Living with Temptation (11 page)

Her indecisiveness creased her face. Out of all of her
thoughts, she knew what she wanted. Before she left, she wanted to feel the
pleasure between them one last time.

“Come to bed with me tonight.”

Dean tilted his head back from her, his brow furrowing. “You
want to keep it professional between us, remember?”

“I do. That’s what I said. But it’s not how I feel. I want
to sleep next to you just for tonight,” she said, then added hastily, “Before I
leave.”

Dean swallowed heavily. Just the thought, the memory, of
having her warm, soft body next to his was enough to send a spark of arousal
through him. The way Chelsea spoke made it seem like an innocent proposal. The
comfort of being close to one another without crossing the line and becoming deeply
intimate.
A woman who knows what she wants
, he thought with a smile.

Her hopeful eyes were fixated on his and he felt a guilty
twinge in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to hurt Chelsea, and he sure
as hell didn’t want to turn away a night of being with her in bed. But he was
on a fine line now that feelings were involved. Dean knew any words he said had
the potential to hurt her. In a heartbeat he would give her a relationship, and
everything she desired. But Dean knew it wasn’t that easy, something which
Chelsea was oblivious of.

It was straightforward for her to ignore any obstacles,
hoping they could be together. No woman could let go of a dream, a desire. He was
hers. He could see it.

Dean cleared his throat. “Before we do, I want to take you
out for dinner.”

Chelsea’s lips parted in surprise, and she blinked. “Oh! I’m
not hungry. I haven’t had much of an appetite.”

Something he’d noticed. It was the little things about
Chelsea Levin which got to him.

“You can have as much or as little as you like,” he said.
“Then, we can rest in each other’s arms tonight. With clothes on.”

She swallowed. “I meant sex, not literally sleeping
together.”

“I know what you meant.”

“Are you…you sure you don’t mind?”

Dean gritted his teeth. Hell, he definitely minded. He
preferred to have her naked next to him, to fuck her. But he’d already gone one
step too far by sleeping with Chelsea. Tonight he would be content with the
burning frustration of feeling her warmth against him, unable to have sex.
If
she finds out about me…our relationship will end. I can’t do it.

“I don’t mind,” he murmured, reaching out to cup her chin
with his hand. Damn it, he couldn’t resist her. The softness of her skin
brought back the memory of her body against his amongst the bed sheets. Lying
there, with nothing else but each other.

“I enjoy being with you, Chelsea.”

A smile flickered across her face. It was all they needed
from each other, all that he could give her. The comfort, the intimacy. But it
wasn’t just sex he had found with this woman. Dean knew there was more. A whole
possibility that lay before him.

But he couldn’t take it.

“You should change into something warmer,” Dean told her. “Take
my coat.”

He stood, leaning over to grasp the beige coat draped over
the side of the couch. Chelsea stepped close to him, the sudden movement of her
lithe body causing him to freeze. She briefly met his eyes as she pulled the
coat across herself.

Dean tried to be a gentleman and turn away, but his gaze flicked
back to the movement of her fingers as she did up the buttons. He swallowed
heavily, knowing that having Chelsea close would drive him to think of
everything he could do to her.

The burning need for her physically hurt, like a strain in
his body, his very soul. But he had to ignore it. They were moving on. It was
all too easy to fall into a relationship but at the end, it’s too hard to let
go.

He turned away, realizing that he was staring at her.
Chelsea snapped her head up to look at him, hesitancy glimmering in her eyes.
In the brief moment when their gaze met, Dean knew she wanted to speak, to
mention that one possibility between them.

Dean walked over to the mantelpiece. Amongst the ornate
decorations lining it, he grabbed his wallet, pausing to look. Candles, a
carved wooden ornament of a cat he’d made himself. Each one harbored memories
of his childhood, and the parents he lost so suddenly.

Chelsea walked up beside him, and he glanced at her. She looked
demure in his coat loosely clinging to her body. But her expression was hard as
she studied the mantelpiece.

“I like what you’ve done here,” she remarked, her voice
quiet.

Dean saw the flush of arousal on her face. He quickly
cleared his throat. “I left it the way my mom had it.”

“Oh!” Chelsea’s eyes widened. “Sorry, I just…”

“Assumed,” he murmured. “It’s fine. Are you ready to go? Is
your knee okay?”

Chelsea flashed him a smile. “I’m good. Thank you for doing
this, for taking me out to a restaurant after everything that’s happened.”

Dean turned away from her and allowed the pain to crease his
face. He desperately wanted this to be for her. This was all he needed to
change his ways in the media, and he had to keep his motive anonymous. Or
Chelsea would end up as Jenny did.

But she isn’t like her.

Dean flinched. Now wasn’t the time for doubts.

He took hold of Chelsea’s arm politely, putting himself at a
distance from her so he wouldn’t feel her body. He led her outside into the
cool air, the sky darkening above them. A full moon tonight, Dean noted
wistfully. Beside him, he felt Chelsea sigh a little. Restraint made his body
rigid as he struggled not to kiss her, or stroke her arm.
Damn it, I have to
resist her.

