San Amaro Singles: Slammed Part 13

"Oh no." Brooke sat back in her chair.

"Tell us it's not Melissa," Fraya begged.

"Yup, it is," Anthony said. He shook his head.

Brooke caught Dylan's questioning look. "His ex-girlfriend," she explained. "They broke up a while ago and we were all happy about it."

"Because she's a b.i.t.c.h," Fraya put in. Then she covered her mouth and gave a guilty glance toward her kids.

"Mom! You have to put a quarter in the cuss jar now!"

"I will."

"They're not good for each other," Brooke rephrased. "She really hurt him. I can't believe he's with her."

"I hope they're not getting back together," Debbie said, her forehead creased.

"He never said anything," Anthony said with a frown. "Just that he had a date tonight. He knows we all hate her."

"Kind of tough to have a relations.h.i.+p with someone when your whole family hates her," Dylan commented slowly.

Brooke sighed. "If they get back together, we have to put up with her. For his sake."

"I can't," Fraya said.

"Yes, you can. But maybe someone should talk to him and see what the...what he's thinking."

Debbie's mouth turned down at the corners. "Oh, now I'm worried about him. I don't want to see him hurt again."

"He's a grown man," Dr. Lowry put in. "He can handle himself."

"Not sure about that," Anthony muttered. "Not when it comes to her. He was an idiot about her."

"It's his life," Brooke said. "All we can do is be there for him, whatever happens."

They all nodded and made noises of agreement.

Dylan hadn't wanted to meet Brooke's family. He wasn't sure why, exactly. He didn't really do relations.h.i.+ps, so it wasn't usual for him to meet the family of a girl he'd slept with. But this wasn't a relations.h.i.+p either. So he'd done hot nasty things to Mr. and Mrs. Lowry's-or should that be Dr. and Dr. Lowry's?-daughter for days on end in that hotel room in Tahiti. They didn't need to know about that.

Maybe it was because he didn't like the idea that she was babysitting him. Or keeping him on a leash. Or whatever. He wasn't going to go out and have some kind of public drunken orgy. Although, there'd been a time when he might have...

He also wasn't used to being around family. His own family hadn't exactly been a model of togetherness. The time he'd spent with Matt's family had been the closest he'd ever experienced to normal family life. He liked Matt's mom and sisters, and now that he thought about it, he kind of missed that. Spending time with a family of strangers wasn't going to be the same.

But from the moment he'd walked in the door, he'd felt at ease. They were all so open and friendly. Her sister was a little intimidating, but her brother seemed like a cool dude. Her dad didn't say much and had given him a long, penetrating look that had made his nuts shrivel a little, but after that he'd been cool too.

Seeing Brooke cuddling that baby, and kidding around with her nephews and seeing how much they loved her made his heart sort of ache. Or maybe he'd missed his Pantoloc. Nah. That wasn't it.

When they all started dissing the other brother's ex-girlfriend, he had a moment where he felt sorry for the chick, but then the way they were all on the same page about her and worried about their son-slash-sibling made him a little...envious.

In the past he'd probably been on the other side of that page, the guy everyone was hating on for hurting their poor baby sister or whatever. He kind of liked being on the inside.

After dinner they went out onto the big deck beside the pool, and the two boys insisted on changing back into their swimsuits and returning to the pool. Kevin too donned a pair of board shorts and went in with them, and they started tossing a big ball around.

"They're really good in the water," Dylan commented to Fraya, sitting beside him.

"They are! They love it. They're like little fish."

"They take swimming lessons?"

"Yes, they do."

"Hey Dylan!" Jonathan's head appeared at the side of the pool. "Could you teach me to surf?"

"There are no waves in that pool," Dylan pointed out, straight-faced.

Jonathan giggled. "Noooooo! Not here! I meant in the ocean!"

"Oh! Well, then, yeah, I could." He glanced at Fraya.

She bit her lip as if trying to stop herself from saying something.

"If your parents agree," Dylan added.

