Of course.
Like an epiphany-inducing thump to the head, it all made sense to Chloe: the black-and-white ten-by-thirteen prints adorning the walls; him alluding to knowing the photographer.
“These photos.” Her gaze, now heady, drifted to the prints on the wall behind the couch. Couples in love. Families playing on the beach. A woman with a pensive stare out a window. “You’re the talented photographer who captured the exquisite images?”
Dylan shot up from the chair, walked over to the window, closed the blinds. It was dark outside now, time flying much faster than Chloe expected. “Was. Iwasthe photographer. That’s not my thing anymore.” He gathered their empty cups and the creamer, headed for the kitchen. “I’m now a coffee-shop owner. And a proud owner of this renovated duplex.”
Chloe followed, stealing a final peek at the photos that seemed to strike a chord; though she couldn’t understand why. However, by the looks of those pictures, he was a gifted photographer.
“I should probably get going now. Thank you for dinner, wine, the coffee, and the conversation.”
He stood behind the kitchen counter, slid her a somewhat guarded side-eye before speaking. “I enjoyed your company. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any.”
It had been a long time for Chloe, as well, and even though she wanted to hang around longer, she knew better than to overstay a welcome. “Right. Well, I’ll be off now.” She pivoted, took ten steps to the door, and opened it, prepared to go on her way.
“Wait. Your apple pie muffins and leftover lasagna.”
Spinning around, Chloe faced Dylan, who was holding up two containers full of food, a half-smile adding a delicate touch to his charming features. Him standing so close, almost made her forget to exhale. Mahogany-colored eyes, framed by thick lashes, stared down at her. Alluring and gentle. “Yes, how could I forget these?” She didn’t blink, only stared back as he passed over the food, her fingers grazing his hands during the exchange.
Was that a chill she felt?
“You’d better head inside your place. It’s getting cool out there.”
The chill she felt was the breeze coming through the open door.Silly Chloe.
“Oh, right. The ocean breeze is much colder at night.” Breaking free from his gaze, she muttered, “Thanks again for these,” then held the containers close to her chest as she backed out of his place, all the way to her door.
Dylan stood at his doorway, one hand nestled in his pocket, the other propped on the doorframe. “Have a great night, Chloe Davenport.”
Back in her apartment,a smile lingered on Chloe’s lips as she sashayed into the kitchen to load the food onto the empty shelf in the fridge.
That smile even lingered as she trailed up the stairs into the bedroom, slid out of her clothes, and into herpsychoT-shirt.
And hours later, as she drifted off to sleep, thoughts of how a man like Dylan Hawke would make the ultimate hero in her book, kept her all aglow.
Until she sat up, heart racing, a sense of loom taking over the second Chloe realized she’d left something behind.
My manuscript!She could hear her heart thumping.
Yep. She remembered the unedited first chapter of her manuscript was left right on Dylan Hawke’s kitchen counter.
No biggie, she resolved. The manuscript could be retrieved in the morning.
No need to panic, right?
Right.
So long as he didn’t read it…
Because if—hypothetically speaking—he were to read it, he’d know by the very first sentence,Lovestruck in Fortune’s Baycould very well be a romance novel starring him.
