by Julie Cannon
At this point Dillon was tempted to get down on her knees and beg for forgiveness, to tell Callie how much she meant to her. That she had fallen in love with her and was miserable without her. That she would cut off her arm to make the pain of deceit go away. That she wanted Callie to marry her for real this time.
But Callie would never believe her. No matter what she said she wouldn’t believe a word of it. But Dillon did have the opportunity to try to make things right. She would beg and grovel and plead the only way she knew how—by showing Callie how very much she loved her.
“Callie, why are you here?”
“I’m here because my brother was beaten and raped while in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, and I need money to get him out. That’s the only reason. I don’t care about you or your stupid little project or your misguided lack of self-worth with your father. I will sell my soul to the devil to get Michael out of prison, and if you’re her, then so be it.”
Callie stared at her as if she were a stranger on a street corner. “When we’re out in public we will act like we’re in love, maintain the typical relationship that married couples do. You can hold my hand and gaze longingly into my eyes, but let me make this perfectly clear, Dillon. You can have my body and the pretense of a happy marriage, but you will never have me. Never again.”
Chapter Nineteen
One evening two weeks after Callie returned home Dillon said, “Bill called today. He wanted to know when we can get together again for dinner.”
Callie seemed to shudder when Dillon mentioned Bill’s name. “What did you tell him?”
“That you hold the social calendar and I’d have to talk to you.” Callie held more than their social calendar. She held all the cards, and for now that was okay with Dillon.
“What do you want to do?”
“In spite of this whole thing, I like them. They’re great people without a mean bone between them and fun to be with,” Dillon replied hesitantly. Previously, Callie had enjoyed spending time with them, but Dillon didn’t know what she thought of them now. They weren’t to blame for what had happened, and she needed to clarify that point.
“Callie, Bill and Phyllis had nothing to do with this. Bill and I never discussed this situation, and it was never a condition of him selling me his property. I saw it as an opportunity to exploit what I thought I needed to do to get what I wanted. Nothing more. Don’t take out your hatred for me on them.”
“Thank you for clearing that up.”
Callie had wondered how much involvement Bill and Phyllis had in their marriage. They had become more than a little involved in the preparation of the wedding and their life together, but they were a sweet couple who seemed to want to see others as happy as they were. Dillon’s admission was surprising. She very easily could have portrayed them as willing accomplices, but she didn’t. She accepted full responsibility.
This wasn’t the first time, either. A week earlier she had taken the full brunt of another of Callie’s explosions as they were driving back from Lompak. Dillon had made an innocent comment about Michael’s defense lawyer, and Callie had exploded. She didn’t remember exactly what Dillon had said, but Dillon had sat quietly while she lashed out at her.
“I miss them,” Callie admitted. “I’d like to see them again.”
“You know what they’ll expect to see, don’t you? I don’t want either of us to misunderstand our roles. And I certainly don’t want you to be uncomfortable or embarrassed.”
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I would never do anything to jeopardize Michael’s defense.”
Callie was surprised at her reaction. One minute she recognized Dillon’s assumption of responsibility, and the next she snapped at her. She hated the way she was acting, but she couldn’t help herself.
Dillon didn’t snap back, although she could have said that she didn’t need to be reminded of the arrangement. Instead she said, “I didn’t think you would. I was only concerned for you. You know how Bill and Phyllis are. I truly don’t want our socializing with them to be awkward or difficult for you.”
Callie wanted to apologize for jumping to conclusions, but she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. Instead she softened her next ones. “I appreciate that. I know what they expect to see—the way we were the last time we were all together. I can do it. They won’t have a clue we’re anything but deeply in love.”
This would be the first real challenge of their newly negotiated peace, and she wondered if she really could pull it off without Dillon realizing how much she still affected her. If she actually detested Dillon’s touch, she would be able to remain internally distant. She wouldn’t have to hide her reaction to how Dillon’s skin felt when she touched it. How it jumped when she caressed it, how she could feel the heat grow under her fingertips. Dillon could never know. That was her trump card.
*
Callie was nervous as they waited for the Franklins to open their front door. She had spent far too long in her closet choosing something to wear. It should have been easy—a pair of slacks or a sundress—but it wasn’t. She felt as if she was going to be on display and she needed all of her armor in place. She had settled for a simple blue dress with capped sleeves and sandals and rubbed her arms as the seconds ticked by.
“Cold?”
Callie dropped her hands. “Just a chill. I’m fine.”
Dillon took a deep breath. “You look very nice.”
Before they left their house, Dillon had obviously been waiting for Callie in the living room, and she’d stared when Callie came down the stairs. Her dress swirled around her knees and she had pulled her hair back, so Dillon was looking at her neck. She had decided to carry a light sweater, in case it got cool later, and when she grabbed her purse from the side table, they were ready to go. Dillon’s stare made Callie feel uneasy.
And just now, when Dillon complimented her, Callie looked at her suspiciously.
