The Bare Facts (16 page)

“My turn,” he said hoarsely.

Haley turned in his arms and took the loofah from him, set it on the side of the tub and reached for his shorts.

She removed them to reveal lean hips and the enticing sight of him gloriously and fully aroused.

She cupped him in her slick hands and caressed his rigid shaft. His eyes closed in pleasurable abandon. A deep groan issued from his throat.

His eyes seemed to glow. With a growl, he pushed her backward.

Every perception was sharpened to a honed edge. Every perception was swamped with heightened feeling. The sleekness of his skin. The taste of hot desire,
unselfish tenderness. The gift of giving, of each other, of caring. The warmth of slick silky skin.

He smiled slowly, widely, the dimples making a hot coil of need tighten in her stomach and radiate to all parts of her body. “That smile should be registered as a deadly weapon.”

He only smiled wider.

She moved the loofah over his powerful neck and shoulders. Thick rivulets cascaded down his wet gleaming skin, over the thick muscles of his powerful thighs, tangling in the dark whorls of hair covering his legs. He groaned in pleasure. The sound brought her gaze to his eyes, flaming brightly with green heat. His luxurious sable hair was slicked back off his face, locks lay thick along his neck dripping water over his broad shoulders.

She watched in fascination as the droplets slid tantalizingly over the molded contours of his pectoral muscles, wending their way through the maze of black curly hair that dusted his chest, down over the rippling strength of his stomach and disappeared into the dark hair at his groin. Her eyes remained there, her pulse jumping in rapid succession, her breathing increasing into little puffs, desire curling inside of her, tightening.

She shifted her eyes from him and followed the path of the cascading water with the loofah. She reached across him and pulled the removable showerhead from the wall and turned the hot water on him.

She knelt and began to soap his legs, running her hands over the hard muscle of his calves, and then
upward. She let the loofah fall and brushed the inside of his thighs with satin-slick fingers. Slipping her hands around his hips, she took him into her mouth. He began to move, his back arched; he clenched his teeth and panted through them as she stroked the most unbearably sensitive part of him with the tip of her tongue.

Together they sank into the water. He caged her hips between his thighs, the heat of his body searing, warmer than the water that surrounded her.

His hands caught her waist and roamed up the slim expanse of her ribs to her breasts. He molded them, his palms like hot erotic brands.

His head lowered and her body arched to meet his seeking mouth. She gasped softly as he took one of her hard nipples, sucking the tight bud deep into his mouth.

Her hair dipped into the water and the curls unfurled like the unfolding of delicate coral.

Her skin jumped between hot and cold, shivering then burning with fever. Needs rose like a frothing wave of chaotic sensation that cleansed everything away. Everything but him.

She lifted her hands to his shoulders. An ardent sound came from low in his throat, a thrilling masculine moan that sent response shivering through her.

He stood and reached blindly for protection, slipped it on with fumbling hands. Anticipation made her shiver all over again.

“Are you cold?” his voice rasped out near her ear.
She shivered again at the sensation of his breath fanning over the delicate shell of her ear.

She shook her head, feeling detached, as if she was floating.

With a gentle nudge, he slid her along the floor of the tub until her back came up against the tub's base. He surged forward, pressing against the length of her.

He sank to his knees as if paying homage to a water goddess as the water rose around his hips and encircled his waist like liquid silver. His hands traveled up her legs slowly to savor the feel of them. He settled them around his waist and leaned forward once again. Grabbing her buttocks, he slid into her heated sheath.

His hold on her tightened, capturing the free-floating rose petals. The pressure released the scent of crushed roses to waft on the air, perfuming it with the very flower of love.

Haley gasped with each slow movement of his body. With her hands over her head, her breasts were uplifted and exposed, way too tantalizing for him to resist. His head lowered and he took her hard nipple in his mouth. She reared up, moaning his name and pleading, “Dylan, yes. Please.”

Dylan closed his eyes against the exquisite pleasure. His body responded almost at once as he felt her surrender. Her body molded to his, going soft and pliant as she curved to reduce the distance between them. He was tantalized by the movement of her sleek teasing body as it gave and withdrew against him. The water was like hot caresses against his skin as he
watched the checkerboard pattern of dark and light that played across her warm dusky skin.

