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“Let’s get some air,” he said and led her away from the dancing.
Chapter Seventeen
They went outside to the garden and stopped on the gravel path beneath the limbs of a spreading ficus tree. The night air raised goose bumps on Brooke’s bare arms, and she hugged herself as she stood in front of Dylan. If he’d had a jacket he undoubtedly would have offered it to her—that was the sort of man he was, had always been—but all he had was his dress shirt. Maybe he’d offer her that.
He didn’t. Instead, he pulled her closer and ran his big hands up and down her arms, trying to transfer some of his warmth to her. It didn’t help, although she appreciated the effort.
“Talk to me,” he said, gazing down at her with a concerned fondness that was so achingly familiar it made her stomach clench.
She tried to joke it away. “About what? How about pay disparities in women’s professional sports? Or I can give a lecture on mammalian endocrine systems if you prefer.”
He wasn’t amused. “Brooke, I can tell something’s wrong. I’ve known something was bothering you all day. I just kept hoping you’d tell me what it was.”
“It’s nothing.” She pulled away from him and started pacing so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye.
He watched her wordlessly. Patiently. Waiting for her to decide she was ready.
She’d forgotten what it felt like to be under the microscope of Dylan’s perceptive gaze. There was no hiding or dissembling with him. He knew her too well. Knew when she was lying, when she was upset, when she was scared.
He probably knew why, as well. He could read her that easily and was so much smarter than he gave himself credit for. He thought because he’d never been able to memorize the steps of the Krebs cycle in high school biology that he was dumb. But even as an adolescent, Dylan had possessed an emotional intelligence most adults never achieved.
It was intimidating when he focused the full force of it on her.
He couldn’t just read her. He knew how to get her to give up the goods. He knew where all her buttons were and just how hard to push them to get her to do what he wanted.
Look at how he’d first kissed her. He’d known exactly what he was doing. That hadn’t been a spontaneous kiss; it had been calculated. He’d understood precisely how much he needed to warm her up before sending her out the door to stew on it all day, and how that would improve his chances of getting what he wanted.
A flare of resentment spiked through her. Had this whole trip been a booty call? A planned sexcation? Was she the cruise director on the Dylan Price Love Boat?
“This is one of those times when there’s an interior monologue going on in your head, isn’t it?” Dylan asked. “I can practically read your lips.”
She rounded on him. “Then why don’t you? If you know me so well, you tell me what’s wrong.”
Her sudden sharpness took him by surprise, and he hesitated.
She watched him, wondering if he’d really guessed about the award. Was he truly that perceptive?
He cleared his throat and found his voice again. “Fine. I think what’s bothering you is the same thing that’s bothering me.”
“Something’s bothering you?” She hadn’t even noticed. Had there even been anything to notice?
A flicker of exasperation passed across his face, and she swallowed a pang of guilt. He was so much better at this than she was. No wonder she’d never been able to sustain a relationship.
“I’ve been sad about leaving tomorrow.” His eyes locked on hers, gauging her reaction.
“Oh.” She hadn’t picked up on that at all. But now that she thought about it, it could explain all the arm stroking and fussing over her he’d been doing all night. He was feeling possessive.
He shuffled his feet and plunged his hands into his pockets. “I thought maybe you might be too.” Suddenly, he looked like a boy again. Vulnerable, shy, a little bit embarrassed.
Brooke’s heart gave a twinge, and she reached out to reassure him. “Of course I am.” She slid her hands around his waist and rested her cheek on his chest.
The long breath he let out made her feel even more protective, and she squeezed him tighter. He was always so easygoing and carefree, she’d forgotten how insecure he could be underneath the sunny exterior.
His hand cupped the back of her head. Music drifted outside from the party as they clung to each other. Another slow song. They could almost be dancing, the way they were posed. They were even swaying a little.
She felt him take a breath before he spoke. “What if I could come back here?”
“Of course you can. You can come visit whenever you want. I’m always happy to see you. You know that.” She gave him a punishing squeeze for thinking otherwise.