Dillon seemed on the verge of losing her temper, but shook her head and merely said, “What? I said you looked nice, that’s all. No ulterior motive, no hidden agenda. Just a simple compliment, and a simple thank you would be nice.”
Callie felt foolish. Since she had moved back, Dillon had done everything she expected her to do to hold up her end of the bargain and hadn’t given her any reason to doubt her—that she knew of. But that was the problem. Callie didn’t trust her. Why should she? She started to say thank you but the opening of the front door saved her.
“Well, it’s about time,” Bill bellowed, a big grin on his face. “We thought you two had disappeared behind closed doors and would never come out. But if I had a girl like you do, Dillon, I wouldn’t want to come out either.” Bill winked at Dillon.
Callie slid her hand into Dillon’s. “Actually, Bill, it’s the other way around.” She stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek. Phyllis was coming up behind him, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
Greetings completed, they all settled on the back porch with Bill playing the role of bartender. Callie sat in close proximity to Dillon, her body constantly reminding her just how close.
“So, Callie, is married life everything you thought it would be?” Phyllis set a tray of crackers and cheese on the table in front of them.
“Actually, Phyllis, it’s a lot more than I expected.” Dillon tensed beside her.
“Oh, how so?”
“Well, I underestimated just how intertwined our lives would be, how dependent we would be on each other. I need things that only Dillon can give me, and I don’t want to speak for her, but I think it’s the same with Dillon. I’m committed to this marriage as much as Dillon is.” Callie moved her hand to Dillon’s thigh and her leg jumped at the contact.
“Dillon?” Phyllis asked.
Dillon covered Callie’s hand with her own. “I’ve definitely learned that my wife is smart, very smart, and I respect her tremendously. We’re in this for the long haul, and if I’d known it would be like this, I would have tracked her down and
married her years ago.”
Dillon squeezed Callie’s hand, and Callie wondered what she meant. Did she actually respect her now, or were these simply more of her lies? She certainly hadn’t respected her before now.
After dinner Phyllis mentioned that she had some pictures of the wedding that she didn’t think Dillon and Callie had seen. She loaded them on her laptop and projected them onto the wall before Callie could change the subject. As Phyllis flipped through the images of the wedding, bittersweet memories swept over Callie as she was seemingly transported back to the actual day.
The love she felt for Dillon as she walked down the aisle had overwhelmed her then. She was totally in love—strong and powerful, her confidence spilling over into everything she was. She was in love and was loved in return. Or at least she thought she was.
Image after image danced across the wall as if they were snapshots of her life, the only part of her life that really mattered. Callie had divided her relationship with Dillon into two parts—before she found out about the deception and after. Seeing these glimpses of the “before,” she was tempted to downplay the “after.” But she couldn’t do that to herself. She had to see things as they actually were.
Some pictures of the ceremony showed Dillon standing at the altar looking striking in her Armani tuxedo. Her eyes sparkled and she looked just a bit scared. Their first kiss was captured, quickly followed by their first dance. In shot after shot Dillon gazed at her as if she really was in love with her. But Callie knew better now. As she viewed the photos, she felt rather than saw Dillon looking at her and fought against returning the gaze. Mercifully the last picture closed.
Callie was a little buzzed from the wine she had consumed to get through the slide show and on the way home asked, “Did you have a good time?”
“Yes, I did. How about you?”
Callie didn’t answer the question directly. “You were right. They are wonderful people. My heart hurts when I think about the tragedy with Haley. Terrible things like that shouldn’t happen to anyone, let alone to people as kind as they are.” She couldn’t even imagine what they must have felt when they heard the news about their granddaughter.
Dillon said, “I never knew my grandparents. They all died when I was young. Even if they had lived, I could only hope they would love me regardless of who I loved.” Unlike my father went unspoken.
“I don’t know if mine are alive or dead. I suppose I could track them down, but then again, they could do the same. I doubt that my father’s parents even know they have grandchildren or, I should say, about me and Michael. God knows who else is out there as a result of my father.”
“Do you get the feeling that Bill and Phyllis consider us their surrogate granddaughters?” Dillon asked the question that had plagued her the entire evening.
“Yes, I do, and I’m flattered.”
Dillon didn’t feel flattered. She felt guilty. She was a cad for deceiving Callie, and to exploit that deception with Bill and Phyllis was just as bad. They were good people with no ulterior motives. They didn’t deserve to be treated the way she had done. What had she been thinking? They had been duped as much as Callie, and she was responsible for deceiving them. Shame covered her every day and she didn’t know what to do to make it right. She said as much to Callie as she pulled into the drive and waited as the garage door opened.
“I feel a sense of responsibility to them.”
Assuming responsibility for another person was a new feeling for Dillon. She rarely felt responsible for her family, let alone someone else. And some days she didn’t even want to be responsible for herself. It was an odd, uncomfortable feeling.
