The Bare Facts (12 page)

“Didn't you say that you had some articles in the works? I'd like to see them.”

Haley's ambition rose. “You would? I haven't quite finished the second one, but I can e-mail you the first one.”

“Great. Now go pack up your desk,” Kate ordered with a smile.

Haley got up to go. Kate picked up the phone and began to dial. “I can't wait to see the next column, Haley. Keep up the good work.”

When Haley got back to her desk, Margo still wasn't at hers. Haley walked to the receptionist.

“Do you know where Margo is?”

“She had an appointment this morning and—” Heather broke off, punching one of the buzzing buttons. “
SPICE Magazine,
how may I direct your call?” She punched a couple more buttons and then looked up. “…said she would be late.”

When another call came through, Haley said, “Oh. Thanks.”

Haley decided that there was no time like the present. She'd call Dylan to set up their third encounter. She had to divorce her heart from the sex, but that wasn't going to be easy.

It was hard not to let herself be seduced by the thought that Dylan would change for her. Her mother told her that a woman eventually snags every man, no matter how wild he is in his younger days. Someday, he falls in love and that's the end of the story.

She'd like to believe that her love could change Dylan the way her mother said love could change a man, but she lived in the real world. She'd rather hold out for a man who could be faithful. Not someone known to be unfaithful from the get-go.

Once she gave her heart to a man, she would want him to do the same. She wanted what her parents had, and she was unable to settle for less.

By the time Haley had packed up her desk, Margo breezed in. She looked flushed and excited. When Haley met her eyes, her demeanor changed to a guilty one, as if she'd been doing something she shouldn't have.

Margo smiled tentatively, and Haley got a strange sensation in her chest. Margo was never tentative, not in all the time she'd known the outspoken redhead.

As soon as Margo hung up her coat, she came over. She took one look at Haley's face and said, “What happened Thursday night? All the details and don't you dare leave anything out.”

Haley looked down at her hands.

“You slept with him,” Margo accused.

Haley's head snapped up, her mouth hitching in a wry smile.

Margo gave Haley a sheepish look. “You know what I mean. You really
slept
with him, like in making love. You spent the night. Jeez, where was the Dalai Lama when you needed him?”

“Believe me, Margo. Chanting wouldn't have done me any good. The bad part is he hasn't contacted me in three days. This is what I was trying to avoid in
college. He doesn't know what to say to me or he doesn't care at all. Or he has someone else he's too busy with. Sleeping with him obviously means nothing to him.”

“I was wondering why you were ducking my calls. I was worried.” Margo hugged Haley.

“I had to lie low for a couple of days and sort things out. I had everything worked out until I got into the office today.” Haley hugged her back just as tightly.

“What things?”

“I had decided to stop experiencing the fantasies and write them on my own.”

“But?”

“The column was okay, but it didn't sing. The experience makes it so much more—real.”

“That's because it is.”

She paused for a moment and folded her arms tightly over her chest. “Kate's moving me into the corner office.”

“When did this happen?” Margo said, eyeing all the boxes.

“When I walked in this morning. I can't stop writing the columns now. She asked to see my articles. This could be the break I need. The next two columns have to be spectacular.”

“That's wonderful, Haley.”

“It would be if I didn't have this pain in my heart. I guess I'll have to tough it out.” Haley swallowed hard, trying to achieve an inner calm. If she was collected and calm, it would show clearly in her voice.
“At least I have a two-week reprieve before I have to set up another fantasy.”

“What are you going to do when the fantasies are over?”

Haley released a pent-up breath, being as honest with herself as she was with Margo. “Exactly what I was going to do from the beginning. We'll go our separate ways.”

“Haley, I'm really sorry about this, but look at it this way. You'll get what you want. That is what's important. That's what you started out to do.” She smiled faintly with encouragement in her eyes.

“Margo, I wish this column had been dropped in your lap instead of mine.”

“I don't have a hot guy in the wings to practice on. I don't even have a guy at all, since I sent the Prince packing. Besides, column writing is not my thing.”

There was a small pocket of silence, then Haley asked, “So where were you?”

“Dentist,” Margo answered. A mite too fast.

Haley studied her friend's face, finding secrets in her eyes. “I thought you got your teeth cleaned last month.”

