The Bare Facts (8 page)

Margo giggled and Haley followed suit. “Jeez. The light fantastic,” Haley grumbled, running her hand over her face, trying to clear away some of the concern.

“Well? Was it fantastic?”

“The first part was,” Haley said with a sad shake of her head.

“How about the second part and the end? Did you get an encore?” Margo directed her to the couch and they sat.

But Haley was up again, pacing back and forth, and that was no mean feat in a pair of spiked boots. “No. We got interrupted by one of his many women.”

“You didn't get pissed and tell him off, did you?” Margo asked, alarm clear in her eyes.

“What I got was jealous. He shoved me in a closet!” Haley said with outrage.

“What?”

Haley plopped down on the couch and sighed. “It's like Grand Central Station over there. Women coming and going.”

“Which were you? The one coming?”

“Very funny. You should take that act on the road. Are you going to behave like a comedian or my friend?” Haley shot her friend a look and Margo sat back and sighed.

“I'm sorry, Haley, but you look…ravished, sexy and gorgeous, as if your skin was lit from the inside out. Whatever you're getting, I'd like some.”

“You'll have to take a number, Margo.”

Margo shrugged. “So, there were women there. That's not a surprise. You expected it, right?”

Haley sat up straighter. “Yes. I guess I did.”

“So, what happened to your mantra? Sex is sex, Haley. Don't let your heart get involved.”

“Easier said than done.”

Margo's eyes narrowed. “No, it's not. He's not right for you. You said that and you're an intelligent, determined woman. I know that. Keep it businesslike.”

“Easier said than done. Tell that to my stupid, mushy heart.”

Margo sighed. “All right, I guess it isn't easy, especially with a hunk like Dylan. But what alternative do you have? You have two more fantasies to go. Two more chances to make your point to Kate that you are the person to fill a writing slot.”

“How do you know?” Haley was startled that Margo knew what Dylan looked like. How could she know? It made her uneasy.

“Because your writing is amazing,” Margo said, totally missing what Haley was getting at.

“No. How would you know Dylan is a hunk?”

“I didn't get a chance to tell you. He showed up at the office today asking for you.”

For a split second Margo looked…guilty. Then the expression was gone. Haley chalked it up to her hellacious night. “When?”

“Just after you left to prepare for the fantasy, but
I didn't tell him anything. I knew you wanted to surprise him.”

“He came looking for me, in person?”

“Yes. After he left, the whole office came over to ask me who he was. His eyes are amazing.”

“Did you tell them?”

“I said he was a friend of yours. Nothing else.”

“Good. He asked me to keep his part in the fantasies quiet because of the advertising campaign he just landed.”

“What advertising campaign?” Margo perked up and leaned forward.

“He's been hired by the NAPTA to come up with a campaign to encourage teenagers to abstain from sex.”

Margo laughed and Haley looked at her sharply.

“Don't you find that funny and ironic? He's doing an ad campaign about abstaining and you're, well, you're jazzing up his sex life.”

She shook her head. “No, I fail to see the humor in that, Margo.” Haley shrugged out of the coat.

“And what a hot little number you are. That dress should be considered a lethal weapon. It's a wonder you didn't get arrested.” Margo studied Haley. “What? No snappy comeback? This calls for drastic action. Come on.” Margo grabbed Haley's arm and pulled her up from the couch.

“Where are you taking me?” Haley protested, tired and still jealous.

“We're going out to drown your sorrows,” Margo
said purposefully and with great firmness. That meant Haley was going out.

“Where?”

“To the clubs. Loud music and alcohol is what this doctor orders.”

Haley groaned. “You'd better prescribe me something else to wear, Doc. I can't go in this outfit.”

Margo looked her up and down and then rolled her eyes. “No kidding. I'll give you something to wear. We'll leave this little number in Dylan's fantasy where it'll be safe.”

 

I
T DIDN'T TAKE LONG
to change and hail a cab. Haley found herself jamming to the wild beat of loud, can't-hear-yourself-think music in one of the hip, popular Manhattan clubs Margo and Haley frequented when they needed to blow off steam.

Haley wouldn't have heard her cell phone ring if it hadn't been so close to her on the table. She pulled it out of her purse and flipped it open.

“I'm sorry. Mandy showed up unexpectedly.”

She put her finger in her ear to better hear the voice over the phone.

“What?”

