“My ass is always black and blue the next day,” Terry O’Hara agreed as she shimmied out of her shorts and into a pair of comfortable sweatpants. “Thank goodness Pauline took your side, Eve. A year without handsy Jerry will be a treat.”
“Forget Jerry.” Sharla Kaye nudged Eve’s arm. “When you said you needed to borrow a dress, you didn’t mention your date was such a yummy dreamboat.”
“He isn’t my date.” The thought made Eve’s insides queasy. “Dylan is an acquaintance. Nothing more.”
“Since when do you get dolled up for a mere acquaintance?” Sharla wanted to know.
“Or for anyone?” Lana brushed a touch of blush onto Eve’s cheeks. “I’ll say one thing. When you break out of a dating slump, you go in style. Dylan is so handsome. And a professional athlete.”
“And rich. And famous,” Terry chimed in. She was the youngest of the group. With little baggage to wear her down, the stars in her eyes were particularly bright. “With a body to drool over.”
“He’s tall,” Sharla nodded. “And knows how to wear a suit. But there’s no way to tell what he looks like naked. Could be all flash and no follow-through.”
“Oh, he has the goods,” Terry assured her friends. She held out her phone. “I Googled Dylan Montgomery. So many pictures. So little time.”
“Gimme,” Lana said, snatching the phone before Sharla could beat her to it. Fanning herself, she gasped, collapsing onto the dressing room sofa. “Holy mother of all that’s good and plenty. I always thought spontaneous orgasms were a myth. After looking at your Dylan, I’m a believer.”
“Give Eve a gander,” Terry said.
“Why would she need to look at pictures when she has access to the real thing?” Lana sent Eve a speculative look. “Please tell me you at least took a sneak peek. For my sake, and the sake of women everywhere, if you don’t unwrap that hunkalicious package, it will be a crime against humanity.”
“We just met,” Eve said with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “Besides, if you’ve seen one shirtless man, you’ve seen them all.”
“Be prepared to eat your words.”
Taking the phone from Lana, Eve glanced at the screen. The air rushed from her lungs drying out her mouth. God had to be a woman, she thought as she scrolled through one photo after another of Dylan in various stages of undress.
“What do you think?” Sharla asked with a knowing laugh as she pried the phone from Eve’s fingers. “Care to rethink your opinion?”
Eve felt light-headed. Weak in the knees, she searched for a chair then realized she was already sitting down.
“If every shirtless man you’ve seen looks like Dylan Montgomery,” Lana said with a wink. “I want to know where you hang out so I can get me a ticket.”
“Seduce him,” Sharla exclaimed out of nowhere.
Convinced she’d suddenly lost the ability to understand the English language, Eve wondered if the affliction was a side effect of viewing too much beefcake in one sitting.
“What did you say?” she asked, needing clarification.
“You’re worried Dylan will take Daisy, right?” Sharla asked.
“If the DNA test show’s Daisy is his niece,” Eve said, still confused. “What does one thing have to do with the other?”
“Persuade Dylan not to take her with some good loving.”
“You’ve lost your mind,” Eve scoffed.
“Sharla might be on to something.” Terry shrugged. “Why not use the gift Mother Nature gave you.”
“To be fair, you don’t have as many gifts as the rest of us,” Lana said, patting Eve on the head, her gaze filled with sympathy. “But you never know, maybe Dylan prefers a less-obvious display of feminine attributes.”
“Where men are concerned, obvious beats subtle every time. Tell you what,” Sharla said, adjusting her ample cleavage. “Because I feel generous, I’ll seduce him. What’s the saying? I’ll take one for the team. Or two, depending on Dylan’s recuperative powers.”
“Stop dipping your toe in someone else’s water,” Lana warned the buxom waitress. “Eve will do the seducing.”
“No, she won’t.” Eve, embarrassed, and maybe a little jealous of Sharla’s bustline, surged to her feet. Looking at her friends, she couldn’t hide her disappointment. “What kind of example would I set for Daisy if I used my body to manipulate Dylan?”