“I thought I had a cavity. I went to see him about it.” Again, Margo spoke too fast and avoided Haley's eyes completely this time.

The discussion was cut short when the movers came in. It bothered Haley that for the first time since she'd known Margo, she felt that her friend was keep
ing something from her. The quick way Margo scooted away from Haley's desk made Haley feel deflated. Why would Margo feel she needed to hide something? They were like sisters. Margo would share when she was ready. Haley hoped she had the courage to hear what her friend had to say.

She watched as Margo sat down at her desk and turned on her computer. Drawing her gaze away from her co-worker, her eyes collided with the phone. No use putting off the call. She might as well get it over with. She went to pick up the phone, but instead drew her hand away. She'd call when she was ready or when she had no other choice. She didn't want to admit that deep down inside she wanted him to call her. She wanted him to tell her how wonderful it had been on Thursday night. Who was she kidding? She wanted him. Period.

 

T
WO WEEKS CAME
and went, and Haley still hadn't received a call from Dylan.

Every day that passed without a call made her heart a little bit heavier, but she took it in stoic stride and got on with her life by rewriting and polishing her articles to give to Kate to read.

When she got to the office that morning, she decided it would be today that she would call Dylan. She couldn't put it off any longer. She hoped he hadn't made plans for next weekend. She dialed his number and his personal assistant put her through.

“Guess where I'm sitting?” she asked.

“On your fanny?” he replied, his voice warm and deep on the line. She had to take a deep breath around the laughter.

“You're a riot. In my new office, well, my temporary new office.”

“If Kate Moore doesn't watch out, you'll be sitting your fanny in her chair.”

Don't bring it up, Haley told herself sternly. Just get this over with and hang up like you haven't got a care in the world and pretend that your heart isn't breaking. “You have that much confidence in me?”

“I happen to have a copy of your latest column. It burned my fingers. Haley, you have some amazing talent.”

“Thanks, Dylan. That means a lot. I couldn't have written those columns without you.”

“Yeah, that's me. The fuel to the fire.”

Haley thought he sounded wistful, but she had to be wrong.

“I need your fuel again, but to tell you the truth, I'm fresh out of ideas. I want to do something with ice, but I can't think of a thing.”

“Why don't you leave this one and the next one up to me?”

“All right. One fantasy with ice and the other has to involve bathing. Those are your topics, so to speak.”

“I'll make it a surprise. Meet me at my place Saturday morning, say, nine.”

“All right. I'm curious already.”

 

L
ATER ON
Laurel breezed into Dylan's office. She was holding the latest issue of
SPICE.
There was no preamble.

“You're the guy in her fantasy. You've been helping her with this.”

He shrugged and his sister sat down in front of his desk. “That's what you meant by complicated. I never would have thought that you, Mr. Straitlaced, would agree to this, especially with that NAPTA account you just landed.”

“Marie McLain, the president, met her, and I think she might have recognized her name. So, I could have a problem if she remembers. Still, Haley doesn't mention me by name in the column. To all her readers, I don't really exist. I'm a figment of Haley's imagination. That's what fantasies are all about.”

Laurel sat forward, her eyes shrewd. “Being just her fantasy man bothers you. It really bothers you. Are you in love with her?”

He shied away from that question, his answer quick and sharp. “It wouldn't do me any good if I was. You know what would happen if Dad found out I was involved with a woman whose father was a mailman. I won't have her subjected to his biases. I won't hurt another woman again because Dad doesn't like her.”

“I'm sorry, Dylan.”

“Westin won't accept her, either. He was extremely rude to her when Haley and I were out to dinner last month. It tore me up inside to see that hurt look on her face. I wanted to punch my own boss.”

“Unless you're willing to take a chance that Haley
is made of tougher stuff than you're giving her credit for, all I can offer is my sympathy.”

“And how is Todd?” Dylan's soft question hung in the air and he immediately wished he could take it back. Lashing out at his sister was a defense mechanism to protect himself from his own conscience.

“A painfully good point, Dylan.”

He got up from his chair, came around the desk and hunkered down until he was at eye level with her. He squeezed her arm, his voice contrite. “I'm sorry, Laurel. You didn't deserve that.”

“Maybe I did. I gave up Todd. You'll soon end it with Haley. It makes me wonder how much we'll regret those actions a few lonely years down the road.”

