“Which is true.”
“Shut up,” he pretended to snap at her. “Why the hell he chose such a dumb date to launch the new plant, I’ll never understand. Perhaps he has a contract with some florists and such. Anyway, if you start going out with me now, we have two months to make him believe we’re serious, and he’ll let me go to his ball.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Are you asking me to date you? Seriously?”
“No, Hay, I’m asking you to pretend to date me.”
That hurt. She had hoped he wanted to be serious with her. How childish and stupid was that?
She jumped off the stool and walked across the kitchen, needing some distance from him. “I don’t know, Dylan. I don’t think we should play like this. I don’t want to put our friendship at risk.”
“It won’t be at risk. We’re grownups, fully conscious of our actions. Besides, we’ll only pretend. Nothing will happen. We just need to hold hands and smile for the cameras.”
It might not be risky for him, but it would be too risky for her. The crush she had for him was buried deep, locked away in an infinite abyss. She couldn’t let those feelings surface.
“Why do you even want to go?”
“Isn’t it obvious? It’s going to be a huge event and my entire family is going to be there.” He averted his eyes.
“And?”
“No and.” He pressed his lips tight. “That’s it.”
No, it wasn’t. At least, it seemed like it wasn’t. At any rate, she had to think about herself and what she would do.
She sighed. “I can’t.”
“Don’t you want to be a model?” She nodded. “A famous one? Or at least one who can pay her bills and save enough for retirement?” She nodded. “Hang out with me publicly for two months, and you’ll get it. I guarantee. The press will be after us, trying to find out all they can about you. Even at my father’s ball.”
She didn’t see any flaws with his plan. Even if it didn’t bring fame to her overnight, hanging out with Dylan would certainly set her apart, bring attention to her. People would hear about her, recognize her. It might be the push her career needed.
There were two points to consider, though. One, her attention freak-out mode. With the whole press after them, as Dylan promised, she would get sick and hide in a hole and never come out.
Hayley glanced at him. Dylan was smiling at her, still hopeful, blue eyes shining and melting her guts. But there was something about him. He was so sure of himself. When he walked, each of his steps was precise and strong. Could he give her strength by staying by her side during the moments that made her sick? Or at least make her less uncomfortable in front of the cameras? Well, she could always hide under his arm.
Two, and more important than her sickening timidness, was she ready to have her heart broken? Hanging out with him, she would experience his playboy side first hand. She would see him flirting with other girls and jealousy would feed on her insides. Why the hell should she care? She knew him, she knew how he was, what he liked to do. He would hook up with other girls right under her nose.
“I may accept,” she finally said, “with a few conditions.”
“Name them.” Dylan tapped the end of the pencil on the counter, causing her irritation to escalate.
“You won’t try anything with me. We’re friends, and we’re not going to put our relationship at risk.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said, very serious.
Ouch. “And, the most important rule. You’ll behave while we’re playing this game.” His brow cocked up. “You won’t hook up with other girls. Not publicly, at least. I don’t want to be confused with one of the sluts you usually go out with. I want a serious career, and for that I need to be in a serious relationship.” One corner of his lip curled up and the butterflies in her stomach batted their wings, ready to fly. “Got it?”
Dylan rubbed his chin in a teasing manner. “Celibate for two months?”
“Those are my terms.” She extended her hand to him. “Deal?”
With his charming, cocky smile, Dylan pulled her closer, caught her hand, and kissed it. “It’s a deal, baby.”
What had she agreed to? She had to think about her career. It would be good for her career.
Hayley pulled her hand free of his, picked up her toast, and stuffed her mouth before she said or did anything stupid. This is for my career. Only for my career.
As if pretending to date a girl was a normal deal for him, Dylan resumed his sketching while humming a happy tune, unaware of the nervousness swimming around—and inside—her.
His rapid pencil strokes caught her attention. She peeked at his drawing, curious, but with both of his hands over it, she couldn’t make out anything. “What are you drawing?”
“Nothing,” he said, pulling the sketchpad closer.
She sighed. Typical. She had seen him drawing many, many times, and he always hid his sketches from her. The only reason she didn’t get mad at him was because she believed he hid them from everyone.
“Your classes are over, right?” He nodded. “What are your plans for the next few days?”
“Go out with you. Then I’m going to Flic en Flac for the holidays.”
“Flic en what?” She had never heard of such place.
“An island southeast of Africa.” He examined his drawing and added a few more strokes. “And you? When is your next gig?”
“Don’t have any.” She picked up the empty plates and glasses, and placed them in the sink. “Might have the suckiest Christmas ever, without money to buy gifts. Can’t even visit my parents.” Dylan smiled, and she held her breath. She was already falling. Bad, bad girl. “Speaking of parents, what happened yesterday?”
Dylan’s hand stilled over his drawing. “My father and I had another argument. About the same things. He wants me to be like Bryan was. He just can’t accept that I’m the opposite.”
“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 bui
lding. 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 t
hey 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!
His Allure, Her Passion Page 3
