Chapter 7
“It was just a kiss,” Callie said as she turned over the paper next to her computer. Okay, it had been an incredible kiss, but still, it was just a kiss, and not the first kiss she’d ever had.
Who was she trying to kid? Callie shook her head in disgust. The kiss with Dylan was the most amazing she’d ever experienced and the only thing she’d thought about since. Even now, when she was supposed to be plugging test grades into her computer, the memory of her and Dylan in the kitchen played through her mind like a scene from a movie.
Though she’d been nervous afterward, she’d tried to make a joke of the situation; something she often did when she was uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the attempt backfired on her, making things worse. In the end, Dylan finished helping her clean and then left. Leaving Callie more confused than she’d ever been in her life regarding a guy.
A man like Dylan Talbot could have his choice of women. While she knew she was attractive, she didn’t for one minute believe she was the raving beauty who men lust after. That description fit Lauren, not her. So that left her wondering exactly what prompted those few delicious moments in her kitchen to occur.
Don’t read too much into it. It’s done. It was just a fluke. Not something that will happen again.
She’d repeated the same thing over and over to herself since he left her apartment. Hopefully, if she said it enough, her brain and heart would come to a consensus. Right now, the two were at odds with each other. Constantly warring with no apparent winner.
Her brain wanted to forget, or at least write off the incident. While at the same time, her heart wanted to hope there was something more. Exactly what that more was, she didn’t know, but she was strongly attracted to him. So strongly that if he’d been anyone else, she would’ve considered pursuing him.
But he’s not someone else. He lives and works in an entirely different universe from mine. A universe that didn’t always take kindly to outsiders. A lesson she’d learned as a teenager.
Without intending to, Callie’s thoughts drifted back to her high schools days. As a child, she’d always been very athletic and did well in all sports. She’d especially excelled at softball. As a result, she’d received a scholarship to attend a very ritzy private high school. At the time, both she and her mother thought it would be a great opportunity. Quickly, Callie’s enthusiasm for the school dwindled. Almost all of the students there came from wealthy families and looked down on those with scholarships. While there were a few exceptions, normally the two groups didn’t associate with each other. If it hadn’t been for Lauren, who had attended the school because her father taught there, Callie never would have lasted the whole four years. She would’ve left after freshman year and never looked back.
The chorus of her favorite classic Bon Jovi song pulled Callie out of her trip into the past. Looking at the caller ID on her cell phone, she wondered who was calling. It wasn’t a number she was familiar with. She didn’t even recognize the area code. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of letting it go to her voice mail. If it was important, the caller could leave a message, but then, on the fourth ring she answered.
“Hello,” she greeted, expecting it to be a wrong number, or worse a telemarketer.
“Callie, am I calling at a bad time?” Dylan’s voice came over the phone.
He’d said he would try to call during the week, but she hadn’t really thought he would. She’d chalked his comment up to politeness, especially considering the kiss they’d shared. Now hearing his voice, she could only once again wonder how she should read this man who invaded her dreams every night.
“No, I’m just recording some grades. Actually, I just finished.” She closed her grade book and saved the computer file she had open.
“School must be almost done for the summer?”
“Um, yeah. Just a few more weeks.” Callie didn’t know in what direction their conversation was going. “Are you still in Boston?”
“No, I flew back to New York this morning.”
“Oh.” She hoped he didn’t detect the disappointment in her voice. While it wasn’t realistic to think he would stop by again, she had secretly hoped he would. In an attempt to make small talk and keep him on the phone, she continued. “How’s the weather there?”
Did I really just ask him that? Could I sound any dumber?
“Gorgeous night. Perfect for a ball game. Jake’s over at Yankee Stadium now. He wanted me to join him.”
“Lucky him.” Callie scooted back into the corner of the couch and curled her legs up under her. “I’d love to be at that game tonight. They’re playing the Red Sox.”
Sounding surprised, Dylan said, “You like baseball?”
“Love it. I played Little League as a kid and then softball all through high school and college.”
Dylan was silent for a minute. “The Yankees are playing the Sox again this weekend in Boston. I’m going to be in town. How about we go?”
He wasn’t a New Englander, that was the only excuse Dylan could use for thinking he could get tickets to a game against the New York Yankees at Fenway Park at this late date. Any other team maybe, but not the Yankees.
“There is no way you can get tickets now for any of those games. They’ve been sold out since tickets went on sale,” she said. The Yankees were the Red Sox biggest rivals.
“Is that a yes? Because if it is, getting the tickets won’t be a problem.”
He sounded so sure of himself that Callie almost believed him. But just almost.
“Yes.” The thought of a night out with Dylan sent a shiver down her spine. “Who wouldn’t want to see those two teams play? I can’t believe you didn’t go to the game tonight.” If someone had invited her along, she would’ve gone in a heartbeat. Even if it was at Yankee Stadium, the home of the enemy.
Something that sounded a bit like a sigh came through the phone. “I had more pressing matters to take care of.”
“Work stuff?”
“That and some personal matters,” Dylan answered. “But I took care of everything I needed to.”
When she took care of all her responsibilities, she felt relieved. Dylan, on the other hand, sounded more disappointed. Could anyone enjoy work that much that they got disappointed when they had nothing to do?
“I’m guessing Jake likes baseball since he went to the game. What about you? Do you like it too?”
“Not as much as Jake, but yes. Most summers, I get to a few games, but I haven’t made one yet this year.”
