other to.
He’d never been the kind of guy who waited for anything to come to him. No, he always went out and got it. And he’d certainly gone out and gotten her—both of them swept along on a tide of attraction that still left him breathless whenever he thought about it. He’d had casual encounters before, but this had been so very different. But then his father had died and his world had changed.
By the time the formalities here in Cheyenne had been taken care of, he’d had to race back to L.A. to continue his duties as CEO of the Lassiter Grill Corporation. Hassling Angelica for the contact details of the florist she’d used for that night—a night from which repercussions continued to cause his sister pain—had seemed a cruel and unnecessary thing to do. Besides, he’d had enough on his plate with work. Now, it seemed, he had a great deal more.
His inattention to the road forced him to jam on his brakes when the traffic ahead slowed suddenly. He swore softly. Two hours. He’d give her two hours to call him about dinner—max. If she hadn’t phoned by then, he’d sure as heck be calling her.
In the end it was fifty-eight minutes exactly before his cell phone began vibrating in his pocket. He took it out, a smile curving his lips as he saw the name of her store come up on the screen.
“I was thinking we could make it tonight,” he said without preamble. “My place, seven o’clock.”
“Y-your place?”
He rattled off the address. “You know where it is?”
“Sure. I’ll find it,” she answered, her voice a little breathless.
“Maybe I ought to pick you up. Don’t want you changing your mind at the last minute.”
“I won’t, I promise. I’ll see you at seven.”
She hung up before he could say another thing. His mouth firmed into a grim line as he slid his phone back into his pocket. It was a rare thing indeed to find a woman of so few words. Even when they’d first met they’d been bigger on action than conversation.
That was certainly going to change. He had a list of questions as long as his arm and he wasn’t letting her go until she’d answered every last one.
One thing was certain. If she was carrying his child, he was going to be a part of that baby’s life. Losing his own parents when he was young, then being raised by his aunt Ellie and her husband, J. D. Lassiter, Dylan knew just how important family was. He’d been too young to remember his mom and dad properly, too young to mourn more than the sense of security he’d taken for granted from birth. After his parents died, however, that all changed, until Aunt Ellie and J.D. stepped in and ensured that he, his brother, Sage, and sister, Angelica, never wanted for a thing. Even after Ellie Lassiter passed away, her sister-in-law, Marlene, had become a surrogate mom to them. It had been family that had gotten them through.
Now, with J.D. gone, too, the whole concept of family was even more important to him than ever. His brother thought he was nuts putting so much store by it. At constant loggerheads with J.D. and determined to make his own place in the world, Sage had always insisted that the only family he needed was Dylan. As close as they were, Dylan had always wanted more. And, if Jenna Montgomery’s baby was his, it looked like he might be getting it.
* * *
Jenna reluctantly got ready to go out to Dylan’s place. He was a complication she would rather ignore right now, but clearly, he wasn’t about to let that happen. She quickly showered, then took her time rubbing scented moisturizer into her skin. So what if she had just shaved her legs—they needed it. She certainly hadn’t done it for his benefit.
Nor had she applied the makeup she barely ever wore anymore for him, either. She was doing this all for herself. Pure and simple. If it made her feel good, feel stronger, then she was doing it. The same principle applied to the clothes she’d chosen to wear tonight. The royal purple stretch lace dress flattered her figure, even with the additional curves that now showed. It empowered her, as did the black spike-heeled pumps she teetered on.
She paused for a moment to assess herself in the mirror. Too much? Her eyes scanned from her dark brown hair, worn loose and flat-ironed dead straight, to her shiny patent leather shoes. She swiveled sideways. This was a total contrast to the kind of thing she’d worn in recent weeks. And, yes, it was definitely too much—which was why she wasn’t going to change a thing.
She grabbed her purse from the bed and told herself she was not nervous about this meeting. That’s all it was. A meeting. She’d tell Dylan what she’d been planning to tell him all along, and that would be that.
She wouldn’t be swayed by the depth of his blue eyes, or the careless fall of his hair, which always looked as if he’d just tumbled from bed. She knew he was handsome; she’d fallen prey to that so easily. She also knew he was successful and intelligent and had a charm that could melt a polar ice cap. But she’d be immune to all that now, too. At least she hoped she would be.
She’d had weeks to think about this. Weeks in which to decide that while Dylan should know about his baby, she was most definitely bringing it up on her own. She knew full well what not to do when raising a child. Her own parents had been the prime example of that. No, her baby would want for nothing. He or she would grow up secure in the knowledge of Jenna’s love and protection.
A man like Dylan Lassiter, with his cavalier lifestyle, a girl for every day of the week, every week of the year, not to mention his celebrity status, which ensured he traveled constantly, did not fit into the picture at all. She’d taken a walk on that wild side of his and yes, she had enjoyed every precious second. But life, real life, had to be lived in a far more stable and measured way. She owned her own home and had a business that was doing well.... With a few economies she could and would do this all on her own.
With those thoughts to arm her, she locked up and walked out to her car. Checking the map one more time, she headed north to the address he’d given her, on the outskirts of town.
Doubts began to assail Jenna as she pulled in between the massive gated pillars, each adorned with a wrought-iron, stylized L, at the entrance to the driveway. The drive itself had to be several football fields long. She knew the family was wealthy, but seriously, who did this? Who kept a property this immense when they spent only about two months of every year living here? The Lassiters, that’s who. It was a stark and somewhat intimidating reminder of the differences between herself and Dylan, and it struck a nervous chime deep inside her.
What if he used his money and his position to make things difficult for her? She had no idea what he was really like, although she remembered, without the slightest hesitation, how he’d felt and how he’d tasted. He was forbidden fruit. The kind of man every woman, no matter her age, turned her head to watch go past. The kind of man every woman deserved to savor—as Jenna had—at least once in her lifetime. But he wasn’t a forever kind of guy. She’d been thankful he hadn’t contacted her after their...their...tryst, she reminded herself again. She definitely wasn’t looking for the roller coaster ride or the intrusive media publicity a relationship with him would offer.
Almost everything she knew about Dylan Lassiter she’d gleaned from social media and word of mouth around town—of which there was plenty. He’d basically gone wherever whim had taken him, spurning the opportunities and advantages afforded him by his adoptive father, and refusing to go into the family business or even attend college. Jenna sighed. What would it have been like, she wondered, to be able to be so carefree? She knew he’d traveled widely, eventually training in Europe as a chef and then coming back to L.A. and building a solid name for his skills, together
