“Mama!” A plaintive voice echoed in Hayley’s ear. She opened one eye, to see Dillon standing next to her bed, Christine cradled in one arm and what looked like an aluminum cookie sheet covered with a tea towel in his other hand.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Dillon said as he bent and gently let Christine down on the bed. “It’s time for breakfast.”
“I never eat breakfast in bed,” Hayley protested sleepily as Christine bounced cheerfully up and down.
Dillon reached behind Hayley and propped her pillows up against the headboard, so she could sit up. “Then it’s time you started, don’t you think?” He fit the aluminum cookie sheet over her lap. “I made enough for all of us.”
“So I see,” Hayley said, staring down in amazement at the awkwardly arranged dishes before her.
“If you have a real tray down there, we couldn’t find it so Christine and I improvised,” Dillon continued conversationally.
Hayley grinned, both amused and pleased. “I noticed,” she said wryly. “And it was a good choice.”
“I thought so. Anyway, we’ve got everything we need.” Dillon caught Christine as she hopped by, and settled her comfortably on his lap. “Toast, jam, juice, and—” He held up Christine’s Mickey Mouse thermos victoriously. “Fresh hot coffee for you, miss.”
Hayley stifled a yawn. “How long have the two of you been up?” she asked.
Dillon shrugged. “Couple of hours, I guess. We wanted to let you sleep late.”
“Thank you. I haven’t done that in…maybe a year?” she guessed.
“See,” Dillon nudged Christine, who was contentedly munching on a triangle of golden toast, “I told you she needed to be spoiled a bit.”
Christine giggled at Dillon’s teasing tone.
Dillon looked back at Hayley. “So what’s on the agenda today?” he asked.
“I was going to run errands. Go to the supermarket and the bank, pick up the drycleaning, take Christine to story hour at the library.”
“Want company?”
Hayley’s heart skipped a beat. “Dillon—”
“What?”
She flushed at the intensity of his gaze. “It’s a little boring for you, don’t you think?”
His eyes held hers. “I’m never bored when I’m with you.”
Hayley released a wavering breath. She’d thought Dillon had been pursuing her avidly before. She was beginning to see she hadn’t experienced anything near his “full court press.”
“Besides, I’d like to do all that family stuff with you and Christine,” Dillon continued.
“You’ll tell me if it starts to get to you?”
“I’ve never been shy about bailing out before.”
* * *
“SO HOW’D I DO?” Dillon asked several hours later as he and Hayley sat with their feet up on the coffee table in his study. An exhausted Christine slept in the portable crib nearby.
“You mean except for almost getting us kicked out of the library for arguing with the puppeteer during story hour?”
“I couldn’t help it,” Dillon protested. “She was telling that story all wrong. The prince is never rescued by the princess. The princess is always rescued by the prince.”
“Chauvinist,” Hayley teased.
“Dreamer is more like it.” He wrapped an arm about her shoulders and coaxed her into the warm curve of his body. “Although I gotta admit I wouldn’t mind being rescued by you.”
I wouldn’t mind rescuing you, Hayley thought.
“Hayley?”
“Hmm?”
“Given any more thought to that question I asked you last night?” he asked softly.
“About us giving our relationship more of a try?”
He lifted one of her hands to his lips and caressed it softly. “That’s the one.”
“Dillon!” Hayley protested. Her merry laughter filled the room. “It’s only been a couple of hours!”
“Long enough for you to make up your mind?” he asked hopefully.
He was more than meeting her halfway, Hayley knew. The question was, could he keep it up long-term?
If he did, she knew without a doubt what her answer would be. Yes, to everything he wanted from her.
The problem was it would take time for her to know for sure whether or not Dillon would eventually feel stifled and burdened by a wife and child.
“Dillon, I can’t commit myself to anything just yet,” Hayley replied softly. As good as she felt, wrapped in the warm curve of his arm… “I need more time.”
He searched her face, then smiled slowly. “But you’re leaning my way, aren’t you? You’re weakening,” he crowed triumphantly.
Hayley couldn’t deny it.
* * *
“YOU LOOK HAPPY,” Marge said the following Wednesday. “The job interview must have gone well.”
Hayley took off her coat and set her portfolio and handbag aside. “It did,” she admitted as she kicked off her high heels. “Leah said she’d call to tell me definitely one way or another later this afternoon.”
