 
The Teacher's Billionaire

The Sherbrookes of Newport Book 1

By Christina Tetreault
Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright page

Other Books By Christina Tetreault

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue
_The Teacher's Billioanire_ ©2012 by Christina Tetreault

Published by Christina Tetreault

Cover Designer: Amanda Walker

All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems--except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews--without permission in writing from the author. Please contact the author at christina@christinatetreault.com This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author's imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

# Other Books By Christina Tetreault

*Loving The Billionaire, a novella

*The Billionaire Playboy, book 2

*The Billionaire Princess, book 3

*The Billionaire's Best Friend, book 4

*Redeeming The Billionaire, book 5

*More Than A Billionaire, book 6

*Protecting The Billionaire

*Bidding on The Billionaire

*Falling For The Billionaire

*The Billionaire Next Door

*The Billionaire's Homecoming

*The Billionaire's Heart

+The Courage To Love

+Hometown Love

+The Playboy Next Door

+In His Kiss

+A Promise To Keep

+When Love Strikes

^Born To Protect

^Hist To Protect

*The Sherbrookes of Newport Series

+Love On The North Shore Series

^Elite Force Security Series

For more information about Christina and her books, please visit her website. She can also be found on Facebook and Twitter.

#

# Chapter 1

"Done." Callie Taylor stretched and then tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before packing her materials back into her large tote bag. After spending an afternoon correcting papers, she couldn't wait to sample the brownies she'd grabbed on the way home that afternoon. An unexpected knock on her apartment door stopped her, and she grinned as her border terrier, Lucky, bolted off the living room couch and flew across the kitchen's tile floor.

Without a second thought, Callie followed the dog and pulled open the door. She expected to find another one of the local children selling candy bars for the school fundraiser. Already, several children from nearby homes had come by, and she'd bought candy from each of them. She just couldn't say no. At this rate, she would have enough candy to last until next spring. But it wasn't a child standing on her threshold.

"Mrs. Lee! Come on in," Callie greeted her mom's closest friend. Although she'd spoken to the older woman many times over the past few months, she hadn't seen Mrs. Lee since her mom's funeral three months earlier.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Helen. 'Mrs. Lee' makes me feel ancient." Mrs. Lee's usual warm smile canceled out the stern tone in her voice.

"I'm sorry. I'll try. Promise." Callie closed the door behind her guest. "Ignore the mess. I've been working on school stuff. Do you want something to drink? Some tea or coffee?"

"Hot tea sounds perfect." Helen pulled out one of the colorful, mismatched wooden chairs at the table and sat.

Callie put the teakettle on the stove and then stuffed the last of her school materials in her bag, the whole time wondering what brought Helen by so unexpectedly. A sweet old-fashioned lady, Helen believed in calling before she visited even her closest friends. Whatever the reason behind her visit today, it must be important. And if her unexpected visit wasn't odd enough, now she remained silent at the table. Normally, she was the energizer bunny of conversation. She just kept going and going.

"Would you like a brownie? I stopped at Rosie's earlier." Callie placed a cup of tea and a napkin in front of her visitor.

"No, thank you. I'm all set, but feel free to have one."

Callie grabbed a brownie and then sat down at the table.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here." Helen mixed sugar into her tea, but didn't look at Callie. "I would have called first, but I feared I'd change my mind again before I got here. I got halfway here early last month and turned around." She put down her spoon and reached for her napkin.

Callie watched as Helen folded and unfolded her napkin and hoped the woman would expand on her cryptic statement.

"A few days before your mom died, she asked me to do her a favor once she was gone. Ruth wanted me to mail a letter she wrote." Helen kept her eyes focused on her tea as she spoke. "I finally mailed it Monday morning."

She'd never heard of such an odd request, and Callie couldn't help but wonder what the letter had been about, or why her mom hadn't asked her to mail it. "Oh? Who was the letter to?"

Helen remained silent for several seconds, and Callie thought she wasn't going to answer. "Helen?"

Reaching across the table, Helen took hold of Callie's hands. "Before I say anything, I need you to understand that Ruth loved you more than anything. She made the decisions she did because she wanted to protect you."

A growing sense of dread crept through her body, and Callie nodded at Helen's odd statement.

"She didn't even tell me the truth until she gave me the letter to mail."

Callie heard the hurt in the woman's voice. Her mom and Helen Lee had been friends almost their entire lives, and she couldn't imagine them keeping secrets from each other.

After taking another deep breath, Helen continued. "She even made me promise not to say anything to you, but now that I've mailed the letter, it doesn't seem right that you don't know." Again Helen paused.

"I know my mom loved me, Helen. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Helen squeezed her hand. "Callie, your father is alive. The letter Ruth asked me to mail was to him. Your mom never told him she was pregnant."

Callie heard the words, but her brain just wouldn't let her process them. It couldn't be. "You must have misunderstood her. Mom told me my dad died in a car accident before I was born." Callie's voice grew louder with each word. Maybe Mom had kept secrets from her, but she'd never lied to her. If her father was alive, Mom would've told her.

Helen squeezed Callie's hand again. "I didn't misunderstand, Callie. Your father is alive, and by now, he has gotten your mom's letter and knows you're his daughter."

Pain exploded in her chest as anger and betrayal sliced through Callie's heart. How could her mom have kept this from her? Yanking her hands away, she stood and walked away from the table. Without warning, tears began to flow down her face and her body trembled as Helen's words reverberated in her head.

"Why...?" Callie asked as confusion and pain washed over her. "Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't she tell him? And why bother now?"

Helen walked over and embraced Callie in a motherly hug rather than answer right away. Instead of comforting her, Helen's show of affection caused a fresh round of tears to erupt.

"She wanted to protect you. Ruth thought if you knew, you would try to contact him, and she was afraid you wouldn't be accepted in his world." Helen's voice remained soft and loving, much like it would be if she spoke to her own daughter.

Callie pulled away to find some tissues. "Who is he, and why didn't she tell him when she was pregnant? Why bother telling him now? It doesn't make any sense."

Sighing, Helen moved back to her chair and sat down. "At the time, she wanted to protect him. Sometimes people make bad decisions concerning those they love." Helen paused and took a sip of tea. "Sit down and I'll tell you everything your mom told me when she gave me the letter."

***

Dylan Talbot loosened his tie as he climbed the wide mahogany staircase--his footsteps muffled by the thick Persian runner. He didn't know what to expect when he walked into his stepfather's study. Earlier that afternoon, his mother had called insisting he come to the family estate in the Hamptons as soon as possible and talk some sense into her husband. Something she'd never asked him to do before.

Both his mother and stepfather, Warren Sherbrooke, sat in Warren's study when Dylan entered. After placing a kiss on his mother's cheek, he moved to the leather wingback chair across from the matching leather sofa.

Thankfully, his mother got right to the point. "I'm glad you're here. Maybe you can get Warren to see reason. He won't listen to me." Elizabeth Sherbrooke sat uncharacteristically wringing her manicured hands. She was normally a cool and collected woman. For something to get her so riled, it had to be serious.

Dylan focused on the man, who was like a father to him. Warren had treated him like a son from the moment he had married Dylan's mother after his parents' divorce when he was four. If he'd ever had any doubts about how his stepfather felt about him, they'd disappeared when Warren had decided to enter politics and handed the reins of Sherbrooke Enterprises over to him. In addition to some charitable foundations, Sherbrooke Enterprises controlled the Sherbrooke Hotel chain, which was one of the largest hotel chains in the world.

"Will one of you tell me what's going on?" Dylan asked when Warren remained silent.

"I received this in the mail yesterday." Warren handed Dylan a pale pink envelope. "It's a letter from a woman I knew a very long time ago."

Mum couldn't be jealous. Everyone knew Senator Warren Sherbrooke loved his wife. Theirs was one of the few true love marriages in D.C.

"She claims her daughter is Warren's child," Elizabeth said when her husband didn't continue.

Dylan opened his mouth, but snapped it shut, unsure of what to say. People might call his stepfather many things, but an unfaithful husband wasn't one of them.

