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The ringing cell phone in his pocket pulled Dylan away from his thoughts. Before answering, he checked the caller ID.
Phillips. Hell.
Taking one more sip of his scotch, Dylan pressed the talk button. “Marty.”
“Hope this isn’t a bad time.”
Though he’d never found fault with Warren’s advisor before, the man knew his way around Washington, Dylan’s gut twisted with disgust at the sound of Marty’s voice tonight.
“What can I help you with?” Dylan asked. Marty was perhaps the last person in the world he wanted to talk to right now.
“Just checking in. Wanted to see how things are with Miss Taylor,” Marty replied, seemingly oblivious to Dylan’s tone.
“Fine.” The memory of their kiss popped into his head and his chest tightened.
“Good. Good. Your mother, Warren, and I have been trying to decide on just how and when he should acknowledge her. We have not come to an agreement yet.”
“I’ll let you three work that out, Phillips.”
“Any idea how many people Miss Taylor has told about this?”
“Only one friend.” Dylan kept his answer short and sweet, hoping Marty Phillips would get the hint he wasn’t interested in talking about this.
“Hope that’s the case. The fewer people who know, the better. Do whatever it takes to make sure it stays that way. Convince her it’s in her best interest for this to stay a secret for now. I’ve seen you charm the ladies before. With a woman like Callie Taylor, it should be a piece of cake.” Phillips laughed; the sound grated on Dylan’s nerves.
He needed to end this conversation. “I’ve got to go. Let me know if any problems come up.” Without waiting for a response, Dylan pressed end on his cell phone and tossed the device down on his desk.
Guilt settled in his stomach like a lead balloon. Damn did he feel guilty. He genuinely liked Callie Taylor. Enjoyed spending time with her. Talking to her. Kissing her. He knew nothing serious would ever develop between them. It couldn’t. He didn’t do serious. But did she know that?
In one single swallow, Dylan emptied the contents of his glass and went to refill it.
Probably not. Why would she? Callie didn’t know his history with relationships. He doubted she even knew he’d ever been engaged. While news of his engagement and later break up had been splashed across magazine covers at the time, it had been years ago. Besides, Callie didn’t strike him as a tabloid reader. She wasn’t the type to care what people she didn’t know were doing.
Swirling the amber liquid around in his glass, he suddenly wished he was the kind of guy who did serious relationships. Callie was everything a man could possibly want in a girlfriend—smart, compassionate, sexy. Any man would be lucky to have her by his side. At the thought of her with another man, jealousy, like he’d never known, ripped through his body.
“She’s not yours. Remember that.”
Dylan placed his glass on a nearby table and headed to his room to change. Sitting around thinking about Callie accomplished nothing. Somehow, he needed to get her out of his head. Perhaps an hour or so in his home gym would help. He needed a good workout anyway. He’d slacked off the last few days, spending even more time than usual at the office because of Sherbrooke Enterprises’ most recent acquisition. Even if it didn’t get her out of his head, a workout would pass the time.
***
A strange mixture of dread and anticipation plagued him all week. Remembering when he’d last anticipated seeing a woman again was beyond him.
Had he ever? No. Not even Francesca.
Dread, that was another foreign emotion. He took control of situations, conquered them. Never did he dread them.
Yet the two competing emotions churned inside him as he got behind the wheel of his rental car Friday night. To save time, he’d flown to Boston rather than drive, even though he usually enjoyed a good long drive. Pulling onto the highway, he wanted to head north to Callie’s apartment. Instead, he forced himself to head toward the heart of the city. Already after nine o’clock, it was late to be visiting. Besides, she wasn’t expecting him till tomorrow afternoon.
What possible excuse could he use for showing up tonight? It wasn’t along the way to his hotel. And he had no intentions of telling Callie that he couldn’t get her out of his mind, or that he’d looked forward to seeing her all week the way a child looks forward to Christmas morning. Yeah, that was so not happening.
She’d probably think he’d lost his mind. And maybe he had.
He just didn’t know anymore.
The Sherbrooke Regency Hotel wasn’t far from Logan Airport, and soon Dylan walked into his suite of rooms on the top floor. Ditching his bag on the bed, he pulled out his bathing suit and headed downstairs to the hotel’s indoor pool. An hour or so swimming laps would empty his head for a while at least.
The warm humid air and smell of chlorine hit Dylan when he walked out of the men’s changing room and into the pool area. At first, he thought it was deserted. There was no one else in the pool or seated on any of the padded lounge chairs.