Callie and Dylan spent the next two hours on the phone talking about everything from music to sports. Every once in a while, one of them would make a comment about the game they’d both turned on during their conversation.
“So I’ll see you Saturday,” Dylan said. The last out of the game had been called, and to her delight and Dylan’s dismay, the Sox had won 7 to 1.
“Are you that anxious to see your beloved Yankees lose again?” Switching off the television, she carried the rest of her pizza into the kitchen. “The Sox are playing both days, so either is fine.” Callie didn’t fully believe he’d be able to get tickets that easily. “Saturday’s game is at night, so if that works better for you, that’s fine.”
Her laughter touched him in a way he couldn’t explain, and he found himself wanting to kiss her again. “You might want to watch what you say. Roberts is pitching Saturday. He has a perfect record so far this season.”
She laughed again. “Even the mighty must fall.”
He could hear her smile. The thought sounded ridiculous, but it was true. Dylan could clearly picture her relaxing on the couch, smiling with her dog next to her.
You’re getting sentimental in your old age, Talbot.
“We’ll see about that, Miss Taylor.”
After ending the call, Dylan gazed down at the city below and suddenly felt very alone. It was an alien feeling for him, and he didn’t know where it came from. Without wanting to ask why, he also knew that he didn’t want just anyone there wi
th him. While he knew plenty of women in the city who would happily keep him company for the night, he knew none of them would do. He wanted a certain dark-haired schoolteacher from Massachusetts who loved baseball.
She’s Warren’s daughter.
Raking his hands through his hair, Dylan went to his well-stocked bar. After pouring himself a glass of scotch, he wandered into his home office. It was actually his favorite room in his penthouse. He’d designed it to resemble his grandfather’s office at the family’s ancestral estate in England, complete with oak paneled walls and heavy dark furniture. It was a complete contrast to the rest of the penthouse. The last woman he dated had continuously urged him to redecorate it. Make it look more modern. Make it fit with the rest of the apartment. Even his half-brother, Jake, ribbed him about the room, referring to it as his uptight stuffy English office.
What would Callie think of it? What would she think of the rest of his place?
Cold. The single word popped into his head. She would find his place cold and impersonal. Unlike her tiny apartment, there were no personal touches. Everything was sleek and sophisticated. So different from her place, which was filled with color and pictures of family and friends. The only photos he had were tucked away in his office, away from the eyes of visitors.
Oddly, he’d never really thought about it before. Now though, he wasn’t sure he liked it.
The ringing cell phone in his pocket pulled Dylan away from his thoughts. Before answering, he checked the caller ID.
Phillips. Hell.
Taking one more sip of his scotch, Dylan pressed the talk button. “Marty.”
“Hope this isn’t a bad time.”
Though he’d never found fault with Warren’s advisor before, the man knew his way around Washington, Dylan’s gut twisted with disgust at the sound of Marty’s voice tonight.
“What can I help you with?” Dylan asked. Marty was perhaps the last person in the world he wanted to talk to right now.
“Just checking in. Wanted to see how things are with Miss Taylor,” Marty replied, seemingly oblivious to Dylan’s tone.
“Fine.” The memory of their kiss popped into his head and his chest tightened.
“Good. Good. Your mother, Warren, and I have been trying to decide on just how and when he should acknowledge her. We have not come to an agreement yet.”
“I’ll let you three work that out, Phillips.”
“Any idea how many people Miss Taylor has told about this?”
“Only one friend.” Dylan kept his answer short and sweet, hoping Marty Phillips would get the hint he wasn’t interested in talking about this.
“Hope that’s the case. The fewer people who know, the better. Do whatever it takes to make sure it stays that way. Convince her it’s in her best interest for this to stay a secret for now. I’ve seen you charm the ladies before. With a woman like Callie Taylor, it should be a piece of cake.” Phillips laughed; the sound grated on Dylan’s nerves.
He needed to end this conversation. “I’ve got to go. Let me know if any problems come up.” Without waiting for a response, Dylan pressed end on his cell phone and tossed the device down on his desk.
Guilt settled in his stomach like a lead balloon. Damn did he feel guilty. He genuinely liked Callie Taylor. Enjoyed spending time with her. Talking to her. Kissing her. He knew nothing serious would ever develop between them. It couldn’t. He didn’t do serious. But did she know that?
In one single swallow, Dylan emptied the contents of his glass and went to refill it.
Probably not. Why would she? Callie didn’t know his history with relationships. He doubted she even knew he’d ever been engaged. While news of his engagement and later break up had been splashed across magazine covers at the time, it had been years ago. Besides, Callie didn’t strike him as a tabloid reader. She wasn’t the type to care what people she didn’t know were doing.
Swirling the amber liquid around in his glass, he suddenly wished he was the kind of guy who did serious relationships. Callie was everything a man could possibly want in a girlfriend—smart, compassionate, sexy. Any man would be lucky to have her by his side. At the thought of her with another man, jealousy, like he’d never known, ripped through his body.
“She’s not yours. Remember that.”
Dylan placed his glass on a nearby table and headed to his room to change. Sitting around thinking about Callie accomplished nothing. Somehow, he needed to get her out of his head. Perhaps an hour or so in his home gym would help. He needed a good workout anyway. He’d slacked off the last few days, spending even more time than usual at the office because of Sherbrooke Enterprises’ most recent acquisition. Even if it didn’t get her out of his head, a workout would pass the time.
The Teacher's Billionaire Page 17
