After the Dawn (16 page)

“Your food.” The waitress moved the appetizer over. “Not to your liking?”

“I guess not.” He was batting his head against a wall. “You can take them away.”

*   *   *

He was trying. There had been no divorce for her, only the disgrace that she was pregnant by a married man.

What would Roman think of her if he knew she had been the other woman? She still felt the shame.

“No.” Marlene reached for a chip. She had no right to be so self-righteous. “Although the salad looks delicious, I don't think it's going to fill me up.”

Roman smiled at her. Her heart jerked. Once. Hard. “Can't have that. This is cold. How about we share my food until the waitress can bring out another appetizer?”

She smiled back. She could handle this. “I'd like that.”

*   *   *

At six fifty, Dillon pulled up behind a Lamborghini at the Mansion on Turtle Creek. He'd barely stopped before a valet reached for his door and opened it.

“Welcome to the Mansion.”

“Thanks.” Dillon stood and rounded the car to take Sam's arm. He hoped his body was up to the test.

Now wasn't the time to remember he hadn't been with a woman in months or how much he'd like to take Sam upstairs to one of the luxury rooms, strip them both, and just enjoy.

“It's as beautiful as I'd imagined.” Sam glanced around the courtyard with the hotel on one side and the five-star restaurant on the other. Tiny lights twinkled in the trees.

She was just as beautiful, but he wasn't about to tell her that. He wasn't a man to sway a woman with pretty words. He preferred the more earthy approach. He cupped Sam's elbow, felt the soft skin, and smelled her fragrance. It was going to be a long night.

“Mr. Montgomery.”

About to pass a small group of people, he paused as he recognized Frank Thomas from his picture on the company's Web site. That would teach him to keep his mind on business. Dillon extended his hand. “I'm sorry, Mr. Thomas. I didn't see you.”

Frank Thomas, dressed in a tailored blue suit, laughed jovially and returned the strong handshake. “You weren't expecting a crowd. Don't worry.” He smiled at a group of teenage boys standing to the side of them, their mouths gaping, their eyes huge.

“They're not staying. I was in the kitchen when I told my wife about our dinner engagement.” Thomas chuckled and shook his head again. “I thought my son would go insane with glee. He went with me to a vintage race once and was instantly taken with the cars. He's gotten his friends hooked on vintage cars as well. Of course, they've heard of you and wanted to meet you.”

Dillon nodded at the eager teenagers staring at the Ferrari and the other luxury cars in the courtyard. “Since they're watching cars, I'd like you to meet Sam—Samantha Collins, Abe's granddaughter and fellow consultant with Collins Industry.”

Frank extended his hand and pulled a thin woman in a knee-length navy-blue dress forward. “My wife, Cynthia.”

“Hello. I'll thank you now for suggesting dining here,” Cynthia said. “I'd dine here every week if I could.”

Dillon nodded toward Sam. “Thank Sam.”

“I thought we could enjoy ourselves in beauty and luxury while the men talked shop,” Sam said.

“You couldn't have picked a better spot.” Cynthia looked fondly at her husband. “Talking shop, he sometimes forgets I'm there.”

“I doubt that,” Dillon said sincerely, then smoothly turned to the five teenagers. “Hi, fellows. Got the bug, have you?”

“That's a 1948 166 MM Barchetta, the definitive 1950s sports car, isn't it?” said the tallest of the teenagers, the one in front.

“You know your cars.” Dillon chuckled. “I might not be on the circuit, but I still like driving vintage. Speed is best on the racetrack and not on the highway. I know you fellows all agree.”

“Yes, sir,” they agreed.

Since Dillon had been a teenage boy with a car and a motorcycle, he didn't believe them for a second. “If there was a race, I'd invite you as my guests, but how would you like to come out to my high-performance garage tomorrow in Frisco? I'm restoring a 1982 BMW and a 1983 Lotus. There's enough room in back for each of you to take a short spin.”

They whooped with glee. “Yeah!”