“Daisy would never know,” Lana pointed out. “And you’d have a damn good time.”
“I’m leaving.” Eve slipped her feet into a pair of black stilettoes. She smiled at Terry. “Thanks for the dress. And shoes. And the purse. I’ll get them back to you tomorrow.”
“Take your time,” Terry told her. “You wearing my things is the closest I’ll ever get to an expensive restaurant like The Finest Hour. Have fun.”
“I will. Bye.”
Closing the door behind her, the smile left Eve’s face. Thanks to her friends, she had the image of Dylan, shirtless, stuck in her head. Yes, he was a beautiful man. But how could she sit opposite him without thinking of how he looked without his clothes?
And how, Eve lamented, could she not think about sex?
Eve meant what she said. Never, not in a million years, would she seduce Dylan to gain legal custody of Daisy. The idea was preposterous to the extreme. However, if she shared his bed because they wanted each other, would that be wrong?
Very wrong, Eve told herself without a lot of conviction. She wavered even more when she found Dylan waiting by the entrance.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“Am I?” Eve asked, wondering how the butterflies ended up in her stomach. “You look nice, too.”
Dylan tucked Eve’s hand in the crook of his arm. Something had to be wrong with him, she thought as he escorted her to the car. She couldn’t think of a single thing. Funny how the long list of his flaws flew out of her head the second he smiled.
Dylan started the car. Reaching across her, he buckled her seatbelt.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
“Very.” Eve reminded herself to breathe.
“You probably worked up an appetite knocking that dick brain on his ass.”
“Jerry?” She had to laugh. “I enjoyed every second.”
“You smiled.” Dylan shook his head, wonder in his eyes.
“I smile all the time,” Eve said.
“Not at me.”
Unsure why Dylan seemed so happy. Even when he acted strangely, he was still the sexiest man she’d ever known.
Eve crossed her legs and sighed. Oh, boy, was she in trouble.
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
CHAPTER SEVEN
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
ONCE WHEN DYLAN was in college, he witnessed a teammate consume five pounds of prime rib roast in under five minutes, green salad, baked potato, and three dinner rolls included. He wasn’t surprised. Defensive linemen tend to eat with gusto.
Over the years, first as an amateur then a professional, he saw many things where the consumption of food was concerned. However, never in all his time had he ever seen someone as relentlessly thorough as Eve.
After three appetizers, a whole lobster, roasted broccoli, and the better part of a sourdough baguette smothered in butter, Dylan asked if Eve wanted dessert. She ordered another entre. Pasta Alfredo.
“You eat well,” Dylan said.
“When someone else pays, I eat very well.” Eve took a sip of wine. “Do you have an alcohol problem?”
“Why do you ask.”
“The first night you came into the bar, Levi emptied his beer. You barely touched yours. You ordered water at the birthday party.” Eve pointed to his full, untouched wine glass. “You haven’t touched a drop. Not even a taste. Alcoholism seems like a logical reason.”
Naturally, Eve noticed. She saw everything, all the time. The information was tucked away in her brain ready to access, like now, when applicable.
“I do have
a problem,” Dylan told her.
“Ah.” Eve nodded sagely. “I admire your restraint.”
“I don’t have an addiction,” Dylan told her. “Just a low tolerance. One sip and I feel the buzz. A bottle of beer and I’m drunk. Two and I forget where I live.”
Not many people knew about what Dylan considered more of an annoyance than a problem. His teammates. His mother. His brother. Otherwise, he saw no reason to share. Telling Eve seemed a natural thing to do.
“What about you?” Dylan asked, pushing his plate to her side of the table when she eyed what was left of his steak.
“Me?” Eve lifted a piece of the meat to her mouth, closed her eyes, and sighed. “So good.”
“I’m glad.” Dylan chuckled. “Tell me something about Eve Stewart.”
“Why?” She shrugged. “I’m not an especially interesting person.”
“Let me be the judge.” Dylan waited. When she didn’t speak, he coaxed her along. “Are you close to your mother?”