Weariness swamped him. He hadn't slept well lately. “I already regret it, Laurel, but it doesn't change the facts.”

She nodded and studied his face. “So, little brother, do you have more of these fantasies to help her with?”

“Yes. Two more. And it's my turn to think of something. Why?”

“I have an idea that I think she'll like.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Laurel, I can't discuss this with you.”

“No, of course not. Just the setup, you know the place to go for that kind of thing. Trust me.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't something he relished, talking about sex and fantasies with his sister.

“Are you free to go shopping?”

Like a man ready to go to the firing squad, he said, “I'm pretty much done here. Let's go.”

“H
ALEY
!”
Dylan's voice came from behind her as she made her way to his loft.

Nothing had prepared her for the vision that met her eyes when she turned around. Haley remembered the first time she thought James Dean was sexy with his hot leather jacket and rebel-without-a-cause attitude.

She never thought she'd see the day when James Dean would pale in comparison. Dylan was waiting for her all right, but it wasn't
in
his loft. He was
outside
his loft, leaning against a motorcycle. A Harley, to be exact. What was it about a leather jacket and a Harley that made her palms sweaty? How old had she been when a knight on a white horse suddenly turned into a muscular hunk in black leather, roaring out of the mist to sweep her off her feet?

She wasn't the only one staring. The women passing by couldn't take their eyes off him. His stunning green eyes traveled her body in an admiring languorous slide. Stark white teeth flashed against hot honey skin. Oh baby, what a mouth, full gorgeous lips made for kissing.

What did firefighters call a wall of flame that sud
denly engulfs you? A flashover. She was experiencing a flashover. A woman walked into a car door, another stepped off the curb and barely kept her balance. An old woman, walking her dog, tripped over the dog's leash.

It would have been comical if Haley could laugh. But she had to draw in air to laugh and she couldn't breathe at this moment.

“Hey, babe, want a ride?” His voice was pure seduction as it reached out and wrapped around her.

He wore a pair of tight black leather biker chaps studded with metal over equally tight jeans that fit snug across his groin. Beneath a black leather jacket, a basic black T-shirt stretched across his wide, well-muscled chest.

She knew she was staring with her mouth wide open. His grin widened, and his dark eyes moved over her body as if he had every right to puruse her.

“You strike me as a woman looking for a wild ride. Want one?”

His hair was mussed in a bad-boy come-and-get-me way. The usual corporate every-hair-in-place style was gone. Thick hair caressed his temple, the dark tangle fell over one eye. With a big hand, he scooped it back, leather creaking with the movement. Her mouth was the only dry part of her. She knew what was beneath all that leather and denim. She knew his stomach was rippling with muscle, his legs heavy and sinewy. She had molded those strong, broad shoulders beneath the sexy jacket, studied the slope of his cheekbones while he slept, felt the softness of his
mouth when he kissed her. She knew what it felt like to hold him against her soft body, all that power and strength under her palms.

He raised his arm; bending his elbow, he crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”

Haley was paralyzed. Her eyes roamed over him again, hardly believing that he could have changed so drastically.

The old lady nudged her, and scolded, “Honey, what are you waiting for?”

Haley finally moved forward. As she got closer, she could see that he'd pierced his ear. From it dangled a little gold hoop. Haley wanted to take his lobe into her mouth and feel the metal against her tongue. He pushed off the bike with a powerful sexy move. There was mischief in his eyes.

“Dylan,” she whispered.

“Who's Dylan?” he whispered back, except his mouth was close to her ear. His hot breath sent a tingle of desire to every nerve ending in her body. “Just call me Maverick.”

She closed her eyes when he gently nipped her ear-lobe and then sucked it into his mouth.

“Maverick. Right, Maverick,” Haley repeated, her thoughts shattering into tiny pieces. “What are you doing? This was supposed to be about ice, Dylan.”

“Trust me. I've improvised and decided on leather and ice, but right now I'm taking you away for the weekend.”

“The weekend?”

“Yeah. Let's go. I've planned a nice surprise.”

“I'm not packed.”

“Don't worry. I've got it covered.” He handed her a helmet and she put it on. He straddled the bike, his big thighs bunching, and the leather of his jacket creaking again.

She threw her leg over the seat and settled in behind him.