Curious, Dylan pulled out the handwritten letter and scanned its contents. "Whoever this woman is, she must be lying. She must be after something." He fully expected Warren to agree, but instead, his stepfather shook his head.

"Ruth Taylor wouldn't lie about something like this." The conviction in his stepfather's voice rang out loud and clear.

"People change, Warren. You haven't spoken to this woman in over thirty years."

"If she was after something, Elizabeth, she would have come forward long before now. I don't know why she waited to tell me about this, but I plan to find out."

Dylan leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. Despite what Warren said, he had to agree with his mother. In his personal opinion, Warren put too much faith in people. While he wouldn't disagree that there were good, honorable people in the world, he didn't think there were many of them. At least, he hadn't met many in his thirty-three years.

"Perhaps she waited for the most opportune time," Dylan suggested. "When she learned you'd decided to run for President, she might have decided this was the best time. Maybe she thought you'd be willing to pay her to keep quiet rather than let the media get this information."

Warren pulled a single white sheet of paper out of the priority envelope on his desk. "This note came with Ruth's letter. According to it, Ruth passed away three months ago. She left the letter you're holding with a friend named Helen Lee. Helen mailed it to me." He passed the second letter to Dylan. "So Ruth has nothing to gain by telling me now."

"I'm assuming Mum's upset because you want to meet this supposed daughter."

"I am not upset because he wants to get to the bottom of this. Just that he wants to do it now. If the media or Richardson gets hold of this information, it could hurt his campaign. And it might not be true."

Now he understood why his mother was so adamant about stopping Warren. Even before Warren had announced his intention to run for President, the media and public had scrutinized the Sherbrooke family. As a family that had originally amassed its fortune in the 19th century while rubbing elbows with the Vanderbilts and the Astors, it gained additional public notice when Warren's grandfather joined the political arena in Washington. Warren, the son of a famous actress and a business tycoon, drew even more attention to the family when he'd married Dylan's mother, the daughter of an English aristocrat.

"I think it would be better to wait until after the election in November. It has been this long already, so a little longer won't matter. Don't you agree, Dylan?"

_Nothing like being put on the spot_. For a moment, Dylan remained silent, mulling over how to reply. "You have a tight schedule for the next several months. It might be wise to wait and, in the meantime, hire someone to learn more about this..." Dylan glanced down at the letter again. "Callie Taylor."

Warren tapped his fingers on the desk. Something he did when he was deep in thought.

"My mind's made up. I've already put a call into Marty to see about rearranging my schedule," Warren said, referring to his campaign adviser, Marty Phillips. "I know you're all against it, but this is something I need to do. I need to know the truth. I won't be able to let it rest until I do."

Dylan stood and walked to the large bay window, which provided an excellent view of the manicured lawn and ocean. Dylan knew when Warren made up his mind about something, changing it was nearly impossible. So convincing him it would be better to wait until after the election to make contact with this woman was unlikely. That didn't mean, however, that he couldn't intervene and help defuse the situation.

"Instead of going to see her yourself, why don't you have someone arrange a private meeting?" Dylan turned back around to face Warren. "Maybe she could meet you here or at one of your other houses. Then there would be much less chance of someone seeing the two of you together, and virtually no chance of the media or Richardson getting wind of this."

While not ideal, the plan was better than Warren's.

"This isn't some woman we're talking about. This is my daughter!" Warren jumped to his feet. "I'm not going to send a hired messenger to meet with her. She deserves better than that."

Obviously, his stepfather didn't entertain the idea that this was all a lie. In his mind, Warren believed Callie Taylor was his daughter, and for Warren's sake, Dylan hoped it was true, that this wasn't some kind of scheme to get money from the family.

Regardless, that didn't mean Dylan planned on blindly accepting the fact. "What if I go and see her?" Playing messenger didn't rank high on his list, but it would help protect Warren from any possible negative media attention.

"My schedule at the end of the month is light." _At least lighter than usual_. "I'll talk to her and set something up for you."

By the way his mother nodded, he assumed she agreed with his idea. "What do you think?" he asked.

His mother smiled for the first time since his arrival. "I agree with Dylan, and I know Marty will approve. Let Dylan handle this for you, Warren."

She hadn't said it, but he suspected his mother thought the same thing he did. He'd always been a shrewd judge of character. A face-to-face meeting with Ms. Taylor might be enough to prove whether or not she was Warren's daughter or just someone out for something. Maybe this Callie Taylor learned of her mother's past relationship with Warren years ago and decided to use it to her advantage now. She could have written the letter and mailed it herself. Obviously, his stepfather hadn't thought of that possibility.

Several seconds passed before Warren reluctantly nodded. "Do it, but if you don't make it happen, I will."

Dylan didn't care why his stepfather agreed to his plan. He just wanted to take care of the problem and keep it all from the media.

***

Sighing, Callie rubbed her temples and looked back at her work. Half a stack of science tests remained uncorrected in front of her. Unfortunately, she couldn't focus. In fact, she hadn't been able to focus on much for the past five days, not since Helen Lee dropped the bombshell about her father in her lap and turned her entire life upside down.

After spending her whole life believing her father had died in an accident, Callie didn't know how to feel now that she knew the truth. If that wasn't enough, he was also an exceedingly rich and powerful man who might be the next President of the United States. News like that would mess with anyone's head.

"You should have told me." Callie touched the gold locket around her neck. The same locket her mom had always worn because it had been a gift from Callie's father, or at least that was what her mom had told her. Who knew, maybe that was a lie too?

Callie clenched her jaw as anger toward her mom flared. It happened every time she thought about how her mom had kept the truth from her. Callie hated lies and secrets. She knew from personal experience that nothing good ever came from them.

Through the open window, Callie heard a car pull into the driveway behind her apartment building. The noise sent Lucky straight to the window for a better look. Not long afterward, a strong knock on the door sent Lucky bolting across the floor. Thankful for the distraction, Callie followed at a somewhat slower pace.

She didn't know whom she'd expected when she opened the door, but it wasn't the large and exceedingly well-dressed, dark-haired Adonis standing on the other side. Like a brainless ninny, she stood and gawked at the gorgeous man standing on the landing. An occasional reader of _The Star Report_ and _Celebrity_ magazines, she'd seen plenty of pictures of business executive Dylan Talbot. In fact, months earlier, he'd been voted one of the most eligible bachelors in the United States.

The man standing at her door could be his identical twin. _They say everyone has a twin_. Her brain just wouldn't let her consider the possibility it was him, because that would mean only one thing, Warren Sherbrooke sent him.

"Miss Taylor?" the gentleman--dressed in a dark gray suit Callie suspected he hadn't picked up at the local mall--asked.

"Can. . . can I help you?" She'd hoped maybe he'd come to the wrong apartment, but if he was asking for her by name, that wasn't possible.

Lord, you might think she'd never seen a handsome man before. _Not this handsome, I haven't._

The man offered her a friendly smile that transformed him from gorgeous to downright heart-stopping. "I hoped to have a word with you. Warren Sherbrooke sent me." The man's deep voice and slight English accent washed over her as his words sent her stomach plummeting.

Since her conversation with Helen Lee, she'd tried not to think about Warren Sherbrooke and her unknown family. She was having a difficult enough time dealing with the fact her mother had lied to her for thirty-one years. Unfortunately, it looked like she could not ignore Warren Sherbrooke any longer.

Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't let a stranger into her apartment, but this didn't fall in the normal circumstances category. "Please come in, Mr..." She paused, accepting the fact the man was Dylan Talbot and not just a look-alike. Warren Sherbrooke was married to Dylan Talbot's mother.

The man pulled open the screen door. "Dylan Talbot," he said, extending his hand to her once inside.

Her friends would never believe Dylan Talbot had been to her apartment. She wouldn't blame them. If they told her one of the country's most desirable men had shown up on their doorstep, she wouldn't believe it either. Actually, she would probably laugh at them.

_So not important now. Focus on why he's here._

He'd mentioned Warren Sherbrooke. Obviously, her father had received the letter her mother wrote him. Did he believe it? And if he did, why hadn't he contacted her himself? Why send someone else? 

