What the Heart Wants (12 page)

Layne and Faith…a match made in hell.

Dylan moved past Chelsea and Heaven on his way to berate Layne for his behavior. Heaven’s sweet scent enveloped him. Could he take a deep breath without making himself look like some kind of weirdo? He already sensed Heaven’s eyes on him, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Maybe she was afraid he would brush against her as he passed. The way she cuddled her arms against her chest spoke shyness.

Modesty in a woman was a great quality in Dylan’s book. He’d had his fill of women who used their good looks as leverage. One-night stands didn’t interest him. Layne, yeah. But not him. Dylan played for keeps.

Of course, there would be sex. He’d make sure she never wanted another man. But not now. Sex could wait. Layne would flip at the notion.

Screw him.

Layne greeted him with creased brows. “Dude, you and I need to talk.”

“Yes, we do…about your mouth. I swear you’re going to end up like Sebastian. I really don’t feel like being involved in another shootout.”

Layne slapped his back as a deep chuckle rippled from his lungs. “Relax, bro. Chelsea said we had nothing to worry about. There are no jealous boyfriends or husbands.”

“No, but a disgruntled parent is worse.”

“Faith is of age. She can do whatever her sexy heart desires.”

Dylan leaned in closer to Layne’s ear. “So you’re ready for kids?”

Layne jerked his head away. “Yeah, right.”

“That’s what I thought. You better take necessary precautions before you have any
fun
this weekend.”

Dylan could tell Layne wanted to slam him with a sarcastic comment, but Chelsea cleared her throat to draw everyone’s attention.

“Sorry for the delay. I was looking for the CD with the wedding march on it, but I can’t find it anywhere.”

“You left it in the car,” Faith told her while glancing at her nails. “I saw it lying between the front seats.”

“Chels, I’ll go get it,” Heaven offered, as she wrapped her fingers around keys dangling from Chelsea’s purse. “You get everything set up in here. I’ll just be a minute.”

Dylan’s eyes followed Heaven until she disappeared through the side entrance. Modest and helpful. Did this woman have any faults?

She was meeting all his expectations. But would he meet hers?

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Layne’s attempt at discreet conversation was weak. He had drawn Scott’s attention their way.

“Take a wild guess,” Dylan whispered. His eyes wavered between the archway where Heaven had vanished and the rest of the bridal party.

“Are you certain she's the girl you’ve been dreaming of?”

At least Layne kept his voice down this time. Since Scott was the only other person who knew about Dylan’s dreams, Dylan wanted it kept that way.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve spent the last several months dreaming about her. Oh, wait.”

“Cute…So why in the hell—” Layne stopped and chuckled. “Oops. Think I’ll get struck down for swearing in the middle of a church?”

Dylan shrugged. He’d almost enjoy seeing Layne get a little jolt from the sky.

“Why the heck are you dreaming about Chelsea’s best friend?”

“I don’t know, but I only have a couple of days to figure it out. Do you know how long they’re staying?”

“Not a clue,” Layne answered. “I’m guessing for the weekend?”

“That’s not enough time.”

“Sure, it is.”

Dylan met a teasing grin and waggling brows. “Some of us think with our other head.”

“Really?” Layne raised his hands in front of him. “Joking.”

He grew quiet again, which worried Dylan. A speechless Layne meant one thing. His sick, twisted mind was running wild like the bulls in Spain.

Shifting focus, Dylan’s eyes went back to the archway. Where was Heaven?

Dylan’s felt a twinge in his stomach. Something was off.

“Why are you still staring at the door? Are you that impatient to see her, again?”

“I’m just wondering what is taking her so long.”

“She hasn’t been gone
that
long.” Layne shook his head, pushing a few unruly strands of hair out of his eyes. “You got it bad, bro. But I think I understand why.”

“What do you mean?”

“Um, she’s smokin’ hot, dude. Duh.”

“I know.” Dylan shoved his hands in his back pockets. His fingers ran across the pick he’d used at the beach. He wished he had his guitar here now to help quiet his mind.