His desire threatened to make him hard. All that could ease
it was having Chelsea again. But he wasn’t the man he used to be – he wouldn’t
give into his base instincts, not while Chelsea was vulnerable.
You already
have,
he reminded himself.

Dean quickly turned his attention to the garage. The two of
them walked side by side under the moonlight as he kept his eyes focused ahead.
Each step weighed on his resolve, the temptation to touch her becoming hard to
resist. When Chelsea released herself from him, he felt a rush of relief.

He opened the door and slid into the car. Every inch of it
was luxurious, and the cost had been a small chunk off the inheritance.
My parents’
remains,
he reminded himself. The thought sobered him. That was how he had
to look at it, to avoid wasting it on all the crap he had done over the years.

Dean playfully started revving the engine, captivated by the
deep, satisfying rumble. Chelsea’s eyes were on him and as he shot her a grin,
he noticed the amusement in her eyes.

Something struck him.

Since when did Chelsea’s feelings matter so much? Giving
into his need for her fulfilled him, but he still wanted more. If he could, he
would have Chelsea Levin every night in his bed. Dean’s feelings for her were
changing, and going in the direction he never intended them to.

“I can tell you’re loving this car,” Chelsea mused.

Loving. Was that how he felt for her?

Dean forced a smile. “What man wouldn’t? Has all the
horsepower I need, handles like a dream.”

He backed out of the driveway and drove into town, taking
the coastal route. The view of the ocean held Chelsea’s attention. They talked
idly of the weather before she thanked him again. Guilt hit him. Dean hadn’t
felt it in a long time, not even with Desiree or Jenny. It was easy to push
minimal feelings aside, but Chelsea intensified every emotion he felt.

Dean pulled up outside the restaurant he attended
frequently, one he was certain the regular media reporters would be at tonight.
Now was his chance to showcase Chelsea to the media, then his past would finally
be behind him.

Dean stepped out of the car, running a hand through his
hair. Before Chelsea got out, he opened the door for her. She glanced up at
him, taken by surprise.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly.

Dean tried not to focus on the petite shape of her body. He’d
seen her naked, now he couldn’t stop picturing her that way. Damn it, Chelsea
was seducing him in a much more subtle way than he did.

She stepped in close to him and Dean held out his arm for
her. A gesture of courtesy. But Chelsea had no clue of the turmoil coursing
through his body from having her next to him.

Her arm slid around his. Feeling her tight, firm body inches
from his almost made Dean hard again, but he couldn’t push her away. He needed
her close as a façade for the media. And also, as he began to realize, because
he didn’t want to let her go.

They entered the restaurant, and were surrounded by tables
draped with pastel yellow cloths, glittering chandeliers, and white carpet. The
walls were a pale pastel orange, a touch of color amongst the rigid elegance.

Beside him, he noticed Chelsea staring in wonder.

“This is nice.”

“There’re better,” he added. “One in New York is
particularly nice.”

But his company hadn’t been.

After being greeted by a formally dressed waiter, Dean
guided Chelsea to the tables. All eyes were on them as he led her to one in the
far corner. He watched as she sat down, smoothing her dress over her legs. Again
he was reminded of the night they spent together when he kissed down her
thighs, taking in all of her body. At least the coat was covering her cleavage.

When Chelsea met his gaze, she seemed uncomfortable. It
didn’t take him long to see why – the other diners were staring openly at them
and talking in hushed tones. Gossiping about them, Dean noted. Spring Lake was
a small town but not impervious to gossipers.

They were only words, he recalled Chelsea saying. They
didn’t matter.

After tonight, they wouldn’t.

He cleared his throat, catching the eye of a brunette
waitress. The woman smiled widely and approached them. Dean observed the
restaurant. There were the regulars he recognized, a couple of neighbors, but
no media.

Chelsea’s wary gaze focused on him.

“You get used to the attention,” Dean told her.

“I couldn’t.”

And there it was. Another painful reason why they could
never have a life together. The media would always be a part of his, even if
this façade worked. Any public appearance had the potential to be snapped and
displayed. Perhaps he was overreacting, but the media were getting desperate.

The waitress came up beside him, shooting him a wide smile. Dean’s
attention went to Chelsea. She looked modest, subtly sexy, and not at all
vulnerable. The change surprised him, and as she met his gaze, she smiled.

After the initial greetings, the waitress handed over the
menus. Chelsea glanced at the brunette, noticing the enamored expression on her
face as she looked at Dean. He seemed oblivious to her flirting, or possibly
used to the way women acted around him.

She chose her meal options, after being shocked by the
prices. The waitress brought over a bottle of champagne, and poured the
bubbling amber liquid into a glass. Chelsea blushed as she tasted it. This
definitely felt like a date, and she didn’t know what to make of it. Dean’s
attention was flattering, but it felt forced.

