by Elle Kennedy
She trailed after him, still mystified by their surroundings. How on earth could Dylan afford to live here? This building was way too luxurious for a SEAL’s salary. They stepped into a beautiful lobby with dark oak furniture, cream-colored carpeting, and tasteful artwork on the walls, and were immediately greeted by the uniformed security guard sitting behind a spacious counter.
Dylan smiled and nodded at the bulky African-American man, then introduced Claire as his houseguest. The fact that the guard wrote down her name told Claire that security was taken seriously in this building.
Her flip-flops snapped against the lush carpet as she and Dylan headed toward a corridor to their left. She winced at each snap snap, feeling way too underdressed. It didn’t help that Dylan still wore the crisp black suit he’d donned for the wedding, which made her skimpy dress and plastic shoes look even more out of place.
“This place is so fancy,” she whispered. “How can you afford to live here alone?”
“Always so concerned with finances, aren’t you?”
The contempt in his voice raised her hackles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dylan pressed the elevator button. “Nothing at all,” he said vaguely. “And to answer your question, I don’t live alone.”
Ding. The elevator opened with a chime and he strode into it without elaborating.
Claire hurried in after him. “You’re still living with Seth then?”
“Nope.”
His response was casual, but the shuttered look on his handsome face answered her next question. He lived with the dark-haired man. The man he’d been kissing that night.
Heat flooded her cheeks, and to her extreme embarrassment, she experienced a spark of arousal. Damn it! She wasn’t allowed to get turned on by it anymore. She’d been trying so hard to stifle that reaction these last couple of months.
But now that the proverbial door had more or less been opened, she found herself walking right through it.
“So. Um.” She swallowed. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened back in September?”
Dylan shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about. You walked in on a private moment between me and Aidan. No biggie.”
“Aidan? Is that his name?”
“Yep.”
The elevator continued its ascent, the numbers on the electronic panel rapidly flashing before stopping on the number 15.
The doors dinged open.
“Listen,” Dylan said as they stepped into a wide hallway, “I really do appreciate that you didn’t say anything to Chris or my mom about what you saw that night.”
She arched a brow. “And yet you insist the whole thing was no biggie.”
“It’s not. To me, anyway.” His eyes went somber. “But it would be a big deal for them. Chris, especially. My brother is very…conservative.”
“I know.” Claire swallowed again. “My best friend is a lesbian, and, well, Chris has never been openly negative, but I don’t think he likes her very much.”
“Yeah, he’s a bit of a homophobe,” Dylan admitted in a pained voice. “There’s a whole thing behind it, but I don’t want to get into that. Just know I’m grateful that you kept quiet.”
They lingered in the middle of the hall, eyeing each other carefully. Claire realized this was the first time in a year and a half that she and Dylan had had a conversation that lacked any hostile undertones.
Might be pushing her luck, but she figured she should capitalize on the cease-fire. “So you and Aidan…you’re…together?” she asked curiously.
He sighed. “It’s complicated.”
She could only imagine. Dylan didn’t just have his family’s prejudice to worry about—he was also a navy officer, and no matter how progressive the military claimed to be these days, Claire knew his sexual orientation would probably never be fully accepted. And who knew what circumstances the dark-haired stranger—Aidan, she amended—had to contend with.
Sympathy tugged at her heart, an emotion she didn’t normally feel in Dylan’s presence. Usually she couldn’t look past his arrogant, selfish exterior, but she had to admit, he’d been pretty sweet today. Whisking her out of the country club, bringing her home with him so she could lick her wounds in peace. She hadn’t asked him to do any of that, and she still couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t sided with his brother in all this.
“Anyway, my mom and Chris know that Aidan is my roommate, but not that—”
“—you share a room,” she finished wryly.
Dylan shrugged again. “Actually, we don’t.”
She furrowed her brows. “Why not?”
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
A hundred more questions bit at her tongue, but he didn’t give her the chance to voice them. He was walking off again, leaving her to stare at his retreating back—and his butt. Because really, she couldn’t not stare at his butt, so taut and delicious in those snug trousers. And his body was so damn big he made her feel miniature in comparison. Broad shoulders, arms that rippled with power, long legs, a lean yet muscular torso, and of course, that amazing butt.
No doubt about it, Dylan Wade was sexy. And he banked on that sexiness, using it to get whatever he wanted—well, at least according to Chris.
Then again, Chris’s credibility was on shaky ground considering he was on his way to Aruba to cash in on the honeymoon her parents had paid for.
Choking down the bitterness coating her throat, Claire followed Dylan to a door at the very end of the hall, then waited as he pulled out a set of keys and stuck one in the lock.
A moment later, they walked into the apartment, Claire feeling slightly apprehensive as she examined the surprisingly large front hall. Actually, nothing surprising about it. Of course the apartments in this fancy-pants building would be huge.
Since Dylan kicked off his shoes, she did too, and beautiful dark hardwood spanned beneath her bare feet as they ventured deeper into the apartment. The front hall widened and spilled into an enormous open-concept space with floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a view of the city skyline.
