The Bare Facts (6 page)

A tremor of fear rumbled through Haley. Fear of the control she had lost so completely. Fear of the incredible pleasure Dylan had given her. An old fear that told her if it felt too good to be true, it usually was.

She couldn't let herself want Dylan for anything more than a man to help her experience sex so she could write a realistic article showing women how to spice up their sex lives.

Dylan was the kind of man a woman fantasized about. A man who was selfless in love, knew where to touch her and how to touch her. A fantasy man.

He had a little black book filled with names and numbers. He played the field and she would have to remember that. He was that way in college and it was why she continually told herself she couldn't get involved with him now.

He was the perfect man for the job but not the perfect man for her.

The bare facts were that Haley wanted a man who only wanted her. The idea might be outdated, outmoded or just plain fantasy, but she wanted that white picket fence, her 2.5 children and a husband who would not stray. And, if her readers were honest with themselves, they would admit, in the secret part of their hearts, they wanted the same thing.

Too bad Dylan was the perfect temporary man for the job. It would be easy to fall for him.

And love with a skirt chaser was just not in her plans.

 

H
ALEY STOOD
in the intimate apparel section of Bloomingdale's and eyed all the merchandise. It's not that she'd never shopped for bras and underwear before, but prior to Dylan she'd never shopped for sexy, drive-him-crazy underwear before. She went to the black lace bras and perused the selections. They were much more revealing than she would have chosen, but she wanted the striptease fantasy to be very hot.

She closed her eyes and a flutter of nerves began in her stomach. The thought of taking her clothes off in a seductive fashion for Dylan made her both scared and aroused. It was perhaps the forbidden of disrobing for a man that made the idea both sexy and frightening.

She took the bra into the dressing room and tried it on. She needed one that was strapless because the dress she'd bought had such thin straps.

The lace material cupped her breasts, pushed them up, and she looked at herself, trying to see herself through Dylan's eyes. Did he find her sexy or was it sex without strings he found so appealing?

Back in college Haley had noticed him right away. He always sat behind her in English class. She could smell his male scent, a combination of spice and soap. She was sure that a couple of times when she'd left her hair down, he'd played with the end of her curls, but every time she turned around, he looked as innocent as the driven snow.

And innocent he was not.

Not with those dreamy, I've-got-what-you-need eyes that promised ecstasy and safety at the same time. Not with his dark, dangerous good looks. Oh no, innocent was not the right word at all.

Warning sounds had buzzed in her head that whole last semester. Every time he'd even hinted that he was going to ask her out, she'd change the subject or find some way to leave.

She made sure she was always in a group situation with him. It kept her safe in two ways. There were always plenty of women hanging around him, and that provided a great buffer against her having to spend any time with him.

Besides drinking way too much alcohol at the infamous graduation party, there had been one time, and one time only, when she'd let her guard down. It was shortly after she'd broken up with Sean and not many of her friends knew it. It was in a bar and it had been late. Haley hadn't noticed that most of the group had left. There was only Dylan and a couple of their friends.

He had asked her to dance. She remembered so vividly the feel of his hands at her waist, the smell of him that was simply overwhelming as she stood so close to him. He'd pulled her in as easily as a fisherman reeled in his catch.

His breath in her ear had sent goose bumps along her flesh, and she hadn't even been aware he'd snuck his fingers in between her shirt and jeans and was caressing the skin of her waist.

The music had been slow, melodious and mesmerizing. Then he'd smiled at her. He'd set off a wild flutter in her that swelled with each movement of his body. Her breath had lodged in her chest. One smile—one wicked smile—and her legs wanted to fold under her. One smile and she could feel every pulse point in her whole body. It was then, that very moment, the agonizing yearning had begun.

She'd given in to the temptation to go back to his room, but a beautiful coed was waiting outside his door. Seeing her reminded Haley that she was a dime a dozen, and Dylan liked variety. Before he could say anything, she'd gotten out of there with an excuse about a test the next day.