“Slide closer, honey,” he ordered in a lazy drawl. She slid her lower body until it was pressed up against his backside. Leaning into him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, her breasts pressed into the fragrant warm leather of his jacket, the strong muscles of his back. Her senses reeled from the hot, spicy scent of him. He gunned the motorcycle and slipped deftly into traffic.

The stop and go of New York was soon left behind as they roared out of the city onto the open highway.

The wind slapped her face with a bracing hand. She breathed in the scent of hot male, felt the powerful bike beneath her body, vibrating against the most sensitive parts of her.

 

T
HEY RODE FOR A WHILE
, an hour or two. She noted when they left New York and entered the state of Pennsylvania, heading northeast into the Pocono Mountains. It wasn't long before Haley saw a sign that welcomed them to White Haven. When they turned down a nearly deserted country road, she unhooked one of her arms from around his waist. Sliding her freed hand across the expanse of his leather-clad thigh, she felt his muscles tighten as he took a
turn. The blood rushed to her head at the taut energy in him. The way he muscled the bike around the curve was a major turn-on. All that hard, powerful male strength made her crazy just to touch him.

The leather was butter soft, the heat from his skin scorched her palm and the hardness of his thigh gave her goose bumps and tingles all the way to her toes. She moaned softly against his ear and felt the quick intake of his breath.

Her hand skimmed over his groin and she felt his reaction, her hand moving to the hard muscles of his abdomen, wanting to feel his hot skin against her fingertips. She could barely wait until they got to where they were going. This distance she'd put between them dissolved in an instant, as if it had never been. She had to accept that she burned for him. Wanted him on top of her, deep inside her. It was lust. That's all, she told herself. The column, the writing—all of it just a way for her to give in to that deep, burning need to be near this man. A need that hadn't gone away in the year since she'd woken up to his face inches from hers, her breasts against his hard, hot chest. In her deepest, darkest fantasies, she dreamed about him taking her as she surrendered to her powerful desire. Never in her life had she felt so free, so beautiful.

She slipped her hand under his T-shirt, rubbing her palm rhythmically over the silky skin, pressing her lower body tighter, harder to his backside. She could feel the quick rise and fall of his chest. Her fingertips skimmed one nipple and she felt it pebble against the
sensitive pads of her fingertips. She leaned into him, kissing the exposed swath of skin between the collar of the jacket and the helmet.

She got lost in the feel of him, the taste of him and almost fell off the bike when he pulled in to a quaint bed-and-breakfast in the small town of White Haven. The name was tacked on a piece of wood over the door. Cinnamon Bear B&B was lettered in black, a bear with a fish in its paw below the title.

The house had a wonderful porch with rockers. Inside the charming inn she could see a neat dark-haired woman behind the registration desk. She got off the bike, but she noticed that Dylan hadn't moved. His hands were clenched around the handlebars of the bike as if he was trying to squeeze the life out of the metal.

He released one hand and flipped up the visor of the dark, sexy helmet. His green eyes were on fire.

“I swear, Haley. You're going to kill me one of these days.” He took off his helmet.

Haley flipped up her own visor. “Haley? You can call me Biker Chick.” She smiled as she watched him get off the bike. His movements were fluid power and tensile strength. She took off her helmet and he took it out of her hands and put it on the seat along with his.

He hefted the saddlebags and, like a gentleman, offered her his arm.

“Your arm? I thought bad-boy bikers took their women in a fireman's carry up the stairs and threw them down to make mad passionate love.”

“How stupid of me.”

He threw the saddlebags over his shoulder to free his hands. Haley backed away. “Dylan. I was kidding.”

He slowly stalked her, grinning like a fool. “Maverick, honey.”

Haley giggled. She couldn't help it. He was so damn cute with those bags over his shoulder and determination on his face. She ran toward the B&B, but he caught her at the waist, flipped her around and then deftly slid his shoulder under her. Haley was hefted into the air. She started to laugh, so breathless and out of control she could barely speak.

In between gusts of laughter, she panted, “Wait. Put me down.” She heard his boot hit the first wooden stair, a hollow sound as he ascended. He didn't even slow. He opened the door and closed it behind him. Haley got a dizzying panoramic view of the cozy reception area complete with a large roaring fire.

