Best Man's Conquest (14 page)

She watched as he grabbed his robe and shoved his arms through the sleeves, then stomped to the door. He flung it open and in his cranky voice asked,
“What?”

“Have you seen Blake and Deidre?”

“Of course not. I was sound asleep.”

“Well, they're not here,” Dale said. “No one knows where they are.”

“And you think they're in here with me? You picked a hell of a time to pretend you give a shit about your brother. They probably went out to breakfast or something.”

“I don't think so. They left yesterday afternoon, and they haven't been back.”

Ivy sat up in bed, instantly awake.

“Are you sure they haven't been here?” Dillon asked. The crankiness was gone and concern had crept in to take its place.

“The rental car was gone all night and their bed wasn't slept in.”

Fear lodged in Ivy's gut. Deidre had been in pretty bad shape the other night. Ivy should have checked on her yesterday. She should have made sure she was okay.

What if she'd had another meltdown? What if she was in a hospital somewhere?

“I thought Ivy might know where they are,” Dale said, “but I can't find her, either.”

“I haven't seen her,” Dillon lied.

Something was definitely not right. Deidre wouldn't just take off. Not without telling someone.

Ivy wrapped herself in the sheet and joined Dillon at the door. “Did you try calling her cell?”

It was almost funny the way Dale's mouth fell open, how he looked from her, to Dillon, then back to her.

“Oh, there you are, Ivy,” Dillon said, acting surprised to see her. “How did you get in here?”

She shot him a look, then turned to Dale. “Did you call their cell phones? Deidre always keeps hers on and charged. She's fanatical about it.”

“I tried calling them both and the calls go straight to voice mail.”

“Did you try calling your parents?” Dillon asked.

He shook his head. “I didn't want to worry them.”

“Something isn't right,” Ivy said.

“You know my brother. With our parents flying in tonight, there's no way Blake would just take off.”

“Give us five minutes to get dressed,” Dillon said.

“Then we'll figure out what to do.”

 

“The only thing left to do is call the police,” Dillon told everyone an hour and a half later.

They had called everyone they could think of who might possibly know where Deidre and Blake went. Friends, family, coworkers. They called the local hospital to see if anyone matching their descriptions had been admitted, and checked CNN just in case any accidents or unidentified tourists had been found. They had covered all the bases, and they had come up with nothing.

Deidre and Blake were gone.

“We shouldn't be so quick to jump to conclusions,” one of the Tweedles said. Dillon still couldn't tell them apart.

“Yeah,” the other one added. “I'm sure they're fine.”

Everyone else was worried, while those two had done nothing but sulk. Probably because the attention was no longer focused on them.

Ivy was handling it the worst. She couldn't sit still. Dillon would convince her to sit down and relax, and she would be back up again in a minute or two, peering out the window for a sign of their car. Checking her cell phone for a missed call, even though it hadn't once left her hand.

“We should make the call,” Dale said, and Calvin nodded in agreement.

Dillon flipped open his phone and was getting ready to dial when they heard a car coming up the driveway.

Ivy dashed to the window. “They're back!”

Relief hit Dillon hard and swift, like a sucker punch in the gut. He snapped his phone shut and slipped it back into the holster. Blake had better have had a damned good excuse for scaring them all half to death.

Tweedle number one followed Ivy to the window and peered out. “See, I told you they were fine.”

Ivy turned and shot her a look. One that would have scared Dillon had he been on the receiving end.

“She's got a lot of nerve just taking off,” number two said indignantly. “Does she think
we
actually want to be here?”

No, Dillon thought, they had made it pretty clear they were there under duress.

Ivy didn't say a word, but he could see her temper rising. Her cheeks were getting red and blotchy and her fists were clenching and unclenching. And her foot was tapping. Bad sign. If those two knew what was good for them they would quit while they were ahead. Especially with Ivy standing within swinging distance. He knew from experience that you could only push her so far before she blew, and she looked as though she was more than halfway there already.

“Enough, Heather,” Dale said.

They actually had names. Go figure. And he was getting kind of attached to Dum and Dee.

“Why are you getting mad at me?” Heather snapped back. “I'm not the one with the problem. You should have seen the way she flipped out the other night.”

“Yeah,” number one agreed. “It's not our fault that she's too fat to fit in her dress.”

The last word had barely left her mouth and Ivy was already in midswing. Dillon scarcely had time to cringe before she connected. One quick, solid right jab, and Tweedle number one was on the ground, holding her jaw.

Everyone else stood in stunned silence. Even number two, aka Heather, didn't seem to know what to say. Or May be she just didn't want to be the next one to go down.

Then the door flew open and Deidre burst through, Blake close behind. “Hi, everyone! We're back!”

Is the new man in your life pressing for a commitment? Consider wisely. When it comes to relationships, three out of four women make the same mistake twice.

—excerpt from
The Modern Woman's Guide to Divorce (And the Joy of Staying Single)

T
hey had
eloped
.