"You're kind of busy right now," Brooke put in from the chair on the other side. "Dylan's in the middle of an important compet.i.tion," she told Jonathan.

He pouted. "After it's done, then?"

"Dylan won't be around that long."

Dylan hated the disappointment on the kid's face.

"I bet you're a good swimmer," James said, also appearing at the side of the pool. "Too bad you don't have a swimsuit."

"Yeah, it is," Dylan agreed. "That pool looks really nice. I like swimming." He set his beer down on the table and rose to approach the pool. He reached down and swished his hand into the water. "Man, I'd sure like to swim in there."

"Come in!" Jonathan said. "We want you to swim too."

Dylan pursed his lips. Then he reached into his pocket for his cell phone and wallet, tossed them to Brooke...and stepped off the side of the pool into the water.

Water closed over his head, cool and blue and quiet, and he let himself surface, emerging to shrieks of shock and laughter.

"What are you doing?" Brooke cried, while the two boys howled with laughter.

"Oh my G.o.d!" Fraya exclaimed, and Dylan caught Kevin and Anthony's guffaws.

He shook his wet hair back and grinned at the boys. "There. I'm in."

"Your clothes are all wet!"

"Hey, you're right. Oh well." He unb.u.t.toned his s.h.i.+rt and tossed it to the pool deck, then dove and reached for a small ankle.

He played in the water for a good half hour then hauled himself out, his shorts dripping water all over the deck. "I'm sorry," he apologized to Debbie Lowry with his most charming smile. "I wonder if I could borrow a towel?"

She laughed and handed him one that someone had gone to get while he was in the pool. "Here. There's a bathroom right inside the sliding doors for pool users. Toss your wet clothes out and I'll put them in the dryer."

"Thanks."

He caught Brooke's eye as he walked past her into the house, shaking her head, a smile tugging her lips.

When he came back, the towel snugly fastened around his hips, he sat back down and picked up his beer. "That was fun."

"You're crazy," Brooke said to him.

He shrugged. "Probably. But it was fun." He turned to Debbie again. "Sorry to be a bother. It was just too tempting to resist."

"Those boys will wors.h.i.+p you forever," she replied with a big smile.

He sat there while his clothes dried, drinking his beer, listening to teasing insults and banter interspersed with genuine concern. Brooke's mom was apparently still fretting over Brooke being in the path of the cyclone, even though she was home safe and sound. Did that overprotectiveness have anything to do with Brooke's fear of flying?

And yet he had to give her credit-it hadn't stopped her from flying all the way to Tahiti. Because she had to. Huh. He studied her, calmly rea.s.suring her mother that she'd been fine, when he knew d.a.m.n well she'd been freaking out herself. His heart gave a kind of squeeze in his chest thinking about that.

"How do you stay on the surfboard?" James asked him. "You must have good balance."

"Balance is one of the most important things to learn as a surfer," Dylan agreed. "Basically, if the downward force from gravity and the upward force of buoyancy are in line they add to zero and things are stable. When two opposing forces get out of line then the board will torque. When you move backward, the torque twists the board so the nose goes up and the tail goes down. The board rotates until gravity and buoyancy come into line again. So by s.h.i.+fting your weight relative to the center of ma.s.s of the board, you can tip your board nose down, nose up, right side down or left side down."

"That's physics," Kevin told his sons. "Listen and learn."

They talked more about the science behind surfing until Dylan looked up and saw Brooke watching him and listening, all silky brown hair and big eyes and soft smile.

"Pretty smart, aren't you?" she commented in a low voice.

He grinned. "You betcha." He reached out a hand to touch her soft hair, smiling. Then he caught her dad watching them with raised eyebrows. He drew back his hand.

"What'd you tell your parents about us?" he whispered, leaning toward Brooke.

She leaned closer still to whisper back, "I told them you f.u.c.ked my brains out for three days straight."

His heart lurched in his chest, heat flas.h.i.+ng through his veins. Jesus Christ! But n.o.body else had heard and a burst of laughter escaped him, earning another look from Brooke's dad.

