drifted back to sleep. But this time when she dreamed, she dreamed of Corey.
* * *
Corey wasn’t used to chasing women. If anything, he’d become accustomed to being chased by them. Prior to his fifteenth birthday, he’d been short and scrawny and mostly overlooked by everyone. But in that magical year, things had started to change. He’d shot up in height, put on some muscle, started to shave. And when he’d gone out for football the next fall, he’d made the team.
By the time he’d started college, he was a first-string receiver and his family was known across the great state of Texas for the fortune they’d made in oil. Corey had been so caught up in the thrill of being popular that he hadn’t questioned what he’d done to earn the attention. Truthfully, the reasons hadn’t mattered. All that mattered was that the skinny kid who had been mostly ignored by the girls and laughed at by the older boys was no more.
Corey Traub was now in the spotlight. Guys wanted to hang with him, girls wanted to be seen with him, and he’d reveled in the attention. And then he’d met Heather, and everything had changed. He hadn’t needed the adulation of fans so long as he had her attention; he hadn’t wanted to be with anyone else so long as he was with her.
They’d dated for a year and a half. She was the first girl he ever loved, and she claimed to love him, too. And then he discovered that, during the entire time they’d been dating, she’d been lying to him, deliberately keeping certain parts of her life a secret from him. When he finally found out and confronted her, she cried and apologized, but learning the extent of her deception had destroyed his trust, and her tears didn’t sway him.
It didn’t take long for news of their split to make its way around campus, and the girls started coming around again. In the decade that had passed since his college graduation, little had changed. He was as successful in the business world as he’d been on the football field. And although there weren’t any shy giggling girls hanging around outside of his locker room, there were plenty of bold, sexy women sneaking into his office after hours or slipping hotel room keys into his pocket.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to take the first step with a woman. And it had been a heck of a lot longer than that since any female had told him “no.” But somewhere along the line, sometime within the last few years, he’d started to grow weary of empty relationships and meaningless hookups. He wanted what Dillon had found with Erika.
His brothers liked to tease that he fell in love too easily, but the truth was, Heather’s deception had taught him to be careful with his heart. Not that he’d given up on falling in love. He was still hopeful that would happen, but the next time he opened up his heart completely, it would be to a woman who he could trust was capable of loving him the same way. Openly and honestly, without any secrets or lies between them.
There was something about Erin Castro that made him think she might be that woman.
Maybe he was putting the cart before the horse, considering that she hadn’t even agreed to have lunch with him. But he refused to be dissuaded. If he’d believed that she was honestly not interested, he would have backed off. But he couldn’t forget the way she’d looked at him when they danced, the way she’d trembled in his arms, the way she’d responded to his kiss. No way was the attraction one-sided.
When Monday morning came around and he still hadn’t managed to put her out of his mind, he decided to track her down. Because he was staying in one of the resort’s condo units, it would be easy enough to stop by the front desk of the main building and invite her to lunch and see where things went from there. Except that when he went down to the desk, he didn’t see her anywhere.
“Erin isn’t in today,” Trina told him.
“Will she be in later?” he asked, wondering if she’d switched her shift for some reason.
“I doubt it. She called in sick.”
Sick?
He knew she hadn’t been feeling well Saturday night, but she’d sounded okay when he’d spoken with her Sunday morning. Did she have a touch of the flu or some other kind of bug and had suffered a relapse?
“Is there something I can help you with?” Trina’s long lashes fluttered, the invitation in those green eyes obvious.
“No, thanks,” he told her. “I’ll catch up with Erin later.”
“If you change your mind, you can catch up with me around four.” Her glossy pink lips curved. “That’s when I finish my shift.”
“I’ll remember that,” he told her, determined to ensure that he was nowhere around when Trina got off work.
With any luck, he would be with Erin.
Erin prided herself on being a reliable employee, someone who could be depended on to get things done, whatever those things might be. But when she woke up Monday morning and still hadn’t figured out what—if anything—to say to her boss about her suspicion that he might be her brother, she called in sick.
When her bell rang shortly after 10:00 a.m., she didn’t think twice before responding to the summons. It wasn’t until she’d peeked through the sidelight and saw Corey on her step, making her heart do a little hop and skip, that she hesitated. Unfortunately, he was looking through the same window from the other side, which meant there was no way she could now pretend she wasn’t home.
Forcing a smile, she pulled open the door.
“Corey, hi.”
He smiled back, and she felt that funny little quiver in her belly again.
“I stopped by the resort to see you, and Trina said you were home sick,” he explained. His gaze skimmed over her, leisurely, appraisingly. “But you look pretty good to me.”
“I wasn’t feeling well when I got up this morning,” she fibbed, conscious that her cheeks were burning. “I thought I should stay home…in case I was contagious.”
“Well, I brought you some homemade chicken soup—my mother’s favorite cure for whatever ails you.”
“You made chicken soup?”
He chuckled at the obvious skepticism in her tone. “No, I bought chicken soup that was homemade by the wonderful chefs at the Gallatin Room.”
She lifted a brow at his mention of the resort’s fine dining restaurant and figured the little plastic bowl in his hand probably cost more than a whole meal at any other restaurant in town.
“Thank you,” she said. “That was a really sweet gesture.”
“But you’ve already had lunch,” he guessed.
She nodded.
“So put it in the fridge for tomorrow.”
It would be rude to refuse his offer, so she did as he suggested, though she wondered what kind of strings might be attached to the bowl in her hand.
“Thank you,” she said again. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”
“What are your plans for the afternoon? Because I know you’re not working.”
“I