Apparently, the dress incident had been the last straw. When Deidre pulled herself together she'd told Blake that if they didn't get out of there, if he didn't make some serious changes, the wedding was off. And thank goodness Blake was smart enough to know what he would have been giving up if he'd let her go.

If Ivy didn't love Deidre so much, she would kill her for scaring them. But put in the same position, she wouldn't have done things any differently. At least she knew everything was going to be okay. Deidre and Blake would make it. They would be happy.

Now, if only she could feel so confident about her own life.

“You couldn't wait until I got inside the house,” Deidre said, handing Ivy a new bag of ice and taking the melted one. “You had to take her down right
before
I walked in.”

Ivy set the ice over her swollen, purple knuckles. “It's not as though I planned to hit her. It just sort of happened.”

She barely even remembered doing it. One minute she was just standing there, the next Dum was on the floor and Ivy's hand was throbbing. She'd never hit another person in her life. There had just been the beer bottle incident, and luckily for them both she had missed.

When Dee recovered from the shock, she'd begun to wail about calling her attorney and pressing charges, then the four of them had packed up and left. The villa had been blessedly peaceful ever since.

“How's the hand, Sugar Ray?” Dillon asked. He sat in a chair across from Ivy, a goofy grin plastered on his face. He was enjoying this far too much.

“I think I'm going to cut my boxing career short.”

“It looks as though you two are getting along better,” Deidre said, looking back and forth between them.

“I guess you could say we're working things out,” Ivy told her.

“I'm glad. At least this trip wasn't a total waste.”

“Have you told Blake's parents?”

“We called them from the road and caught them just as they were leaving for the airport.”

“I'm a disgrace to my family,” Blake said. “And I'm probably out of a job. And a house.”

“And you guys are okay with that?” Ivy asked.

He shrugged and sat on the arm of the couch, beside his new wife. She smiled up at him. “They'll get over it.”

“Do you have anything lined up?” Dillon asked him.

“Not yet,” Blake said.

“I've said it before and I'll say it again. If you need a job, there's always a position open for you in my company.”

“I'll definitely think about it.” He looked down at Deidre and grinned. “Right now I just want to enjoy being a newlywed.”

“We've decided to leave early for our honeymoon,” Deidre told them. “We're going to drive up the coast, then be back in time for the cruise when it leaves Saturday night. Either of you is welcome to stay for the rest of the week.” She shot Ivy a smile. “Or both of you.”

Ivy struggled to suppress the depraved excitement clawing its way to the surface. She glanced over at Dillon and saw that he was trying really hard not to smile. She didn't doubt they were thinking the exact same thing.

Three days alone, with this big house all to themselves.

Did it get any better than that?

 

Sunday came way too soon.

After spending every waking hour together for the past three days, the idea of being apart was almost impossible for Dillon to fathom.

As he helped her carry her bags out to the limo that would take her to the airport—his flight wasn't scheduled to leave for another few hours—it occurred to him that he had gone and done something really stupid.

He had fallen in love with Ivy all over again.

And Ivy had made her position very clear. Her career was the only thing important enough to fill the number one spot in her life right now. She'd worked too hard, for too long, to throw it all away on a man she wasn't sure she trusted.

Well, she hadn't actually said that, but he knew that was what she was thinking.

It was kind of ironic. Ten years ago she'd been ready to settle down and start a life with him, but all he'd wanted was to have fun. To goof off. Now that he was finally ready to slow down and be with her, she had already moved on to bigger and better things.

And if it were his career in jeopardy, he couldn't say for sure that he wouldn't make the same decision.

They had genuine feelings for each other. Their timing was just
way
off.

For some reason that didn't make him feel any better.

The driver put the bags in the trunk, and Dillon opened the door for Ivy. “I had a good time this week.”

She set her purse on the seat and turned to him, the car door between them. “Me, too. Do you think Dale will tell anyone he saw us together?”

“I doubt it. And if he does say anything, I'll deny it. Your career is safe.”

“Thank you,” she said, but instead of sounding relieved, he could swear he heard disappointment in her voice.

The driver got in and started the engine.

“I guess this is it,” she said.

Dillon nodded. “I guess it is.”

He kept his hands clamped down tightly on the car window, so he wouldn't touch her. Because he knew if he got hold of her again, he might not be able to let go. And that would be a mistake.

It hadn't worked the first time, and they had no guarantees it be any better now. Odds were they would have ended up right where they'd been ten years ago. Divorced and bitter and hating each other. At least this time they were parting as friends.

She had a life, and he had a life, and they were both better off keeping it that way.

“Have a good trip.”

“Goodbye.” She rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then she turned and climbed inside the limo. He stood and watched as the limo rolled down the driveway and disappeared around the corner.

It was the second damn time he'd watched that woman walk out of his life.

 

Ivy had two major problems.

Problem number one was that she was pretty sure her career was officially over.

For the seventh day straight she'd sat at her desk, staring at the computer screen, until her eyes burned with fatigue and strain. Instead of tapping across the keyboard the way they usually did, her hands lay limp and useless in her lap.

Seven days, and she hadn't written a darned word.