“I wish you luck.”
“Thanks. But I can’t take any of the credit. I owe Dillon for this one. He’s the one who set up the interview.”
“It’s unlike him to get involved that way. Oh, he’s been a mentor to many a cub reporter—”
“Like Hank—” Hayley interjected.
“Right. But never outside his own field before.”
Hayley smiled, thinking how well everything had been going. She’d thought Dillon would’ve lost interest in her and Christine by now, and especially in all things domestic, but he hadn’t. Oh, he would never be keen on washing dishes or doing laundry, probably never be any good at it, either, but he was trying, and he genuinely cared about her and her baby.
“The house is taking shape, too.” Marge glanced around admiringly.
“I know. Dillon’s even been pitching in to help. Believe it or not, Sunday he helped me operate the paint sprayer so we could refinish the kitchen cabinets. And we did it without a major catastrophe.”
“No more black eyes, hmm?”
“Not so far. And last night? He helped me repair some grouting.”
Marge raised her arms to the heavens in evangelical exultation. “Will miracles never cease.”
They both laughed softly at her antics.
Shyly, Hayley said, “Could I ask you a favor? Would you take Christine for me for the night?” On the train back she’d come to an important realization and made some decisions. She knew now time would not change what she and Dillon had, except perhaps to make it stronger. Knowing that, it was time she paid Dillon back for all he’d done. It was time she met him halfway.
* * *
FOR A MINUTE Dillon thought he’d walked into the wrong house. There was furniture in the living room, a fire in the grate and a table set for two in front of it. Hayley lounged on one of the sofas in an emerald green silk shirt and black suede skirt he’d never seen. She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.
He tore his eyes from the opaque black stockings and black suede shoes. Too late…the blood was already rushing to his lower half. “What are we celebrating?” Dillon worked to keep his voice casual. It wasn’t easy, considering the heat and tension stiffening his groin.
Hayley smiled at him, raised her champagne glass in silent toast and said softly, “I got the contract, Dillon. Thanks to you and Leah, I’m going to be illustrating my first children’s book. If all goes well, and I expect it will, Leah said I can count on many more contracts from their company.”
“That’s great.” Or was it? Dillon wondered, panicked. Did it now mean she was one step closer to leaving him?
He watched her bend forward from the waist to pour him some champagne. She’d left the first three buttons undone and he saw a hint of cleavage and what appeared to be a black lace bustier that was sexy as hell in the open vee of her blouse.
“Where’s Christine?” he asked, annoyed at the sudden hoarseness in his voice.
Hayley lifted the necklace around her neck, then let it fall again, to nestle in the shadowy hollow between her breasts. She answered playfully. “She’s at Marge’s, spending the night.”
As his eyes held hers, he noticed her irises were unnaturally bright, as if she were up to something deliciously naughty. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the scene was set for seduction,” he teased, as he accepted the drink she gave him.
Hayley uncrossed her legs and bounced lithely to her feet. The next thing he knew her arms were laced around his neck. His nostrils were filled with the rich floral scent of her perfume. “Who said it wasn’t?” She guided her mouth to his.
Their lips touched. Another bolt of fire missiled into his groin. Dillon groaned. Resisting Hayley under normal circumstances was damn near impossible. He was no saint. “Hayley—” he warned, not really sure she knew the full consequences of what she was doing.
“Dillon—” Hayley mimicked his cautionary tone, then quickly unknotted his tie and slid her hand inside his shirt to caress his chest. “I want you.”
Had this happened any other time. Any other day. But knowing she had just today gotten a job, because of him, made the words Dillon had longed to hear for weeks now fall flat. “Why, Hayley?” he replied, his heart racing as the blood pumped into his groin. “Why now?” As much as he desired her, he had never wanted a “duty toss in the hay” from her. And knowing how Hayley felt about not being indebted to anyone, for anything, that had to be exactly what this was.
“Why?” Hayley echoed. She shook her head at him in amusement. “Because you’ve made such a difference in my life,” she said, as if her coming on to him now were the most natural thing in the world, the most expected thing.
Alarm sounded in his brain. His chest constricted, making it hard for him to breathe. Dillon caught her caressing fingers in his hand, forced them to be still. “What do you mean?” he asked tersely. I hope to God I’m wrong about this.
