don’t. I’m not good at playing games, so I gave up playing them quite a few years ago.”
“The only game I want to play with you is good old-fashioned Post Office. It’s a game where I kiss you and you kiss me back.”
“Aren’t we a little old to be playing a kid’s game?”
“The way I play it, it’s a very grown-up game.” Dylan reached over, swooped her out of her seat, across the console and into his lap.
Déjà vu.
“I seem to remember your doing this once before,” she said, sitting stiffly atop his thighs.
He kissed her neck. “Do you remember my doing this?”
“No.”
He skimmed his fingertips over the rise of her breasts exposed by the low, square-cut neckline of her satin gown. “What about this?”
“No.”
He forked his splayed fingers through her wind-tousled hair and held her head in place as he lowered his mouth to hers. With his lips a hairbreadth from hers, he said, “But you remember this, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
The kiss was as hard and demanding as the one the sixteen-year-old Dylan had given her, but with the expertise of a man who had perfected the art of kissing with years of experience. He could tell that she was thinking about resisting him, but suddenly, as if something bold and daring broke free inside her, she gave herself over completely to the moment. When she softened against him, he absorbed her, melding her flesh to his. He teased and tasted, delved and retreated. And all the while he held her head in place, a part of him was afraid she might pull away. Lost in the throes of fulfilling a teenage boy’s fantasy, Dylan didn’t realize that he was fast losing control, as if his sixteen-year-old self had taken possession of his thirty-three-year-old mind and body. When he cupped one of her breasts through the satin material of her gown, Maddie whimpered, which drove him crazy.
While he ravaged her mouth, he slid his hand over her back, seeking the gown’s zipper. When he eased the zipper open, Maddie moved against his chest and mumbled against his lips.
“Stop, Dylan. Please, stop.”
Damn! He jerked up the zipper, stopped kissing her and buried his face against her bare shoulder. After taking several deep breaths, he lifted his head and looked directly at her.
“I’m sorry, Maddie. I didn’t mean to let things get out of hand.” He grinned sheepishly. “I don’t usually lose control like that.”
Maddie eased up and out of his lap, slid across the console and back into the passenger seat. Breathing raggedly, she hugged her arms across her waist.
“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do,” she admitted. “The truth is I’d really like to…have sex with you. But I’m not going to. I’ve sworn off men. And, Dylan Bridges, you’re most definitely a man. As much as I’d like to believe that you’re my fantasy come true, you aren’t. And despite the fact that we knew each other in high school, you’re really a stranger to me now.”
Dylan ran his hand over his face and down his throat, then looked up at the starry night sky. “I’m going to be in Mission Creek for a while. I’d like to see you again.”
“We’d better not start something that is bound to end badly for both of us,” she told him. “Besides, you should be spending all your time with your father.”
“I don’t think Dad would mind if I had a few dates while I’m here. Besides, I’ve been seriously considering moving back to Miss
ion Creek for good.”
Maddie jerked her head around and stared at him. “You have? But why would you want to leave Dallas?”
“Because my dad’s here.” He could have added “because you’re here,” but he didn’t. Maddie Delarue would find out soon enough that she hadn’t seen the last of him.
“Yes, of course. I understand. You two have spent years apart.”
She looked at Dylan, her blue eyes filled with sympathy. The last thing—the very last thing—he wanted from this woman was sympathy. He wanted to be her friend and her lover, not necessarily in that order. But he didn’t want to be a guy she felt sorry for, as she had when they’d been kids.
Dylan checked his Rolex. “I think our thirty minutes are up.”
“Yes, I’m sure they are.”
He shifted the car into reverse and headed down the ridge. Maddie remained quiet and Dylan couldn’t think of anything else to say. At least not tonight. But she’d be hearing from him again—sooner rather than later. Tomorrow he’d start with a dozen roses. Not red ones. Not for Maddie. Peach roses. To match her peaches-and-cream skin and her peachy golden-red hair.
