Keeping Company (23 page)

He was going to lose her completely if he didn’t do something soon.

Dylan heaved a sigh and turned toward the big fisherman who leaned against the bar, nursing his beer. “Cleve? How do you handle women?”

Cleve stole a glance at his waitress wife to make sure she was out of earshot, then pounded a huge fist on the bar. “You lay down the law. Then you duck, ’cause she’s sure to throw something at your head.”

“Lay down the law,” Dylan mused. It sounded
practical. He and Alaina had certainly done enough pussyfooting around, sniping at each other and pushing each other away when they should have been building on the fire that glowed between them in bed and the friendship they had kindled in saner moments. Lay down the law. Who better to understand the law than a lawyer?

He would tell Alaina exactly how he felt, he thought, his palms breaking out in a cold sweat. And after she finished throwing things at him, they could discuss the possibility of extending their deal. Maybe she wasn’t ready for permanence and instant parenthood, but they could take their time moving toward that end. Maybe she’d tell him to take a flying leap, but at least all the cards would be on the table. The idea scared the hell out of him, but Cleve was right. It was time to fish or cut bait. If Alaina didn’t want him for something more serious than keeping company, then now was the time to find out, before Cori and Sam got too involved. His own heart was already lost. He was hoping Alaina’s was too.

Neither of them had said a word about love. Love hadn’t been part of their deal. Love was
something both of them had shied away from because of past hurts, but love was what was trying to take root in both their wary hearts. Dylan only hoped he could make Alaina see that. She was a cynic who’d seen nothing but the worst side of relationships. She had turned her nose up at the mention of marriage. But she was also the woman whose eyes were haunted with loneliness and longing, tenderness and vulnerability. Maybe if he had the courage to reach out to her, she would have faith enough to take his hand.

He drank down his Kool-Aid in three big gulps, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and slammed the glass down on the bar. “Rita, cover for me!” he called.

“Where are you going?” the waitress called back.

“To lay down the law.”

A plastic ashtray sailed across the room and bounced off Cleve’s head.

Dylan headed up the street from the waterfront, his stride long and purposeful as he passed the picturesque shop fronts of Anastasia. The sun warmed his back through his faded chambray
shirt and teased the red and gold lights out in his hair. His battered sneakers ate up the distance between himself and Alaina Montgomery.

When he turned the corner off Main Street and started for the professional building where her office was located, a shiny yellow Mercedes caught his eye and some of the nerve he’d drummed up coagulated in his stomach. His step faltered, but he ignored the omen and flung open the door to the building.

Marlene was leaning down close to her desktop listening intently to her intercom speaker. Her eyes rounded like quarters at the sight of Dylan.

“Can I see Alaina?” he asked.

“Hmmm …” Marlene gave him a shrewd look. “Unless she moves to San Francisco.”

Dylan’s heart stopped. “Unless what?”

“She’s just been offered a position at Victor-Ruthton, the Jaws of California corporate law sharks.”

Everything inside him felt as if it had just been freeze-dried. One touch and he would shatter into a zillion shards. Alaina was being offered a position with a prestigious law firm in the city. Alaina,
who prized her career and all the perks that accompanied it. Alaina, who valued social status and professional prominence. Alaina, who had stolen his heart despite the fact that she bore no resemblance to Donna Reed.

Pain swirled through him like a hurricane—old pain and new pain, until one was indistinguishable from the other. All the old insecurities Veronica had left him with shot to the surface like heat-seeking missiles. Career women. They were the scourge of the Earth. Didn’t love mean anything to them? Was money really more attractive to them than motherhood? Did he have the word
doormat
stenciled across his forehead? He’d come here to throw his heart at Alaina’s feet. Now Marlene was telling him he could just as well have left it in San Francisco, because that was where Alaina was headed! When it came down to a choice between fame and fortune and Dylan Harrison, a career woman took the money and ran every time.

Well, he wasn’t going to just stand back and wait for her to dump him on her way out of town. Not this time. This time he was going to get his
licks in first. This time he was going to be the dumper, not the dumpee.

Without a word to the secretary, he stormed the door to Alaina’s office, barging in with a frighteningly false smile on his face. “Skippy!” he crowed, slapping Whittaker on the back hard enough to knock a cough out of him. “Great to see you, Skipster, old pal.”

“Dylan!” Alaina gaped at him. Emotions bombarded her like B-52s. There was a thrill at seeing him, a nervousness at the coldness of his brown eyes, and a sliver of anger at having been interrupted in the middle of telling Skip Whittaker to take a long walk off a short pier. “What are you doing here?”

He gave an elaborate shrug. “I just came to tell you your services won’t be necessary this Sunday. I can handle the Harrison crowd myself.”

Alaina’s jaw dropped. He was kissing her off, calling it quits on their deal. Just like that. She sank back in her chair, setting her jaw at an angle maintained by pride alone. “I see,” she said softly.

“It’s really not your kind of scene, anyway,” Dylan said, a razor-edge cutting each of his words.
“A Bill Blass gown would be wasted on the Moose Hollow Harrisons.”

She flinched a bit at the gibe, but somehow managed to find her voice through the haze of her pain. “So, the deal’s off, I take it?”

“Yep. You’re free to pack and follow the rainbow to that cushy condo in Marin County, Princess.” He leaned across the desk, ruthlessly ignoring the soft allure of her perfume, and tapped a finger to the Crystal pin she wore on the lapel of her jacket. “Give me a call when you decide to part with this. I’d love to have it in my collection.”

He turned and started for the door, pausing to flip the ends of Skip’s sweater sleeves. “Can’t find the neck of your sweater, eh, Skippy? Don’t worry. Sweater dyslexia is a temporary learning disability. You’ll snap out of it if your gross income dips below fifty grand.”