His hands could not get enough of feeling the power of her female flesh. Each caress sharpened his passion to a keen, almost unbearable, cutting edge. He moaned her name. “Haley.” His whispered words touched her cheek, warm and seductive as a wave of pleasure overpowered him, dragging him into a timelessness that stretched beyond infinity.

“Dylan,” she gasped as she exploded without sound in the darkness. She offered herself to him without any barriers because she could not do otherwise, offering her soul and her heart and all that she was.

She welcomed his deep, penetrating thrusts, taking him so sweetly into her body.

He was fiercely gentle, the sleek hardness a solid physical part of him that could show her how he felt. Her reaction drew his pleasure to an incredible point.

He felt an excrutiating need to touch this woman, her essence, the part of her that made her unique. In the erotic dimness of the room, he slowed his body, his heart beating in a measured cadence. His movements were deliberate and sure. She was part of him, embedded and secure. His heart constricted tight and released, a moment that was slow and timeless like honey being poured from a jar. He loved her. It all came down to that, a hard point of light in his brain that seemed to radiate and engulf him. He was so in love with her he didn't think he could contain it all. His body seemed weightless, as if he hovered over a
bottomless pit and if he should fall, he would fall forever. But her hand came up and cupped his face and seemed to draw sparks off his skin. Tiny bits of light that floated in the air like fireflies. She anchored him in place and his body shuddered with the fullness in his chest.

He wanted to tell her, but he refused to let his throat form the words. Then she contracted around him, her body convulsing, the pleasure shooting across her face like a falling star, and hot pleasure scored him, exploded inside him, and he knew he was lost to her.

It could have been hours or minutes later when Dylan finally was able to move. He slipped his arms under her and lifted her glorious and dripping from the bath, cradling her against his bare chest.

It was as if she'd experienced the same sensation, feelings, because they didn't talk. They dried each other off and lay down on the big bed just holding each other close until they drifted to sleep entwined in each other's arms.

 

I
T WAS EARLY EVENING
when the travel alarm went off. Dylan silenced the beeping and turned to pull Haley securely against him. One last time. He hadn't guessed she would become this important to him.

“I have to get dressed for the party.” He affectionately slapped her on the bottom. If he allowed a relationship to flourish between them, he'd keep taking and taking and she'd be the one to suffer. His father would consider her from the wrong side of the
river, but from where he was sitting, he was the one from the wrong side.

He wanted her to go back to her mom and dad, her sister and brother, people who loved her. Away from him and the ugliness of his life.

“Me, too.” She shifted against him.

“Ah. You decided to go.” If she hated him, she wouldn't look at him with any emotion in her eyes at all. If she despised him, she'd keep up her guard and she'd be safe from him.

“Sure. Didn't you get my message?”

He'd gotten her message. For her sake, he'd turn her infatuation to hate. “No.”

“Is that a problem?” He wanted to run his hands over the wild mass of her hair once more. He resisted the urge because he wouldn't be able to continue to hurt her if he touched her.

“When I didn't hear from you, I asked someone else.” He leaned back in bed and studied her face. It took an effort, but he smiled.

He hadn't understood that acting like such a bastard would hurt so much.

Haley got out of bed and stalked to the massage table, picked up the robe from the floor and stalked back to the bed. She donned it. “You asked someone else?”

“Haley, the fantasy is over.” He sat up in bed and let the sheet fall to his waist.

She ducked her head away and drew an uneven breath. She looked as if someone had kicked her in the stomach.

He forced himself to get nonchalantly out of bed, even though pain scored his insides. He unzipped the garment bag he'd brought his clothes in and pulled out his tux.

Haley's lips compressed and she whirled and started grabbing up her clothing. She put on her underwear and jeans with quick, jerky movements.

“Haley. What's wrong?” She shook off his hand and pulled off the robe. Not bothering with her bra, which she stuffed in her jean pocket, she pulled her T-shirt over her head.

“Nothing, Dylan. You're exactly the type of person I thought you were.”

It cut him to the quick to see tears in her eyes, but he had to push her away from him.

“What type is that?” he challenged.

“The type that can't commit to one woman.”

“You know us men, Haley. We like our variety. What did I do?” He said the words carelessly, and watched the cut go deep. Her eyes widened.

After a moment, she said quietly, “I am such a fool. You didn't do anything. I did it all on my own.”

