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Enough. She moved the file into the appropriate folder, determined to block any more thoughts of Dylan from her mind. Every time his face flickered into her brain, she replaced it with the image of a bowl of ice-cream. She was in control, she was in charge, she was going to have to stop by the store on the way home for a tub of cookies and cream.
The day ended with no more mishaps, and Michaela walked back to her hotel happy with what she had achieved. It was only as she drifted off to sleep that the rest of the day’s activities began to play across her mind.
The dream she fell into was real. Entirely real. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a pregnancy test and handed it to Dylan. The thin line showed a positive result, and Dylan’s green eyes sparkled as he took it from her. But she realized his eyes weren’t sparkling with joy, they were sparkling with malice. She watched, helpless, as Dylan snapped the test stick in half and snarled at her with an angry wolf’s face. Centimeters from her nose, his long teeth glinted, and he opened his mouth—but instead of devouring her, he whispered, “You’re dreaming.”
Michaela woke in a sweat a full hour before her alarm was due to go off. As her heart rate calmed, the only emotion she allowed herself was relief that it hadn’t been real. Crazy, she hardly ever had dreams like that.
Maybe it’s because you’re pregnant, a small voice said.
“No.” The word came out louder than she intended.
Maybe it’s because you miss Dylan?
She sighed. It wouldn’t do her any good to yearn for Dylan. He was a lone wolf. He’d practically said so himself.
A wolf. He might have run off at the last, but he wasn’t vicious. She shook her head, determined not to think about Dylan or the possibility that she might be pregnant. Scared of falling back into the nightmare, Michaela got up and scanned through the apartment notices in the daily paper the hotel staff had pushed under her door. It was time she got on with her life and moved out of this hotel. The company had paid for her first week, but the hotel fees were now starting to eat into her pocketbook.
She circled a few possible apartments and decided she’d go and have a look over her lunch break. “Onward and upward,” she said as she walked out the door to the office.
At work, however, she found her fingers moving the mouse pointer to hover over the file containing Dylan’s details. I’ll just have a quick look to put it to rest so I don’t have any more of those nightmares.
“Contact care of McCray’s Finance,” she read out loud. Odd.
Clicking through the city listings, she found that McCray’s was on a road parallel to the street she was in now.
At lunchtime, telling herself she was going to check out an apartment that was just a few blocks away, Michaela walked to McCray’s Finance. It was housed in an impressive building, the clean lines of glass reflecting the clear blue Sydney sky. People walked quickly in and out, all dressed in suits and talking on cell phones or sipping at take-out coffee, the picture of busy corporate life. In the foyer, she could see a beautiful artwork, the reds of the Australian outback contrasting against green. Emerald green.
“Oh, excuse me.” One of the workers crashed into her as she took a step back to get the large painting in perspective. She turned and looked up into oceans of green. Holy hell. The man could have been Dylan’s twin—the same eyes, the same dark hair—but this man wore a sharp suit, carried a briefcase, and had a harried look about him that wasn’t Dylan’s.
“Michaela?”
But it was his voice. Her blood froze, her whole being frozen to the spot in shock.
“Oh my God, it is you,” he said. “What are you doing here? I mean, sorry, how are you? I’m so sorry again for leaving like I did.”
A flicker of the old Dylan flourished in the man’s eyes, but Michaela couldn’t believe it was him. Conscious she was staring, she pulled herself together. “Dylan? I thought you said it was a little family business?” She gestured at the building. She’d pictured a mom-and-pop shop, eight, maybe ten people maximum. Not that he’d elucidated.
What an ass. He’d clearly kept her in the dark on purpose. She didn’t know this man at all.
He looked down. “I don’t think I ever said it was little. This is the family business.”
“This? This is all yours? But your last name… Johns?”
Dylan looked at the woman he’d been forced to abandon long before he was ready. His heart swelled. Oh, she was a beautiful sight for his sore eyes. But his delight was short-lived. She was angry, her mouth downturned and her forehead furrowed.
Fair enough. His guilt at leaving her without explanation still kept him up some nights.
He realized his pause was making her ever angrier. “My mother is the McCray. My father named the company after her when he started it years ago.”
When he’d decided not to return to the ship, Dylan had been in a state of shock. He had thought disappearing and letting Michaela get on with her life was the right thing to do—the only thing he could do, considering the circumstances. But in the dark morning hours, sitting beside his mother’s bedside, his mind had wandered through the alternatives. He’d been forced to leave the ship, there was no question of that, but leaving Michaela?
In the end, he’d settled on a truth that made the most sense to him. They’d agreed on three months. She wanted to focus on her career. He could never give her the family, the husband she wanted and deserved. Work took up too much of his time and energy.
It would only have gotten harder for her—harder for both of them—the longer they drew it out. A clean break was the best option.
Now, the result of that option was staring at him, and the wound he saw in Michaela’s expression was anything but clean. Oh, what a mistake he’d made. She had been in his thoughts often enough, but he’d hoped she hadn’t felt his disappearance as keenly as he’d felt the pain of walking away from her.
She pasted on a smile that made his chest ache. “The girls on the dance team all joked that you were a stockbroker after you didn’t seem to care about losing the rest of your pay, but I never thought…”
“I’m not a stockbroker, but they weren’t that far off. My family firm runs a funds management service. Well, we run several, actually.” He looked at her, checking that she wasn’t about to break down.
“So you are loaded.” Michaela drew herself up to her full height.
He managed not to smile. She was some woman—strong and brave even in the worst circumstances.
