San Amaro Singles: Slammed Part 24

A lineup stretched from the front door of Aura down the sidewalk, but Dylan led her to a side door where the bouncer immediately let them in with a grin and a slap on his shoulder. Inside, music throbbed around them in the darkness, colored lights pulsing above the dance floor. People moved around, talking, laughing, flirting.

Once people had seen Dylan, that was it, he was the center of attention. Brooke went to step aside, but he slid his hand down her arm in a warm caress that made her s.h.i.+ver and clasped her hand, keeping her close. She kept a smile firmly in place as she listened to the conversations that didn't include her. When someone asked Dylan what he wanted to drink, he looked at her first. "What would you like?" he asked in her ear.

"Um. White wine."

He requested her wine and a San Pellegrino, which she guessed was for him. More people came up to talk to him and wish him well, other surfers there as well as fans. Dylan introduced her to people as much as he could, when the noise level permitted.

Matt and Corey arrived, further testing Brooke's acting abilities as she continued to smile and laugh and respond appropriately to the conversation.

This was a part of the Pro that a lot of people lived for, the partying and socializing that went on all night. There'd been years where she'd been partying all night too. The energy and enthusiasm and excitement of the crowd was contagious, and she found herself moving to the music as she stood there talking to people.

"Hey Brooke!"

She turned to see Josh Busher, one of San Amaro's police officers, now off duty, and smiled. "Hi Jos.h.!.+"

He moved up closer, smiling back at her. They'd had an off-and-on flirtation for years but had never actually gone out together. When she was free, he was dating someone, and if he was free she was seeing someone. She really liked him though, and he was super attractive, a tanned athletic blond guy who looked great in his police uniform. "Haven't seen you for a while," she said, returning his smile. "Why aren't you working tonight? I'd think every police officer in San Amaro would be working this week."

He grinned. "We can't work twenty-four-seven. I'll be pulling some long s.h.i.+fts this weekend. Gotta keep those rowdy surfing fans under control."

"And the rowdy surfers," Dylan said from behind her, his hand tugging on hers.

She turned her head. "That too," she said with a grin. "Josh, this is Dylan Sch.e.l.l. Dylan, Josh Busher. Josh is a police officer."

The two men shook hands with narrow-eyed appraisal of each other. "Good to meet you, Dylan," Josh said. "We're all cheering for our hometown guy to win this week."

"Thanks," Dylan drawled. "I'll see what I can do."

Josh turned his attention back to Brooke. "So how's your sister? Last time I saw her, her car'd been broken into."

"Oh that's right! That was awful. But she's fine."

They started chatting about other people they knew, and Brooke tried to separate herself slightly from the crowd of people around Dylan so she could have a conversation with Josh, although she had to give her hand a tug from Dylan's to do so.

"Are you and Dylan going out?" Josh asked in her ear a little while later.

She shook her head. "No. I mean, not really. I mean..." She closed her eyes. "He's just here for this week. Jackson Cole is one of his sponsors, so we've been working together on a few projects while he's here." And keeping him out of trouble.

Which hadn't actually been that hard. Although who knew what kind of antics he'd have gotten up to if she hadn't gotten involved.

She and Josh chatted and drifted away from the rest of the group. "Hey, you need another drink," he said, indicating her empty gla.s.s. "Come on. Let's see if we can shove our way through to the bar."

"It's a female bartender," she yelled over the loud music and voices. "You better try. She'll never pay any attention to me."

He laughed and shouldered his way through the crowd at the bar. Easy for him, standing over six feet tall and with football-player shoulders. He caught the bartender's eye and sure enough, the s.e.xy brunette was right there in front of him with a flirty smile. In no time, they had their drinks.

"Thanks!" Brooke held up her wine gla.s.s to give a little clink against his beer gla.s.s.

"So. If you and Dylan aren't together, maybe we could go out some time."

"You and Jasmine aren't going out any more?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Long story."