Her breath frozen in her lungs, Alaina watched him walk out. She was stunned. Yes, she’d seen the end coming, but she hadn’t expected it to drop out of the sky and land on her like an anvil. Of all the low-down, sneaky strategies! The man was a rat! A brilliant, naturally devious rat! How dare
he make her fall in love with him, and then dump her like so much flotsam or jetsam or whatever the hell it was people threw out of boats—ships—

“Hold it right there, buster!” she demanded from the doorway of her office. Dylan turned and stared at her, his dark eyes hard, his jaw set. They faced each other like a pair of gunslingers. Halfway between them, Marlene sat behind her desk, as pale as a corpse. “You can’t just say so long and walk out on me.”

“Why not?” Dylan questioned, his heart slamming against his chest like a handball.
Because you love me? Because you want me in your life? Because you’d rather have important things than expensive things?

Alaina stared at him, her heart in her throat.
Because I love you. Because I want you to love me. Because you’re the rainbow I’ve been chasing without even realizing it.
“Because …”

He looked so far away—not just the width of the room away. His heart had left her already. The Dylan who had teased her and tempted her and given her a glimpse of heaven had already gone.
The man facing her was a stranger. The man facing her had hurt her.

She said the first thing that came into her head. “Because you owe me money.”

Dylan flinched as though he’d taken a bullet.

“Your tab, you welsher,” Alaina said, willing her temper to take over again. “You owe me six hundred seventeen dollars and fifty cents. Plus punitive damages. Plus the twenty-dollar fine I had to pay for creating a public nuisance.”

“No way am I paying for that fine!” Dylan bellowed, taking two steps toward her. “You were the one dressed like a hooker!”

Alaina advanced agressively. “You were the one who got us arrested!”

Dylan took the last step so they were nearly nose to nose, temper to temper, hurt to hurt. “You were the one who insulted the deputy!”

From the doorway of Alaina’s office, Skip Whittaker called out, “Shall I call security?”

Alaina and Dylan turned on him and shouted in unison, “Butt out, Skippy!”

They faced each other once again, both of them in pain, but neither willing to back down.

“Okay, Counselor,” Dylan murmured, his eyes locked on hers. “A deal’s a deal. Send me the bill. I’ll send you a check. Take it to bed with you at night and see if it keeps you warm.”

It was Alaina’s turn to wince. Was that really what he thought of her? That she valued nothing so much as a dollar? He of the thirty-foot fishing boat and the one-of-a-kind collection and the state-of-the-art telescope. “You smug, self-righteous, hypocritical bastard. Keep your damn money. Frame it and hang it on the wall. Send it to the starving people in Ethiopia. Stick it where the sun don’t shine. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Yeah. You’ve made that plain enough. Have a nice life at the top of the corporate ladder, Princess.” He raised his arm in a proper Zanatarian salute and backed toward the door. “It’s been real.”

The instant he was gone, Alaina felt all the strength rush out of her like bathwater down a drain. She sagged back against Marlene’s desk, unable to believe what had just happened. She’d just verbally duked it out with Dylan. He’d thrown her out of his life, and she’d thrown him
out of her office. She felt disoriented, as if she’d just been thrust into a bizarre nightmare. This was even weirder than Dylan’s entrance into her life had been.

From the doorway Whittaker gave an indignant snort. “You’re well rid of him, Alaina. The man is obviously unstable.”

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “Put a cork in it, Skippy.”

“Have you been reading a lot of Stephen King novels recently?”

Alaina paused with her brush poised above the canvas. She shot Faith Kincaid a suspicious look. “No. Why?”

Faith leaned back on the porch swing, her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees. A pained smile tilted the corners of her small mouth. The huge brown eyes that dominated her heart-shaped face were full of concern. “No reason. Your painting just seems a little … grimmer than usual.”

Turning a critical eye toward the canvas that
was propped on the easel, Jayne nibbled on a croissant and made a face. She tucked a wild strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “ ‘Grim’ is a good word.”

“Everybody’s a critic,” Alaina grumbled, slapping another glob of black onto the mess she’d created. Splashes of dark red and black warred for space on the canvas. Originally, she had intended to attempt painting another horse—one that didn’t look like a deformed dog. But the emotions she had been trying to lock inside for the past three days had conducted themselves down her arm and out the end of her paintbrush. Privately she called the result
The Futility of Love
. All things considered, it seemed an accurate portrayal of her feelings.

“What do you call it?” Jayne asked.

“
Men Are Pond Scum.
” She took a long, last drag on her eighth cigarette of the morning, stubbed it out on the Limoges saucer that sat on the small wicker table, and promptly lit another.

Jayne and Faith exchanged worried glances.

“How was Maine?” Alaina asked, uncomfortable with the feel of eyes boring into her back.

“Fine. Shane’s family was very nice. They’re all going to make it out for the wedding,” Faith said. She declined the chocolate doughnut Jayne offered her, paling delicately.

Wedding. Alaina grimaced. Lord, how was she going to endure a wedding? All those people gushing over the power of love and the glow of the happy couple. But get through it she would. She loved Faith like a sister, and she certainly didn’t begrudge her friend this ultimate happiness. After what she’d had to endure with her first husband, Faith deserved the kind of love she had with Shane Callan.

It was just that …

“Since when do you turn down chocolate doughnuts?” Jayne asked, licking the last of the frosting from her fingertips.

Faith’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. Her lashes fluttered down shyly. “Since morning sickness.”

Lovely. Just lovely, Alaina thought as a lump the size of a softball ballooned to life in her throat. She muttered curses at the hot moisture that burned the backs of her eyeballs. Dammit, she
would not cry because Faith was pregnant. She would not cry because Faith was finding the end of a rainbow while she was getting drenched in yet another downpour of romantic disappointment.