Hayley stood on tiptoe. She left a string of kisses on his jaw. “Why, the job, of course. Because of your persistence in helping me out, even when I didn’t want it, I now have a start in a brand new career.”
“In other words, payback,” Dillon muttered grimly as his worst fears came true. Disappointment scored his soul.
“What?” Hayley blinked uncomprehendingly, the excited color draining from her face.
Still rigid with desire, he pushed her away. “You heard me, Hayley. I can’t do this. Not now. Not like this. I won’t.”
“Dillon—” Hayley gasped. She recoiled from him, as if his rejection were the last thing in the world she expected.
“I’m sorry, Hayley.” He couldn’t bear the feeling he was breaking her heart. He stalked past her roughly. “I need some air.”
Dillon vaulted from the house without looking back. He felt like a heel, but he knew it would only get worse if he stayed.
Hayley fed the dinner she’d so lovingly prepared to the disposal. She blew out the candles, put her silver and china away. She was just trying to decide what to do with the champagne when Dillon charged back in. Their eyes met. The air between them fairly crackled with electricity. She clutched the nearly full bottle in her hand and just barely resisted the urge to hurl it at his stubborn head.
“I’m sorry,” he began grimly, shoving both hands through the wind-tossed layers of his dark hair. His handsome face was ruddy from the cold night air. “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that.”
How right he was about that! Hayley thought. “You should be sorry,” Hayley retorted. She’d put not only her pride but her heart on the line for him. And what had he done? He’d thrown her efforts right back in her face. He’d acted as if making love to her were a fate worse than death. Well, not again!
Hayley set the champagne down on the counter with a thud. She elbowed her way past him.
Dillon caught her by the back of the skirt and hauled her around to face him.
His face hardened. “Don’t you understand, Hayley? I couldn’t make love to you, not that way.”
She took exception to his flat, pragmatic tone. “What way?” she bit out. Reaching around behind her, she tried to extricate his hand from her waistband.
“Out of gratitude,” he said, tugging her nearer.
“Gratitude!” Hayley shouted, astonished. She flung her hair out of her face with a haughty toss of her head. “You think I’d do all this out of gratitude?” As if she were that dumb or subservient!
He stared down at her in gritty silence.
“Be honest, Dillon,” Hayley snarled back. She stood before him, hands knotted into fists at her sides. “You walked out on me for only one reason,” she asserted, her breasts heaving with every angry breath she dragged in. “To pay me back.”
“Pay you back?” Dillon echoed, dumbfounded.
Hayley placed both her hands on his chest and shoved until he reeled backward. “For turning you down so many times.”
Dillon tightened his grip on her and hauled her against him. “You think I don’t want you?” he demanded hoarsely.
“I don’t know what to think!” Hayley volleyed back, ignoring the way the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against her stomach and made her tremble. She broke away from him. Her black suede heels clattered on the kitchen floor. “And I don’t want to discuss it!”
Dillon cut her off at the door. “No, Hayley,” he said. His broad shoulders completely filled the exit, blocking her only escape. “You’re not running. We’re going to finish this discussion.”
Hayley’s temper flared and combined with her hurt pride. “I say we’re not!” she shouted back. She attempted to stomp on his foot. He stepped adroitly aside. The grip on her shoulders tightened. Dillon stared down at her fiercely. She saw his frustration.
Abruptly his hold on her gentled. “If you didn’t do all that out of gratitude, because I helped you get a job, then why?” Dillon demanded, his low voice underscored with both confusion and passion.
“Why do you think? Because I love you!” Hayley jerked free of him. “Though God knows why!”
“You love me?” Dillon echoed, stunned. He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing.
“Yes,” Hayley said furiously. “For all the good it’ll do me!”
Dillon grinned as if he had just won the million dollar lottery. “Looks like I jumped to the wrong conclusion,” he drawled.
Hayley didn’t know why he had walked out on her. Nor did she care. She only knew that he had. And she wasn’t going to forgive him. “You sure did,” she retorted hotly, her temper flaring to new heights. “And now you can go bungee jump off the nearest bridge for all I care!”
Dillon laughed heartily. She turned around and took a swing at him. He ducked the blow, then came back at her before she could swing again. Anchoring one arm firmly beneath her knees, the other beneath her waist, he swung her up into his arms.
