Daring Dylan (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 2) (34 page)
Read Daring Dylan (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 2) Online
Authors: Jacie Floyd
Thank you for reading Daring Dylan, the second
book in the
Billionaire
Brotherhood
Series!
Daring Dylan holds a special place in my heart,
because a long time ago, under a different title, it won RWA’s Golden Heart
award for best Single Title Contemporary manuscript. If that hadn’t happened
when it did, I might have quit writing. I might not have, but winning the award
provided me with the validation I needed to keep going. So thank you, RWA, for
providing me with the necessary encouragement.
The third book of the series, Remaking Ryan,
will be released in January 2016 and is available for pre-order now.
The best way of sharing your opinion is to
write a review of the book at Amazon or other online reviewing sites. All
reviews, good or bad, are encouraged and appreciated!
For information and notification about the
details of these and other books by me will hit the virtual bookshelves, please
visit
www.jaciefloyd.com
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newsletter
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Subscribing to the newsletter will enter you into a monthly drawing for an
autographed copy of one my books or other fabulous prizes.
I’m always delighted to hear from readers. My
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and you can follow me on
Twitter
at: @
jaciefloyd
Boxed Set:
SUMMER
KISSES
Ten Full-length Novels by Golden Heart Authors,
including Meet Your Mate
REMAKING RYAN, January 2016 Release
Brotherhood
On
one of the worst days of their lives and the history of the country, three boys
with nothing in common except their privileged upbringings form a bond of
friendship that lasts through years of personal struggles and triumphs. Wyatt
is the intellectual, Dylan is the daredevil, and Ryan is the easy-going
athlete.
Book 3
Chapter One
Pre-order it now!
All men are
bottom-feeders in the sea of life. Jenna McCall reminded herself that the
testosterone-driven, smugly good-looking ones usually resided even lower.
Or such had
been her experience.
Stepping
from the hall into Ryan Eastham’s room and dropping her purse on the bedside
table, she didn’t expect the unconscious hulk sprawled across a hospital bed to
be any different.
None of
them were. Her cheating husband hadn’t been, nor had any of her cheating
ex-boyfriends before that.
Only her
dad was an exception. He was the best, by anyone’s standards.
And Jenna’s
step-mom, Abby, who had the good sense to be crazy about Jenna’s dad, also
showed an understandable partiality for this gorgeous six-foot-four combination
of drool-worthy muscle and bone. If, that is, Jenna was the type of woman
inclined to drool. Which she wasn’t. Not anymore.
Not since
her heart had been ripped from her chest and trampled by her faithless,
ruthless, egocentric ex-husband. Or rather, deceased ex-husband. Damn him for
the technicality. Sometimes it was hard to keep a good mad going at someone who
had died a hero’s death. Even though he deserved her anger.
Jenna took
a moment to reconsider her all-men-are-scum position. If Abby believed her
nephew Ryan was a good guy, it could be true. Maybe. Possibly. But highly
doubtful.
And since
her dad had wanted her to stop by and visit Ryan, she supposed he expected her
to offer some kind of support or assistance. Something to aid or comfort in him
in his time of need. But, what?
While
considering an assortment of possible actions, she turned to the windows and
opened the blinds. Spring sunshine flooded the room, but did nothing to dispel
the overwhelming scent of eau de antiseptique.
She eyed
the patient again. Flat on his back, with his knee wrapped in gauze, day-old
scruffiness darkened his jaw. A mop of sun-streaked hair tumbled across his
forehead. Like the jock he was, he wore a college sweatshirt with the jagged
remains of sleeves that looked like they’d been ripped off by a rabid dog. A
pair of baggy basketball shorts completed the outfit. Except for the knee
bandage, it was pretty much the same fashion statement he’d made as a teenaged
boy.
If not for
some pretty impressive don’t-mess-with-me masculinity that oozed off his skin
like lava from a volcano, he looked almost vulnerable and childlike with his
eyes shut and his skin pale against the stark, white sheets. Until he moved.
Suddenly,
he stretched, muscles rippling. His hand sought his groin and scratched. Eeeww.
Additional proof for Jenna that men had one-track minds. Even in a drugged or
unconscious state, their thoughts gravitated to their dicks.
He twisted
and flung his arm upward; his hand came to rest near his cheek. As if searching
for a cool spot on the pillow, he rolled his head from side to side.