“Faith’s a whole lot of hotness wrapped up like a package of dynamite.”

Layne’s thoughts had shifted back to his favorite subject. Women.

“She’s definitely your
type.
”

Where was Heaven? God, why did his heart feel like it was about to jump from his chest?

“I don’t have a type.”

“You’re right. You’ll bed anything,” Dylan continued, his eyes rapidly flipping between the side door, the front door, Chelsea’s face…What was taking so long?

“Not true, dude. I have standards.”

“Your standards exist about as much as your
honorable intentions
.”

Dylan glanced at his wrist. Something definitely wasn’t right. He couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Harsh, Dylan. Harsh. You wound me.”

“You’ll survive.”

Another glance at the doors brought no relief. How long did it take to find a CD?

“Would you stop fidgeting? You’re like a crackhead jonesing for his next fix.”

Dylan was waiting for his next fix. Of Heaven.

“Maybe I should go look for—”

“Where is my sister?” Faith’s words filled the sanctuary. “Does she need a map or what?”

“Maybe the CD wasn’t in the car after all,” Chelsea said as she turned toward the side door. “I should go help her.”

“I’ll go help,” Dylan announced. A little too eagerly. “That is, if you want me to.”

His good gesture raised a few eyebrows and drew the attention of everyone in the room, especially Faith’s.

Chelsea’s eyes made it to every face in the room before stopping on Dylan’s. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

He waited for the approving nod.

“Thanks, Dylan. I’ll get everyone else in place.”

Dylan didn’t stick around for the objection he noticed on Layne’s lips. He left the bridal party in his dust as he hurried out the side door.

The minute he stepped outside the church, he noticed the sun dipping into the horizon. A breeze blew from the west, calming his nerves, but that feeling left when one of blood pumping confusion replaced it.

This new feeling ripped through his body, pulling him in the direction of the parking lot.

Heaven.

His muscles struggled to keep up with his racing mind as he pushed his body to the limit.

Voices buzzed inside his head. The closer he came to the parking lot, the more he heard them.

When he passed the corner of the church, his heart lurched from his chest.

The business suits and flashing cameras had formed a circle around Chelsea’s car.

And right smack in the middle of all their attention stood Heaven.

Eyes wide and glassy.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 8

Heaven squinted toward the crowd of reporters quickly swallowing her. Their shouts, along with the wall of flashing cameras, had her heart pumping. There had never been this many people in her face, asking so many questions at the same time.

Her eyes burned with each flash. She focused on the ground, praying this mob wouldn’t eat her alive. She couldn’t think, speak, or even pass out. Passing out would have been a blessing at this point.

The paparazzi.

She’d always heard how brutal they could be. How relentless. She was trapped like a caged animal with its tormentors just a foot away, poking sticks into the cage.

Spinning in a circle, Heaven tried to find a breach in the crowd for an escape. It was useless. Each time she thought she found a break in their human wall, a dozen flashes zapped her like stun guns. Her fear became her prison cell.

Why were these people harassing her like this?

Something snapped deep in her chest. Her eyes raised in anger as they shot from the ground to the crowd, taking in all the curious faces. She inhaled deeply, preparing to scream for them to leave her alone, but her voice faltered.

What would they do to her when she refused to talk?

Would Chelsea or her sisters come looking for her? Surely, someone would. Right?

Hopefully?

Maybe?

She searched the many faces, hoping to see her best friend. She’d be thrilled to see Faith, too. This was one time when she could use her sister’s attitude. Faith would tell all of these persistent people to go to hell. Maybe even punch a couple of them if they didn’t leave her alone. But where was Faith when Heaven
needed
her?

This was too much.

Heaven took a step back. She stalled. The hot paint burned her skin as she jerked away from Chelsea’s car. Could she manage to open the door and slip inside before these bottom feeders swallowed her? It was looking more and more like her only option.

Then another face appeared in the crowd.

He was there.