# Chapter 2

Dylan shoved his hands into his pants pockets and studied the woman in front of him. He already knew a fair amount about her. After his meeting with Warren and his mother, he used Sherbrooke Enterprises' HR system to run a background check on Callie Taylor. Not that it turned up anything worrisome. She was an elementary school teacher who had done her undergraduate at Boston University on a sports scholarship. The only outstanding debt she had was a small student loan from UMass for her Master's degree. She had no criminal record, not even a parking ticket. Still, that didn't mean she didn't want something from Warren.

"You look confused, Miss Taylor."

When Callie didn't reply, he continued. "My stepfather, Warren Sherbrooke, received a letter last week from your mother claiming you're his daughter. Warren believes it's true and wants to meet you. He sent me to arrange a meeting."

As he spoke, Dylan watched the woman. Although he had his doubts, he couldn't deny the family resemblance. Her eyes were the exact same shade of sapphire blue as Warren's, and her visual likeness to his half-sister Sara had initially taken him aback. Like Sara, Callie had a pretty heart-shaped face with large eyes and delicate features. Unlike Sara, however, the woman in front of him had dark mahogany hair and lush full lips. But it wasn't the family resemblance that surprised him the most; rather it was the utter shock on Callie Taylor's face.

"He wants to meet me?" Callie whispered loud enough for him to hear.

"Are you feeling well, Miss Taylor?" All the color drained out of her face and he feared she might faint. "Maybe you should sit down." Without waiting for an answer, he guided her to a painted kitchen chair and pulled it out for her.

Giving him a weak smile, she sank into the seat and rested her elbows on the table. "I didn't think he would contact me." Callie paused and Dylan sensed she was trying to regain her composure. "Mrs. Lee told me about the letter she mailed him, but I didn't think he would want to meet me."

"Helen Lee?"

Callie nodded.

"There was a note included from a woman named Helen Lee." Dylan opened his suit jacket, and pulled out an envelope. Before he'd left the Hamptons, Warren had given him copies of both letters. "Warren wants to see you as soon as possible. He would've come himself, but he's campaigning out West." He thought his words would bring a smile to her face. Instead, she merely continued to stare at him as if he had grown three heads.

Callie laughed nervously. "Meet him? I don't know if I can do that right now." The words came out slowly, as if she was deliberately thinking of the correct response. "Until several days ago, I didn't even know my father was alive. I'm not sure I'm ready to meet him, Mr. Talbot."

Her admission surprised him. Neither he nor Warren had considered the possibility that she hadn't always known the truth, or what Warren believed to be the truth, which was something Dylan couldn't help but start to believe himself, given the family resemblance.

"Now isn't a good time anyway." Callie ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "It's getting close to the end of the school year. That's one of the busiest times." As she spoke, she stroked her dog's head. The dog sat pressed up against her leg, his eyes never leaving Dylan. "I need some time to think about all this."

Dylan nodded. If what she said was true, he could only guess what must be going through her mind. Still, he needed to get this meeting set up before Warren took matters into his own hands. "I'm scheduled to be in Boston until Friday on business. If you decide you're ready, you can fly back to New York with me."

Callie shook her head, her long dark ponytail swinging back and forth. "That's nice of you, but I know I won't be ready by then. Maybe when school is out in June."

Dylan knew his stepfather didn't want to wait any longer than necessary. Getting him to wait till now had been a challenge, but he couldn't physically force Callie to fly back with him. However, he might be able to change her mind. When he chose to be, he could be quite persuasive, especially when it came to the opposite sex.

"My cell phone number and office number are on here." He handed her his business card. "I'll be back to see you before I leave Boston. If you change your mind before then, call me."

Without a word, Callie accepted the card. "I'll definitely think about it, Mr. Talbot, but I don't think I'll change my mind."

"Warren wanted you to have this. It's a copy of the letter your mother sent to him. Perhaps it'll help you make your decision." Placing the envelope on the table, he took a step toward her. "From the sound of the letter, your mother wanted you to meet Warren." He added the last comment about her mother hoping it would help change her mind. Though he disagreed with Warren's decision, he'd promised his stepfather he would set up this meeting. He planned on doing just that before he left the state.

"Why don't we go out for dinner tonight? I can answer any questions you have about Warren or the family. The more you know about him, the easier it will be to make a decision." The way he figured it, the more time he spent with her, the more time he'd have to sway her decision. Once he set up the meeting between her and Warren, he could wash his hands of the situation.

He was a wealthy politician who sent others to do his errands. What more did she need to know? If he was that anxious to meet her, the least he could do was come himself. Yet, she couldn't complain about his choice of messenger.

In fact, Callie doubted any woman would complain about finding Dylan Talbot on their doorstep. And as tempting as most would find his offer for dinner, she had to refuse. Not only did she have work to complete, but she didn't need Warren Sherbrooke's messenger trying to force her to make a decision she wasn't ready to make. Even if the messenger was drop-dead gorgeous.

If and when she decided to meet her father, it would be when she felt ready. While she didn't know when that would be, she knew it wasn't this weekend.

"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Talbot--" Before she could complete her sentence, Dylan interrupted.

"Please, call me Dylan."

Uncomfortable with calling him by his first name, Callie ignored the interruption and continued. "Tonight isn't a good night. I have a lot of work to do." She maintained eye contact as she spoke, but it wasn't easy. She'd always found it difficult to lie to someone while looking them right in the face. This fact had always made it nearly impossible for her to lie to her mother. Evidently, her mother hadn't shared the same problem.

Dylan raised an eyebrow, suggesting he didn't believe her, but otherwise didn't comment.

_I'm not really lying. There are things I need to finish tonight._ "Actually, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave, so I can get back to work."

"Since you have so much to do, I won't keep you any longer tonight, but I'll be in touch."

His tone remained polite, but she suspected he was being a bit sarcastic. Not that she cared at the moment. He planned to leave, and that was all that mattered.

"Have a nice evening, Miss Taylor." Dylan walked back to the kitchen door.

"You too. Have a safe drive back to Boston." Just because she wanted him as far away as possible didn't mean she had to be rude.

Once Dylan left her apartment, she stood and paced between the table and the counter. In general, strangers made her uncomfortable, but Dylan Talbot gave the word uncomfortable a whole new definition. Usually, after meeting with a person a few times, she felt at ease with them. In this case though, Callie suspected she could spend a month with him and still be uneasy.

She pushed Dylan Talbot and his lovely English accent from her thoughts. Not an easy task. She'd always loved the sound of an English accent, regardless of the person speaking.

_So Warren Sherbrooke wants to meet me._ She'd never expected that, but now that she found herself confronted with the fact, she wished she had someone to talk to. Another person's opinion might help her sort some of this out. Unfortunately, her closest friend, Lauren, wasn't around. She'd gone to Cape Cod to visit family for the weekend. Who else could she trust? She didn't want the world finding out about the situation. Right away, Callie thought of Helen Lee. The woman already knew the truth about her father. She was the perfect choice.

She pulled up Helen's number in her contact list and hit call. "Mrs. Lee, it's Callie," she said when the other woman answered.

"What have I told you about that, Callie? It's Helen. How are you doing? You've been on my mind."

How had she been? Confused? Hurt? Shocked? "Still a little in shock." Callie finally settled on. "You said if I needed to talk again, I could call."

"I'll help in any way I can. You know that," Helen answered in her soft motherly voice.

"It's about my father. I'm still not sure I want to meet him. Yeah, he's my father, but. . . it's just so strange, you know? At first, I didn't want to contact him because I thought he would deny I'm his daughter, but he sent someone here today to set up a meeting with me."

"That's a good sign. So when are you meeting Warren?" Helen's voice took on an upbeat tone. "He seemed like a great man when I knew him, but I was a little worried he wouldn't believe Ruth's letter after all these years."

"Even if he does believe Mom's letter, that doesn't mean he'll accept me."

Helen made a tsking sound. "Why wouldn't he, Callie? You are a wonderful woman. He should be proud to call you his daughter."

Although she didn't know more than what the media said about the man, she did know he was one of the richest men in America. "I doubt he has many school teachers in the family," Callie said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She knew from her personal experiences in high school that the wealthy often looked down on those without huge bank accounts matching their own.