“I said I'm sorry,” he yelled.

“You don't have to explain anything to me. What you do is your business not mine,” Haley shouted back.

“I want to explain.” She could barely hear him over the blaring music.

This was not a discussion she relished. She didn't
want to get into a personal discussion with him about his other conquests. She had to stay grounded and keep her attention on her goal. “I don't need an explanation. This is business between you and me, Dylan. You agreed to help me with my fantasies. That's all I can hold you to. No promises, no strings and definitely no explanations. That's the way it needs to be.” She'd sounded so cold and businesslike. Good. That was good. She needed the distance desperately.

He sighed. “Is your deadline messed up?”

“Only slightly. Expect a visit from me shortly.”

“Don't keep me waiting too long.”

“It's so loud in here, Dylan. I can barely hear you. Don't worry about tonight. I'll talk to you later.”

Haley disconnected the call. She closed her eyes. Forget it, Haley. Stop leading with your heart. He won't want it. He's collected so many others.

T
HE PHONE WENT DEAD
in his ear, and with a feeling of frustration, Dylan put the receiver back in the cradle.

“So, do you want to tell your big sister what that was all about?”

His older sister by two years stood in the living room with her arms folded over her chest and eyed the discarded briefcase, his suit jacket and his tie lying in a heap on the gleaming hardwood floor.

“What?”

“Dylan. You were just talking to that provocatively dressed woman in the elevator. I'm sure of it. Did Mandy's toilet stop up again and ruin your fun?” She walked over and picked up the jacket, briefcase and tie, setting the case on the coffee table and laying the jacket over the back of the couch. She punched the play button on the boom box that Haley had left behind.

The sultry music vibrated through the room with a steady, seductive beat that made his skin hot and his body respond. God, Haley in that dress. The movement of her hips, her secret flesh against his fingers.

He walked over and shut off the music. “It's com
plicated.” He ran his hands through his hair. “And none of your business.”

She ignored the “none of your business” part. “Most relationships are complicated.” A flash of amusement sparkled in her eyes, warming the dark brown of her irises to golden.

His sister was petite with dark tumbling hair that went to the middle of her back. She always dressed in conservative clothes: suits and button-down blouses. He thought she should loosen up a bit. But he adored her, nonetheless.

“It's not exactly a relationship, but I can tell you Haley Lawton was the woman who was here.”

“Haley?” she said, her eyebrows rising. “I thought she looked familiar.”

He knew that look. She was intrigued. When his sister was intrigued, she would hold on to something like a pit bull.

Her eyes took on a reflective look. “The Haley you were so crazy about in school? The Haley that wouldn't give you the time of day?”

“That's the one.”

“I know I'm probably beating a dead horse, but why was she here?”

“Laurel, she's working on something for her job.”

His sister threw up her hands. “All right, I guess that means I'll have to weasel it out of you.”

“It means drop the subject,” Dylan said flatly. “Let's look at Mom and Dad's gift. I'm almost done with it.”

Laurel shrugged, taking no offense at Dylan's tone,
and followed him over to the kitchen table. He snapped on the overhead light.

Laurel picked up the storyboard and gasped, “Oh, Dylan, this is wonderful. They'll love it.”

Dylan felt that little glow of satisfaction inside at his sister's praise. “I don't know. You know how Dad is.”

“Don't let him get to you. The storyboard was such a great idea. Now all you have to do is finish the last two frames.” She set the storyboard back on the table and hugged him.

He hugged her back. “I'll have it done in a couple of weeks. It'll be ready for their anniversary in plenty of time.”

“I'll get it framed since you've done all this work.”

“That's a deal.”

Laurel was quiet for a moment. “Haley's not the only woman to come out of your past. Guess who I saw yesterday at Bloomie's?”

“Who?”

“Annabelle Mastroni.”

Dylan rolled his eyes.

“I might have been two years ahead of you in school, but she and her whole sorority were after you the whole time you were in college. She asked about you.”

“Good God, you didn't give her my number?” Panic rose in Dylan. That's all he needed was Annabelle Mastroni intruding into his life. She was a barracuda, not his type of woman at all.

Laurel chuckled. “No. You'd never get any peace if she knew you were still eligible and a hotshot ad exec with a Village loft.”

“Laurel, why is it that I'm the target for all these women?” Dylan walked away from her and into the kitchen. Laurel followed. He picked up a bottle of wine and looked at the label.