“Wow,” she blurted out. “This place is incredible.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty sweet.” Dylan dropped her suitcases and his small black duffel on the floor, then swept an arm out and gave her a quick verbal tour. “Living room, dining room. Kitchen’s over there, and the bedrooms are down that hall.”
Claire’s gaze took everything in—the masculine furnishings in the living room and heavy-duty entertainment system, the sleek electric fireplace, the French doors leading out to a sprawling stone terrace. She shifted her gaze and studied the low wall that separated the living and dining area from a big, modern kitchen with gleaming stainless-steel appliances and a black granite counter.
And just like Dylan’s old place, this one was also neat as a pin, which only supported her belief that military men were the cleanest on the planet.
She opened her mouth to rave about the apartment a bit more, but the sound of footsteps interrupted. Claire turned her head in time to see Dylan’s roommate step out of the corridor.
A pair of unbelievably sexy dimples appeared in his cheeks as he swept his dark eyes over the new arrivals. “Fastest wedding ever, huh?”
Claire was at a loss for words over his sheer hotness, and far too fascinated by the man walking toward them. She’d only caught shadowy glimpses of him back in September, and now she was kind of grateful for that, because if she’d known what this man looked like? He would have haunted her fantasies.
He was as handsome as Dylan, but in a darker, more sensual way. He had olive skin and short dark hair, a pair of intense chocolate-brown eyes, and a bare chest that made her mouth water. Yep, bare. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so her gaze got to experience every sculpted muscle and the tight ridges of his six-pack. Not to mention the tantalizing glimpses of his hip bones, which were revealed by black sweatpants that rode low and told her he was definitely going commando.
The lust that slammed into her
was insane. Absolutely insane. Her nipples went rock-hard and her thighs clenched as X-rated images flashed through her mind. She wanted to put her mouth all over this man. She wanted to lick his collarbone and his pecs and his abdomen, and then she wanted to sink to her knees, pull out his cock and lick that too.
As their eyes locked, something hot and primal rippled through her. She got the feeling he knew exactly what she’d been envisioning, and the notion made her blush and break the eye contact.
“Seriously, what happened?” Dylan’s roommate asked. “Your text told me nothing.”
Dylan raked a hand through his blond hair, looking frustrated. “Yeah, I didn’t want to get into it via text. This is Claire McKinley, by the way. Claire, my roommate, Aidan Rhodes.”
Aidan’s dark eyes flickered with intrigue. “The bride. Interesting. But no groom.”
Claire met his gaze again. “The groom decided he didn’t want to marry me so he left without telling me.”
He looked startled. “What do you mean, without telling you?”
“Oh, don’t worry, he recruited his brother to dump me. I suppose that’s better than nothing.” The bitterness in her tone belied the smile she’d attempted.
Those magnetic eyes softened with sympathy. “I’m sorry. That must have been tough for you.” He turned to Dylan. “You didn’t need to stay with your mother?”
“I wanted to get Claire outta there. I’ll call my mom in a bit.”
Claire’s heart skipped a beat at the knowledge that Dylan had put her first, but her response was so infuriating it resulted in making her crabby again. “I’m sure you have more questions,” she told Aidan, “but can one of you direct me to the washroom first? And maybe a room where I can get changed?”
The latter request directed both men’s eyes to the dress clinging to her body like plastic wrap. When those hot male gazes rested on her chest, Claire experienced another baffling moment of were-they-or-weren’t-they. Gay, that was. Because from the hungry way they were staring at her breasts, she would bet on were not.
“You can stay in my room,” Dylan finally said.
“I can’t take your room,” she protested. “Where will you sleep?”
She regretted the question the second it exited her mouth. Her cheeks scorched again, burning hotter when she spotted the smirk on Aidan’s mouth.
“I’ll sleep in the office.” Dylan picked up her bags. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
She took a step after him, then paused awkwardly and looked at Aidan. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” He still wore that secretive little smirk, but after a beat it faded into a frown. “And I really am sorry about your wedding.”
“Thanks,” she murmured before trailing after Dylan.
He led her into a bedroom with dark-blue walls, a neatly made double bed, and modern, black-painted furniture. Other than a stack of books and magazines on the bedside table and the bulletin board on the closet door, the room lacked any personal touches. It smelled like Dylan, though, that woodsy, masculine scent that had filled her nostrils during the entire helicopter ride.
“Do you mind giving me some time alone?” she asked after he deposited her suitcase and carry-on near the foot of the bed. “I want to shower and call my parents, and maybe lie down for a little while.”
“No problem.” He headed for the doorway, then lingered there. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to whip up something for you to eat?”
She blinked in surprise. “You cook?”
Annoyance flickered in his green eyes. “Yes, I cook.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
She felt like he was making a jab in there somewhere, but his tone was light and his expression veiled, so she decided not to push it. “Anyway, I’m not hungry. My appetite left me around the same time Chris did.”
Dylan let out a breath. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a shitty day, Claire.”