“I haven’t seen or talked to her in almost twelve years.” Eve took a moment as though thinking about her answer. “I was sixteen, she was thirty-seven. I know because she liked to remind me how she wasted her youth taking care of me. She kicked me out before the years dwindled any further.”
“She sounds awful.” Dylan tried to decide if Eve was as blasé as she seemed. “Do you resent her?”
“I did.” Eve nodded. “Would I have been happier if she baked cookies and made hot chocolate on cold winter’s days? Sure. Who wouldn’t?”
Without knowing anything else about Eve’s mother, Dylan hated her. He had the feeling that if they met, his opinion wouldn’t change.
“You’re more forgiving than I could be.”
“Forgiveness isn’t the right word,” Eve said. “Because I can’t change the way I grew up, I use her example and do the exact opposite with Daisy.”
“For example?” Dylan asked.
“My mother believed that fairytales raised unrealistic expectations,” Eve explained. “I don’t agree. Daisy will face the reality of life soon enough. For now, what’s wrong with a touch of romantic fantasy? Don’t we all need a little happily ever after?”
“Do you?” Dylan wanted to know.
“Sounds great in theory. The thing is, I don’t know what love is. What does love look like? How does love feel? I can’t even begin to guess.” Eve finished her meal and his. “Do you mind if I look at the dessert menu?”
Dylan signaled the waiter. As Eve tried to decide between the cheesecake and the salted chocolate caramel cake—he told her to order both—he thought about what she said.
Growing up with a mother who if anything showered him and his brother with too much love, Dylan never thought about the meaning. Eve was different. She spent the first sixteen years of her life in an affection-free void. Yet, she was such a giving person.
Eve wasn’t carefree—how could she be when so much of her time was spent trying to survive? Yet, she wasn’t solemn or devoid of joy. If anything, she was one of the most alive and vibrant people he knew.
Somehow, despite her mother’s best efforts, Eve lived with hope.
“One day, you’ll find love.”
Eve smiled. At Dylan. For the second time. And yes, he planned to count each one.
“Think so?”
“I believe we get what we deserve.” Dylan returned her smile. “And you, Eve Stewart, deserve to be loved.”
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
CHAPTER EIGHT
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YOU DESERVE TO be loved.
Remembering Dylan’s words, Eve closed her eyes and snuggled under the covers. She wasn’t someone who got carried away by a man’s pretty words. But for the first time, she sympathized with Ellie. Romantic to a fault, if Tanner spoke half as well as his brother, her friend probably fell like a piece of ripe fruit.
“Dylan didn’t try to seduce me.” Eve sat up, some of the giddiness popping like bubbles in the champagne she enjoyed the night before. “Why not?”
Jumping from the bed, Eve ran to the mirror. Peering close, she sighed. Okay, she wasn’t a raving beauty. Her skin was good—clear and bright. However, with her face scrubbed free of makeup, she looked like someone’s less attractive little sister.
Angry with herself for putting too much importance on society’s idea of what constituted beauty, Eve ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing down the ends.
“Who needs curves and cleavage when I have a strong body.” Keeping her voice low so she didn’t wake Daisy, she lifted her nightgown and stared at her less than impressive chest, Eve reminded herself to be grateful. “Minimal is better. Boobs just get in the way when there’s work to get done.”
With a rare morning off, Eve wondered what she should do?
The refrigerator needed a good scrubbing, but the idea made Eve sad. For once, she wanted to spend her time doing something useless and fun. Unfortunately, her experience was limited.
Dylan’s image popped into Eve’s head. She would bet anything that he knew how to play. The question was, did she have the nerve to find out? The answer was a resounding no!
Eve might be fearless most of the time, but where Dylan Montgomery was concerned, she felt like a lamb left alone with a large, dangerously handsome wolf.
“Hungry.” Daisy, bright and chipper the moment she opened her eyes, held her arms out with complete certainty her wishes would be catered to. Instinctively sweet to her soul, the little girl tempered her demands with a kiss to Eve’s cheek. “Pretty.”