Dillon pulled out his wallet and handed a card to the boy in front. “I'll be there after one.”

“Thanks,” they chorused.

“All right, Douglas, you and your friends have met Mr. Montgomery. Now, we need to go inside for our dinner reservations,” Mrs. Thomas said.

Douglas waved the card. “Man. Thanks again. See you tomorrow.”

Mr. Thomas clapped Dillon on the back. “I think my son and his friends have a serious case of hero worship on you.”

“But you're the one he'll see each day, the one he's learning how to be a man from,” Dillon said.

Thomas nodded slowly. “Abe selected well. You have your feet planted firmly on the ground.”

“Dillon also has a lot of innovative ideas that will offer a lot to Tasco,” Sam said. “With the inner cooling system he's perfecting, we plan to shake things up.”

“I believe you will,” Mr. Thomas said.

Dillon took Sam's arm. “Let's go in to dinner and we can talk further.”

*   *   *

As always, Marlene didn't get out of her car until she had her front-door key in her hand. She heard Roman's quiet steps behind her, and her nervousness grew as she hurried up the walk. She shouldn't have let him follow her home, but he'd mentioned it as soon as they'd exited the restaurant, then hurried to his car. She was left staring after him.

On the porch she kept her back to him until she had the front door open, had reached inside to turn on the light on the porch and in the entry. She turned for a quick good-bye, her hand already outstretched, and found herself pressed against a wall of muscled warmth.

His mouth didn't ask. He took, pleasured, overwhelming her senses. Her body responded before she could take a breath, molding itself against him, her hand in his thick hair. The hot kiss made a mockery of her attempt to deny her attraction to this man.

Roman lifted his head, his breath uneven against her lips. She wanted his mouth, his knowing hands on her again. She shook her head, pushing against his chest. She'd overestimated her control where he was concerned.

“I want you, but I know it's too soon.”

She shook her head. “No,” she managed, her voice sounding thready with need.

“Yes. I can drive down tomorrow and we can do whatever you like.”

Make love in the sunshine.

She barely kept from groaning. She hadn't thought of being intimate with a man in years. She pushed against his chest. This time he let her go. She missed the heat, the solid warmth, immediately. “This has to stop. I can't go out with you again.”

He took her arms in his, dragging her against him again. “I'm not him. I won't hurt you.”

Anger replaced desire. “You don't know anything about me. Now let me go.”

His fingers tightened for a second, then she was free. “It's not over between us.”

“There is no ‘us.' I don't want this.”

“You can lie to me, but your body can't. This isn't over.” Reaching past her, he pushed the front door open farther. “Go inside before I show you.”

Her body trembling, Marlene went inside, closing and locking the door after her. His words rang in her ears.
This isn't over.

Heaven help her. He was right. What was she going to do?

 

Nine

Dinner had turned out better than Dillon expected. Sam had been wonderful. Not only had she kept the conversation going, she'd made sure Thomas's wife didn't feel left out. She was definitely an asset.

He'd have to agree with his mother. Abe had been smart to turn the company over to her.

Dillon would be equally smart to think of her only as his business partner. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen. He wasn't used to self-denial. Neither said anything as he walked her to her front door. Silently he took her key, unlocked the door, then handed it back to her. He wanted both hands free.

“Thank you. I thought it went well tonight.”

“It's about to get better.” Reaching out, he slowly pulled her into his arms. Her sharp intake of breath made his body harden. His head lowered. He brushed his lips across hers, swallowed her sweet breath as it rushed in and out.

He wanted to savor, but he couldn't wait. His mouth molded itself against her, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth to taste and pleasure. She was sweet. And addictive. The more he tasted, the more he wanted to taste.

It stunned him how much he wanted her. But the need had been building since he'd first seen her that night. Or had it started all those years ago?

His hand cupped her hips, bringing her against his rock-hard arousal. She whimpered. He wanted to as well because there was no way they were going to finish this.