What was once so clear to her, so obvious and logical, no longer made sense. The magic was gone. And the explanation was simple. She was a fraud. A charlatan. She'd been giving millions of trusting, naive women lousy advice.

It was humbling and embarrassing to realize that everything she believed in, everything she knew about her life, was a lie. Or at the very least, grossly misconstrued. It was a wrong she needed to right or she feared it would gnaw away at her, little by little, until there was nothing left. Unfortunately, she didn't have the slightest clue how to fix it. What her next move should be.

Which brought her to problem number two. Dillon.

She missed him.

She missed him like she'd never missed anyone before in her life. The first time she'd walked away from him had hurt, but it had also been a relief. The fighting, the heartache—it had been over. All she felt this time was pain and loss. A deep, sharp ache in her chest, as though her heart had been ripped out, filleted, haphazardly sewn back together, then shoved back in the wrong way.

After she'd kissed Dillon goodbye and the limo had set off to the airport, it had taken her exactly three seconds to realize, to admit to herself, that she loved him. The same as the first time, but completely different somehow.

What they'd had back then was thrilling and complicated and volatile. It had burned hot and fast, but what she felt for him now was more mature and undemanding. Simple in its complexity. And deeper than she imagined possible.

They had come full circle, and by letting go the first time, they had somehow grown together. It was finally their time. She was sure, all the way down to her soul, that they could make it work and that they would both be happy.

At least a dozen times she'd opened her mouth to instruct the driver to turn around, to take her back. But she'd been too chicken to do it. How could she willingly destroy her own career? Admit to millions of readers that she was wrong? And how could she not?

But what scared her the most, was what if he rejected her? What if he didn't love her the way she loved him?

What a pathetic excuse for a strong, independent woman she turned out to be.

But damn it, she was sick of playing that role. And the honest truth was, that's all it had been. A role. An act. When she stripped herself down to the core, to the real her, she was still the same old Ivy. Only a little wiser, she hoped.

What it really boiled down to, the thing she had to decide once and for all, was would she rather be successful, or would she rather be happy?

The answer came to her instantly.

Definitely happy.

Well, that wasn't so hard.

And who knows, May be someday she would be able to manage both. But one thing at a time. First she had to talk to Dillon.

It was a risk. It was possible that he wasn't willing to give her a second chance. He could have moved on by now. But she knew that was a chance she was willing to take. One she had to take.

Oh, my God, she was really going to do this.

She reached for the phone, hand trembling with anticipation. Nothing in her life had ever felt so scary. Or so right.

The instant her hand hit the receiver she realized that she didn't have his number. She could call directory assistance, but she seriously doubted he would be listed.

But she did know where he lived.

Besides, if she was going to grovel, she should at least give him the satisfaction of seeing her face.

She pushed away from her desk. She would go to his house and hope that she was able to get past the front gate. Even if that meant running into his horrible mother. Mrs. Marshall, as Ivy had been instructed to address her, would just have to adjust to having Ivy around again. The same with Ivy's mom. She would have to accept that Dillon had changed. And if she couldn't, if she still believed Ivy was making a mistake, Ivy would just have to learn to tune her out. In fact, she should have learned that a long time ago.

And who knows, May be a couple of grandchildren to spoil would lighten them both up a little. Right now, she felt as though anything were possible.

She grabbed her keys off the table in the entryway and stuck her feet into one of the pairs of shoes she'd left by the front door. Her hands were shaking and her heart was about to burst from her chest it was beating so hard, but she was determined to see this through.

She turned the knob and swung the door open and—hello!—almost ran face-first into the wall of man standing there.

It took her brain a second or two to process who it was. “Dillon?”

He stood in the hallway outside her apartment, fist raised, as if he'd just been preparing to knock, and he looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Several days' worth of dark, coarse stubble branded his face and his clothes were wrinkled. His hair was a mess and when he slipped off his sunglasses his eyes looked red-rimmed and tired.

Good Lord, he looked about as awful as she felt. For some reason that was a comfort.

He didn't say a word. He just gripped her by her upper arms and tugged her roughly to him. His lips came down hard on hers, rough and sexy and demanding. His beard chafed her chin, fingers dug into her flesh. He tasted like coffee and sex, smelled warm and familiar. Her body went limp and she heard her keys hit the floor.

The kiss was as hot as a flash fire and over just as fast. He set her loose and she stood there, dizzy and disoriented, clutching the door frame to keep from falling over.

Whoa
.

If he was trying to knock her off base, he was doing one hell of a job.

He scooped her keys up from the floor. “Going somewhere?”

“Believe it or not, I was just on my way to see you,” she said. “We must be on the same wavelength or something.”

“No kidding. You were coming to see me?” He looked her up and down, and his brow crinkled. “Like
that?
”

Like what? She looked down at herself and snorted out a laugh. She was still in the baggy pajama bottoms and threadbare T-shirt she'd slept in last night. The sandals on her feet were each a different style and color. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember if she'd even brushed her hair. She hadn't grabbed her purse, either, meaning she didn't have her driver's license. Had she been pulled over, the police might have mistaken her for an escaped lunatic.