She felt a twinge in her stomach. Maybe it was more of a flip. Whatever the feeling, it diminished her fear. Her eyes, once flooding with tears, cleared from the emotional stress. They filled with gratitude. She wanted to smile at him, but couldn’t force her facial muscles to move.

Once he pushed through the crowd, Dylan’s eyes glided over her face, their darkness emitting sympathy and concern. It was only a second later he was standing in front of her; his hand closing gently around her upper arm.

“Are you okay?”

His words tickled her cheek. The scent of cloves filled her nose, calming the stress that possessed her body. What was it about him that pulled at the pit of her stomach? Left her wanting him close. Needing him close.

His presence…her safe house.

“I…I’m okay. I think,” she stammered.

“Relax,” he said in a voice as gentle as the breeze blowing around them. “I’ve got this. I’m used to dealing with them.”

When he smiled, her knees wanted to buckle. Yet, if she fell, she had the sense that he’d catch her. Everything was going to be all right. His dark eyes said as much.

Wow.

His eyes were dark. Really dark

Like…an espresso…

* * *

Dylan hesitated. When Heaven looked at him with those eyes, time and reason ceased to exist. Her eyes had a way of transporting him to another place. Another world.

He wanted to tell her everything. That he’d dreamed of her for months. Perhaps longer. That she was all he’d thought of. That just standing next to her had his mind jumbled.

Now was not the time. She was frightened. He’d known from the minute he’d stepped outside the church and panic had ripped through him.

Were they connected? They had to be. How else could he have felt her fear? Or even dreamed of her before they met?

He wanted to save her from any opposing threat, including the paparazzi. They could harass him all they wanted. But not her. She was off limits. The best way to get the focus off her was to offer himself in exchange.

That was a fair enough trade.

He turned around to face the cameras and reporters, blocking her body between himself and Chelsea’s car.

He could feel the heat of her body radiating. She was so warm…

Not that he needed heat on a day like this. With the sun so hot you could roast a marshmallow on your forehead. What he enjoyed about the warmth of her body was knowing she was there, behind him.

That she was real.

“Look! It’s Dylan McBride,” a female reporter shouted.

Perfect.

It worked. His plan, that is. All the attention diverted from Heaven and went to him. He took in the different voices traveling his way, making out a question or two as they hurdled toward him.

“Mr. McBride, can you tell us why you’re at this church?”

“We’ve heard reports that Kyle Winters and Chelsea McConnell are getting married. Is this true?”

“Have you started dating yet?”

“Who is the mystery girl you’re hiding behind your back?”

“Are you secretly dating this young woman?”

“Are you the one getting married?”

Dylan fought the urge to laugh. Some questions were repeats. But not the ones regarding Heaven. If only he could confirm the speculations. This would be one time he’d gladly talk to the press.

Raising his hands to his waist, he motioned for the crowd to settle down.

Showtime.

“You all have questions that I’m not at liberty to discuss,” he paused as the crowd broke into another uproar.

Savages.

“Excuse me,” he shouted. “I think you’ve harassed my friend and me for long enough. Please respect our wishes and allow us some privacy. What you have rudely interrupted is a simple prayer group. Unless praying has been outlawed recently, you have no story to report.”

Only a few reporters tried to continue with their questions, but Dylan didn’t stay to listen. He hooked his arm into Heaven’s and escorted her toward the church, leaving the reporters to follow behind.

The clicking of cameras continued as Dylan quickened his step. He glanced over at Heaven, making sure she wasn’t having any problem keeping up.

She wasn’t. Her face, devoid of expression, didn’t show what he could sense. Her urgency to get inside. He couldn’t blame her. The paparazzi devoured people like Heaven for lunch like a basket of wings. Her inexperience was hot sauce on their grubby little fingers.

When they reached the side door, Dylan jerked it open and pushed Heaven inside before joining her. As he fiddled with the doorknob, her heavy breathing pulled at him. She’d put up a good front on their way to the church, but she was as scared as she’d been the moment he’d found her in the middle of the reporters.

He checked the door one last time, making sure it was secure before turning to face Heaven. She was looking down the hallway toward the staircase that led to the sanctuary.