“I see you’re back from your date. Anything interesting happen?” Sara asked, coming up behind him.
Dylan had just entered the main foyer, hoping to retreat to his room without running into his half-sister. It had been a long couple of days between work issues and playing host. He wasn’t in the mood for another one of his sister’s childish tirades tonight.
“Not now, Sara.” Dylan walked around his sister and started up the stairs, wishing he’d used the service staircase in the kitchen after grabbing his drink.
Undeterred, Sara followed him. “I can’t believe she had the audacity to show up here. Who does she think she is? I can’t wait till her face starts showing up on magazine covers and the media starts digging through her life. Then she’ll be sorry she came here.”
“Your father invited her. Remember? And maybe you should give her a chance. You might like her, Sara.” Dylan opened the door to his suite, but didn’t go in.
“Wow! That didn’t take long. She’s already gotten to you with her small-town girl routine. I can’t believe it.” Sara threw her hands up in the air.
“I’m just playing host, Sara, for Warren’s sake. I want things to work out well for him. That. Is. All.” Dylan stepped into his room. “I don’t want to hear any more about it.” With that, he closed the door before Sara could reply.
Carrying the scotch he’d poured before coming up, he walked it out onto his balcony. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said to Sara about only wanting things to work out for Warren’s sake. It was true. Still, he hadn’t been completely honest with Sara.
He’d been physically attracted to Callie the first time he’d met her. However, there was more to it than that. Something about Callie affected him on a deeper level in a way no one had since the back-stabbing bitch Francesca.
Propping his bare feet up on the balcony railing, Dylan leaned back in his chair and gazed out across the ocean. He’d gone onto the private balcony to clear his mind. Yet, the scene outside Callie’s motel room kept playing over and over in his head. Every fiber in his body had urged him to capture her lush, full lips with his. To give her a kiss she wouldn’t soon forget. Thankfully, his brain had kicked in at the last minute, reminding him who she was and why he was with her. In the end, he saved them both a lot of awkwardness and dropped a brief kiss on her cheek.
Then there had been that flash of light he’d caught out of the corner of his eye. Had it been just a car passing by or had it been a flash from a camera? The paparazzi hadn’t bothered him since his break up with Francesca. He saw no reason why they would now.
Had someone learned who Callie was? Sara’s comment about the media and getting rid of Callie suddenly came to mind. Almost as quickly, he dismissed the notion. Sara might be upset, but she adored her father and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his campaign.
It must have been a car driving by. Pushing all thoughts of the evening’s events from his head, he focused on the star-filled sky.
Normally, the relaxing view and the breeze coming up from the Atlantic would clear his head, but not tonight. Instead, he found himself wishing for a certain someone’s company. As a rule, he never brought the women he dated to Cliff House. In his mind, it was the family’s private home, yet sitting here, he couldn’t help wish he could share the view with Callie. He’d learned a lot about her during their time together, and he knew how much she loved the ocean.
She’ll see the view tomorrow when she comes. Dylan finished off his scotch in one long swallow.
He needed to keep reminding himself that Callie was Warren’s daughter, not some random woman he’d met at a club or society event. If he did that, maybe he could squash the feelings he had for her. Feelings he didn’t want. Feelings that were gaining momentum. A long time ago, he promised himself no woman would get inside his heart again. He didn’t plan on breaking that promise, not for Callie Taylor, not for anyone.