“Yeah, me too.”
They both went quiet for a moment, and then he cleared his throat. “Okay, well, let me know if you need anything. I’m gonna fill Aidan in on what happened and then deal with my mom.”
“Thank you for everything you did today,” she said, shifting uneasily.
“No prob,” he said before sliding out the door.
Once she was alone, Claire sat on the edge of the mattress and ran her fingers over the soft, navy-blue comforter. She felt uncomfortable being here, in Dylan’s space, in Dylan’s home, yet somehow it felt oddly appropriate. This entire day had been a nightmare, so why not finish it out in the company of a man she hated?
Dislike, a voice corrected.
Yeah, hate might be too strong a word, Claire had to concede. She still didn’t approve of his behavior or the way he’d abandoned his family, but she couldn’t deny that he’d been decent today.
Sighing, she reached into her purse and found her phone. A moment later, she had a tally that made her gawk—forty-two text messages, twenty-one voice mail messages, twenty-four missed calls. Didn’t bode well for her email, which was her preferred method of communication.
She only bothered responding to the messages from her parents and her boss, reminding the former that she’d requested space, and thanking the latter for the reassurance that Claire still had the next three weeks off, honeymoon or no honeymoon.
After she pressed send, she checked the world clock app on her phone and nearly wept with joy when she realized she could now call Natasha and actually receive an answer. Long-distance charges be damned, she dialed Nat’s number and prayed her friend was still awake.
When Natasha’s voice blared over the line, the tears Claire had been holding back all day erupted like a volcanic explosion.
“Oh my God, I knew you’d get cold feet!” her best friend exclaimed before Claire even had a chance to say hello. “Don’t worry, I wrote up a little speech just in case. Hold on, hon, let me go find it.”
Claire laughed through her tears. “Don’t bother. It’s already done.”
“What’s already done? The ceremony?”
“The relationship.”
“Wait. What?”
A breath shuddered out. “Chris and I didn’t get married. He called it off.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“Nope,” she said glumly.
There was a long pause, and then a heavy sigh reverberated over the extension. “Start from the beginning.”
It took ten minutes to tell Natasha everything, and she finished by reluctantly admitting that Dylan had been a good friend to her today, a confession that elicited a laugh from her friend.
“So the asshole brother ended up being the good guy, and the good guy ended up being the asshole,” Natasha mused.
“Oh, like you’re surprised. You’ve never liked Chris.”
“Not really, no,” Natasha said frankly. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t support your decision to marry him. As long as you were happy, I was happy. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know.” She sniffled. “I feel like such a loser, Nat. Like one of those chicks from a bad rom com who gets left at the altar.”
“I knew the dude was a pompous jerk, but disappearing like that? That’s fucking bullshit.”
“I know.” She hesitated. “But…”
Natasha’s tone sharpened. “But what? And don’t tell me you’re thinking of forgiving the asshole!”
“No, it’s not that. I’m furious with him, I really am, but there was this moment earlier… It was right after Dylan told me that Chris was gone. I was shocked and hurt and embarrassed, but a part of me also felt…relief. God, Nat, I was actually kind of relieved I didn’t have to marry him.”
“That’s because he wasn’t right for you. I tried to tell you when you first started dating him, remember?”
“He was different then,” she protested.
“Uh-uh, no way. The man was a phony, C
laire. I knew it from the moment I met him. He was too slick, and his stories about helping others and wanting to make a difference were pure BS.”
“What does that say about me then? For not seeing it?”
“It says you’re a good person with a big heart,” Natasha said quietly. “I think Chris told you everything you wanted to hear, and you believed it because you always try to see the best in people.”
“Maybe,” she murmured.
“But the fact that you felt relief today says it all, hon. Deep down you must have known it wasn’t right.”
“I guess. I just wish it didn’t have to end in such a humiliating way.” She sighed. “Shit, I’m really not looking forward to seeing him and listening to his excuses. I’m pretty sure it’ll take all my willpower not to slap him.”
“Don’t fight the urge. The bastard deserves a good slapping. I can’t believe he went to Aruba! Who does that?”
“I know, right?”
“Selfish dick.”
The outrage in her friend’s voice made Claire laugh, and the giddy sound was only confirmation that she would be lost without Natasha. They’d known each other since they were five years old, attended the same schools all the way through to high school graduation, and although their paths had branched off when Natasha enrolled in med school and Claire went for her MBA, the two of them had remained close.
Claire still remembered the day Natasha had come out to her as a lesbian, back when they were seventeen years old. Natasha had been so worried things would change between them, that Claire would freak out and pull away, but the confession had only strengthened their bond. Claire had wanted so desperately for Chris to love Nat as much as she did, but he’d never warmed up to her best friend, and now she had to wonder if that had been a warning sign all along.
“Seriously, though, how are you doing?”
Natasha’s soft inquiry cut into her troubled thoughts. “I’m fine,” she said truthfully. “But…shit, I’m so embarrassed. I’m dreading having to explain to everyone why we cancelled the wedding.”