“You will not be a spoiled brat,” Eve declared with a stern look then melted at the sight of Daisy’s big blue eyes. “Promise.”
“Brat. Brat. Brat,” Daisy gurgled.
“My little parrot,” Eve said, chuckling as she prepared breakfast. “I need to start watching what I say around you.”
Daisy, as if on cue, chose to remain quiet for once. Eve wasn’t fooled for a second. About to launch into a lecture on the importance of keeping some of your thoughts to yourself, a knock on the door spared them both.
“Saved by the bell, so to speak.”
“Bell. Bell. Bell.” Amused at herself, Daisy laughed and laughed.
Grabbing her robe, Eve slid her arms through the sleeves and grimaced when she noticed the hole worn near the pocket.
“Poo,” Eve said as she opened the door.
“Interesting greeting,” Dylan said. “Mind if I come in?”
“You’re up and about at an early hour.”
“Whenever possible, a sunrise should not be missed.”
Eve agreed. Her gaze narrowed.
“How much luggage did you bring?” she asked, staring at his black jeans and white button-down shirt. She stood aside and let him enter. “Another day, another outfit heard from.”
“I like the variety.” Dylan’s gaze fell onto Eve. Taking in her robe, he winced but didn’t comment. Instead, he turned his attention to Daisy. “How’s my sweetheart this fine morning?”
“Unc-D.” Daisy placed a smacking kiss on Dylan’s cheek.
Eve rolled her eyes. Was there a woman alive who didn’t fall for the man’s charms?
“You’re a flirt,” Eve told the little girl.
“Must have learned the skill from you,” Dylan snorted.
“Hungry, Unc-D.”
“Then I better feed you.”
Dylan knew where everything was—a fact Eve found both disconcerting and kind of sweet. The effort he made with Daisy touched her and it was plain as day that the little girl adored him. They looked good together. Right.
The thought sent an ache through the region of Eve’s heart.
“Unc-D?” Eve frowned. “When did Daisy start calling you uncle?”
“Yesterday.” As Dylan fed the little girl a spoonful of cereal, he cleared his throat. “Seems appropriate.”
Eve didn’t need an entire laboratory to land on her to u
nderstand what Dylan meant.
“The DNA results came back.”
“No doubt,” Dylan said. “Tanner is Daisy’s father.”
Shaky, her breath coming in short, inadequate spurts, Eve felt for a chair. Her hand found nothing but air. I’m going to faint. The thought made no sense. She never gave into emotion or panic. When things got tough, she got tougher. And yet, as inexplicable as the feeling was, her legs started to buckle.
Eve didn’t hit the floor. Instead, she floated. Safe, sound. She wanted to close her eyes and stay there for a long, long time.
“Careful,” Dylan said, his dark eyes filled with concern.
Confused, Eve tipped her head only to find Dylan looking down at her. His arms held her tight. Her fingers grasped the hand—his hand—firmly tucked around her waist.
For the first time in forever, since she was too young to remember, someone carried her in his arms. More than anything, Eve wanted to savor the feeling. If the look on Dylan’s face was an indication, he wouldn’t complain.
Just a second, Eve promised herself as she rested her head on Dylan’s strong shoulder. Why, she wondered, did his arms feel so right? No one would care if she gave into temptation and stayed here forever. Right? Wrong!
Eve would care. If she let herself rely on Dylan, when the inevitable happened and he let go, the fall would injure her in ways she didn’t want to think about.
As Eve’s mother said, again and again, the mantra running through her head, the only person you can ever count on is yourself.
“I’m fine,” Eve said, her mile-wide streak of self-preservation finally kicking in. “Put me down. Please.”
Dylan did as Eve asked. Setting her on her feet, he lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.
“You work too hard.” He frowned. “Just plain worn out. You need to rest. Hell, you need a vacation.”
Eve slapped away his hand. Turning, she realized her legs weren’t as steady as she thought. She grabbed the counter.
The Last Honest Man: A Sports Romance (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 3) Page 8
