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“I’m glad the outcome was in his favor,” Dylan said, pulling into the entrance of the resort. “We’re here. I suggest we go to my villa and talk.”
“The coffee shop is still open. Why can’t we discuss things there?”
“I prefer not. I’ve found out the hard way that even saltshakers have ears.”
Dylan turned to her, noticing how she was gnawing on her lower lip. He was consumed with lust as he watched her. “Surely, you’re not afraid of being alone with me.”
“Of course not. Why should I be afraid?”
He could call her out and say because of all the sexual chemistry he’d felt at dinner that meant they weren’t as immune to each other as they were pretending to be. “No reason. If you prefer we go to the coffee shop that’s fine.”
“Going to your villa won’t be a problem, Dylan.”
“Okay then, let’s do it.”
Let’s do it...
Why did his words conjure much more in her mind than talking? Probably because the last time she haddone it, it had been with him. She was certain he hadn’t meant the phrase as a sexual innuendo. Charm banished the thought from her mind as Dylan opened the door to his villa and moved aside for her to enter.
He had kept the lights on and the first thing she noticed was how much larger his villa was than hers. She had a suite, but Dylan’s was twice the size and the furniture was more elegant looking.
“You want something to drink?”
Dylan’s question made her turn to him and then she wished she hadn’t. He was leaning against the closed door with his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. To her way of thinking, it was one hell of a sexy pose. Pure masculinity at its finest.
“Yes, I’ll take a glass of wine, although I shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” he asked, shoving away from the door.
“Because too many glasses knock me out. Literally. I’m known to fall asleep where I am.”
“You’re kidding, right?” he asked over his shoulder as he headed to the wet bar.
“Nope. I’m not kidding.” She glanced around. “Nice place by the way.”
“Thanks. This villa and several others in this building have private owners. This particular one belongs to Stuart Parcell.”
Her jaw almost dropped. “The actor?”
“Yes. He’s a good friend of mine,” he said, handing her a glass of wine. He’d poured two and kept one for himself.
“Thanks.”
He gestured to the sofa. When she sat down, he took a chair across from her. After a sip of wine, he said, “Now we can talk privately.”
“Okay.”
Charm then told him about the conversation she’d overheard. She even pulled out her cell phone and played what she had recorded. Anger lit his eyes, a deep frown settled around his mouth, and his hand tightened around the wineglass.
He stood and went back to the bar. He poured himself another glass and as if he figured he would need more later, he returned with the bottle and placed it on the table.
“I’ve never met Elise’s friend Cindy, but she mentioned her a couple of times. She’s a flight attendant. And Chrome,” he said, easing back down in his chair, “we started Juilliard at the same time, but he was kicked out after the first year when the school officials found drugs in his room. They became suspicious when he was coming to class high all the time.”
“So what does that have to do with you?” she asked.
“Honestly, nothing. Other than we lived in the same residence hall that first year. He swears someone on his floor ratted him out.”
“He thinks it was you?” she asked.
