like you or even that he was rude to you that worries me. What disturbs me is the fact that he threatened you.’
‘I can take care of myself.’
She said the words quietly and he didn’t doubt her. He wished she didn’t have to take care of herself. He wished she was surrounded by an army of people who’d take care of her. He sensed that wasn’t the case, and suddenly he wanted to buy her a hundred chocolate bars... But what good would that do?
No substance, Dylan Fairweather. You don’t have an ounce of substance.
The words roared through him. He pulled air in through his nose and let it out through his mouth—once, twice.
‘I have less confidence,’ he said finally, ‘in Carla’s ability to take care of herself.’ He met Mia’s dark-eyed gaze. ‘What if he talks to her the way he spoke to you? What if he threatens her in the same way he threatened you?’
DYLAN COULDN’T KNOW it, but each word raised a welt on Mia’s soul. The thought of a woman as lovely as Carla, as open and kind as she was, being controlled and manipulated, possibly even abused, by a man claiming to love her...
It made her stomach burn acid.
It made her want to run away at a hundred miles an hour in the other direction.
She recalled how Thierry had trapped her against the wall in the reptile house and her temples started to throb.
She set her sandwich down before she mangled it. ‘Have you seen anything to give you cause for concern before now?’
Those laughing lips of his, his shoulders, and even the laughter lines fanning out from his eyes—all drooped. Her heart burned for him. She wanted to reach out and cover his hand, to offer him whatever comfort she could.
Don’t be an idiot.
Dylan might be all golden flirtatious charm, but it didn’t mean he’d want someone like her touching him. She chafed her left forearm, digging her fingers into the muscle to try and loosen the tension that coiled her tight. She wasn’t qualified to offer advice about family or relationships, but even she could see what he needed to do.
‘Can’t...?’ She swallowed to counter a suddenly dry throat. ‘Can’t you talk to Carla and share your concerns?’
‘And say what? Carla, I think the man you’re about to marry is a complete and utter jerk?’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘She’d translate that as me forcing her to choose between her brother and her fiancé.’
From the look on his face, it was evident he didn’t think she’d choose him. She thought back to the way Carla had clung to Thierry’s arm and realised Dylan might have a point.
‘How about something a little less confrontational?’ She reached for a can of soda, needing something to do with her hands. ‘Something like... Carla, Thierry strikes me as a bit moody. Are you sure he treats you well?’
He gave a frustrated shake of his head. ‘She’d still read it as me criticising her choice. I’d have to go to great lengths to make it as clear as possible that I’m not making her choose between me and Thierry, but the fact of the matter is—regardless of what I discover—I have no power to stop this wedding unless it’s what Carla wants. And if she does marry him and he is cruel to her... I want her to feel she’s able to turn to me without feeling constrained because I warned her off him.’
His logic made sense, in a roundabout way, but it still left her feeling uneasy. ‘You know, you don’t have a lot to go on, here. One incident isn’t necessarily indicative of the man. Perhaps you need to make a concerted effort to get to know him better.’
‘I mean to. I’m already on it.’ Her surprise must have shown, because he added. ‘It doesn’t take fifteen minutes to buy a few sandwiches, Mia. I made a couple of phone calls before meeting you here.’
She frowned, not really knowing what that meant. ‘Did you find out anything?’
‘Not yet.’
And then she realised exactly what he’d done. ‘You hired a private investigator?’
‘Yep.’
‘Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?’
‘Not when my sister’s happiness and perhaps her physical well-being is at stake.’
She recalled Thierry’s latent physical threat to her and thought Dylan might have a point. Still...
‘I want to ask for your assistance, Mia.’
‘Mine?’ she squeaked. What on earth did he think she could do?
‘I want you to befriend Carla. She might confide in you—especially as Thierry has made it clear that he doesn’t like you.’
Had he gone mad? ‘Dylan, I can be as friendly towards Carla as it’s possible to be.’ She’d already resolved to do so. ‘But when we get right down to it I’m just one of the many people helping to organise her wedding. We don’t exactly move in the same social circles.’
‘I’ve thought about that too. And I’ve come up with a solution.’
She had a premonition that she wasn’t going to like what came next.
He leaned towards her. ‘If Carla thought that we were dating—’
‘No!’ She shot so far away from him she was in danger of falling off the bench.
He continued to survey her, seeming not put off in the least by her vehemence. He unwrapped a chocolate bar and bit into it. ‘Why not?’
She wanted to tell him to eat a sandwich first—put something proper into his stomach—but it wasn’t her place...and it was utterly beside the point.
‘Because I don’t date!’
‘It wouldn’t be real dating,’ he said patiently. ‘It’d be pretend dating.’
She slapped a hand to her chest. ‘I work hard to keep a low profile. I don’t need my past coming back and biting me more often than it already does. I have a plan for my life, Dylan—to finish my field officer training and find work in a national park. Somewhere rural—’ remote ‘—and quiet, where I can train towards becoming a ranger. All I want is a quiet life so I can live peacefully and stay out of trouble. Dating you won’t help me achieve that. You live your life up among the stars. You’re high-profile.’ She pointed to herself. ‘Low-profile. Can you see how that’s not going to work?’
He tapped a finger against his mouth. ‘It’s a valid point.’
He leaned towards her, his lips pressed into a firm, persuasive line. It took an effort not to let her attention become distracted by those lips.
‘What if I promise to keep your name out of the papers?’
‘How?