She jammed on her shoes and rose from the bed. He grabbed her arm again. He saw the glaze of pain in her eyes and wanted to look away, but he forced himself to look her in the eyes as if his heart wasn't being crushed in his chest. “Aren't you coming to the party? Why are you so angry?”

Her chin lifted, her spine ramrod straight. “No. You go to the party. I've lost my party mood.” She
gathered her other belongings and he started to get dressed.

She put her hand on the knob, and then turned again.

“Look. We had fun. That was all. It's over now and I really appreciate your help. But I've got to go.”

Half-dressed, he walked toward her. Because he knew her now he saw the lie in her words and heard the sharp, masked pain in her voice. “If you change your mind, you're still welcome.”

She pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway.

He caught the door and watched her walk away until she disappeared into the elevator.

He had to deny his love for her. It was the only way he would be able to get through the hours and days that stretched in front of him. Already he ached for her, ached to touch her satiny skin, kiss her mouth and bring her against him. The feelings she evoked in him were complicated and emotionally dangerous. Haley had managed to touch a place inside him he thought he had closed off, but like a thief she'd stolen his heart.

The only thing he could do was let her go.

And let her go he would.

It was his tough luck that he wanted more.

T
HE PARTY WAS
in full swing when Dylan arrived. People milled about and the soft music did little to alleviate the hot, reckless feeling prowling around inside him.

Although the atmosphere was lively, he couldn't seem to warm up to the enthusiasm. People came by and congratulated him on his first international account. An up-and-coming powerhouse ad exec they called him. Just great. He could drink to that and how empty it seemed.

“Dylan?”

He turned to find Margo standing next to him. “Hi, Margo.”

She looked around, searching. “Where's Haley?”

“She's not coming.”

“Why not? I really need to talk to her. I haven't had a chance to tell her I'm leaving. I feel guilty because I haven't confided in her, but I wanted this to be kept totally secret. If my mother even got a whiff I was interviewing for a job in advertising, she would have told my dad and he would have stopped me. I was afraid to tell anyone, even Haley.”

“Congratulations about the job, by the way. I'm
sure when you talk to Haley, she'll forgive you.” He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a tray going by.

“I hope you're right about Haley. I've been trying to reach her.”

“Haven't you been at work?”

“No. I've been taking care of some family responsibilities and haven't had a chance to reach her. I'm thrilled to be here though and I owe you a very big thank-you.” Margo accepted the glass of champagne and lifted it up. “To Dylan. Thanks.” They clinked their glasses and each took a sip.

She was a pretty woman, just the kind of woman his father would approve of. Sophisticated, smart and well-dressed. The dress she wore was exquisite, diamonds flashed in her earlobes and on her fingers. She wore a dainty gold chain around her wrist. She was a pretty woman, but she wasn't Haley.

“You were hired on your merits, Margo. The only thing I can take credit for is that I was smart enough to ask you to interview.”

Margo smiled and nodded. “You are quite a charmer. I can see why Haley is crazy about you. She hasn't looked at another man since that night you and her—”

Margo covered her mouth, her eyes stricken.

He grabbed her arm. “What did you say?” Everything inside him coiled at her words. He'd figured out that Haley had feelings for him, but he didn't realize that she could possibly love him back. It seemed in
that moment as though the very cosmos trembled to a stop, as though every star in the sky held its breath.

“Dylan. Who do we have here?”

Jazz Jackson shouldered his way between Margo and Dylan. Tall, attractive, charming Jazz. He would distract Margo very easily and make it more difficult to get any information from her about Haley's feelings for him. He wanted to punch the guy in the face, but he gritted his teeth instead.

“Margo Grant. She's my new assistant ad exec. Margo, Jazz.”

“Jazz? That's an interesting name.”

“It's a nickname. I get all jazzed up on a new campaign. I'm part of Dylan's team, the art director. My real name is Cody.”

“Cody Jackson sounds like a cowboy name.”

“Well, ma'am, I am from Texas. Would you like to dance?”

Margo smiled at him. “Just a warning. If you call me little filly, I'm going to haul off and knock you one.”

“Fair enough price to pay for a dance.”

Margo gave Dylan a see-you-later look and took Jazz's hand. He felt as if he were going to come out of his skin.

He caught sight of Margo near the hors d'oeuvres, but lost her again. At dinner he tried to get close to her, but Jazz elbowed his way in and took the seat with a smug expression. Dylan could have wrung the man's neck.