She looked at herself in the mirror again, shocked to see her eyes slumberous, her breasts hard and aching.

She quickly removed the decadent garment and got dressed. She went back to the rack and picked up the matching thong panties. Hesitating, she looked back, and, with a swift gesture, grabbed another bra and headed to the checkout.

 

B
ACK AT HER DESK
, Haley placed the shopping bags out of sight and sat down. Margo came up to her, holding three message slips in her hand and a bemused smile on her face.

“Where have you been all morning?”

“Working.”

“Yeah?” Margo toed the bag. “Bloomie's have any good sales?”

“I was shopping for the next fantasy.” Haley blushed, just thinking about the articles of clothing she'd purchased for her next hot session with Dylan.

“Let me see.” Margo grabbed the bags and pulled them out from under Haley's desk. Haley made a grab for them, but Margo eluded her.

“This is the flimsiest bra I've—”

Haley snatched the bra out of Margo's grip and stuffed it back in the bag.

“Are you crazy? Do you think I want people to start asking questions?”

“For a minute there, you sounded just like my mother.”

“Is your mother calling you again trying to get you to skip work?”

“Not exactly.”

“So what was it this time? The job's beneath you, or can you just shirk your responsibilities to go get a facial and a manicure?”

“The Prince,” Margo said wryly, rolling her eyes. “That's what I call the man my mother wants me to marry.”

“Why haven't you told me this before? There haven't been many secrets between us, since we met 21 years ago.”

“Usually, I can handle it, but there's this huge fund-raiser she wants me to attend and she wants me to go with The Prince, Michael Patrick Keegan.”

“Why is this guy so important?”

“Ah, you see, Patrick's father owns Keegan Shipping and my father's a shipbuilder. It would be a
merger if Patrick and I were to get married. Patrick's very rich and has the reputation of being quite the corporate shark. I think he does all his daddy's dirty work.” Margo added, “If she's so enamored of this guy, why doesn't she marry him?”

“I don't know what the big deal is. Can't you pick who you want to marry? And why is it some kind of a race?”

“She thinks if I land a rich husband, I'll quit my job and be the society dame like her. How many garden parties can one woman possibly attend?” Margo sluiced her hand through her silky hair in exasperation.

“Sounds like a lot of pressure.” This is the world Dylan lived in. She was glad that she wasn't subject to such pressure from her family.

“If she thinks that I'll fall in love with this guy and give up my plans of getting into advertising, she's crazy.”

“Couldn't your family pull strings for you?”

With a heavy sigh, Margo said, “Sure, but my father's blocked about every attempt I've made to get an advertising job. He calls it vulgar to sell things to people. If you hadn't been instrumental in getting me this job, I'd still be looking.”

“So have you met the guy?”

“Sure. He's very attractive and dresses impeccably, but he's a workaholic like my father, and believe me, that's not what I want for a husband.”

“I don't have these issues with my parents at all. My dad was a mailman and my mom stayed home.”

“Right, and he took you to baseball games and Sunday matinees. You're lucky, Haley. My dad was too busy for any of that stuff. I went to exotic places for vacations, but rarely did my father go with us.”

Haley reached out and squeezed Margo's hand. “I'm sorry, Margo. My parents want me to get married and settle down when I'm ready.”

“You can't imagine the pressure of having to live up to the Grant name. If I make one slip, you'll see it in the society page.” She seemed to shake off the frustration. “Enough of this boo-hooing. I'm not dating The Prince, so my mother better get over it.”

“I really admire you, Margo, for standing up for what you believe.”

“Thanks,” she said, and smiled warmly. “So, are you excited about the next fantasy?”

“Yes. I can't say I'm not nervous about it, but not enough to call the whole thing off. The first one was so wonderful.”

“Speaking of fantasies,” Margo said as she put down one of the message slips. “Dylan. And let me see, another one from Dylan, and one more. From Dylan.”