Within ten minutes, he drove under the canopied entrance portico at the country club. After getting out and tossing his keys to the valet, he rounded the hood and opened Maddie’s door. As they walked into the lobby, Maddie paused.
“I need to freshen up before I return to the ballroom. Why don’t you go on back to the party? I’ll see you later.”
Dylan grasped her hand. “Let me take you to dinner tomorrow night.” Dammit, man, you’re rushing her, he told himself. You should have waited. What’s the matter with you? Can’t you control your impulses where Maddie is concerned?
She shook her head. “Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you that Maddie Delarue doesn’t do relationships. I’m lousy at them. I don’t believe in love and happily ever after.”
“I’m not asking for a relationship. Just a date, to start with. And then later on, when you’re ready—”
“Sex?”
He grinned. “Yeah, Red, sex would be nice.”
“Just sex?”
“Sure. Just sex.”
Her fragile smile bothered him greatly. Once again he could see beyond the facade she presented so bravely and saw the lonely woman beneath. Poor little rich girl, he thought, and he had the oddest notion that he was the one man on earth who could make Maddie happy.
He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything. And by God, he meant to have her. In the past ten years he’d gotten just about everything he’d wanted. Perhaps that rate of success had spoiled him, made him believe he was invincible when he wasn’t. But Maddie was worth the effort, worth the risk of falling flat on his face.
“Please, leave me alone,” Maddie said. “I’m used to my life the way it is. I’m not willing to jeopardize my security and peace of mind for an ill-fated romance. I don’t have room in my life for a reformed bad boy, no matter how tempting he is.”
Dylan released her hand. “Who says I’m reformed?” He turned and walked away, leaving her in the lobby as he went upstairs to rejoin the party.
Maddie entered the ballroom ten minutes later. She had brushed her hair, having no choice but to leave it hanging loose, and she’d reapplied her makeup, hoping no one would notice that her lips were slightly swollen. As she walked into the room, she glanced around, looking for Dylan. If he was here, she didn’t see him. The local actor playing the part of the police detective had rounded up what he was referring to as the “usual suspects” in the fictitious murder case. Maddie maneuvered around the edges of the room until she made her way to Alicia.
“How’s it going?” Maddie asked.
“Beautifully. Everyone is having such a good time, including me.” Alicia glanced at Maddie and smiled, then did a double take as she stared at Maddie’s hair.
“The French twist was so tight it gave me a headache,” Maddie said in way of explanation. “So, do you think you’re ready for the next big event here at the club? We really should start planning the Labor Day barbeque as soon as possible.”
“Yes, we should. And I have a few ideas I’d like to go over with—Drat, there’s Mr. Small motioning to me. He’s been the one unpleasant aspect of this entire evening. He keeps giving me suggestions, as if he’s my boss instead of you.”
Maddie laughed as she glanced at the short, squat man who tried to rule the club with an iron fist. Poor Harvey. If a person could buy Harvey for what he was worth, then sell him for what he thought he was worth, that person could make a fortune. “Better you deal with him than me. Go on over there and see what he wants. And humor the man, at least until this party ends.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do my best.”
Using a microphone to broadcast this part of the ongoing fictitious murder mystery, the actor playing Detective Madison interrogated Flynt Carson, while Archy Wainwright’s godson, Joe Turner, stood at his side, waiting his turn to be questioned about the make-believe murder of a man named Jeffrey Hughes.
“Just where were you when Mr. Hughes was shot?” Detective Madison inquired. “And just how well did you know Mrs. Hughes? I’ve been told that you and she are secret lovers.”
Flynt couldn’t keep a straight face, but he tried not to laugh as he replied, “Somebody’s been filling your head with a pack of lies, Detective. I’m a one-woman man.” Flynt glanced across the room at a smiling Josie, who sat with his parents, and seemed to be enjoying the good-natured fun as much as her husband.