“Put me down, you big lug,” Hayley said.
“Not until we start the evening all over again.” Ignoring the way her legs kicked and her arms flailed, he carried her unperturbably over to the refrigerator. He opened the door with the toe of his shoe, then stared, perplexed, at the empty shelves. “Where’s our dinner?”
Having concluded that all her struggles were for naught, Hayley settled down enough to give him a withering look. “You’re looking in the wrong place, loverboy.” She pointed to the garbage disposal. “I fed it to a more appreciative recipient.”
Dillon threw back his head and laughed again, the melodious sound of his voice filling the room. Eyes twinkling, he drawled, “Darn. Guess we’ll just have to go straight to the good part then.”
“The hell we will! Put me down,” she ordered crossly.
“Gladly, in due time,” Dillon said.
“I mean now!” Hayley ordered.
“I know what you mean,” Dillon concurred genially. Pivoting, he carried her out of the kitchen as if she weighed no more than a sack of feathers.
“Then why aren’t you doing it?”
“Because you don’t always know what’s good for you.”
Hayley gave him a you-can’t-be-serious look and guessed sarcastically, “And I suppose you do?”
“Just for the record,” Dillon drawled as he carried her into the living room, collapsed onto the sofa and pulled her across his lap. “I didn’t walk out on you earlier to hurt you, Hayley. You have to know that’s the last thing I ever wanted,” he said huskily, his eyes roving her upturned face. “I was trying to save us both from making another mistake and doing something you’d later regret and resent me for. So I walked out. It was only later it hit me,” he explained logically.
Her attention caught by the gentleness of his touch, Hayley prodded crossly, “Okay, I’ll bite. This time. What hit you?”
“That our making love could never be a mistake,” he said softly. He took a deep ragged breath. “I also came to the conclusion that we belong together. You can call it fate or happenstance or any damn thing you like, Hayley, but I want to be with you so much I ache,” he finished hoarsely. “So I came back. And the minute I saw you standing in the kitchen, looking every inch as miserable and unhappy as I felt, I knew I’d done the right thing. We belong together, Hayley.”
She was flooded with relief. Buoyant with joy. Happier and more hopeful about the future than she had ever imagined she could be. “Oh, Dillon, I thought all the good in my life was over,” Hayley murmured.
“No, Hayley,” Dillon corrected gently, taking her fully into his arms once again. He held her close. “There’s still so much left. This is just the beginning,” he promised. “For both of us.”
* * *
“I THINK you’re tipsy,” Dillon noted gravely two hours later.
For someone who’d spent the past few weeks trying every ruse imaginable to get her back into his bed, he sure was taking his time about it now, Hayley thought. He’d insisted they order some dinner to make up for the one she’d tossed down the drain. Then they had to spend even more time listening to soft music, watching the fire and draining every last drop of the golden champagne. But thoroughly relaxed and filled with a warm mellow glow that seemed to get stronger and more passionate with every moment that passed, Hayley could hardly fault him for his chivalrous lack of haste.
However, she did take exception to his powers of perception. “I am not tipsy,” she protested as Dillon put out the last remaining lights on the first floor and returned to her side.
“Then prove it.”
Hayley let out a beleaguered sigh.
“Stand with your eyes closed. Right here in front of the sofa.” Hands on her shoulders, Dillon placed her just so. “Now tilt your head up. And then back. That’s it.”
Hayley felt his breath flutter warmly over her closed eyelids, her nose, then her mouth. This wasn’t like any sobriety test she’d ever witnessed on television.
“Feeling dizzy?” Dillon asked.
Deciding enough was enough, Hayley blindly anchored both arms around his neck. She opened her eyes. “No, but I want to be,” she teased playfully. “Does that count?”
“I don’t think so,” he said gravely, shaking his head.
“Then, kiss me,” she urged softly, “and I promise I will be.”
Dillon’s laugh was cut short by their kiss. Breaths mingled. Tongues touched. And suddenly neither one of them could get enough. He was kissing her like there was no tomorrow. For Hayley, today had never been sweeter.