They approached the registration desk. A woman, presumably the one Haley had glimpsed through the large windows standing behind the reception desk, spoke with a smile in her voice. “Mr. Malone. So glad to see you back. If you'd like to sign in, I'll get you your key.”

This woman knew him, which could only mean he most likely had been here with other women. Some of the air went out of her balloon of happiness right then. She was here to get her column. That was all.
And the way things had been going, it looked as if this was going to be the best one yet.

She could feel Dylan's shoulder move as he wrote his name and again as he accepted the key from the woman.

“Dylan. Put me down.”

Dylan slapped her on the butt. “Be quiet, woman.”

“It's your usual room.”

Haley hung on as he negotiated the stairs. His usual room? Yeah, she'd pegged it right. He'd been here before and Haley knew he hadn't been alone.

She heard him insert the key and turn the lock to open the door. He entered the room, and with another panoramic slide, Dylan closed it.

He walked over to the bed and threw her on top. When she'd cleared the hair out of her eyes, he gave her a cheeky grin. He leaned down, trapping her between his strong arms. His scent engulfed her, his lower body pressed to hers. “As much as I would like to ravish you at this very minute, there just isn't time.”

“What do you have up your sleeve?”

“I'm in charge of this fantasy, Haley, so you lie back and relax.”

She looked around the room. The decor was beautiful country chic with a big four-poster bed, a fireplace and comfortable furniture. She sat up and drew her legs in to sit cross-legged.

Dylan put the bags down on the bed. He unbuckled the flaps and pulled out two pairs of his-and-her jeans, two lightweight, red nylon long-sleeved shirts, two
Henleys, a sports bra, two pairs of black lightweight gloves, two pairs of black polypropylene tights and two royal-blue lightweight jackets.

When those articles were on the bed, he then pulled out a small cosmetics case. He handed it to her. She unzipped it and found two toothbrushes, toothpaste, floss, a hairbrush, comb, his razor, expensive body cream, shampoo, conditioner and body wash.

“There's also a change of underwear for you and a couple more surprises that we can't discuss now.” He looked at his watch. “Come on. We've only got thirty minutes to dress.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“It's a surprise. Come on. Put these on. He handed her the tights, nylon shirt and bra. “Don't put any underwear under the tights. It'll chafe you.”

“You are a very resourceful man. How did you know what size I wear?”

“I guessed. It's not like my hands haven't been all over every part of your delectable body. I know every contour, every soft spot, every erogenous zone.”

Haley's breath locked in her throat, and she felt as if she were drowning in his stormy eyes. She felt an enormous pull toward him. Instead of getting right into the fantasy, he had her putting on outdoor gear as if they were going hiking or who knew what else. Then suddenly she got it. He remembered how she had been too nervous at his cabin in the Sourland Mountains and he was trying to make it easier for her. Tenderness touched her heart. He was very close
to her, and she reached out and touched his face, moving her thumb over his cheekbone.

“Thanks, Maverick. You're one helluva nice guy.”

He laughed, caught her hand and kissed it. “Don't let that get out. It'll ruin my reputation.” With a sharp tug, he pulled her off the bed, placed his hands on her shoulders, turned her, slapped her butt and gave her a nudge to the bathroom. “Come on. They'll leave without us.”

 

D
YLAN PULLED
into a parking spot close to the registration building for Whitewater Expeditions.

After he'd taken her helmet and Haley had gotten a view of the facility, her eyes widened. “You're taking me whitewater rafting? How did you know that I've always wanted to do this?”

Dylan said, “A little bird told me.”

“Who?”

“Can't say. She's also responsible for providing some of the cosmetics like the foundation and lipstick. Said those were the two most important things a woman needed.”

“Was it Margo?”

“She was very helpful.”

“You talked to Margo about me? I didn't realize you knew her so well.”

“I don't know her well, but she's your best friend. I figured she'd know what you liked.”

“She's dead meat when I see her. How she kept this a secret, I'll never know.”

“I told her, on penalty of death, she wasn't to breathe a word of this to you.”

“Dylan, this is so great! I can't wait.”

He secured the helmets to the bike and headed toward the registration building. There they picked up their wet suits and appropriate shoes to keep their bodies and feet warm and dry. He also picked up their lunch. Haley was marveling at all the gear.