“Dylan. Come on. I might be your sister, but have you ever looked in a mirror? You are drop-dead gorgeous, worth millions. Not to mention a nice guy.”

Dylan groaned. “Oh, please, Laurel. Don't call me a nice guy.”

“Okay, how about a sensitive guy? You give really good advice. That's why women flock to you, well, along with your winning smile and come-hither eyes.”

“That's even worse. Sensitive,” he said, disgusted. He busied himself getting the glasses and pouring the wine.

“It's all that innate charm that draws herds of women to you, little brother.” Laurel went to the refrigerator and pulled out some cheese. She dug in his drawer for a knife.

“I guess that's not a bad thing.” Dylan took a sip of wine.

“But you always took the attention in stride and never let it go to your head.” She popped a slice of cheese in her mouth.

“As a studmuffin extraordinaire I'm quite confident in my abilities. I don't need to brag.” He walked
over to her and pulled a box of crackers out of the cupboard.

Laurel rolled her eyes and leaned over and tickled his ribs.

He laughed, jumped away and began to open the package. He handed his sister a cracker. “It can be damn inconvenient at times.”

It was Laurel's turn to laugh. “Like tonight? I guess that Mandy's toilet gets stopped up whenever she's having a tiff with her boyfriend, huh?” She put a piece of cheese on her cracker and took a bite.

“Which seems to be with regularity lately. They're at a crossroads.” He raised his eyebrows. “The big step—commitment.” He picked up a piece of cheese and set it on one of his crackers, putting the whole thing in his mouth.

“That's a tough one. I wish I could even get to the crossroads.”

“Why don't you tell me why you showed up at my loft unexpectedly?” With that melancholy tone and that little bit of sadness around her eyes, Dylan's “sensitivity” kicked in. Dylan couldn't understand what was wrong with the men of New York if they didn't find his sister irresistible. They must be stupid.

“I wanted you to come with me to look at cakes for the anniversary party.”

Dylan moaned. “Please, Laurel. Not that. Anything but that. It's frosting and layers. Why do you need me?”

“Because you're my brother and part of this celebration.” She grabbed his arm and squeezed. “And
you're so sensitive, you'll know the perfect cake when you see it.”

“Ha ha.” He looked at his sister, setting his hand on his hip in a don't-even-try-to-snow-me stance and said with confidence, “And you need to talk to me.”

Laurel sighed. “Is it that obvious that I have a problem?”

“Spill it,” he demanded.

“Mom's been at me again about settling down.”

“What about Todd? I thought you guys were tight.”

“You know Dad doesn't approve of Todd.” She picked up the cracker package and twisted the end a little too strongly and dropped the cellophane-wrapped package back into the box.

Her eyes were filled with puzzlement and hurt. “He thinks artists and vermin are on the same level.”

Anger curled in his chest at the high-handedness of their father. “Do you love him?”

“I think so, but I don't know, Dylan. Dad could make his life miserable and I don't want to hurt him. It might be best to break up with him. Look what happened to you and Allison. It took her a long time to recover.”

“I know. I made the decision to break it off with Allison to spare her. I couldn't fault you for doing the same thing.”

“Thanks, little brother,” Laurel said, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. “See, you
are
a nice guy.”

“So, am I off the hook for the cake?” He grinned hopefully.

Laurel smiled, linking her arm with Dylan's. “Think again, hotshot.”

 

H
ALEY WAS HALF-ASLEEP
in a cab, heading back to her apartment, when her cell phone rang. It jarred her awake.

“I won't be able to go to sleep because I can't stop thinking about you. Can't you come back tonight?”

“Dylan?”

“Who else would it be?”

“No one,” she said quickly. Her stomach did a slow roll. “I'm slightly tipsy. I can't come back tonight. The fantasy has to start off as a surprise.” Not bad for quick thinking.

“I can't stop thinking about where we left off.”

Her voice was unsteady when she answered, “Neither can I.”

“Haley, have dinner with me.”

Haley closed her eyes; a thousand feelings sped through her. And every one of them was tied to Dylan Malone. She drew a deep, stabilizing breath. But his gentle coaxing voice sent her control spinning into the darkness of the cab and had her leaning into the phone as if the receiver were his soft, hot mouth. “Huh? Did we just go from sex to food?”