They weren’t together, but this public display of affection
had her wondering. Dean mentioned a surprise – was this it?
There’s still a
chance we can be together
.

Chelsea raised her glass in a toast.

“To you, for three weeks I’ll never forget.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, then hesitated before he raised his.
Chelsea finished off her drink and sat back, relaxing now that no one was
staring at them. Thinking of this as a date filled her with a happiness she
couldn’t contain, and Dean’s smiles sent a shiver through her body. She didn’t want
to hope for something neither of them intended to happen.

But this had to mean something to Dean.

The waitress returned with two plates of food, and Chelsea
eagerly began to eat her sirloin steak with glazed vegetables and garden salad.
Noticing movement out of the corner of her eye, she turned her head to see two
men approaching with a camera raised. The blond haired man took a few photos, the
camera flashing. Chelsea quickly glanced at Dean, surprised by their intrusion.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said. “Your meal looks good.”

Chelsea glanced at his. He’d chosen the same.

She frowned and watched as he stood and walked over to the
two men. The media’s approach wasn’t a complete surprise, but it had shaken
her. How could Dean be so calm when they could just appear and barge right up
to you?

Chelsea absent mindedly grazed her fork across the salad,
and glanced towards Dean. The men were leaving the restaurant, and she could
hear them apologizing profusely.

Dean strode back to her and sighed. He adjusted his shirt as
he sat down.

“Sometimes you have to be firm with them,” he said lightly. His
eyes glimmered as he continued eating his meal. It was as if a weight had been lifted
from his shoulders. When Dean looked up at her, his smile was slow and sexy.
Chelsea returned it, but was curious to know what he said to the media.
Probably
nothing.

“Do they always come at you without any warning?”

“It’s the way they are,” Dean replied. “But they won’t be
back.”

After the delicious meal at the restaurant, Chelsea couldn’t
stop thinking about Dean. He seemed happy and as he unlocked the front door and
stepped inside, she followed, hesitantly standing close to him.

Recalling the night they gave into each other, she felt
herself shiver from the memory. Dean glanced back at her, and the motion sensor
light turned on, bathing the both of them in a gentle light.

“Are you okay?”

Chelsea nodded. “The media surprised me, that’s all.”

“Hence why I don’t go out much.” Dean closed the distance
between them, then pocketed his keys. Chelsea stared up at him, taking in his
strong jawline and gentle green eyes. Every nerve in her body was tingling, her
skin aching for his touch. She longed to kiss him again.

As she looked into his eyes, she wondered what he wanted.
Maybe the meal at the restaurant was his way of testing the waters. Of course a
man like Dean Westley wouldn’t settle into a long term relationship easily.

“I…” Chelsea began. Lost in his eyes, in her thoughts, her
voice trailed off. How could it have come to this? Not long ago, they were
teasing each other, kissing every moment they had. Deciding to keep it
professional was a mistake. Fear took hold of her but now it was gone, and all
she wanted was Dean.

“I should get to bed,” he decided. His words stung. Chelsea tried
to keep her expression even. It was so tempting to ask about their relationship,
to persuade him they could be together. But if he cared for her, he would tell
her in a heartbeat. She’d told him her feelings. And as she looked at him, in
her mind she saw Ryan and the moment he confessed to cheating. Dean had the
potential to hurt her as much as her ex-husband had.

“Yeah,” she breathed, and lowered her head. “I should too.”

She undid his coat and pulled it from her body, knowing that
Dean was watching every movement. Chelsea thrust it at him, and met his gaze
pointedly. Being in his arms, in his bed, had given her pleasure she never
expected to feel. Now that it was over, she couldn’t accept it. But it seemed
he did.

Now she felt bitter for all they shared together, knowing
that it was uncertain. That it wouldn’t last.
Good things never do
.
Because it wasn’t serious, it could all end so easily.

“Good night,” Dean said softly.

Chelsea started up the stairs, but almost hesitated when she
recognized the hint of pain in his voice. It hurt him too to be apart from her.
But what they had together in his house was a fantasy, and her reality awaited
her at the apartment in Newark. A professional arrangement, she reminded
herself.

Chelsea entered her room and closed the door behind her,
staring listlessly at the empty bed. She’d proposed that they spend a night
together. Dean seemed to have forgotten of it, and she didn’t want to mention
it. At the restaurant, she’d realized she wanted more than Dean could give her.
And he knew that.

She slumped onto the bed and checked her phone, then immediately
sat up when a notification bore a message. From Ryan. It had to be important
for him to message her this late. Chelsea opened it and read the words she was
once afraid of: ‘I want a divorce. I have the papers for you to sign.’

She expected to feel shock, or at least surprise that it was
happening. But there was a twinge of pain in her chest. Chelsea no longer cared
about Ryan, it was Dean who she wanted to be with. And judging from his earlier
dismissal, he only wanted sex.
Maybe a night without it is too hard for him,
she thought bitterly. But why did he refuse? She couldn’t understand him.