"Ruth always only had good things to say about him, and like I said, when I knew him, he seemed like a great man. If I were you, I would give him a chance. What is the worst that could happen?"

Callie had other reasons for not wanting to meet him, but she didn't want to share them with Helen or anyone else. At some level, she felt if she never met him face to face, she could almost convince herself that nothing had changed. Somehow, ignoring the truth made it easier to keep at bay the anger she felt toward her mother for lying.

Callie had considered her mom more than just a parent. She'd thought of her as a friend too. She never doubted her mother felt the same way. At least not until several days ago.

"So you really think I should meet with him?" Callie asked instead of telling Helen the whole truth.

Again, Helen sighed. "Only you can decide that, but I do think it _is_ what your mom wanted. Why else would she have told him after all these years?"

"Maybe you're right. Thanks for listening."

"Anytime, Callie. Really."

For a solid hour after getting off the phone, Callie worked, or at least tried to work, on correcting papers. Unfortunately, her eyes kept getting pulled back to the envelope that Dylan left. He said Warren wanted her to have a copy of the letter Mom had sent him. Dylan seemed to think it might help her make a decision. Could he be right? Then again, should she even read it? Mom had sent it to Warren Sherbrooke, not her. If her mom had wanted her to know what it said, wouldn't she have sent her a copy too?

_Read it. See what it says,_ a little voice repeated over and over again. If Warren wanted her to have it, then it was okay to read it.

Callie picked up the letter and opened the envelope. Before she changed her mind, she unfolded it. She almost cried at the sight of her mom's familiar handwriting. After taking a deep breath, she started reading.

_Dear Warren,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Several times in the past, I've sat down and started this letter only to tear it up. This time I'm determined to finish it and tell you all the things I should've a long time ago because I may not get another chance._

_First, please know that I never stopped loving you. Not a single day has gone by that I have not thought of you. The years we spent as friends and the months we spent_ _together as much more meant the world to me, and I have always cherished them. So many times since our last night together, I've wished that I handled things differently. Honestly, I'd go back and change things in a heartbeat if I could._

_A year after I left you, I almost reached out to you so I could correct my mistake. I even had my overnight bag packed and my train ticket for New York booked. The afternoon I was to leave, I spotted a picture of you and Elizabeth on the cover of_ The Star Report. _The two of you looked so happy and perfect for each other that I didn't want to interfere, so I never made the trip._

_I hope you believe me when I say I made the decisions I did back then because I thought it was the right choice for everyone._

_The remainder of this letter is difficult for me to write, but you have a right to know the truth. Actually, you had a right to know a long time ago. It was wrong of me to keep the truth from you._

_Warren, we have a daughter together. Her name is Callie Taylor. She's grown to be a wonderful, caring woman. I couldn't ask for a better daughter. Every time I look at her, I am reminded of you and the wonderful friendship we had. She looks a great deal like you. She even has your blue eyes. Callie lives in Slatersville, Massachusetts, and she teaches at Reagan Elementary School. I am including both her home address and her email address in this letter in case you want to contact her._

_I know I'm asking a lot, but I hope you can somehow forgive me for my actions. I never meant to hurt you. Even if you cannot do that, I hope you will make Callie a part of your life._

_Love always,_

_Ruth_

Callie wiped the tears from her cheek and then folded the letter back up. So many unanswered questions and emotions bombarded her that Callie knew she'd never get any more work done tonight. After putting the letter back in the envelope, she turned her attention to Lucky, who sat near her chair.

"How does a walk sound?" Lucky stood and started whining. "I'll take that as good."

***

"So you're telling me your father is alive?" Lauren McDonald said louder than Callie would've liked. The two of them were in Callie's classroom eating lunch the following day. Lauren wasn't only Callie's closest friend, but also a fellow teacher at Reagan Elementary School.

While she hadn't intended to tell Lauren about her mother's secret yet, she couldn't keep the information bottled up any longer. She simply needed to talk more. Her conversation with Helen hadn't been enough, and she trusted Lauren more than anyone else.

Tucking several strands of ash blonde hair behind her ear, Lauren rested her chin on her hands and leaned forward. "Why didn't she tell you before?" She didn't give Callie a chance to answer her first question before continuing. "You guys seemed so close. It's hard to believe she kept this from you."

_Tell me about it_. "I wish I knew all the answers." Callie frowned. "The only thing I know is Senator Warren Sherbrooke and my mother were involved thirty-two years ago."

A sudden gasp escaped from Lauren. "You didn't tell me _he_ was your father!"

"Yes, I did." Callie thought she mentioned it, but the look on Lauren's face said otherwise.

Lauren shook her head adamantly, causing her long pink earrings to dance wildly. "What else did you forget to tell me, chickie?"

She'd left out Dylan Talbot's visit too. "My father sent someone to my apartment." For some reason, she didn't want to mention Dylan's name. Maybe it was because she still found it hard to believe he'd really been in her apartment. "My father wants to meet me, or at least that's what his messenger said."

"So when are you going to see him?"

Callie shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, maybe never."

Lauren's light brown eyes grew wide. "Why not? It sounds as if he's sincere. I don't think it'd hurt to give him a chance. Worst case, he turns out to be a jerk and you wasted a few hours of your day. There are worse things than that."

Lauren made it sound so simple, and maybe if her emotions weren't involved, it would be. Unfortunately, she couldn't turn her emotions off.

"You might be right, but I'm not ready. I can't explain it. Something tells me now isn't the time. Besides, I can't take time off now, you know that. Once school ends, I'll reconsider."

"If you say so." Lauren frowned. "But I think you should give him a chance, Callie. Meet with him at least once. You could end up having a great relationship with your father and his family."

Callie and Lauren finished their lunches and threw away their trash in silence. The students were due back from recess at any minute.

Standing, Lauren started toward the door, which connected their rooms, but then stopped and turned back around. "Callie, you've got a brother and a sister. Well, a half-brother and sister."

The room around her seemed to tilt and spin, and Callie clutched the closest desk to steady herself, as she took a few deep breaths. Lauren was right. Warren Sherbrooke and his wife, Elizabeth, had a son and a daughter in their mid-to-late twenties. She should have realized sooner that she had half-siblings. Somehow though, her brain hadn't made the connection. It was so focused on her mother's lie and Warren himself that she hadn't thought of the bigger picture. This new development only added to her emotional turmoil.

"I'll talk to you later." Lauren's voice broke through the fog just as Callie's students came barreling into the classroom. Sending her friend a little wave, she tried to focus on her afternoon lessons.

That night, Callie scrolled through the hits her Internet search found. When she'd sat down, Callie only intended to write a few email messages before losing herself in a book. Instead, she'd brought up her favorite search engine and typed in her father's name. She'd done a very brief Internet search after learning the truth about her father, but this time she intended to do a more thorough job. In seconds, the Internet came up with well over one million hits.

_Thank goodness for modern technology_.

Like most of America, she already knew the basics about Warren Sherbrooke. While that meant she knew more about him than she did any other stranger, she still didn't know a lot about him. While the Internet couldn't give her all the answers, it could help fill in some of the gaps.

_Dylan Talbot could tell me even more_. Callie eyed his business card. At first, she'd considered throwing it away, but at the last minute, she'd changed her mind. Now the card sat on her end table near the house phone, which she never used.

"For now, this will have to do," she said. She refused to call him. If she called him, it would look as if she wanted a meeting with her father, and she still had not made up her mind.

Moving the cursor over the first Internet link, she double clicked. Instantly, an official political website popped up.

Over the next hour, Callie scanned through the various sites. Many of them contained the same information, much of which she already knew. As she read the articles regarding Warren and the Sherbrooke family, the same question kept plaguing her. How had her parents ever met? They came from completely opposite backgrounds. Callie couldn't imagine anything that would've brought them in contact with each other, let alone allowed them to be intimate.

He came from a wealthy, well-connected family. Ruth Taylor, on the other hand, had grown up in Rhode Island where her parents had owned a small deli and convenience store in Newport. Sometime before Callie's birth, her mom had moved to Massachusetts. So how had it happened? She was dying to know. Unfortunately, the only person who could tell her the truth was her father.

