her feet. “I’ll just pop out and get it.”
Five seconds later, she closed the lobby door behind her and breathed a sigh of relief.
Coward, a voice whispered. The entire town knows you’re unattached.
But knowing it and hearing it, complete with written documentation to back it up, was a totally different thing. It was bad enough she’d had to try out the vibrator alone. She wasn’t going to admit it to a roomful of nosy women.
No, she’d take her time going to the car, then slip back inside once Winona went back to her pole dancing techniques.
She was halfway down the walkway when her gaze snagged on the door to room four.
It was shut solid. The curtains were drawn on the window just to the left. No light spilled past the two-inch gap in the drapes.
Make that a three inch gap.
Not that she was looking.
She was not going to look.
That’s what she told herself as she started to walk past.
For one thing, it was rude and intrusive. Two, she could care less what was going on inside. Sex or scrabble. Neither were her business.
At the same time, if Dillon really was having sex with Susie Wilcox, it meant that not only had he changed, but the town had let him. Somehow, someway, he’d killed a lifetime of perception in a matter of months.
And she couldn’t help but wonder how he’d done it.
If he’d done it.
Curiosity burned through her and her footsteps slowed. She’d take one quick little peek and no one would be the wiser. Cupping her hands over her brow, she leaned toward the window.
She blinked and the dimly lit room started to focus.A pair of jeans lay in a heap on the hardwood floor. A lacey bra dangled over the back of a nearby leather chair. One red high heel peeked out from under the corner of the bed. The covers bunched at the bottom of the mattress, the bedspread a tangled heap on the floor.
A very naked Susie Wilcox lay on her stomach, her cheek nuzzling a pillow, one arm slung over her head, the other resting on the empty spot next to her—
Wait a second. Empty?
Just as the thought struck, she heard the deep, familiar voice. “Nice view.”
The words slid into her ears and her heart stalled. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Awareness zipped up and down her spine, along with a rush of embarrassment.
She was so busted.
3
SHE KNEW IT WAS DILLON even before she turned around.
Before her gaze swept from the long bare feet peeking from beneath the frayed hem of aworn pair of jeans, up denim-clad legs, past a trimwaist and an enticing funnel of whiskey-colored hair that bisectedwashboard abs, over a muscular chest, thick biceps encircled by slave-band tattoos, a corded neck, to the familiar face—
Wait a minute.
Tattoos?
Her attention swiveled to one sinewy arm. Sure enough, an intricate black design snaked around the bulging muscle, making it seem larger and more powerful. Her gaze swiveled to the other arm. Ditto.
“Nice view,” he repeated.
The deep timbre of his voice drew her full attention and made her tummy quiver. Her thighs trembled and her nipples pebbled and—
Girlfriend, puleeeeease. We’re talking Dillon. The guy who’d given her dry-cleaning coupons for her last birthday. Other than those few ridiculous moments in anticipation (thanks to Kim and Mickey) of their first kiss, she’d never felt anything for him other than friendship.
Certainly not the overwhelming need to get hot and sweaty and naked.
Then again, she’d never seen him wearing nothing but worn, faded jeans, the top button undone, a pair of dark and dangerous tattoos and a relaxed, confident, sexy-as-hell smile.
“Yeah,” she blurted, eager to distract herself from the sudden trembling of her body. “She’s, um, really pretty.” Her throat tightened around the words as if it actually bothered her to admit as much.
As if.
“I wasn’t talking about the view inside.” His gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth and lingered for several seconds.
If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn she felt a distinct pressure on her bottom lip. Like an invisible finger tracing the plump fullness, testing it…Crazy.
She licked her lips, killing the strange sensation, and his gaze collided with hers.
“I’m talking about the view out here,” he added. Something hot and sensual shimmered in the green depths of his eyes and her pulse jumped.
“I’ve left over a dozen messages,” she blurted, eager to ignore the sudden butterflies that fluttered away in her stomach. She gathered her indignation and nailed him with a stare. “Did you forget how to use a phone, or have you been avoiding me on purpose?”
The corner of his mouth crooked into the faintest hint of a smile. “I’ve been a little busy.”
She glanced at the window. “Too busy to call your folks?” She eyed him. “I saw your mom at the hardware store last week. She’s worried about you.”
He shrugged, his biceps flexing. The tattoos encircling his arms seemed to widen. “I haven’t been able to call.”
“You haven’t been able to, or you haven’t wanted to?”
“Things are different for me now. I’m different. I doubt they’d understand.”
Meg doubted it, too. They’d freaked out when he’d stepped in an ant bed back in the fifth grade and had pulled Doc Wilmer away from a championship golf game just to apply Benadryl. Meg could only imagine what they would do if they knew Dillon was stepping into motel rooms, and every place else it seemed, with every available woman in town.
Correction—almost every available woman. He’d been avoiding her like the plague.
“What’s going on with you? You never miss pepperoni day.” She didn’t mean to sound so accusing. So what if he’d blown off their monthly lunch at Uncle Buck’s Pizza not once, but twice now? She would have skipped their infamous double-decker pepperoni in a heartbeat in favor of a date with a really hot guy. “You could have at least called.”
“I meant to.” The sexy confidence faded for a split second and she glimpsed a twinkle of true regret. “Don’t be mad.”
“Because you’re going through some major life crisis and didn’t have the decency to tell