Breathing as if he'd run for hours, Dillon crushed her against him and tried to control the need pulsing through him. “I have an appointment at eight in Dallas or I'd be knocking on your door to take you out.”

“Dillon. We can't do this.”

She sounded as shaky as he felt. He lifted his head and stared down into her troubled face. “We already did.”

She licked her lips, and he was helpless to keep from kissing her again. She clung to him.

“See?” he teased. Sam was too serious, but he'd change that. “You were meant to be loved by me.”

“No. I'm shameless.” She tried to break free. He let her go because she appeared so upset.

“What is it?” He'd never felt protective of a woman he wanted. He did now. Sam had a way of changing things.

“Please don't get mad. I really like Marlene and I'm not judging her, but we—we could be related.”

He'd heard the rumors about Abe being his father and never once thought to correct them. Neither had his mother. It hadn't mattered what people thought. He and his mother had never discussed the rumor of his parentage circulating around town because she'd already told him years before, when at age ten he'd asked who his father was.

It hadn't been easy for her to tell him about A. J. Reed. She regretted that his father wasn't a man either could be proud of, but she thanked God for Dillon each day. He'd said he felt the same way about her being his mother. It was never discussed again.

Softhearted Sam would be racked with guilt if he didn't tell her the truth. Palming her face, he stared down at her. “Abe wasn't my father.”

He saw the relief rushing through her. She didn't question him further. He hadn't expected her trust in him to make his chest feel tight. “Thank God. I won't burn in hell.”

His lips curved into a smile. “No. I intend for you to burn for an entirely different reason.” His mouth took hers again in an openly erotic kiss. “We'll talk when I get back.” He released her then got into his car and drove away.

Her mood mellow, Samantha opened the door and came face-to-face with her uncle in his silk robe and pajamas. His chest heaved with rage.

“You're a disgrace to this family!” he yelled. “How could you shame the family name by going out with Daddy's bastard?”

Samantha bristled. “Stop calling him that, and what's more, it was a business dinner.”

He sneered. “I saw the two of you on the porch.”

She refused to tuck her head. “Granddaddy was not Dillon's father.”

“You'd believe anything the man says.”

“I trust him because he's never lied to me. He wants the company to succeed.”

Her uncle threw his hands in the air. “Get your head out of the clouds. If he does—and I say if—it's because he plans to take it over when the time is ripe. He's just stringing you along. Why should he want you otherwise?”

Samantha didn't have an answer. She'd seen the way women at the plant and at dinner tonight looked at Dillon. “I'm going to bed.”

“I won't stand by and let you drag the family name through the mud, and ruin the company because you can't control your lust.”

Samantha spun around. “I've had enough of your bullying.”

His eyes widened. “You watch it.”

“No, you watch it.” She came back to him.

“Don't you talk to me that way. I'm the head of this family.”

“Then why didn't Granddad—” She clamped her teeth together to keep the words from spilling out. Her uncle looked as if he wanted to strangle her.

“Daddy was sick or he would have left me in charge,” he shouted. “There is no other explanation. You and that no-good are just taking advantage of it.”

Samantha felt sorry for her uncle. Apparently he had no idea how his father felt about his poor performance. Telling him now would only make matters worse. “I don't want to fight, Uncle Evan. Please, can't we just work together?”

“I'd rather light a match to the whole thing.”

Shock raced across her face. “You hate me, us, that much?” He said nothing, just glared at her. “I guess there's nothing else to say.” She headed up the stairs.

“I'm not finished with you.”

Slowly she turned, her fists clenched. “Yes, you are. I've bent over backwards trying to keep the peace with you and Aunt Janice. But the more I try, the more you take advantage of me. It stops tonight. My life is my own. If you don't like it, you can move.”

His mouth gaped.

“The house is half mine. From now on, there's going to be some changes. The cook and staff won't cater to just you or Aunt Janice's dictates, so you better tell her. Another thing, you better start preparing yourself. It isn't fair to Dillon or me to let people think we're consultants.”

His mouth tightened. “Dillon. It always comes down to him. He's using you.”