***

The proper thing would've been to call, Dylan thought as he rapped his knuckles on Callie Taylor's weathered apartment door three days later. He'd considered calling, but had decided against it, although he didn't know why. Perhaps it was because he knew she might refuse to see him. How could he persuade her to change her mind if she wouldn't see him? He was good, but not that good. Dylan knew how important this was to his stepfather, and even though he was against them meeting before the election, he didn't want to disappoint Warren. It would be like disappointing his father.

Through the door, he heard her dog barking and then her voice scolding the mutt. Without asking who it was first, she pulled open the door.

Since their first meeting, he hadn't thought much about Callie's appearance. Rather, he'd been focused on how he could change her mind. Yet with her standing only a few feet away, he couldn't ignore what a beautiful woman she was. Silently, he watched her lips form a smile, which didn't quite reach her eyes.

"It's nice to see you again." Callie paused for a moment and Dylan wondered if she would invite him in or not. "Please come in," she finally said as she took a step back.

Dylan could tell she wasn't pleased to see him again. Although her words were polite and friendly, her body language gave away her true feelings. He doubted she realized just how much her rigid stance and crossed arms told him about her feelings regarding his visit. Dylan knew most people didn't know how much their body language revealed, but he'd taken a sociology course as an undergrad that had spent more than a month on this very topic. It was amazing just how handy it was when dealing with business executives.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you." Following her into the sweet, chocolaty smelling kitchen, he forced himself to keep his eyes locked on the back of her head and her long dark ponytail rather than the gentle sway of her hips. "I thought we might be able to arrange a time for your meeting with Warren." He watched her sit down at the table, which was covered with trays of freshly baked chocolate brownies.

Her fake smile faltered for a moment. "I told you the other day, Mr. Talbot, I'm not ready for any kind of meeting. Even if I wanted to meet him now, I can't take a lot of time off. It's just not possible as a teacher. It'll have to wait until at least June, when school ends for the summer."

_Take it slow and easy. Making her angry won't help matters._

"We could arrange something for a weekend then." He made the offer, fully suspecting she would still refuse.

Initially, he hadn't expected her to be so resistant. In fact, he'd thought she would be excited about the prospect. After all, it was Warren Sherbrooke who wanted to meet her. Most people would be thrilled to learn he was their father. Callie Taylor, however, seemed to be just the opposite, and even though it made his job more difficult, he liked her more because of that fact.

Callie folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair. "Mr. Talbot, flying somewhere for the weekend isn't in my budget. I'm sorry if you don't understand that."

Her movement had his eyes moving instinctively to her breasts. During his first visit, she'd been wearing a loose, baggy t-shirt that had hidden her body well. However, today she wore a fitted purple tank top and a pair of well-worn jeans, both of which showed off her curves.

_Keep focused, Talbot_. Despite the mental command, his body didn't want to cooperate.

Forcing his eyes back up to her face, he ignored her clipped tone and thought about how best to reply. While he didn't know any teachers personally, he knew they weren't paid a fortune. However, if the cost of travel was the only problem, that could be easily rectified.

"Warren would be more than willing to pay for all the travel expenses, or you could use his private plane. If you want to give me some dates, I'll arrange everything before I leave Boston."

As soon as the words left his lips, Dylan knew he'd said the wrong thing. For a few seconds, Callie glared at him, her eyes flashing with anger. The emotion made them even bluer, if that was possible.

"If Mr. Sherbrooke is in such a rush to meet me, why didn't he come himself? Why did he send you instead?" Callie snapped, her tone cold and unfriendly. A tone she hadn't used during his first visit.

Dylan knew he gave her a reason for Warren's absence during their first meeting, which meant she'd either forgotten or didn't accept it. Something told him the latter was more likely. Still, just in case, it would be better to stick with his first excuse.

"He's campaigning on the West Coast." Dylan gripped the back of a kitchen chair. "I thought I mentioned that."

Shifting in her seat, she nodded. "You did, but he could have come when he finished, couldn't he?"

Unexpectedly, she gave him a small knowing smile. "If he really wanted to meet me, wouldn't it be easier if he came rather than send you?"

He sensed she already had an idea of why he'd come instead of Warren. Still, he needed to answer her question. The truth was going to sound crass, but it would be better to get it out in the open now. If it came out later, it'd be much worse.

"He wanted to come himself. We advised him otherwise."

"We?" Her eyebrows rose.

"His campaign adviser, my mum, and me. We were afraid of what might happen if the media learned about you now during the campaign."

He felt like a real ass admitting the truth aloud. He probably didn't want to know what she thought of him. Without her even saying a word, he knew he hurt her. It was something he regretted more than he expected, which made no damn sense because he barely knew her.

"There is no way of knowing what kind of spin the media might put on the information," he added when Callie remained silent.

She'd expected as much, still it hurt to hear it. _Don't let it bother you. What did you expect anyway?_

"I see. So he always does what others tell him?" Despite her best effort, she couldn't keep her voice from catching.

A warm hand folded over hers. The feeling of his unexpectedly rough skin against her hand sent unwanted tingles up her arm.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Callie," he said, using her given name for the first time. "Normally, he does what he believes is best."

For most of her life, she'd disliked her first name. It had been different from everyone else's growing up. She hadn't known anyone else with her name. More than once, she'd wished her name was something more common like Melanie or Michelle. When Dylan said it though, Callie sounded beautiful, special. Callie didn't know exactly why it sounded so much better coming from him, it just did. Maybe it was due to his accent, or perhaps because it came from such a gorgeous man. Whatever the reason, she could have listened to him say it all day long.

"And he didn't think coming to see me himself was best?" She kept her eyes focused on their hands, afraid he would see how upset their discussion made her.

Dylan cleared his throat before answering, as if he was uncomfortable with the conversation. "I think he realized he was too emotionally connected to make an impartial decision, so he agreed to let me come and arrange everything for him."

Even if every word was true, it didn't change the fact that she didn't want any charity. She didn't want Warren Sherbrooke to think she expected anything from him. As far as she was concerned, he was nothing more than a sperm donor who'd been involved with her mother. Perhaps this view would change one day, but right now she couldn't really think of him in any other way.

"I appreciate your honesty," Callie said in a much kinder tone. Somehow, Dylan's sincerity killed much of her anger. "But I can't let Mr. Sherbrooke pay for my airfare, and I definitely don't want to use his private plane. Any meeting will have to wait. I'm sorry."

When Dylan remained silent, she assumed he'd finally accepted her answer and decided to give up. She started to breathe a sigh of relief when he spoke again.

"In that case, could you meet with him at his house in Newport? You could drive down and spend the weekend."

_Lord, this man doesn't give up, does he? Persistence should be his middle name._

If Dylan was trying so hard, did that mean this meeting was really that important to her father? It seemed like it, and she had to admit she was more than a little curious about the man.

_Only he can answer your questions_ , a tiny voice in her head whispered. Plus a weekend down in Newport would be a nice mini-vacation. She loved the area, always had, and if things weren't working out, it'd be easy enough to come home. Newport wasn't that far away, just a couple of hours.

Callie chewed her bottom lip and considered her options. She didn't want to make the wrong decision. "That sounds okay," she said slowly, her mind working. "There's a long weekend coming up, and I could take two personal days to extend it."

A smile she suspected had melted dozens of hearts spread across her visitor's face.

_It should be illegal to look that good._ If he kept smiling at her like that, she might agree to anything.

"Just give me the dates and Warren will be there."

Callie stood to get the pad stuck to the refrigerator door so she could write down the days. Turning back around, she stopped suddenly when she found Dylan's eyes locked on her, or more precisely, her body.

He wasn't checking her out. It just isn't possible. She had a decent figure. Callie would never deny that. Compared to the women he'd probably dated, and could date with the snap of his fingers, however, she was nothing special.

_I'm just imagining things._

Callie jotted down the dates and handed the paper to Dylan. "I put both my cell and house phone numbers on here too in case you need to call and cancel."

"Thank you, but I know Warren will be there. Like I said, he is looking forward to meeting you. I'll be in touch this week to confirm a time." Dylan folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.