“You're cute and confused when you're tipsy,” he said, his voice dropping an octave and causing that familiar tingling sensation to erupt all over her body.

Haley remembered when she'd been intoxicated
before in his presence. She'd ended up sleeping with him and probably having the most wonderful sex in her twenty-two years. “Slightly tipsy, and you keep changing the subject.”

“Haley…”

A beep sounded in her ear.

“Just a minute, Dylan. I have another call.” She pushed the correct button on her phone.

“Haley, you haven't forgotten our arrangements?”

“Mom?” her voice squeaked out.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

Haley was groggily thinking that she'd just gone through this conversation. “You mean shopping for Uncle Albert's birthday present?”

“Yes. Your sister and I will see you at ten and then we'll lunch at Abernathy's.” Her mother rarely took no for an answer and had trained Haley very well. That was perhaps why Haley was a straightforward carbon copy of her mother.

“Oh, Terry's going. That's great. See you at ten Saturday after next.”

She pushed the button again. “Dylan, as I was saying, how did we go from sex to food?” Haley heard nothing but an ominous crackling silence on the line. “Dylan?” Haley said hopefully.

“No, Haley. This is your mother.”

“Oh God,” Haley said softly. “I think I need a drink.”

“I'm no judge, but it seems to me, dear, you've had enough to drink.” Was that amusement in her mother's voice?

“At this moment, Mother, it isn't nearly enough.”

Her mother chuckled. “I'll see you Saturday after next. What you do with food and/or sex is really your business.”

“Bye, Mom.”

Haley switched back to Dylan. “What were you saying about food, Dylan?” Just to be safe.

“I want to have dinner with you. People do it all the time. It's called eating together.”

“I can't think straight. I think I just offended my mother. Besides, we agreed. No strings attached.”

“Who said anything about strings? It's just food and conversation.”

She'd said that to herself just before she caught him with another woman in Figaro's.

“Haley, I have clients who make up their minds faster on ad campaigns when millions of dollars are at stake.”

Tightening her hold on the receiver, she closed her eyes against the sudden ache, with a very husky voice she spoke, “Dylan, I don't think this is a good idea.”

“Let's just say I want to make amends for tonight. Can we just say that?”

“And you should make amends. Do you have an open-door policy on your apartment?”

“You mean Mandy and Laurel?”

“It's really none of my business, but it got in the way of my deadline.”

Dylan laughed. “Mandy's my neighbor and Laurel's my sister.”

“That's quick thinking, Dylan.”

“It's true.”

“Whatever. I still have the fantasy to complete before Friday.” Haley couldn't believe he was telling the truth, she remembered that coed who had been at his room waiting for him. He'd had some other excuse that night. Still, it didn't make her want him any less. She needed her head examined.

“I thought you didn't have to turn in your column until Monday.”

“There's a problem and Kate needs it earlier this week.”

“Haley, we can work out the fantasy while we have dinner,” he coaxed, his voice thick and deep on the other end of the line. She could listen to him talk all night.

“Do you usually talk your clients into million-dollar ad campaigns as skillfully?”

“Well, you are a tougher sell, but I do have your inebriation to aid me. I don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Say yes.”

She was weary and her defenses were down. Drat the alcohol swirling through her blood. Alcohol and lust were not a good combination to help her to keep a level head. Haley had fought the good fight, but lost in the end. “Yes. Now will you leave me alone?”

“Sweet dreams, Haley.” He disconnected the line and Haley in her foggy brain knew she'd done something wrong, but it didn't feel wrong. How could it be wrong when she ached to be with him?

Once home, she brushed her teeth and got ready for bed with a heavy heart. She had been truthful with
Dylan. She'd never dreamed that sex could be the way it had been between them. She slid beneath the sheets and set her alarm. She shouldn't have had so much to drink. In fact, she hadn't had this much to drink since that night with Dylan. Tomorrow she'd have a hangover and she still had to finish out this fantasy. Kate needed the copy by Friday and it was already Tuesday.

He'd said sweet dreams on the phone. Not likely. She'd have hot, sweaty, scorching dreams. She quickly slipped into a deep sleep, dreaming about strong hands, warm lips and a hard male body that smelled so good it should be a sin.

 

H
ALEY'S HEAD
was pounding with an annoying regularity when she woke. There was a recollection tugging at the edge of her consciousness that did not seem as if it would be something she wanted to remember.