She thought back to what she had told the Franklins earlier about Callie and their marriage. She did respect Callie, more than she had ever respected a woman. In the long nights when she lay awake longing for Callie she realized that she had treated a lot of women badly. Some had wanted more from her than she wanted to give, and she had brushed them off without considering their feelings at all. She didn’t return phone calls and, when forced to give her number, she made one up.
Laura was right, she was a pig. It took falling in love with the right woman for her to realize it.
Chapter Twenty
The bell over the door chimed, and Callie glanced up from the flowers she was arranging. She had been thinking about the Franklins and the night she and Dillon spent with them. She hadn’t realized how much she missed them until she saw them again. Also, spending the evening with Dillon wasn’t as stressful as she thought it would be. They fell into a natural intimacy that came only with people who were together for a while. The history between them hadn’t dampened that natural, comfortable chemistry. At the same time, she understood how dangerous her “marriage” with Dillon could be.
Callie held pink roses that she was inserting between white daisy poms. Her breath caught in her throat when Dillon walked in. It had been almost two weeks since their dinner with the Franklins, and Dillon had been home only four evenings since then.
Dillon had returned from her office one evening and informed her that she had to go out of town for a few days. As she headed upstairs to pack, she mumbled something about an issue on one of her projects. A few days turned into many more, and as of this morning when Callie left for work, Dillon was not back yet.
Callie drank in the image of Dillon. She wore dark gray silk trousers, a thin black belt, and a pristine white shirt barely visible under her light overcoat, giving her an androgynous look, and Callie’s mouth went dry. Her naturally gray eyes seemed piercing black, and the dimples on her cheek stood out against her smile. She looked tired, yet she exuded a subtle sensuality that Callie couldn’t help but respond to. Like with the Franklins, she didn’t realize how much she had missed Dillon until she saw her again.
“Hi,” Dillon said, walking toward the counter. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She glanced around the shop.
“You’re back.” Callie’s pulse was racing.
“I got in this morning.”
“How was your trip?” Dillon’s close proximity and her long absence were making it hard to concentrate.
“You know, just business.”
There was a long pause, and Callie jumped when Ross bellowed from behind her, “Well, look what the cat dragged in. How are you, Dillon?”
Dillon reached for the hand Ross extended. “I’m good, Ross. How are you?”
“No complaints. Where’ve you been? Callie hardly talks about you. Not like she did when you two were courting. I couldn’t shut her up.”
Dillon and Callie exchanged a cautious glance. “I’ve been out of town for a few days.”
“Come to take your beautiful bride to lunch?” Ross asked.
Dillon looked at Callie. The expression on her face was almost unreadable, but Dillon knew her well enough to see that she had caught Callie off guard. When her plane landed this morning she had an overwhelming urge to see Callie. While she was gone she had managed to keep hold of her emotions and not act like a love-struck idiot, but as soon as she knew Callie was within touching distance she couldn’t control them any longer.
The night they returned from the Franklins’, Dillon had to force herself not to go to Callie’s room. The evening had been difficult because they had acted as if they were still in love. Dillon wasn’t acting, and every time Callie touched her or looked at her, her skin burned. She wanted Callie so badly she paced her room all night.
Normally when Dillon couldn’t sleep, she swam laps in the pool until she was exhausted. But she didn’t dare pass Callie’s bedroom door half dressed, because she wouldn’t be able to simply walk by. She paced from one side of the room to the other instead. At one time she began to count steps, and when she reached one thousand, she made herself stop counting.
She went to work that morning tired and on edge, and after the third time she barked at Greg, he left her alone for the remainder of the day. In the middle of the afternoon she told him to make arrangeme
nts for her to visit her three sites in Canada. One office complex was almost complete and the other two had recently broken ground. She had a new project manager on the largest of the two and wanted to keep a close eye on how the construction was going. Greg didn’t sound surprised when she extended her trip an additional six days.
Typically when she traveled, she savored the nightlife and experienced the local delights if the right woman came along. But not this trip. She worked as much as she could, walked as far as she could go, and drank as much as her body would allow—and she still couldn’t get Callie out of her mind. Everywhere she went she saw someone or something that reminded her of the woman who unknowingly held her heart in the palm of her hand. More than once she almost bought something she knew Callie would like, and she did buy a sapphire necklace that she planned to hold on to just in case she found an opportunity to give it to her.
The pounding of the music at the bar in Montreal had annoyed her more than energized her. She always found the women in that city attractive and exciting, but during this trip they seemed plain and dull. Several approached her in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, and she politely told them she wasn’t interested. After a couple of hours she returned to the hotel alone.
She wanted to go home, but didn’t dare until she got her emotions under control. She was consumed with images and thoughts of Callie. The first time they met, the first time they danced, the first cup of coffee they drank together. She could practically recite every conversation they had. The memories of their lovemaking were the strongest and most gut-wrenching. Callie’s touch seemed to have burned itself into her flesh. She ached for her touch and her kisses. Only Callie could soothe the fire growing inside her.