Callie walked Dylan to the door. "Have a safe drive back to Boston, Mr. Talbot." She assumed he was headed there anyway.

When Dylan left, she closed the door and leaned her head against it. In less than a month, she'd meet her father, someone she'd always believed dead. Man, she hoped she hadn't made a terrible mistake.

# Chapter 3

"We went to the new seafood restaurant, Sole, that opened last month. It was delicious."

Callie stared into her closet as she listened to Lauren go on about her romantic date the night before. She was packing, or at least trying to pack, for her weekend trip to Newport. Lauren had stopped by to visit and lend moral support.

"Packing isn't supposed to be this difficult," Callie said, interrupting Lauren before she could continue. "Seriously, you'd think I could just fold some clothes and put them in a suitcase. So far, the only things I've packed are underwear and a toothbrush."

Lauren patted Lucky, who sat on the bed next to her. "It is simple. You're the one making it complicated."

Looking over her shoulder, Callie threw her friend a dirty look. "I am not. I just have no idea how I should dress this weekend. Should I go for casual or do you think the Sherbrookes expect something more formal? This is about as formal as my wardrobe gets." Callie gestured to the navy blue Dockers and short-sleeve sweater she had worn to work.

"Bring your favorites. Whatever you're most comfortable in. I doubt they expect you to be wearing an evening gown, chickie." Lauren got off the bed and came to stand next to Callie.

Callie pulled her favorite short-sleeved blouse off its hanger. The blouse was a little faded and fraying a bit at the collar. Still, Callie didn't normally think twice about wearing it. Today though, she returned it to the closet. "I don't want to look like a complete slob, Lauren."

Even though she kept telling herself it didn't matter what her father and his wife thought of her, she knew deep down that it did. "I don't want them to think I'm some uneducated hick from the country."

"Now you're being silly. No one would ever think that about you."

"I should have started packing sooner." Callie pulled out the short, bright red sundress that Lauren convinced her to buy one day when they'd visited Block Island, but she had never worn. She hadn't even cut the tags off it. Though it looked great on the hanger and probably would look fabulous on Lauren with her lithe dancer's body, it just wasn't her style. "Then I would've realized what a desperate state my wardrobe is in and been able to go shopping. But nooo... I waited till the night before. After the mall closed."

Lauren put an arm around Callie's shoulders. "If you want, I can go home and grab a few things for you. Maybe that violet pencil skirt you like."

"If you don't mind. It's already kind of late."

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't have offered if I minded. Anything specific you want, or do you want me to just pick a few things?"

"Whatever. You know my taste." Callie folded the sundress and put it in her suitcase. She doubted she would wear it, but just in case she got really desperate while down there she would have it. Then she started looking through her clothes again.

"Be back soon. Call me if you think of anything specific you want," Lauren called as she headed out.

"You don't know how good you have it, Lucky." Callie walked over and ran a hand down the dog's back after Lauren left. "You never have to worry about impressing anyone."

Oblivious to the turmoil Callie felt, the dog flopped onto his back to get his belly scratched.

"I wish I could take you with me this weekend." No matter what else was going on, Lucky somehow always managed to improve her mood and helped her relax. "Somehow, I doubt the Sherbrookes would want a crazy dog like you running around their mansion."

As soon as she said the name Sherbrooke, her gaze shifted to the black and white photo she'd printed off the computer. The picture had been taken at some charity event the family had attended that winter. Her father, half-brother Jake, and Dylan Talbot were all dressed in tuxedos while Warren's wife, Elizabeth, and Callie's half-sister Sara were both dressed in gorgeous designer gowns that probably cost more than she made in two months. The entire family looked so elegant, so sophisticated. And so far removed from her life. She couldn't see herself ever fitting in with them.

"Stop being such a sissy. They're just people," Callie said. "They put their pants on one leg at a time just like you. Theirs just cost a hell of a lot more." Callie marched back to her closet and pulled her favorite blouse off its hanger. To hell with it being faded.

***

Bellevue Avenue in Newport was perhaps one of the most well-known spots in New England. Along both sides of the road stood breathtaking mansions, which at one time had been the summer cottages of America's most elite families. Families like the Vanderbilts and Astors had built their homes overlooking the Atlantic Ocean with only one thing in mind, outdoing their neighbors. Today, most of the mansions were owned by various historical societies and open to the public for tours. Some could be rented for special events. A few had even been used in movies.

She'd always loved the area and had toured some of the mansions. Though each one was unique, she'd been equally awed by the beauty and extravagance each displayed. She found it difficult to imagine anyone actually living in them. Yet people had. Some still did. Her own father sat in one right now waiting for her.

In her rearview mirror, she could see the security gate closing behind her. "This is it. There is no turning back now." Even as she sat there, security personnel were probably alerting Warren of her arrival.

Callie took a deep breath and then squeezed the steering wheel tightly as she started up the gravel driveway. Manicured lawns stretched out all around her, and in the distance, she could hear the crash of waves. When the driveway curved, Cliff House came into view for the first time. Unlike many of the other mansions in the area, Cliff House was situated so that it couldn't be seen from the road, and since it was still used as a part-time residence, the public couldn't tour it like many of its counterparts. As a result, few people had ever seen the mansion. Naturally, photos appeared in magazines from time to time, but none did the building justice.

After turning off her car, Callie sat gazing at the palatial structure before her. Built in 1895 out of light colored granite, the mansion had been designed to resemble Alexander Palace in Russia, or that was what the website had told her. No matter what place the mansion was supposed to resemble, the building was magnificent.

What would someone who lived in a place like this want with her? Callie closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of the mansion and all it represented. All the way down, she'd tried not to think about the differences separating her from her father and his family. Now, though, seated outside Cliff House in her four-year-old Ford Focus, it was impossible not to think about them. He was a billionaire. A United States Senator. Perhaps even the next President of the United States. She was an elementary school teacher. What could they have in common? Other than some shared DNA, what could she have in common with her half-brother and sister? If they were anything like Dylan Talbot, Callie's half-siblings and she were worlds apart.

Callie hadn't seen or heard from Dylan since his last visit to her apartment when she'd finally agreed to this meeting. Not that she'd expected to. He'd passed along her father's message. With that job complete, he had no other reason to seek her out. Still, part of her had hoped to hear from him again, even if only to confirm her visit for the weekend. Unfortunately, no such call ever came. Instead, she'd received a phone call from his executive assistant confirming what time she should arrive.

Would Dylan be here this weekend? It wasn't like he had a reason to be around. They weren't related in anyway. She didn't even think Warren's other children would be here this weekend. The way the executive assistant spoke, only Warren and Elizabeth Sherbrooke would be there to meet her.

Did Jake and Sara Sherbrooke even know she existed? Her father might have decided not to tell them yet. If he had, how had they responded to the news? Dylan never once mentioned Warren's children or his wife, Elizabeth. If the tables were reversed, how would she feel about her father having a child appear out of nowhere? How did his wife feel about the situation? Many women wouldn't appreciate their husband's bastard child showing up on their front doorstep, even if that child had been born before they'd met.

The unasked questions brought Callie to a halt as she followed the walkway up toward the main entrance. She'd been so overwhelmed by her own emotions toward her mother and the situation that she hadn't once stopped to consider the other people involved. At the very least, she should have asked Dylan how the others felt. No matter how caring and understanding a person was, it had to be difficult to learn your husband had another child floating around.

_Why didn't I think of this sooner?_ Callie forced her feet to move again. The closer she got to the front entrance, the more apparent it became that she'd made a mistake agreeing to this visit.

_Too late, I'm here now_.

Before she could even search for a doorbell, the massive front door swung open. A rail-thin man dressed in a black suit, who didn't look strong enough to even open the door, took several steps toward her.

"Miss Taylor, please come in." Much like his appearance, the older man's voice was professional and devoid of any character.

Uncertain how to respond, Callie searched her brain for something to say. "I'm a little late. Traffic was horrible through Providence."

_Brilliant, just brilliant_. Too bad she couldn't take back the words. _He must think I'm an idiot_.

The man, who she guessed was a butler, merely nodded. "If you will please follow me."