“He's called three times today?” Pleasure filled her chest. She hadn't expected him to call. But, of course, she could still be novel to him. He probably hadn't gotten tired of her yet.

“Uh-huh. He wants you to call him back. He gave me his home phone, his work phone, his cell phone, his beeper, and, of course, his e-mail.”

Haley turned away from the messages and booted up her computer.

“Aren't you going to call him back?” Margo asked, tapping the message slips with a well-manicured nail.

“Nope.” Haley didn't take her eyes off the screen. She sent the job she opened to the printer.

“Why not?”

“I'll drop him an e-mail and thank him. I need to give him a time frame for the next fantasy and get his key, but we don't have a relationship. This is just business. I'm not going to have any other contact with him.”

“I guess he's agreed to this, so that it won't be any surprise when you don't fall into his charming trap.”

“He is charming, but like your family, Margo, image means a lot to him. I'm sure he wouldn't want to end up in the society page linked to my name.”

“Go for it, girl. Go for that goal. Although, I'd say it sounds like Mr. Malone is very interested in you, Haley.”

“For now, Margo.” Before Margo could say another word, Haley handed her the sheets of paper she'd just printed. “I sent this column to Kate by e-mail last night. Tell me what you think.”

Haley went to get a cup of coffee. Margo was just putting down the article when Haley returned. Margo stared at Haley.

Haley could barely contain herself. “Well?” She'd written the piece fast, but it had been so easy to construct a fantasy based on the rustic cabin and rasp
berry sauce, not to mention the sheer impact of Dylan's lovemaking.

“How long did this take you?”

“Not long. I wrote it on Sunday after Dylan dropped me off at my apartment.”

“This is really good! Makes me want to find a man who can do those things to me.”

“It's good?”

“It's better than good, Haley. It's provocative, erotic, and so, so romantic. Everyone is going to fall in love with your fantasy man.”

“Haley.” Margo and Haley turned to find Kate bearing down on them. “I just read your copy. Great job. I loved it. I think our readers will love it, too. I can't wait for your second installment.”

“No problem.” But it was a problem. This whole thing was a big problem. She was a mess and she'd only had one fantasy with Dylan. What would it be like after two, three? She tried to put everything in perspective, but then she would relive that last kiss in the kitchen, his body pressed to hers, her pressed against the counter. Why had she ever listened to Margo?

“Keep up the good work,” Kate said, giving Haley's shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

When Kate walked away, Haley dropped her head into her hands. “Good work? This is not work, this is decadent, erotic, and a big mistake.”

Margo grabbed Haley's arm. “What's wrong?”

“I know what I said about keeping everything businesslike, but the mantra is not working.” She dropped
her hands and gave Margo a baleful look. “And it's all your fault.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talked me into this harebrained scheme.” Haley got up and walked into the small alcove housing a little kitchen. She picked up a pot of freshly brewed coffee and poured herself and Margo a cup.

“Haley,” Margo said as she accepted the cup, “you can't get cold feet now. You heard what Kate said. She loved the column. You're one-quarter of the way where you want to be.”

“But, Margo, he's so fabulous. I had so much fun with him Saturday, Saturday night, the ride home Sunday.”

“Whoa,” Margo said, the cup halfway to her lips. “Saturday night? Sunday? You spent the night with him?”

Haley glanced away sheepishly. “Didn't you hear me before?”

“I was still enthralled with the column. I must have missed it. Gimme details.”

“He said the roads were icy. I thought he knew the mountains and I should trust him.”

“You marshmallow. Did you also believe the one about running out of gas? Details, please.” Margo took a sip of coffee.

Haley explained all the details to her.

“A roomful of women's clothing? Mr. Malone does get around. I'm sorry. That must have hurt.” Margo set down the coffee cup and clasped Haley around the shoulders.

“Why should it? I didn't go there as his date or for a cozy weekend getaway. I went there to have sex with him and I have to stay focused. I've discovered he isn't the kind of man for me. We'll have fun and then we go our separate ways.”