She's Got Dibs (44 page)

The whole scene stank of subterfuge, as if someone had climbed the ladder and purposely loosened the material.

She aimed a sharp eyebrow at Dibs’s brother.
This
was his idea of helping? “Wow, Marcus, good eye. How did you ever see that?”

“I usually cut through here on my way to the apartments.” His focus never wavered from the corner. “I saw it and thought I’d better say something before the awards ceremony tonight.”

“And you even thought to bring me a ladder. How nice.”

“Just helping out.” He rocked forward on his toes, smiling pleasantly. “I would have climbed up and fixed it, but I know you have a real affinity for these things.”

“You do, huh?” She narrowed her eyes. “Okay. You hold the ladder and I’ll climb up and see about fixing it.” She wagged a finger at him. “And quit cutting through here during my watch. You’ll get the floor dirty.”

“Fine, fine.” He waved a hand in front of his face.

She adjusted the ladder, assessing the height of the ceiling before gingerly climbing to the top. The ladder shimmied beneath her, and she instinctively held a breath, exhaling only after Marcus applied pressure to the bottom rung and the ladder stabilized. She stretched as far as her reach allowed, and gently pressed the drape in place.

The ladder teetered to the left and she seized the top with both hands. “Hold it steady, Marcus!”

It broke over its threshold of balance and tipped precariously to the right. She gasped, a hand braced against the wall. “For God’s sake, hold the damn ladder!”

The ladder suddenly straightened and went rigid.

“Thank you,” she muttered. She tugged and straightened the material until it hung wrinkle free, and once it met with her approval, she carefully descended to the floor.

From the ground, the drape looked perfect. No one would ever be able to tell. She faced Marcus with a smile, and her heart soared into her throat. She grabbed the ladder and hung tight.

“What were you doing up there?” Dibs scolded. The sleeve of his fitted white shirt strained around his biceps when he raked a hand through his hair. “Can’t somebody else do that? My God, you could fall and break your neck.”

“Sorry. I mean, Marcus was…and the drape…so I thought…” She grimaced.

“I don’t care what happened. You shouldn’t be up there by yourself.”

The last thing she wanted was to fight with him. That wasn’t what either of them needed. Besides, he only had her best interests at heart. “You’re right, of course. Stupid move.” She peeked at him through her lashes. “Won’t happen again.”

His scowl remained intact, but he nodded, and a bit of tension eased from his shoulders.

“Thank you for the help,” she said. “You came along at the perfect—” Whoa. Wait a second. Rewind. “Can I ask what you’re doing here?”

“I usually cut through the ballroom on my way to the apartments.”

“Ah.” Her chin rose as all the little pieces fell into place. She’d been lassoed straight into Marcus’s trap. “Well, thanks. I appreciate the help.”

“You’re welcome.”

A stress-filled silence descended. Elephant in the room, hell. The tension between them weighed in at the size of a blue whale. She just wanted to talk to him, like she’d always done. If only they could discuss everything that happened without the conversation being forced or strained.

Dibs finally cleared his throat, shifting his stance. “Listen, I owe you an apology. For last night. I’m sorry I got so angry. I made a mess of things, and I know how you hate that.”

Her entire insides turned to mush. “Oh. Don’t worry about that. I’m the one who should—”

“Just—” he held up a hand. “Let me get this out.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Whatever happens between you and Michael is none of my business. Though it pains me to say this, you chose him…and I’m…otherwise detained.”

A wall of despair crumbled inside her chest, a thick plume of regret settling in its ashes. She had been right. Even though Mrs. Brenner consented to their relationship, her efforts came too late. Dibs had moved on. Made his own choice…with Margaret.

Unless…Had his mother not told him of her decision? Did it even matter? Perhaps she had and Dibs didn’t care. Maybe he’d asked Margaret to stay regardless. Maybe they’d already come to some sort of agreement. And how could she blame him? Doing as much was the one place he still retained an element of control. And if that was the case, did she really want to rip the rug out from underneath him? Throw another monkey wrench into the works?

The questions were too numerous to count. She needed time to think through her next move. “I see.”

“At least we can say we gave it a good try, right?”

She nodded, incapable of speech past the bitter sorrow constricting her throat.