Blaming the
maternal instincts she’d developed since her daughter’s birth nine months before,
Jenna reached out to check for fever. His forehead radiated warmth, but she
imagined that was normal for him. That muscle-rippling physique probably
generated enough power to heat a small village.
Besides, he
was here for knee surgery, not anything life-threatening, viral, or infectious.
Unable to stop herself from fulfilling one of her teenage fantasies, she
reached out to smooth the hair off his forehead.
“Zoey?
Baby?” he mumbled, snagging her wrist and pulling her forward.
Caught
off-guard, Jenna found herself breast to chest with an implacable male form for
the first time in eleven months, two weeks, and three days. Not that she was
counting.
Before she
could spring away, his other hand burrowed into the hair at the nape of her
neck and turned her face toward him. It happened so swiftly, she
didn’t—couldn’t—react fast enough to evade the maneuver. Unwelcome goose bumps
did the quickstep down her spine.
Her first
thought was that he smelled male, woodsy, and slightly medicinal—like the great
outdoors infused with a hint of anesthesia.
But then,
along with the shock of having her chest pressed against his, came the panicky
sense of suffocation. His breath mingled with hers and sweat beaded her
forehead. For a second, she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes crossed at the nearness
of his mouth, just inches away. Before his lips touched hers, she pinched his
nose between her fingers and twisted. Hard.
“Oww!”
Jerking
back, he managed to clip her mouth with his chin. Jenna’s incisor sliced into
her lip. She yelped and tried to escape his grip, but his fingers remained
firmly clasped around her wrist. His arm muscles bunched with the strength of a
professional athlete. She knew if he chose to, he could sail her across the
room like a Frisbee. Luckily, he didn’t.
He squinted
at her, confusion clouding the depths of his silvery gray eyes until the
confusion cleared and he nodded in recognition.
“Jenna.”
The word held a whisper of accusation, low and pulsing. He rubbed his chin.
“That was uncalled for.”
“No kidding.”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Dang, I think I’m bleeding.”
“Here,” he said, lifting a corner of the sheet
to dab her lip.
“No,
thanks.” She held up her hand to block the gesture, plucked tissues from the
box on the bedside table and passed one to him. “You don’t have any infectious
diseases, do you? STDs? Anything?”
“Clean as a
rookie at his first training camp.”
“Good,
‘cause you’re bleeding, too. I hope we haven’t mixed and mingled bodily fluids.
Blot your chin,” she instructed, but took a seat on the edge of his bed and did
it for him. “Didn’t anyone teach you to look before you kiss?”
“Must’ve
missed that lesson when my dad was teaching me the opposite advice.” He covered
his mouth with his free hand and yawned so wide she heard his jaw crack. “Why
are you here? Someone send you on a little guilt trip?”
“Pretty
much,” she admitted.
“Your dad
or my aunt?”
“Dad.” He’d
called to tell her he and Abby had been delayed in St. Louis. He’d kept the
conversation low-key, commenting on poor Ryan. In Boston. All alone. Facing the
fourth and most serious knee surgery of his life. And with Jenna already so
close.
As much as
she would’ve preferred to remain cocooned at home with her baby, Jenna couldn’t
ignore a request from her dad, even an implied one. She’d caved like a
spelunker.
So, here
she was, at the bedside of the larger-than-life football star she’d lusted
after from afar during her high school years. He was always way out of her
league and she wouldn’t have been on speaking terms with him, then or now, if
an odd twist of fate hadn’t brought her dad and his aunt together. The two had
gotten married about ten years ago, right before Ryan went off to college.
And while
she’d heard a lot about him in the intervening years, they’d only bumped into
one another a handful of times since then. Two of those occasions had occurred
in the past year. One was her husband’s funeral six months ago. The other was
Ryan’s father’s funeral a few months before that.
Otherwise,
she’d only seen him on television.
Professional
football player. Sports commentator
Everyone’s
embodiment of Mr. Wonderful.
Big
freaking deal.
He looked
around as if just noticing they were alone. “Where are Tabby and Joel?”
Tabby
. That was cute. He still called
his Aunt Abby by his childhood nickname for her.
“A tornado
in St. Louis delayed their flight.”
“Well,
damn.” A flicker that might have been annoyance or anxiety darkened his silvery
eyes to pewter. “Are they all right? When will they get here?”
“They’re
fine, but wind damage grounded their plane from Lambert. They drove to
Springfield for a flight that should land about four. I haven’t heard from them
since this morning.” She checked her watch. “It’s after two now.”
