I Love How You Love Me

  Knowing she couldn't go back out to Dylan feeling this soft, this vulnerable, she went into her en suite bathroom to brush her hair and splash some cold water on her face. Unfortunately, the woman who stared back at her didn't look at all like a professional journalist. On the contrary, with eyes that bright and skin that flushed, she looked far more like a woman who was falling head over heels for the gorgeous man in her living room.

  She gave herself a mental and physical shake. She couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that. Not when there was a little boy sleeping just a few feet away who depended on her to protect him. She was done making mistakes with good-looking, wealthy men.

  Grace had always trusted her instincts, at least until she'd fallen for Richard. After having gotten things so horribly wrong with him, she'd been keeping her guard up, to protect both herself and her son.

  She'd never be able to forget what his parents had said to her when they'd paid her a surprise visit the day after she'd told Richard about her pregnancy: "Our son has a weakness for inappropriate girls like you, unfortunately. But his temporary mistake cannot become a permanent stain on our family." She'd been stunned when the esteemed former senator and his wife had handed her two certified checks drawn on an account with no identifiers on it. One for an abortion...and the other as payment for her silence. She'd started planning her move that same day, to a city as far away from Washington, D.C., as she could get.

  But as wealthy and powerful as the Bentleys were, Grace was pretty sure that the Sullivans were even more so. Would any of them ever deal with "accidents" in this way? By buying off and burying them?

  She couldn't imagine that they would, couldn't wrap her head around any of the men or women she'd met tonight doing anything that terrible. Then again, how could she know for sure? After all, she'd only just met them all. And hadn't Richard snowed her, too?

  As renewed wariness crept back into her, she decided it was good that Dylan was still here. That way, she could make it perfectly clear before he left that the two of them were never going to move beyond the story she was writing.

  Because even if Dylan and his family were as good, as honest and kind, as they'd seemed tonight, the truth was that it would only make things harder. Maybe if Dylan had been like his architect brother and Realtor sister, whose lives were about putting down permanent roots, then that fantasy might have had a chance of coming true. But if she'd learned anything during her two-hour interview this afternoon on his parents' back porch, it had been that the man on the other side of her bedroom door was meant to sail away wherever the wind took him, whenever it started blowing. Once upon a time, she might have been able to believe in fantasy happy-ever-afters and go with him. But she couldn't do that now. Building a safe, loving home for Mason was her top priority.

  Looking up into the mirror, she saw that the brightness on her face was now gone. In its place was acceptance...and determination not to get swept up in attraction or romance.

  "Sorry that took me so long," she said when she returned to the living room. "I needed to get Mason changed before tucking him in." Not to mention the time it had taken to get her head back on straight.

  "It gave me time to admire your pictures."

  Dylan was standing in front of one from the day Mason had been born. Seven pounds, two ounces, wrapped in the hospital's swaddling blankets, he'd been red-faced and hairless. Grace still remembered how awed she'd been by the life she'd created...and how terrified she was at the thought of taking him home all by herself.

  "It was the best day of my life."

  "I'll bet it was." She could feel Dylan's eyes on her now, instead of the picture. "Everyone in my family loved the two of you. Just the way I knew they would."

  "Your family is fabulous," she said as she walked into her small adjoining kitchen to put the coffee on. "Mason was in heaven playing with everyone. And they were all so kind, even when he almost ruined your sister's wedding."

  "He didn't come anywhere close to ruining anything. Trust me, Mia meant it when she said it was her perfect wedding."

  Grace knew she needed to get serious with Dylan, but there was something she needed to tell him first. "Tonight was amazing. Mia and Ford's wedding was the most beautiful one I've ever been to. They're so perfect for each other, and the fact that your brother Ian officiated made it even better."

  "Mia's always had a knack for doing things her own way." She could hear how much he loved his sister in his voice, see the obvious affection in his eyes. "I'd say the wedding tonight was exactly right for her and Ford."

  "It was beautiful. Did you really not know anything about it?"

  "Nope, nothing. Ian and Mia have always been especially close, so it's not surprising that they'd have cooked this up. They would have known how much my parents would love it, too, more than having to contend with hundreds of strangers and paparazzi everywhere."

  Grace had never really understood the pressure that someone like Ford might have to deal with until tonight. Obviously, none of the Sullivans was complaining about their good fortune, but it definitely added another layer to why Dylan might choose to keep his distance from the press. She sincerely hoped her story about him didn't end up opening a can of worms for him.

  "Your parents really did love it," Grace said with a smile as she handed Dylan a cup. "Everyone was so happy that even Mason couldn't resist cheering at the end." And she hadn't been able to resist moving into Dylan's arms to hug him and share in the joy all around her.

  Remembering how warm, how good, it had felt to be in his arms, jolted her into realizing that all this wedding talk had veered her even further toward the personal. Knowing she needed to build up her professional boundaries once more, she made herself circle back to the real reason she and Dylan were spending time together.

  "I hope I didn't worry you when I told your family that an article like this often takes more than one in-depth interview for me to put it together. I won't take up too much of your time, though."

  "Whatever you need, just let me know," he said with one of his easy grins, the epitome of the carefree sailor. "Are you free tomorrow?"

