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“You’ve probably guessed that this is my daughter, and your half-sister, Sara.” Warren walked over to his daughter, who resembled Elizabeth Sherbrooke a great deal.
Callie nodded and smiled at the younger woman, wondering what she might say today. She’d been rude before, but perhaps she would be more agreeable with her parents present.
“We met the other day,” Callie informed Warren. “But we didn’t really have time to talk.” She had no intention of telling her father what had really happened. There was no point in appearing childish and petty.
Warren pulled out her chair. “Of course you already know Dylan.”
For the first time since entering the room, Callie let herself look over at Dylan. She hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind all night. The day they spent together had been wonderful, and her silly romantic side couldn’t help but want to do it again. The logical part of her brain knew that would never happen. Yesterday, he had merely been keeping her company so she wouldn’t be lonely. There had been nothing more to it.
Dylan hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Callie from the minute she walked into the room. Despite his best efforts, he’d been thinking about her constantly. He wonde
red how her time with Warren was going. The previous day, she admitted she’d felt nervous about meeting him. Not that he blamed her. Dylan couldn’t imagine a more awkward situation. That was why he’d been tempted to greet her himself when she arrived that morning. Just for moral support, of course. Or at least he kept telling himself that.
He wouldn’t let himself admit he simply wanted to see her, that he just enjoyed being in her company. So instead, he conveniently went for a long run at the precise time he knew she was arriving. He’d even considered skipping lunch with the family, but when his mother requested that he join them, he’d been unable to say no.
“I hope you’ve had a nice visit so far,” Dylan said sincerely. Despite the possible complications Callie created for Warren, he hoped the two of them were able to develop some type of father-daughter relationship. Both Callie and Warren deserved that.
Callie took the seat across from him. “Very nice, thank you.” As she reached for her water, she nibbled on her bottom lip, and an overwhelming urge to taste her descended on Dylan. The previous night, he had successfully beaten that urge, but just barely. If they had been alone right now, he didn’t think he would be able to resist again.
As if on cue, the moment Warren sat down, two maids entered the room carrying plates. Everyone remained silent as the carefully arranged dishes were placed on the table.
“Jake called earlier. He won’t be able to get here this weekend,” Elizabeth said once the maids disappeared.
Speaking directly to Callie, Warren explained. “He’s in New York doing some campaigning among the younger voters for me. He hoped to get here this weekend to meet you.”
With everything else going on, Dylan forgot Jake was in New York that weekend. Perhaps he should head home to the city tonight himself. He could use the excuse that he wanted to visit with Jake before his half-brother headed back to his townhouse in Virginia.
Though he cared about Jake and was as close to him as he could be considering the five years age difference, deep down Dylan knew his half-brother wasn’t the real reason he now thought about returning to New York. He wanted—no needed—to get away from Callie and the feelings she evoked.
He decided a long time ago that serious, emotional relationships were not for him. He’d tried it once and had gotten burned. There was no way he’d let that happen again. Somehow, although he couldn’t explain how, he knew if he wasn’t careful around Callie, she could make him want to change his mind.
“Did he say how long he’d be in the city?” Just asking the question made Dylan feel as if he was taking the easy way out. Something he never did.
“At least until tonight. Then he’s heading up to Buffalo,” Elizabeth answered before turning her attention to Callie.
Scratch that idea. Still, there were other excuses he could use for returning to the city. Lies you mean. Lies, excuses—it was a fine line between the two. Did it really matter as long as it got him back to his normal life and away from Callie Taylor? Not as far as he was concerned.
***
Seated on the family’s private plane two hours later, Dylan stretched his legs out and tried to read the spreadsheets in front of him. Though his sudden announcement that he needed to return to the city immediately disappointed his mother, Warren hadn’t seemed to think it odd when he’d said some business issues had come up. Warren knew all too well what it was like to run Sherbrooke Enterprises. Rather, Warren thanked him for keeping Callie company, promised to have someone drive his car back to New York for him, and told him they’d talk soon.
While he did feel guilty about lying, Dylan knew getting back to his life was the best thing for him. Once he was back in his Park Avenue penthouse, Callie Taylor would disappear from his mind.
Which is exactly what I need her to do. Getting involved with her was out of the question for so many reasons. First, she was Warren’s daughter; there was no denying that even if his mother still thought a paternity test should be done. Secondly, she was a sweet and genuinely good person, or at least she seemed to be. She’s the type of woman who expects a serious relationship, he thought to himself, something that might lead to marriage and children. Neither of those two things were in his future plans. Ever.
“Get to work, Talbot,” Dylan chastised himself, focusing once again on the pages in front of him. “I have no reason to feel guilty about leaving. I did nothing wrong.”
Mere minutes after the plane landed, Dylan’s cell rang. Checking the phone’s caller ID, he saw the call was from Marty Phillips, Warren’s campaign advisor.
“What can I do for you, Phillips?” Dylan said in lieu of a greeting.
Not a man to beat around the bush, Phillips didn’t waste any time with idle chatter. “Curious about how things were going this weekend with Miss Taylor. I know Warren arrived in Newport late,” Marty said in his thick Southern drawl.
Dylan gathered up his files and shoved them back into his leather briefcase. “Everything seemed to be going well when I left.”
“Good, good. Tell me, what do you think of this woman? Do you think we have anything to worry about?”
Dylan knew Marty worried Callie would go to the media before Warren did. When it came to the media, Marty believed it was imperative that you were proactive whenever a possible crisis arose. It was much easier to control the media’s spin on things that way.