She knew now what she hadn’t before, that the two of them did belong together. Not just until the house was finished, his time in New York over, but forever. In a matter of a few short weeks, he’d become everything that mattered to her. She trusted him completely. She trusted him with her heart. “Dillon, let’s go to bed,” she whispered urgently, knowing at last that it was truly safe for her to depend on him.
He raised his head and grinned mischievously. “Let’s not.” His hands skimmed up her sides, over her ribs. He gently cupped the weight of both her breasts with both palms. His eyes met hers. They looked even darker, sexier, in the flickering firelight. “Let’s stay right here and give our new living room a proper christening.”
Hayley’s heart skipped a beat. She smiled at him slowly, aware she had never felt sexier or more voluptuous in her life. “I like the way you think.” And I like the womanly way you make me feel.
“Then we’re even, ’cause I like the way you dress.” He unbuttoned her blouse, parted the edges and tugged the hem from the waistband of her skirt. His gaze dropped to the soft curves spilling voluptuously over the lacy edges of her black lace bustier. Dillon sucked in a breath as his glance skimmed the rosy nipples visible beneath the transparent black lace.
“Still like the way I dress?” Hayley drawled.
“Even more.” He rubbed his thumbs over the tender crests. “You are so beautiful, Hayley,” he murmured hoarsely. “Dressed or half-dressed or any way at all.” His eyes held hers with the promise of limitless nights to come. “Well worth waiting for.”
Hayley’s breath came in quick, shallow spurts. She reached behind her and drew the zipper down. “If you like that, wait’ll you see the rest,” she promised, as she stepped out of her skirt.
His rapacious gaze drifted lower, to the lacy black garter belt and opaque black stockings. Hayley’d been afraid when she bought them they were too much. Not “her” somehow. Now, watching his reaction, they seemed exactly right.
He hooked his hands in the triangular scrap of black lace. One palm touched the nest of golden curls. The other flattened against the small of her spine. Cossetted between the warmth of his hands, she arched against him. He stroked her dewy softness, moving up, in. She surrendered helplessly. “Oh, Dillon, I want you,” Hayley whispered urgently.
“We have all night,” Dillon reminded her hoarsely. He deepened his intimate caress, until Hayley’s legs trembled and her knees went weak. Aware she could no longer stand even with his help, he smiled with thoroughly male satisfaction and collapsed onto the sofa, tossed off her panties, and pulled her across his lap.
“I intend to take all night,” he continued, between deep passionate kisses. “We’re going to do this right, Hayley. Slowly. Lingeringly. So there are no regrets. No places that go untouched. By the time tonight is over, I’m going to know every inch of your body. And you’re going to know every inch of mine.”
While his hands lovingly explored her breasts, Hayley took off his tie. She unbuttoned his shirt, helped him out of it and flung it aside. His pants followed. Then his shirt. Dillon never stopped touching her. She never stopped touching him.
Soon they were kissing again. Hotly. Rapaciously. Until she no longer knew where her own mouth ended and his began. Impatient for more, even if he was willing to wait past the five-alarm fire stage, Hayley sat in his lap, so she was facing him, then knelt, her knees astride his thighs. Slowly she lowered herself. She took the hot, hard length of him and drew him inside, then drew herself up, so she was once again on her knees.
The gliding sensation of wet hot silk was more than he could bear. Dillon moaned and caught her hips, forced her down. “Hayley,” he murmured. “Oh, sweetheart—”
“Every inch of me, Dillon,” she whispered tantalizingly, the pleasure on her face mirroring his. “You said you wanted every inch.”
She moved up. Gliding rapaciously over the rigid length of him like a too-tight sheath of hot, damp silk. He groaned again as she slipped free. Replaced her body with the softness of her lips, the light butterfly tease of her tongue. He’d driven her to madness. Now she drove him to the brink.
Hands on her waist, he urged her up and over him.
“Now?” Hayley whispered softly, linking her arms around his neck.
“Now,” Dillon said, as her breasts brushed his chest. He plunged inside her, commanding everything she had to give, while at the same time availing every part of him to her. Their mouths met in a long soul-searching kiss while their bodies touched everywhere it was possible to touch.
And they moved together. Damn, how they moved. For the first time in his life, Dillon learned what it was like to be with a woman, heart and soul. Loving her with every fiber of his being. He hadn’t known he could need a woman like that. But he did, he thought, as the inevitable climax came. God help him, he did.