“Maybe one day we can be friends.” Gravel rasped in his voice. “Whenever you’re ready, that is.”

She closed her eyes. Nodded a second time.

“So, I should go. Any idea where I can find Michael? I still owe him an apology.”

Oh, God, the man was too good. Too forgiving. She choked back a sob. “You don’t owe Michael anything, Dibs. Least of all an apology.”

“Yes, I do.” He crossed to the door, shoulders hunched, grabbed the handle, and then hesitated. With one last glance in her direction, he pushed through and was gone.

****

How in the
hell
had she been so stupid? Tessa strode briskly down the hallway, her thumb jabbing redial on her cell. Two hours she’d frittered away in her room. Two agonizing hours on top of the last twenty-four that she’d wasted.

Not until she stepped into the bathroom to straighten her appearance had her memory lurched and chugged into overdrive. Running her brush through her hair, an image of Margaret swam into focus. She occupied the doorway of Dibs’s room, that purple love bite on her neck a gaudy siren’s song to all things crude. The visual was so stark Tessa’s shoulders wrenched and she slammed her brush to the counter.

Margaret’s
hair
had been wrong, too sleek and perfect for a woman who’d just taken a roll between the sheets. All this time Tessa had dismissed her
hair
. As if that wasn’t enough, in the months she and Dibs spent together, he’d not once left a mark on her. Enthusiastic lover, yes. But a hickey? No.

Caroline’s voice mail clicked over a second time. Tessa slapped her phone shut, burst into the Alabaster Ballroom and stormed up to Tiffany. “Caroline. Now.”

Tiffany’s brows rose toward her hairline. “The last time I saw her was by the pool, over at the apartment building.”

“Shit.” Tessa smiled brightly and exited the room.

She half walked, half bolted across the sprawling lawn. Nearing the building, she slowed to a crawl and crept to the high fence. The last thing she needed was to run into Michael…or, God forbid, Margaret.

Through the white slats, Caroline reclined on a chaise lounge, flawlessly tan under a yellow string bikini, paging through a fashion magazine. She sipped at a tall drink, three young men in swimming trunks perched at different spots near her feet. Laughing, she handed her empty glass to one of her doting admirers.

“Caroline!” Tessa whispered harshly.

She slid her sunglasses to the end of her nose, scanned the fence line. “Give me a second, boys.” She tossed the magazine aside and sauntered over to Tessa. “I heard you and Mother worked everything out. You must’ve made quite the impression. She’s even stalled the Strattford deal.”

“Yes, yes, she’s called a ceasefire.”

“Then, what’s the problem?” She wiggled her fingers at her gaggle of boys.

“I spoke with Dibs this morning.”

“Oh, good. So, when’s the big day?”

Tessa huffed. “Not funny. He implied he and Margaret may have…consummated the merger.”

“Yuck.” Caroline wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure?”

“No, that’s why you need to speak with your mother. Truce aside, no way am I asking her the sordid details.”

“Well, for God’s sake.” She sighed. “A girl just has to do
everything
herself. Okay, let me see what I can find out and I’ll call you.”

“Nice idea, brainiac. Try answering your cell.”

“Oh…sorry.” She pushed away from the fence to her fan club.

Tessa strode back toward the main building, skimming the lawn. Everything appeared in order. Happy families, happy children, happy, happy…except—One of the large tents on the eastern side of the reflecting pool was listing farther and farther to the side. She tightened her jaw and veered in that direction.

From the way the others were set, the one she approached appeared to have been tampered with. She propped her fists on her hips.
Marcus!
The poles had been disconnected, the ends haphazardly balanced against each other, swaying in the breeze
.
The man was going to be the death of her.

A strong gust of wind lifted her hair from her shoulders and she seized the top flap when the tent threatened to topple into the pool. A few milling guests glanced her way, and she smiled, but shied away from asking for help. After the fiasco at dinner last night, everyone at BFG would think her completely incompetent.

She braced her legs and tentatively reached for her cell, but immediately rescued the flap when the entire structure keeled to the side.

“Now what are you doing?”

And cue Dibs…Thanks bunches, Marcus. Kiss, kiss, and all that.
She fought the angle to look at him through her arms. “Oh, just hanging around.”