But s.h.i.+z, he wasn't sure when he'd ever felt like this-relaxed, mellow and...happy.

Brooke drove him back to the hotel later, and when she pulled up out front but didn't park, he turned to her with disappointment. "Not coming in?"

She gave him a level look. "No."

He pursed his lips. "h.e.l.l."

"This is business, Dylan," she reminded him.

It hadn't felt like business. He'd met her family. "I like your folks."

Her forehead wrinkled. "Thanks. I like them too. Most of the time. They boss me around a lot and treat me like a little kid, but I know it's because they love me."

"Thanks for inviting me over. What's up tomorrow?"

"You have the whole day to yourself. We'll get started Monday morning, when you and Holden come in for our first meeting."

He nodded. A whole day to himself should have sounded great. But it kind of didn't.

Chapter Eleven.

Monday morning, sitting in her cubicle, Brooke tapped her fingers on her desk and stared at her computer, waiting for Dylan to arrive. She'd already had another lecture from Barrett about taking too long to get back there. There'd been a cyclone, for G.o.d's sake! But she didn't bother to point that out to him and merely told him that Dylan had been perfectly cooperative and had easily agreed to come back to San Amaro and do whatever he had to do. Now she just had to hope he came through for her and did just that. Or she was screwed.

She was lucky to have this job and do work she loved. And she was going to do the best she could to make sure this contract with Dylan Sch.e.l.l turned out to be beneficial to the company, if it killed her.

She licked her bottom lip and stared at her computer monitor. She'd been having a hard time focusing for the last half hour as it drew closer to the time for their meeting. Dylan had wanted it later in the morning so he could meet with his agent first, and then his agent was going to attend the meeting with him. She didn't think it was necessary, but understood that Holden would want to be there to watch out for his client's best interests. They'd pretty much filled him in on what the plans were though.

Her phone rang and the call display told her it was the receptionist at the front desk. She grabbed the receiver. "Brooke speaking."

"Hi Brooke," Tammy said cheerily. "Dylan Sch.e.l.l is here for your meeting."

"Thanks. Be right out."

She hung up and resisted the urge to look in her compact mirror one more time. She picked up the folders she needed and poked her head into Tim's cubicle. "He's here," she said. "I'll go get him and Holden, and we'll meet you in the meeting room."

"Okay." Tim began gathering up the materials he needed.

Jackson Cole's home office was a large, new building on the outskirts of San Amaro, constructed with new green technology that allowed in a lot of natural light and used natural materials, solar energy and natural ventilation. Brooke took the stairs from her second floor office to the main floor, emerging into the lobby area furnished with sleek chairs and tables and potted trees.

Holden sat on one of the black leather chairs and Dylan stood in front of one wall, studying framed photographs of models wearing Jackson Cole apparel. Some of the images were quite s.e.xy, s.h.i.+rtless men wearing jeans dangerously low on their hips, showing off impressive abs, or women in tiny bikini tops and equally low-slung jeans.

She studied Dylan as she walked toward him. He could pose for photographs like that, with his body. In fact, he would pose for photographs like that, wearing Jackson Cole clothing. That had originally been part of their plan, to use him modeling some of their clothing in their advertising, but they'd had a hard time pinning him down for a photo shoot. Last summer when he'd been there he'd had a cast on his leg. Now was their opportunity.

He turned at the sound of her footsteps on the wood floor. His dark hair hung over his eyes in that s.e.xy way, his scruff of beard darkening his tanned face, his eyes gleaming that unique light silver as he smiled at her. Her heart leaped when they made eye contact and she became strangely short of breath.

"Hi," he said.

"h.e.l.lo." She paused, clutching her folders to her chest. "How are you?"

"Good. Made it here on time." He held out a hand to the other man who'd risen. "You've met Holden?"

"No," she said, reaching to shake the agent's hand. "We've emailed and talked on the phone a number of times though." She smiled. "Nice to meet in person finally."