“So they
sent you to chauffeur me home.”
“No,” she
said, intending to make her position clear from the get-go. “I’m here to check
on you and then leave, period.”
Before she
could get another word out, a matchstick-thin nurse appeared in the doorway. An
explosion of red hair with blonde and orange streaks spiked straight out of her
scalp, giving her the look of a Fourth of July sparkler. A blue plastic name
tag that read ‘Marley’ was pinned to the white uniform covering an
Olive-Oyl-flat chest.
“It’s about
time someone got here,” Marley said with a punctuating clap of her hands. “He’s
been threatening to leave since they moved him out of recovery.” The nurse took
in Jenna with a glance. “She’s not your aunt.”
“Change of
plans.” Ryan explained about the cancelled flight. “She called Jenna here, an,
um, old, um, very close friend, to come and get me.”
“We were
starting to think he’d been forgotten.” Her eyes flicked between Ryan and Jenna
with a knowing and inaccurate sweep. No psychic abilities were needed to read
the woman’s thoughts. The nurse suspected a lot closer relationship between
Jenna and Ryan than the one they shared.
“I’m
not—he’s not—we’re not really friends.” Well, dang, she was making the
situation worse. Trying to control the flush creeping across her cheeks, she
had the uncomfortable realization that she was reacting for the first time in
almost a year to a stimulus outside her own pain and misery. A step in the
right direction, her grief therapist would say. Totally overrated, in Jenna’s
opinion.
When Jenna
started to hop off the bed, Ryan smirked and linked his fingers with hers in a
charade of warmth and affection.
“I never
doubted she’d come for me.” He flashed Marley the dimples that had women from
coast-to-coast swooning. “She always does.”
The nurse
giggled like a fifth grader, proving herself as susceptible to his
outrageousness as any other gullible woman in the world. Jenna could barely
keep from crossing her eyes at his line of bull. Even through the fog of
medication, sexual innuendo seemed to be second nature to him.
Just like
Matt.
If Ryan
didn’t let go of her hand soon, she’d clobber him with her purse and leave.
Instead, he
brushed a singeing kiss across the back of her fingers in a comical lover-like
gesture that couldn’t have been less romantic. Except for the heat.
And, boy,
did it pack heat. It had heat the way a wildfire had heat. Heat so hot she
thought her hand might burst into flames.
She tried
to jerk it away, but he held on, pretending the tug of war between them was part
of their fun and games.
With a
scowl, Jenna slid off the side of the bed. A warning—or a plea—flashed in his
eyes before his face softened. He’d never asked her or anyone else for anything
that she could recall, but then, she knew little about him. And clearly, he was
ready to ask something of her now.
“You really
are his ride?” Marley asked, still skeptical.
Ryan
squeezed Jenna’s hand and answered for her. “Of course, she is. And now that
she’s here, let’s get moving.”
“You’re
sure anxious to leave,” the nurse said, winking at Jenna. “Some men are so
impatient.”
“All men,”
Jenna corrected.
“I’d stay
for the company,” Ryan said, flashing his dimples again, “but I’ve had enough
of hospitals to last me a lifetime.”
Jenna
wondered if his words were more nonsense or some variation of the truth. Either
way, his questionable charm continued to work on Marley. She patted her riotous
hair as she stepped over to the bed, directly across from Jenna.
“I feel the
same way sometimes.” Marley batted her eyes at him, then looked over his chart.
“Dr. Bailey’s in surgery, but he’s already signed your release, contingent on
your agreement that you won’t drive and that someone will stay with you for the
next forty-eight hours. Give me a minute to provide care instructions to your
‘friend’ and then you’re outta here.”
Jenna
stepped backed. “Oh no, I’m not—" Another crushing squeeze on her fingers
silenced her.
“—not just
a friend, are you?” He cast her an insincere look of adoration and Jenna almost
choked. “We’re much closer than that.”
Ryan tugged
her to him. Her chest smashed into his chest again, creating the illusion she
couldn’t keep her hands off him. And the illusion was almost right. She’d like
to get her hands on him, wrapped right around that thick neck.
“Oh,
puh-leze—”
“Don’t be
embarrassed, babe.” He trailed his fingers along the sensitive inner skin of
her forearm. “Marley doesn’t need details. But the sooner you let her finish
the paperwork, the sooner we can take off.”