He grunted, but a hint of amusement twitched his lips. “You want some help?”

“That would be great. I’m worried the whole thing’s going to collapse into the water.”

He eyed the poles, walked around behind her and jammed the first set together.

A heavy draft careened through the canvas. The sides rippled and swelled. She gasped when her heels slipped and the ground momentarily disappeared beneath her feet. “Oh-h-h, shit. Maybe you should hold the flap while I deal with the poles.”

That low chuckle she’d so desperately missed rumbled from his chest as he shoved another set of poles together. “Maybe you should concentrate on staying earthbound and just let me do my job.”

The entire assembly keeled and yanked her forward several steps. She danced around on her toes. “You know, there’s something I’ve never understood. How come you consistently find it so hilarious when I’m irritated?”

“I don’t know. Because it’s funny?”

She dug in her heels but couldn’t gain enough footing to get any leverage, and fought a battle the wind and gravity were quickly winning. “Dibs! Get over here and help me!”

“Let go, let go!” He rushed around the tent and clutched her hips with both hands.

“Pull!” she shouted.

“Let go!” He laughed.

A sharp jerk, the wind rushed past her ears, and she was lying face down in the water, the flap still twisted tightly in both fists. Flopping and splashing around like the catch of the day, she struggled to locate her footing. A strong arm cinched her waist and returned her to her feet.

She parted her wet hair over her face. The tent lay floating in the water, gently bumping her knees. Across the far side of the pool a crowd had gathered, all staring at the scene with wide eyes.

“My life is a complete disaster.” She shook her hands and blew the water from her lips. “Shit!”

“You have a little smudge there.” Dibs swept a finger across his cheekbone.

Meaning her mascara? She squinted. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

He pinched his bottom lip, lowering his chin.

“Knock it off.”

“Why didn’t you just let go?”

“I don’t know.” She dug her cell from her pocket and flipped it open. “I thought when you grabbed me, we could save it.” A small rivulet of water streamed over the side. “Perfect.”

Muffled laughter spurted through his lips, his sense of humor another thing she’d deeply missed.

She bit her lip against a smile. “Stop. Right now.”

“I wish I could have gotten that on video.” He hooted and slapped his thigh. “Oh, my God…you flew…through the air.”

Tossing her sopping hair over her shoulder, she chuckled along with him. “It seems I am bound and determined to spend the entire weekend in this godforsaken pool.”

His laughter faded to a gentle smile. “Me, too, I guess.”

Tiffany and Celeste sprinted up the lawn. “Are you all right?” Tiffany called.

“Yes.” Tessa flipped a hand at the tent, high-stepping toward the grass. “We need to call maintenance and get this thing dried out and reassembled.”

“I see that.” Tiffany crossed her arms. She slid her eyes back to Tessa, then to Dibs. “What the heck happened?”

“Ah, the tent came apart.” Her shoe slipped from her foot, and she wobbled, hopping around on one leg.

His warm hand propped her elbow. “Go ahead. I’ll get it.”

A cool breeze skated over her skin and she swung a leg over the ledge, arms wrapped across her chest against a shiver. She filled her lungs to instruct Celeste, but Dibs touched her arm.

“You should get inside and change before you catch a chill.”

“He’s right.” Tiffany tipped her head toward Celeste. “We can handle the setup.”

Tessa eyed them before grudgingly agreeing. She bobbed one-shoed at Dibs’s side to the apartment building and led them inside. As the elevator ascended to the fifth floor, he handed over her shoe.

She flipped the ballet slipper back and forth. “I guess this is one of those rare circumstances when packing six sets of shoes worked in my favor.”

They shared a smile.

The elevator doors slid open, and she exited to the left, Dibs to the right. What she previously viewed as a horrifying coincidence—being assigned a room on the same floor as Margaret and Dibs—now seemed to work in her favor. She stole a peek over her shoulder. His broad shoulders worked the material of his shirt, delineating the curve of muscle on each side of his spine. She spun around when he glanced down the hall and caught her eye.

Slipping her key card into the lock, she risked another glimpse in his direction. Dibs had paused before his door, his focus on her. He pushed the handle and disappeared into his room.