_Not much of a conversationalist, are you?_ Then again, maybe butlers weren't supposed to be. She didn't exactly run into them every day. Maybe people like her father expected his employees to be seen and not heard.

Like an obedient child, Callie followed the older gentleman deeper into the opulent mansion, and with each step, her heart beat faster. Desperate for a distraction, she focused on the beautiful surroundings rather than the jumble of nerves in her stomach. Framed portraits that looked as if they belonged in a museum lined the walls, and beautiful antique furniture filled the rooms she passed. Despite her best efforts, the distraction wasn't helping.

She'd never experienced an anxiety attack before, but she knew without a doubt she was having one now. Her heart raced. Her breathing was rapid, and she felt ready to jump out of her skin.

_Relax. He's only a man, not some super human being_.

The knocking sound penetrated the ringing in Callie's ears. As if from a great distance, she heard a male voice respond and the butler pushed open the door to an extremely masculine study, complete with dark wood and leather furniture.

"Miss Taylor has arrived," the butler said to the room's occupant.

Without consciously thinking, she ran her sweaty palms down the sides of her skirt and took a tentative step forward. She assumed Warren Sherbrooke would be waiting for her on the other side of the door. Her father wasn't the man Callie now found greeting her.

Dylan knew she was disappointed. He could sense it with every fiber of his being. He also knew he was the cause of her disappointment, and that displeased him. Though he had no idea why. It didn't matter how this woman felt about him. Today, he had to act as host in Warren's absences, plain and simple. He hadn't even planned on being here this weekend. He was supposed to be in Chicago on business. However, when his mother called very late the night before asking him to meet Callie today, he sent his Vice President of Operations to Chicago in his place and came straight here instead.

"Callie, it's nice to see you again. Please have a seat." Dylan smiled and gestured toward the leather sofa, but remained standing until she sat down.

As she settled herself on the sofa, he pretended not to notice how her skirt rose up, exposing her thigh as she crossed her legs. Like the skin on her face and arms, her legs were tan, and Dylan instantly wondered if they felt as smooth as they looked. Uncomfortable with the path his brain was taking, he pushed the irrational thought from his mind. He needed to stay focused.

Linking his fingers together, he leaned forward and set about explaining Warren's absence. "Warren planned on arriving early this morning, but he didn't feel well enough to fly today. He spent last night in the ER with a severe case of food poisoning. He and my mum hope to leave sometime tomorrow. It'll depend on how he's feeling though."

Personally, he didn't think they'd be able to leave Florida until Sunday at the earliest. For his stepfather to go to the hospital, he must have been feeling downright awful. Warren hated going to the doctor, and he never let illness stop him unless he was literally too sick to get out of bed.

"He's very disappointed--" Dylan stopped mid-sentence when the door to the study opened.

"Have you heard from Mom and. . ."

This wasn't what he needed now. Dylan watched his half-sister, Sara, enter the room. She'd already made her opinion known about Callie's visit, and he didn't need a repeat performance of their earlier argument. He especially didn't need it in front of their guest. It was already apparent that Callie felt uncomfortable. Dylan didn't want to make the situation any more awkward. The last thing he wanted was for her to leave before Warren arrived. He'd promised his stepfather Callie would be there, and Dylan didn't take his promises lightly.

"I talked to them early this morning when they got back to their hotel room." Dylan paused before continuing. His manners dictated that he make formal introductions, even though he knew they weren't necessary. The look on Callie's face told him she knew exactly who Sara was. Still, it was the polite thing to do.

_Don't say anything stupid, Sara._

Clearing his throat, he prepared himself. "Sara, I'd like you to meet--"

"You don't have to tell me who _she_ is," Sara snapped. Her voice dripped with contempt. "Or why she's here."

Dylan knew what his sister was implying. Unfortunately, he couldn't control what she said. Once again, he wished she'd taken his earlier suggestion and gone back to New York where she spent much of her time.

Despite the less than polite greeting from Sara, Callie appeared to remain relatively unaffected by it. "Senator Sherbrooke invited me here. I didn't ask to come."

_One for the new girl on the block_. Dylan suppressed a smile. While he loved his half-sister, he often didn't approve of the way she treated people these days. Unfortunately, more times than not, people just accepted her behavior because of who she was, which only reinforced her actions. Apparently, Callie didn't plan on taking any crap from her though.

Sara stared at Callie, momentarily at a loss for words, something that didn't happen often. "Well. . .You still waited till the election was just around the corner to contact him. You can't deny that."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that the sisters' first meeting wasn't going well. So before either could escalate the situation, Dylan stood and moved toward Sara.

"She didn't contact him, Sara, but now isn't the time to discuss any of this." Taking her by the arm, he led her toward the door. When she started to protest, he gripped her upper arm tighter. Narrowing his eyes, he added, "We can talk again later."

He heard her huff and mumble something that sounded suspiciously like 'she won't be around for long.'

"What was that?" Dylan asked, leaning closer so Callie wouldn't overhear him.

"I said she won't be around for long. Once the media gets wind of this, they're going to hound her till she climbs back into whatever hole she climbed out of." After her final comment, Sara yanked her arm free and left without another glance in Callie's direction.

Closing the door behind Sara, Dylan returned to his seat across from Callie. "Don't pay too much attention to what Sara said." He needed to smooth things over. "She's used to being Daddy's Little Princess and isn't happy that she might have to share him. It's nothing personal."

Callie met and held his steady gaze. "Please don't make excuses for her. Things don't get more personal. I don't blame her for being upset though. This whole situation is strange." She paused and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Every time he'd seen her, she had her long hair tied back in a ponytail, except today. Now she had it tied back in a loose bun. As he watched her move the strands of mahogany colored hair which had escaped, he found himself wondering what she looked like with her hair loose. His gut told him the sight would be breathtaking, and his hands itched to free her hair to find out if he was right.

"I'd probably be angry too, if I was her."

Once again, he found himself admiring Callie Taylor. Most people wouldn't be so understanding. In fact, he couldn't imagine any of the women he knew acting like her. Instead, they would most likely be acting much more like Sara.

"If you talk to Senator Sherbrooke, please tell him I hope he's feeling better. Since he isn't here right now, I'm going to head out. It was an unusually long drive, and I still need to check in to my motel." Without waiting for a reply, she stood.

Dylan immediately came to his feet, his manners too ingrained not to. "Please stay here. A room has already been prepared for you." He moved toward her.

He didn't want her to leave yet. If she left now, he feared she wouldn't return when Warren arrived. That was the only reason he'd made the request. Or so he told himself.

Deep down though, he knew there was more to it. Dylan wanted her to stay because he wanted to get to know her better. He still wasn't one hundred percent certain he trusted her intentions regarding Warren, although he now leaned strongly in that direction. Her resistance to meeting Warren when he'd first approached her appeared too real to be an act. If she was after something, why refuse to meet him? Plus, she seemed so unlike the people he dealt with on a daily basis. He found her to be a refreshing change.

Callie shook her head and a brief look of sadness passed over her features. "No, thank you. That probably isn't a good idea. I'll give you my cell phone number in case Senator Sherbrooke gets back tomorrow."

Searching through her purse, she pulled out a small notepad and a pen. After jotting down her number, she handed him the slip of paper and moved toward the door. She'd only taken a few steps when Dylan reached out to touch her arm. The second his hand came in contact with her skin, an unexpected surge of desire swept through him.

"At least have dinner with me tonight." It was the least he could do. She drove all the way down here after all. It wasn't right for her to spend the whole night sitting in some motel room alone. Not when he could do something about that.

He was barely touching her, yet bolts of energy zigzagged up her arm and through her body. She'd never experienced a sensation quite like it before.

"Thank you, but no." Callie didn't want him to think she expected anything from him. "I don't want to disrupt your plans." Surely he had something planned, maybe a date with some gorgeous model or wealthy socialite. He was, after all, more handsome than anyone should be. Not to mention rich. Either attribute would easily attract women, but when they were wrapped together in such a nice package, they made a man irresistible.

Dylan stepped closer and moved his hand from her forearm to her shoulder. "You wouldn't be disrupting anything. Actually, you'd be saving me from eating alone."