  Surprised that he was that excited about moving forward with their story, she said, "I need to transcribe the recording of our interview before I can ask you any intelligent questions during round two. Monday would probably be better."

  "Monday's fine for the interview, but tomorrow night I'd like to take you and Mason to an aquarium for kids that one of my friends owns. From what I know of your little guy, and how curious he is about everything, I'm pretty sure he'd get a huge kick out of sticking his hands into the tanks to touch the sea creatures."

  "We can't." The two words were some of the hardest she'd ever said, when she knew that not only would Mason love to play at that aquarium, but also that going with Dylan would make it even better for him.

  "How about Sunday, then?"

  "No, that isn't what I mean." Her apartment was way too small for the sparks that were jumping between the two of them, despite her most determined efforts to douse them. "We both had a great time with you tonight, but from now on I think we should only see each other when we're working on the story."

  "You told me you don't have a husband, and that there's no boyfriend, either."

  "There isn't."

  "You, me, Mason--we all get along pretty well, don't you think?"

  "Yes, but that isn't the point."

  "Then tell me what is, Grace. Tell me why you won't let me take you and Mason out to have some fun tomorrow night after both of us have finished our work for the day."

  In less than sixty seconds, Dylan had transformed from carefree to utterly determined. She should have seen it coming, should have realized that anyone who could pilot a forty-foot sailboat through dangerous and unpredictable seas would have more determination in his little finger than most people could even comprehend.

  And in that moment, she realized that was precisely what Dylan was. Dangerous. Because for as sweet as he was with Mason, w
ith her, with his family...he was also incredibly, shockingly dangerous to her peace of mind. To her future.

  She thought she'd wanted him on Tuesday when she'd first met him at his boathouse, and then again tonight when he'd picked them up. But that was nothing compared to how much she wanted--needed--him now. Despite a past that had taught her to know better.

  She was so flustered, the first thing that came out of her mouth was, "If we spend too much time together, I might not be able to remain objective about my story."

  "I'm not sure I see how objective you have to be about some guy who likes sailing and boats." His gaze went too deep, saw too much. But she still couldn't look away. "That's not why you think you need to keep your distance, is it?"

  All afternoon, she'd asked him to tell her the truth about his life, about his love for sailing. And after witnessing his honest love for his family firsthand, how could she possibly lie to him now? "No, that's not the real reason."

  "One day," he said in a gentle voice, after the silence had drawn out between them for several long moments, "I hope you'll trust me enough to tell me what it is."

  She hadn't talked to anyone about what had happened, hadn't wanted her old friends to know what an idiot she'd been by falling for promises her ex hadn't actually ever made. Nor had she wanted anyone to know who the father of her child was, just in case the Bentleys decided they wanted Mason after all. It had been easier just to disappear the day after they'd given her the checks. To take a trip across the country, seeing all the sights she and her parents had always talked about visiting one day, before finally settling in Seattle when the water had called to her.

  And yet, even though she shouldn't feel as if she knew Dylan well enough, everything she'd been through over the past year and a half suddenly wanted to come spilling out.

  "Does Mason usually sack out at eight o'clock?" When she nodded, he said, "Then how about I pick you up at five so we'll have a good couple of hours at the aquarium before he gets too sleepy to enjoy himself?"

  "Didn't you hear what I just said? I can't date you."

  "It won't be a date. Just three new friends hanging out."

  She knew she should say no, but now that she'd been perfectly clear with Dylan that they weren't going to start anything romantic, was there really any harm in spending a couple of hours together at an aquarium? Especially when she knew how much fun Mason would have with the sea creatures and Dylan.

  Of course, even as she rationalized, the wanting was humming away inside of her, calling her a liar. Just admit you want to be with him, that you want his mouth, his hands, on you. That you've been wondering all night what it would be like to kiss him.

  "Doesn't the aquarium close at five?"

  His grin told her how pleased he was that he was on the verge of getting what he wanted, even if she hadn't quite said yes yet. "I'll trade my buddy a sail to keep it open a couple of hours longer for us."

  With that, he took both of their cups over to the sink and rinsed them out, a man who had clearly been raised not to expect anyone to wait on him. She stood, too, hoping it wasn't going to be awkward when they said good night.

  "Thanks for a really great interview and for introducing me to your family. I really did have a good time tonight."

  "I did, too, friend," he said as he headed out her door. "See you tomorrow night."

  Another man might have pressured her into being more, but Dylan had made her laugh instead with his use of friend.

  "You were a handful as a kid," she said, "weren't you?"

  At the bottom of the steps, he laughed, too. "Why do you think my parents were always so happy to see me sailing away?"

  Closing the door behind her, Grace knew she had no right to feel disappointed that he'd left without even trying to sneak a kiss. He was simply doing what she'd asked him to do: treating her like a friend instead of a potential girlfriend. But she had barely slid the bolt closed when she heard footsteps and then a knock.

  "You're back." She looked up into his eyes, an even deeper, darker brown than usual, as all the butterflies came right back.

  He held out her bag with her notebook and recorder. "You forgot this in my car."