He managed to get through dinner, smile and carry
on a conversation, biding his time until he could corner Margo and ask her what she'd meant by those words.

 

H
ALEY PUT
the finishing touches on her column. She read it over from beginning to end and sighed. She sat back in her chair and pushed her heavy hair off her neck. Feeling boxed in, she rose and grabbed an elastic band and pulled her hair back.

It was good, but Haley thought about how she had felt, how he had reacted. It felt wrong to her to turn what they'd shared into a column for the masses to read. Something special and wonderful had happened, something that had marked Haley's heart. A mark that would linger for a long, long time.

She sat back down at the computer and highlighted the text, and then with one push of the delete button, she cleared the screen.

She'd make something up and embellish it with the knowledge she'd gained from making passionate, wild love with Dylan. She knew now that Dylan wasn't confined to a fantasy. She couldn't suppress it, deny it or fabricate it. It was just too real.

She walked to the window to stare out at the quiet Brooklyn street, leaning her shoulder against the frame. The moon was full, the man in the moon smiling down at her.

“What do you have to be so happy about?” she groused at his laughing face. “Why is it that heartache feels so much worse in moonlight?” Haley asked the moon, but he just continued to laugh.

“If you change your mind, you're still welcome.”

She walked to the closet and fingered the soft black lace dress she had had no intention of buying, but which had beckoned to her from a little boutique window when she'd been window-shopping on her lunch hour.

She didn't need this beautiful, costly dress. She didn't have anywhere to wear it to. When she'd gone into the shop, as if tempted by the devil, she hoped the dress was too small or looked like a sack on her, but it had fit her like a dream.

Haley felt as if she was waking from a dream, realizing that stark reality was exactly that.

He had wanted her to come to the party and, suddenly, she wanted to go. But she needed to see him with the other woman. It would get her over this heartache. Make her realize that no matter how much she wanted him to be her one and only love, Dylan had other plans.

She really hadn't planned to go.

Oh, who was she kidding? She'd wanted to go and show the Westins that she had more class in her little pinkie then they did in their whole snooty bodies.

 

H
E THOUGHT
about Haley and what he stood to lose and he knew that he couldn't stand by and wait until Margo could talk to him. He had to know. He marched out to the dance floor and took Margo gently by the arm. “I need to talk to you now. Please.”

He dragged her over to the side of the room.

“Margo. What did you mean when you said Haley was crazy about me?”

“She told me in confidence. I'm her best friend. I can't break that confidence.”

“The hell you can't. I love her. I'm just beginning to realize that nothing else means more than that. Tell me.”

 

F
EELING AS IF
solid ground was slipping away from beneath her, Haley watched as Dylan dragged Margo off the dance floor. She shouldn't have come. She knew it. He was interested in Margo, jealous because some other man had been dancing with her. She really should have known better.

It would figure that he would look good in a tux. Her throat ached; her breath got trapped in her lungs. He was incredibly handsome, and her heart kicked into a fluttering pace when he moved toward her. In dress pants and a button-down shirt, or jeans and a T-shirt, he was irresistibly male. In a tuxedo, Dylan Malone held a magnetic quality that squeezed her heart until she thought she'd explode.

The austere contrast of the snowy white shirt against the black tux should have tamed him, should have made him look a bit more civilized, a little more conventional. Instead, it contrasted with his dangerous good looks, highlighting them. His dark hair curved around the satiny collar as if refusing to stay controlled.

He looked more like a magnificent panther tonight,
sleek and forced into a civilized setting, but the formal clothes merely emphasized his wildness.

His green eyes were purposeful, intense. Just the way she loved to see them focused on her, as if she were the only woman in the world.

She wouldn't run like a fool in love with a man who was a dyed-in-the-wool skirt chaser. She'd stay at this party and pretend that she didn't give a fig for him even though her heart was breaking.

Before Dylan could reach her, a sandy-haired man stepped up to her.

“Would you like to dance?”

Haley gave Dylan one look, worked up her most radiant smile and accepted the man's hand.

Haley knew that he spoke to her and she made the right noises, catching that his name was Matt. She tried to focus on anything rather than Dylan's scowling face each time she whirled by him. The gorgeous room at the Ritz-Carlton was positively huge, an easy place for her to get lost in with all these people. There were two long buffet tables, two freestanding bars in both corners of the room, a full orchestra that played the beautiful waltz they were dancing to and circular tables and chairs where people gathered to talk.