"I'm sorry. I really like her." Jasmine owned the White Jasmine Bed and Breakfast in town.

"No hard feelings." He shrugged.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, unsure what to say to his invitation. She didn't want to go out with Josh. But why not? There'd always been a little spark of attraction between them. Somehow that had disappeared. And the little spark was nothing compared to the inferno of heat and l.u.s.t she felt around Dylan. But what she'd said was true-they weren't together. And he was leaving next week. And here was Josh, single at the same time as she was. So why the h.e.l.l not?

"Well, you know. Maybe after this crazy event is done, we could go for a drink or something. This week's really busy."

"I hear you."

"There you are."

Brooke turned to see Dylan standing there.

"I thought you got lost somewhere," he said.

She smiled at him. "Not lost. Just got another drink." She held up her gla.s.s.

His eyebrows drew together and his mouth went tight. He shot Josh a sharp look.

Whoa. Was he jealous?

Brooke tipped her head to one side. Frack.

"Can I talk to you?" Dylan said, gripping her arm and drawing her away.

"Sure. Excuse us," she said to Josh with a smile. "Catch up with you later."

"No you won't," Dylan said in her ear.

She eyed him. "What's your problem?"

"You're with me."

She lowered her chin. "Well, we came together. But you know as well as I do that we really only have a business relations.h.i.+p."

"Business?" He laughed. "That's what that was in your bed the other night? Business?"

His words were an uncomfortable echo of Barrett's earlier that day, and her insides twisted. She really didn't appreciate those insinuations. She gave Dylan a cool look. "No," she replied. "That wasn't business. But this is. I'm here with you, keeping an eye on you so you stay out of trouble, and helping you out so your friends don't know you're still l.u.s.ting after your best friend's new wife."

Flerkinshmidt! She shouldn't have said that. Any of it.

She caught a flash of something in his eyes that might have been anger-or pain-before his eyes narrowed and his lips tightened even more. "Right," he said. "Pardon me. This is business. And you can go back and talk to your friend and let him buy you drinks all night if that's what you want."

"You're leaving next week." Oh, why did she keep saying these things?

He gave her a long look. "Yeah. I am."

And he turned and shoved his way through the crowd to the bar.

Chapter Twenty.

Dylan ordered another San Pellegrino at the bar from a hot bartender who gave him a long s.e.xy look. He smiled back at her as he took it then turned around to face the crowd. For the first time since he'd walked in, he was alone. And yeah, you could be alone in a crowd.

His eyes sought out Brooke and found her, way across the room talking to...nope, not that cop guy, but two other guys, who stood there looking at her with foolish grins. f.u.c.k.

She was so G.o.dd.a.m.n pretty. She laughed and tossed her hair behind her shoulder then sipped from her wine gla.s.s. And then she batted her eyelashes at one of the guys. Batted her eyelashes!

Something churned inside Dylan, hot and unpleasant. He gripped the bottle of water tighter. What. The. f.u.c.k.

Then she was following one of the guys onto the dance floor. And dancing with him.

Dylan nearly crushed the bottle.

"Hi, hon," a cute blonde said to him. "You're Dylan Sch.e.l.l, right?"

He sucked in a long breath. With barely a glance at her, he said, "Yeah."

"You're an awesome surfer."

"Thanks." He turned his gaze toward her. She leaned on the bar next to him, and another girl beside her also smiled at him. They were both wearing skimpy tops that showed off a lot of tanned skin, short shorts and killer heels. He lifted an eyebrow. "What's your name?"

"Carly. And this is Stephanie."

"Hey girls. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure!" Their eyes went wide and their smiles beamed.

Dylan lifted a hand and caught the attention of the bartender, who gave the two girls a pursed-lipped look when he ordered.

Business. It was just business. Brooke was just there keeping him out of trouble, she'd said. And then she'd made that crack about him l.u.s.ting after Corey. That was utter bulls.h.i.+t.