  "Oh." Her voice was flat, heavy with disappointment she couldn't figure out how to hold back. "Thanks. I would have been in trouble without this tomorrow."

  "It doesn't feel right to me, either," he said softly.

  Doesn't feel right? "You don't want to work with me on this story?"

  "No, the story is fine. Leaving like this, like you don't mean anything more to me than just some journalist, that's what feels wrong." He reached for her hand with his free one, just that one simple touch sending heat searing through her. "I was trying so hard tonight to play it cool, to not scare you away by coming on too strong. But all I've ended up feeling like is a liar. And I can't stomach the thought of lying to you, Grace." He stroked a thumb across her palm, making her shiver despite the heat swamping her system. "So here's the truth--I've wanted to kiss you from the first moment I set eyes on you, and every moment we're together, I only want it more. But, damn it, I won't do anything to hurt you when I know someone else already has. So if you don't want to me to kiss you, and if I've somehow read everything wrong since Tuesday when I could have sworn we already had a connection, tell me now...and I'll make myself go without learning if your mouth tastes as good as it looks."

  His touch, his good looks, even her intense attraction to him hadn't been enough to send her over the edge. But when he told her he wouldn't steal a kiss that might hurt her--that was when her defenses fell all the way. Especially when she was still flying from the beautiful wedding at his parents' house.

  He was making this her choice. Not one that came from guilt. Or because she felt like she owed him a kiss after the evening they'd just shared. But simply because she wanted to know his taste, too.

  One kiss with Dylan didn't have to mean forever. It didn't even have to be a promise of more. And maybe if they kissed now, it would keep them from blowing it out of proportion during the rest of their interview.

  So instead of grabbing her bag, she grabbed him.

  Sliding her hands into his dark hair, she pulled his mouth down to hers and poured all of her pent-up hunger, and need, and wonder at the beauty of the wedding she'd been a part of tonight into the kiss. For a few precious moments, she let herself give in to the madness, to the fiercest, sweetest desire she'd ever known as she nipped at his lower lip with her teeth, then met his tongue with the wet slick of her own. He moved close enough that she could feel the heat and the strength of him all along the front of her body. She drank in his groan, breathed in his clean masculine scent, gloried in his hard muscles pressed against the length of her.

  Her head spun with the taste of him, her blood heated with desire, and her chest clenched with desperate need. She wanted more--so much more that she was flat-out stunned by her need for him--and, just for a few moments more, couldn't stop herself from taking their kiss even deeper as a low hum of pleasure sounded in her throat.

  Both of them were breathing hard by the time she managed to get a tenuous grip on herself and draw back. She'd never seen eyes so dark, so filled with desire. Eyes that watched her so carefully, as if he was afraid she'd spook. But after all she'd been through over the past couple of years, she decided she would let herself have this one perfect kiss. And she wouldn't regret it.

  Even if they could never have a second.

  Desperate not to make a big deal out of it, she tried to joke, "If you sail as well as you kiss, no wonder you're a boating legend."

  His hands were still on her hips as he said, "You'll find out soon."

  "You want to take me sailing?" The thought thrilled and worried her in equal measure. She knew he was right, that she should experience for herself being on one of his boats with him. Unfortunately, something told her that it was going to be really, really difficult to keep her secrets--and Mason's--their own while out on the ocean with Dylan.

>   "You can't write this story without sailing with me at least once."

  "Once I understand more about what you do and about your boats, I'll join you for a sail. But it would probably be best if it took place as our final interview." That way she'd have plenty of time to brace herself against the power of the cockpit confessional.

  "Would that really be best?" he asked. "To wait that long?"

  She knew he wasn't just talking about sailing anymore, even as she said, "I really think it would." The easiest thing would have been to lean in for another kiss. Easy and oh so good. But she'd stopped being able to take the easy road a year and a half ago. "Good night, Dylan."

  His hands tightened on her hips for a split second, sending shivers through her entire body before he finally let her go. "Good night."

  And the craziest thing of all was that, despite knowing she needed to keep a tight rein on her heart, Grace couldn't remember ever having had a better one.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Few things, few places, were better than a sunny Saturday morning at the harbor. Families gathered to take out the boats that had been docked all week, dogs barked and played, people's laughter skipped along the glassy surface of the water.

  Dylan was back from a quick sail around the Sound by nine and had been working since then on the twenty-four-foot sloop. All the boats he'd built had been a labor of love, but none more than this one. He'd told his family the boat was for a buyer out of San Francisco. But it was actually a surprise for his brothers, his sister, their mates and their kids. He was more than happy to have them use his boats any time they wanted to, but he wanted them to have a sailboat of their own. One where he'd personally laid every plank, pounded every nail. He'd turned down several lucrative boatbuilding contracts in the past couple of months and would happily have turned down more if he hadn't been at the tail end of the build now.

  He had rock 'n' roll blasting--courtesy of his new brother-in-law, Ford Vincent--while the sun streamed in through the boathouse doors and the open skylights overhead. Today was especially sweaty work. Sweaty and satisfying. Just like sex, he thought with a grin as he wiped his face dry with the T-shirt he'd taken off a while ago.