When the waltz was over, Haley allowed the man to lead her toward the bar where he met up with some other people and they all headed over to one of the circular tables. Haley walked with them, introducing herself. She paid little attention to where Dylan was. Let him stew.

Haley picked up the thread of the conversation.

“Steven Wilde was just wonderful in Mozart's
Don Giovanni.
”

Haley spoke and all heads turned toward her. “If you want to see a wonderful performance there is a small opera company on Bowery. Chadwick's Opera plays in a quaint, tiny opera house with Joseph Chadwick as the conductor and producer. He's a genius. He gets the tempi, the rubatos, exactly right. He should be conducting at the Met, if you ask my opinion.”

There were murmurs and questions directed toward her, and she noticed that Donald Westin was looking at her as if she had sprouted wings.

When the discussion switched to the current bestsellers, Haley piped in her opinions and enjoyed the lively conversation.

When she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, she looked up. Dylan's green eyes smiled down into hers.

Wasn't he just so smug thinking she was his for the taking? She deftly slipped out from under his hand.

“Aren't you full of surprises?” he said.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Haley, we're off for an early breakfast. Do you want to come along?” Haley smiled at one of the women who'd been sitting next to her.

“No thank you. I've got to get going.”

Haley turned to leave, but Marie McLain stood in her way, recognition in her eyes. “You're the ‘Spice Up Your Sex Life' columnist, Haley Lawton. I knew your name sounded familiar to me in the restaurant.”

Haley felt her insides seize. Everyone at her table turned at the sound of the woman's voice. Haley looked at Dylan, but he said nothing.

“I really must be going,” she said to the woman. She brushed past her and went to say goodbye to the Westins. They treated her warmly, but Haley barely noticed.

Haley headed for the door, but Margo was suddenly in her path.

“Haley, I've been looking for you all night.”

“Hi, Margo.” Her words came out tired and hurt, and suddenly the pretense of not caring was just too much. “Is it true about you and Dylan?”

Margo looked startled. Haley turned to see Dylan getting closer to her, followed on the heels by that woman.

“Did Dylan tell you?” Margo asked.

She could see the guilt on Margo's face and her heart sank, followed by an unbearable burning in her chest. “No. I guessed. Seeing you here confirms it.”

“It's true. I've been trying to contact you since last week. That's when—”

“I really don't want to talk about it, Margo. I can't believe that you would betray me this way. I kept saying to myself that it couldn't be true.”

“Haley, I'm sorry.”

“I've got to go. I should have never come. I really don't belong here.”

She slipped past Margo and made a beeline for the coat check.

Dylan grabbed her arm just as she grabbed her coat.

“Haley. I need to talk to you.”

Marie, who had followed behind Dylan, spoke up. “Dylan. Do you know this woman writes a sex column?”

Dylan looked at the woman as if he didn't see her. “Yes.”

Haley felt her insides turn to knots. Margo's confession burned a hole in her heart. And anger made her snap. She turned to the woman, the words on her lips to deny that she was Haley Lawton and wrote for
SPICE
to save Dylan the embarrassment of knowing her. She might despise what Margo and Dylan had done to her, but Haley was not vindictive.

“Yes, she writes articles for
SPICE Magazine
and she does it very well.”

She looked at him, surprised, wondering if he had some ulterior motive for announcing this to the one person at the party who could damage his career. “I've got to go. I'm so sorry. But I've got to go.”

Dylan wouldn't let go of her arm. “Haley. I've got to talk to you. Can you just give me a minute?”

“Our time has run out. I don't ever want to see you again.” The firmness in her voice left him no opening.

“Haley, let me explain,” he said, hurting, wanting to take back all the words he'd said in the hotel room. Tears welled in her eyes and it physically hurt him to see them.

“I saw you with Margo.”

“I can explain that.”

“I just bet you can. I just don't want you to. I'm
sure she'll be much more suitable for you than I could ever be.”

“Dylan?”

Mr. Westin came up to them, and it distracted Dylan long enough to break his grasp.

Haley fled the building, hailing a cab on the fly. Three went by without stopping and she wanted to scream. She crossed the street and kept walking. A disquieting coldness settled deep inside her, and Haley tried to grasp even one solid denial. But there was nothing, nothing, just a sickening feeling.