She thought he hadn't heard her. He went into the bathroom, put his shaving kit on the marble counter, and called out, 'This place is huge. I can't help what?'
He had been listening. 'It's second nature to you. I think you were born with this… talent. Now that I think about it, all of the Buchanan brothers have it. It must be in the genes,' she added as she considered the possibility.
He stood in the doorway watching her. 'I've got lots of talents, Pickle.'
'Yes, you do.'
'What was I born with?'
She really wished she hadn't started this conversation because he wasn't going to let it go. 'A tiger can't help having stripes, and you can't help flirting. It's okay,' she hastened to add. 'You make every woman you meet feel special. It's a gift.'
'A gift, huh?'
She couldn't tell if he was pleased by her observation or irritated. 'Yes, that's right. Which bed do you want?' she asked, hoping to change the subject.
'The one by the door. You sound like you approve of this gift.'
Approve? She wouldn't go that far. 'I understand,' she said. 'And it doesn't faze me.'
'So if I were to come on to you, or hit on you, or flirt, or whatever it is you think I do…'
'It wouldn't bother me at all. I'm immune now, Dylan.'
Ah, man, was he going to have some fun with her. 'Good to know,' he drawled.
Desperate to change the subject, she picked up her makeup bag and her pajamas and robe. 'I'd like to take a shower and go to bed.'
'No problem,' he said.
She glanced at the clock on the bedside table and was shocked by how late it was. They'd stopped for dinner and must have lingered longer than she realized.
She was walking past him when she remarked, 'It's been a long day.' She thought he had said something and turned around. 'Excuse me?'
'Yeah, okay.'
She tilted her head. 'What…'
He moved fast. His hand cupped the back of her neck and his mouth captured hers.
She didn't even think about pushing him away or stepping back. She might have sighed into his mouth, though. When his tongue swept inside to stroke hers, her body tingled all the way down to her toes.
She was about to put her arms around his neck when he pulled back. Her heart was racing, and she couldn't catch her breath, but Dylan looked unaffected. He reached behind her and pushed the bathroom door open. She didn't budge.
'Why did you do that?'
'Kiss you?'
'Yes.'
'You didn't ask me to?' His eyes sparkled with devilment.
'No, of course I didn't.'
He gave her a little push to get her to move. 'I could have sworn you did. My mistake.'
She caught a glimpse of his grin as he walked away.
She shut the door, locked it, and dropped her makeup bag on the counter. There were two sinks. She took the one closest to the wall and tried not to think about the kiss as she took out her toothbrush and toiletries.
She glanced at herself in the mirror and cringed. She looked horrible. Her hair was hanging limply around her face, and the shadows under her eyes had gotten darker. And he'd kissed her. Goes to show you, she thought. Dylan either had very low standards, or he would hit on any woman no matter how bad she looked.
A hot shower made her feel almost human again. She hadn't realized how tense she was or how much the muscles in her neck and shoulders ached until the hot water loosened them.
She worried about Dylan's shoulder. He hadn't had therapy in a while. Were his muscles tightening up? Was he in pain? If he weren't so sensitive and macho about his injury, she would have asked.
She washed her hair and dried it, brushed her teeth, and put on moisturizer. Then she cleaned the bathroom. She knew how much Dylan hated clutter. He liked everything neat and in its place. When she was finished she checked herself in the mirror one last time and opened the door.
'Your turn.'
He gave her the once-over as he walked toward her. His gaze lingered on her legs.
She swallowed. Why was she feeling so nervous? After all, she'd slept with him, hadn't she? He'd seen her naked, and she'd seen him.
Don't think about it. Just dive in bed, pull the covers up, and hide like a coward.
He stopped when he was directly in front of her. His hands settled on her hips and he pulled her close. He leaned down, and she thought he was going to kiss her again. She couldn't allow that, shouldn't allow it, she thought as she tilted her head back in anticipation.
'Dylan, I don't think…'
'You don't think what? I'm trying to get a closer look at those bruises. The one on your forehead is beginning to fade.'
He let go of her and stepped back. She felt like an idiot. 'It's better now,' she stammered.
'One more thing,' he said when she tried to walk past him.
'Yes?'
She looked up just as his hand brushed the side of her face. And then he kissed her. It was a quick touch of his mouth on hers, and yet it was electrifying all the same.
She wanted more.
She forced herself to put some distance between them. 'About that kiss…'
'You didn't like it?' He didn't give her time to answer. 'Yeah,' he said. 'I didn't like it either.'
Before she could prepare her defenses, he wrapped her in his arms, tilted her head back, and kissed her again. He was serious this time. His mouth was open and hot. How could she not respond? She felt as though she were melting under his touch, and oh it felt so right.
He ended the kiss abruptly and let go. She nearly fell backward, but he grabbed her and smiled. 'I like that a lot better.'
One kiss and he'd turned her mind into mush. 'I don't know how you do it,' she whispered hoarsely.
'That's an easy one. I lean in, and my mouth presses against yours, and my tongue-'
'Oh, for heaven's sake. I'm not asking you how to kiss. I just mean that I don't know how you can so easily make me-'
He beat her to the punch. 'Want more?'
'Flustered.' She nearly shouted the word. 'You make me flustered.'
'Good to know.'
This time she watched him walk into the bathroom and shut the door. She tried to summon up a frown, to work up a little anger. Self-preservation. That's what it was, she thought. If she could hide behind anger, she wouldn't have to face the truth.
A smile came unbidden, and she was suddenly weak-kneed. She sat on the bed and fell back against the pillows. It was odd, the thoughts that came into your mind when you weren't blocking them. She pictured Dylan lecturing Isabel and instructing her. He'd been so caring with her.
He'd been caring with Kate, too. She remembered the way he'd held her in his arms while she'd wept against his shoulder… the way he'd touched her…
There was so much more to Dylan than his relentless teasing during those pickup football games on Nathan's Bay. He was strong, and yet he could be very gentle. He was decisive, but still he took time to listen. He was kind and smart and sexy and…
'Oh, no,' she groaned. She was in love with him.
The truth stunned her. When had this terrible thing happened to her? She tried but couldn't come up with a defining moment. She had a feeling that it would take years of therapy to figure this one out.
Of all the men in the world she could have fallen in love with, she had to pick Mr. Love-'em-and-leave-'em.