It hurt that she thought so little of him. Which was a weird experience for him. He didn't give a s.h.i.+t what people thought about him. Why did he care about her?

His lips twisted as he looked down at the floor.

He did care about her. And that made sweat pop out on his forehead and his breathing stop. Christ.

He was a stupid idiot. He should never have told her about Matt and Corey. That had been a messed up time of his life and she didn't understand. For her to say that was just wrong. He'd trusted her, thought she really cared about him and he could be honest about that, but this was just business for her, which she'd made crystal clear.

s.h.i.+t.

He wanted to punch something, maybe drive his fist through a wall. Or maybe into the face of that guy Brooke was dancing with.

He forced himself to keep from looking at Brooke, keeping his gaze focused on the two chicks in front of him who were rambling on about the compet.i.tion and the parties and how drunk they'd gotten the night before.

Sounded like a plan to him.

Brooke flirted and laughed and danced, studiously avoiding Dylan, but with a stone-cold feeling in her stomach because of what she'd said to him. Partly because she'd hurt him. Partly because she'd said out loud what was really bothering her-the feeling that he still cared about Corey.

She never should have slept with him. In Tahiti, yeah, but especially here at home. She should have known better. She was a professional. What was she thinking?

He'd bought those girls drinks. After he'd been p.i.s.sed at her for talking to another guy. And there was nothing between them.

Nothing. So why was she all agitated? Why was she all hyper and flirty with guys she had no interest in? How long did she have to stay here, anyway? Dylan was the one who'd wanted to come.

It was nearing midnight and she had to get home to bed. Dylan's heat wasn't until later in the day, so maybe he didn't need to sleep, but she did. She located him across the bar, once more the center of attention in a crowd of mostly women.

She crossed over to him and slipped through the crowd, then went up on her toes to speak to him. "I need to go home," she said. "Are you ready?"

He gave her a toothy smile that chilled her. "Not really."

She frowned. "I think we should go, Dylan."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah, no doubt you do," he said. "But I'm tired of being told what to do."

A quick little stab in the heart took her breath away. Yeah, no doubt he was. "It's my job," she said quietly.

He gave her a long look. "I know," he said. "Fine. I'll drive you home."

She nodded. "Good. Thanks."

The drive home was painfully silent. She searched around in her head for something to say but came up empty. Thick tension filled the car and she found herself rubbing at the cuticle on her thumb. He pulled up in front of her apartment building and got out to walk her in.

She had to close her eyes against the wave of longing that swept over her, remembering the last time he'd brought her home, the night of the wedding, and how he'd stayed all night. That wasn't going to happen tonight, not with this icy tension between them. This time he merely made sure she was safely inside and then lifted a hand in a curt good night. "Later, Brooke."

She bit her lip as she watched him stride back to his car, suddenly on the edge of tears. Holy guacamole. She was such an idiot.

Her bed felt very empty without him and that was even crazier.

The next morning she felt like c.r.a.p. She'd drunk too much wine, stayed out too late and her sleep had been restless and filled with frustrating dreams about Dylan. Her head throbbed, her neck and shoulders ached and her stomach roiled. Great. It was going to be a good day.

She went into the office to get some things done before she headed back to the beach for more schmoozing with media people. The office was quiet. This week was never a normal work week, and today she was grateful for the quiet.

She'd been checking emails on her BlackBerry the day before, but there were things she couldn't attend to from her phone and other matters to follow up on. She still had a lot of work to do on the marketing strategy for Jolt. She popped a couple of painkillers and drank a big cup of coffee she'd picked up at the Black Bean on her way to work. Caffeine was supposed to help a headache.

Focusing on work took her mind off her aching head and also took her mind off Dylan Sch.e.l.l, and she'd made good headway on her list of tasks when Tim poked his red-headed, freckled face in her door.

"Hey," he said. "I wasn't sure if you'd be in today."