Suddenly Detective Madison turned to Joe. “And what about you, Mr. Turner? Where were you at approximately five after nine tonight? And isn’t it true that Mr. Hughes cheated you out of a great deal of money on a land development deal recently?”
“I have an alibi,” Joe said, a hint of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “I was with Flynt and he was with me, so you’d better find yourself somebody else to question.”
Everyone burst into gales of laughter. Detective Madison scratched his bald head, then playing right along with the game, returned his accusatory gaze to Flynt. “You’re a rich man, Mr. Carson. Just how much did you pay Joe Turner to lie and give you an alibi?”
While the game continued, Maddie made an inspection of the buffet table and reminded the jazz band what music to play when the “killer” was identified, then she rescued Alicia from Harvey. And as she went about her duties, she searched for Dylan. Where was he? She’d thought he planned to return to the ballroom when she’d left him to go to the ladies’ room nearly fifteen minutes ago. Had he changed his mind and gone home?
“There’s that handsome man everyone’s been talking about,” Alicia said.
Maddie’s heartbeat accelerated. “Where?”
“There.” Alicia nodded toward the entrance to the ballroom. “I think he’s looking for someone.”
Maddie tried not to glance his way, but need overruled subtlety. With a good twenty feet separating them, their gazes met and locked. Maddie’s breath caught in her throat. How in the world was she going to resist Dylan, when what she wanted more than anything was to run to him and throw herself into his arms?
Idiot, she chided herself. You’re asking for trouble if you buy into the fantasy that Dylan is the one man on earth who will love you for yourself. You’ve been fooled before and gotten your heart broken. But if you’re stupid enough to let him manipulate you, you deserve whatever you get.
If Dylan broke her heart, Maddie knew she might not ever recover.
“Watch out, there goes Fiona Carson into action,” Alicia said. “I wondered how long it would take her to zero in on Mr. Fabulous.”
Maddie watched while the lovely Fiona sashayed up to Dylan and began flirting with him. Dylan broke eye contact with Maddie, then turned his considerable charm on the wild and luscious Carson twin who went through men as if they were disposable tissues. An unwanted, sickening feeling of jealousy came to life inside Maddie. She knew such feelings were ridiculous; aft
er all, Dylan Bridges didn’t mean anything to her. She had no claims on him. He was certainly free to romance any woman he wanted.
As the evening wore on, Maddie deliberately avoided Dylan, who had attracted several other single ladies. However, when any of those other women ventured forward, Fiona quite efficiently dismissed them. From time to time, Maddie caught Dylan staring at her and whenever he noticed her looking at him, he’d grin and wink. Devil! Maybe he wasn’t such a reformed character after all. Apparently there was still quite a bit of bad boy left in him. And that was probably what had attracted Fiona. Well, let Fiona have him. Fiona Carson wasn’t the type who’d let any man break her heart.
With the murder mystery solved and a sputtering middle-aged actor carted off to jail, overacting his part as the killer, the crowd began milling around, a few preparing to leave, while others hit the dance floor or entered the buffet line. Maddie watched while the waitresses refilled the silver chafing dishes that lined the elegant table.
Joan O’Brien came up beside Maddie and handed her a flute of champagne. “Where did you disappear to earlier this evening?”
“I stepped out for a breath of fresh air.”
“With Dylan Bridges?”
Maddie gasped, then laughed. “We had some old business to take care of.”
“I see.” Joan inclined her head toward Dylan and Fiona on the dance floor. “So, what’s Fiona—new business?”
“I wouldn’t know. And I don’t care.”
“You wouldn’t lie to your best friend, would you?”
“I’m not—”
The shrill screams rent the still night air. From somewhere outside, a woman’s bloodcurdling shrieks stopped everyone dead in their tracks.
“What on earth…?” Joan stared at Maddie.
The band continued playing, but the dancers stopped and joined the others as they questioned the location of the screams and the identity of the woman. Maddie headed for the raised dais on which the band presided. She had to take charge of this situation before anyone panicked.
The Rebel's Return Page 6
