El.” Jake jumped up, his six-foot frame barely towering over her own height of five foot nine as he wrapped her in a strong hug.
Out of the corner of her eye, Eleanor saw Dillon stand, too. Taller than Jake by several inches, his eyes, the color of a deep forest, watched them warily. Then, as if she’d been mistaken, his strong features went carefully blank and the tension riding his hard, lean body visibly disappeared.
Ignoring the sudden awakening of feelings she’d taken great pains to forget, Eleanor pushed at Jake’s chest. “Let me go, Jake.”
“Fine.” Jake’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he grabbed the chair next to him in a silent invitation for her to sit. “El, you remember Dillon.”
Eleanor shot Jake her most potent I’m-going-to-kill-you-as-soon-as-I-get-you-alone look, then held out her hand to the one man she’d thought never to see again.
“Of course I do.” She modulated her voice to cool detachment, strongly shaken by the touch of a handshake that threatened to melt her clear to the center of her soul.
Quickly, she snatched her hand away from his, careful to tuck it behind her back where the man couldn’t touch it again.
Green eyes narrowed at her while the sound of Dillon’s baritone voice bombarded her with unwanted awareness. “Hi, Eleanor. It’s been a long time.”
If the look on his face was anything to go by, she was pretty sure he wasn’t pleased by this reintroduction. That was just fine with her, Eleanor decided, sinking into the chair Jake offered, her legs not as capable of holding her up as they had been when she’d first entered the lounge. She’d faced many a boardroom piranha and come out the winner since she’d last see this man. She could certainly face down Dillon Stone, who meant nothing to her now, without a single ripple appearing in the well-ordered life she’d intentionally built for herself.
“Jake, I’ve got to go. I have to get home to Ryan. Eleanor, it was nice to see you again.”
Startled, Eleanor watched Dillon’s back as he turned and walked away from her, then out the lounge door.
Disappointment pelted her like a cold rainstorm. Obviously, she was as unnoticeable today as she’d been all those years ago when she’d foolishly followed him around wearing her heart on her sleeve.
Slowly, Eleanor turned to Jake. “I think I really am going to kill you this time,” she stoically advised her foster brother, painfully aware that her hands had formed into white fists on the table.
Chapter Two
Dillon leaned closer to the mirror, trying to concentrate on the bow tie he was having trouble knotting. It just didn’t make any sense. Ever since he’d walked…okay run, away from Eleanor Rose, he hadn’t been able to concentrate on a damn thing. Not his preparations for classes. Not his lists. Not anything.
For at least the hundredth time he wondered about her. Her attempt to distance herself hadn’t escaped him. He couldn’t forget her studied indifference when she’d been forced to acknowledge him.
The woman he’d encountered at the Harbor Room only vaguely resembled the teenage girl Dillon remembered. She’d changed. A lot. The angry tomboy Jake had taken under his wing had morphed into a consummate businesswoman. Too aloof and independent for his tastes, she would never make the cut for his list of potential wife candidates. So, what was his problem?
An attraction for a dyed-in-the-wool corporate businesswoman was not in his plans despite the whiskey-colored eyes haunting him. Or the tall, lithe form and long legs, which he was sure could quite easily wrap themselves around his waist, tempting him. Or the fantasy of sun-struck blond hair cascading through his fingers, taunting him.
A shudder sneaked through Dillon as he savagely clamped down on the runaway images assaulting his good sense. What had happened to the tomboy he used to know?
“Dad. I can’t tie this.”
Dillon glanced at the reflection of his six-year-old son in the mirrored closet door. Ryan reminded him so much of Joan, bringing back memories of his first wife that no longer hurt, but still left him feeling empty and alone. Though she’d been gone four years, he still missed her laughter and the comfort of coming home to the safety of her love each day.
Turning off the rush of memories he’d worked hard to come to terms with, Dillon squatted down in front of Ryan, quickly tying the boy’s bow tie. “You look sharp, champ.”
Standing, he turned them both to the mirror. The last of the Stone men, the son a shorter version of his dad, both dressed in black suits, relieved only by white shirts and matching green eyes. One young and too cautious, the other older and sadly wiser.
“Are we going to find a mom tonight?” His son’s small voice cut through Dillon’s unbidden fantasy of distant, whiskey…blond…
“No. Remember, I told you this is just make-believe. We’ll be helping to raise money for—”
“Charity. But I thought as long as you were going to pick a pretend—”
“Pretend,” Dillon agreed firmly, wondering if he’d made a mistake including his son in this event.
“I know,” Ryan said with a child’s aggrieved sigh, then perked up. “Maybe she’ll be my pretend mom, too.”
Dillon’s heart fairly broke at the longing in his little boy’s upturned face. He hated that Ryan couldn’t remember his mother. In many ways the little guy was so much like her. He had her dark hair, her smile, her easy sense of humor. Even though Ryan had no memory of her, Dillon was aware his son wanted a living mom just like his friends had.
“It’s going to be okay, champ. Hey, do you want to help me pick out this pretend wife?” Dillon didn’t stop to think before he spoke, but he wouldn’t have taken the question back for anything once he saw the excited look that lit up Ryan’s face.
“Really?”
“Really.” Dillon hoped Jake wouldn’t mind a small change in the game plan.
“Do you think we’ll find one who really likes us?”
At the wistfulness in his son’s voice, Dillon turned them both to look in the mirror one last time.
“Of course she will like us. How could any lady resist two handsome James Bond types like us?” Dillon asked, grateful for the smile his answer put on the little guy’s face.
“James Bond.”
Dillon watched Ryan square his slight shoulders and once again tug on his tie, before adding in his best imitation James Bond voice, “I’m ready.”
That’s good, because I’m not sure I am, Dillon acknowledged as he led the way out to his pickup truck.
“This is a great idea, having father-and-son bachelors.”
Dillon followed Jake, who led them to the mocked-up booths for the game show. “You’re not supposed to see the lady contestants, so sit here and we’ll get started as soon as everyone has been served.”
“It