Callie choked back a laugh. She doubted he needed saving from anything. Ever. The man oozed competence.

_Go for it,_ a tiny part of her brain encouraged. What do you have to lose? Besides, what else would she do all night? Get takeout and read a book? Watch television?

"Okay, but I want to check in first and drop off my things."

Dylan didn't object. "Does five o'clock work for you?"

That should give her more than enough time to check in and take a shower. "Sure. I can meet you here."

"It doesn't make sense for you to drive back here. I'll pick you up. Where are you staying?"

He might be right, but she hesitated anyway. "The Wharf Motel, but I don't mind driving back here or meeting you at the restaurant."

"I'll be there at five."

Dylan struck her as the stubborn type who wouldn't budge on this one. Rather than waste her energy, she nodded and walked alongside Dylan as he escorted her to the door.

***

By the time she stepped out of the shower a little later, Callie wondered if her entire trip was jinxed or something. First, her father hadn't been able to fly up from Florida. Then the motel had mixed up her reservation and her room hadn't been ready. Finally, to top it all off, there had been no hot water for her shower. If things kept going the way they were, she might just pack up tomorrow morning and go home and forget about the meeting with her father.

Right now, though, she needed to concentrate on getting through dinner with Dylan Talbot. Whenever they were together, she felt off balance, drawn to him in a way she hadn't felt before. Callie couldn't fully explain it. Granted, he was worthy of god status. Any woman with eyes would agree. Still, she'd been around handsome men before and not been affected by them in the same way. It unsettled her, and she wasn't sure how to handle it.

"Just remember who he is and who you are. Men like him don't get involved with elementary school teachers. Even if they are excellent teachers who have the Massachusetts State's Teacher of the Year award to prove it." Callie told herself as she looked through the outfits she packed. She didn't have many options. She didn't want to wear Lauren's violet skirt again, and it seemed like a good idea to save her other skirt for her meeting with Warren. Depending on where they were going for dinner, shorts might be too casual, so that left only the red sundress.

Nervously, Callie cut the tags off the dress and slipped it on. The bodice of the dress was formfitting with a low-cut back and full skirt that ended just above the knee. Callie chewed on her bottom lip and examined her appearance in the full-length mirror. While the dress would definitely look better on her friend Lauren, she had to admit it flattered her figure and coloring. She only wished the top wasn't designed to fit so snugly.

That evening, Dylan took her to The Spiced Pear, an upscale restaurant located at the beginning of Newport's famous Cliff Walk. Although butterflies danced in her stomach, she found Dylan surprisingly easy to talk to. So easy in fact, before she knew it, their waitress had finished clearing away their dinner plates.

With a heavily laden dessert tray in one hand, the pretty, well-endowed, bleached blonde waitress returned to their table. "Would either of you be interested in dessert?" As the woman spoke, her eyes never left Dylan's face, and Callie got the distinct impression that the dessert she was offering Dylan wasn't on her tray.

The young woman had been flirting with him since they'd been seated, but so far he hadn't reciprocated. Callie didn't know if that was because he truly wasn't interested in the blonde or because she was there and he wanted to be polite. Either way, she appreciated it. How embarrassing it would be to have him flirting back with her sitting right there.

Though she couldn't fault the woman, Callie wanted to throttle her every time she smiled seductively in Dylan's direction. It wasn't that she was jealous or anything. She had no reason to be jealous. This wasn't even a date. Although the waitress had no way of knowing that. Did the waitress think she was too unattractive to be on a date with someone like Dylan Talbot? _It doesn't matter what she thinks._

Instead, it was a matter of proper behavior. Having worked as a waitress in college, she knew what most restaurants considered proper behavior. Many restaurant managers considered flirting with customers a no-no. Although many women still did it often in the hopes of getting a better tip.

"I'm all set tonight. What about you, Callie?" His voice pulled her thoughts away from how a waitress should act and back to reality.

While the white chocolate mousse on the tray looked delicious, she didn't think she could spend any more time watching the waitress flirt with Dylan. After all, a woman could only take so much. Callie shook her head and smiled. "Couldn't eat another bite tonight."

With obvious disappointment that her prey for the evening intended to leave, the pretty blonde accepted Dylan's credit card and left.

"Let me pay half." Callie wasn't comfortable with him covering the whole meal. After all, it wasn't a date. Not even close.

Dylan pushed away the money she offered him. "Don't even think about it."

"But--"

"But nothing. You're a guest down here this weekend."

Callie wasn't deterred by his argument. "Still, it's not..." she almost said 'a date' when their waitress returned with Dylan's card. Quickly, he signed the receipt and came to his feet, ready to leave.

"Don't argue with me. You won't win."

A little annoyed, she let the matter go and stood when he pulled her chair back. She really wasn't comfortable with him paying for her. His clenched jaw, however, told her any further argument would be useless.

With his hand on the small of her back, Dylan guided her through the crowded restaurant. The heat emanating from his large hand seeped through the light sundress she wore, nearly scorching her skin.

She wanted to quicken her pace and dislodge his hand. At the same time, she wanted to lean into it. Lean into him. The powerful sensations his innocent touch sent through her body were exquisite. Callie hadn't felt this physically drawn to a man in a long time.

That fact scared her.

No, correction, it outright terrified her.

She couldn't be attracted to this man. Only heartache could come from such an attraction to a man like him.

_I'm not attracted to him. He's only affecting me this way because my emotions are already on overload and because I've been single for so long._

She'd let her social life become nonexistent when her mom was ill. Since her mom's death, she hadn't felt up to dating. When she got home, she'd make an effort to date more, Callie promised herself as he opened the car door for her. A new gym teacher had started in the district the month before and he was cute. The few times she'd spoken with him, he'd been friendly. Maybe he'd like to go for a coffee or something one afternoon. She'd also look into the dating site Lauren kept telling her about.

Yes, as soon as she got home, she'd take control of her social life again.

Once they were both settled, the Aston Martin's powerful engine roared to life, but remained idling in the parking lot. Dylan turned his body so he faced her. "How does a drive by the water sound? There's a great cafe near First Beach where we could stop for coffee."

_Lord, it's warm in here._

She wasn't sure if it was the confines of the small sports car or not, but suddenly Dylan seemed bigger, more masculine than before. If that was even possible.

"Or if you like jazz, there's a great Jazz Club on Thames Street."

Uncomfortable under his direct gaze, Callie shifted in her seat. The sound of her sundress moving against the leather seat seemed unusually loud in the silent car.

For the life of her, she couldn't understand why he wanted to prolong their time together. Although she hadn't thought it necessary, she understood why he'd taken her to dinner. He felt obligated because of his association with her father. With dinner over, he'd completed his duty as a host. There was no reason for them to spend any more time together.

_Have I grown a second head?_ Dylan couldn't read the expression on Callie's face. Since proposing ways to continue their outing--he refused to think of this as a date--she'd sat staring at him with the most unusual look on her face. He didn't know what to call the expression exactly. To some extent, it bordered on confusion, but at the same time there were elements of excitement and fear.

The splash of fear confused him the most. Fear was an emotion women never exhibited around him. At least not the women he usually took out. Perhaps a few business executives feared him. He could be ruthless in a boardroom when the need arose. Women, though, tended to look at him with expectation. The expectation of an expensive gift. Or the expectation of a great night of sex.

"If there's something else you'd like to do, just say the word." He couldn't stand the silence or her unreadable expression any longer.

_If she doesn't like my ideas, let her come up with some._

Even as the thought passed through his mind, Dylan knew there was more to her silence than the fact that she didn't like his suggestions. In the deep recesses of his mind, he knew her silence had something to do with him personally. In the same tiny corner of his brain, he also knew his efforts to spend time with her had nothing to do with playing host until his stepfather arrived. His efforts also had nothing to do with determining if she had a hidden agenda where Warren was concerned.

Callie moistened her lips, and Dylan couldn't help but follow the tip of her tongue with his eyes. He'd seen women of all ages do exactly the same thing. Yet it'd never aroused him before. When she did it though, he found himself wanting to run his own tongue along her lips too. Taste her. See if any hints of the Merlot she had with dinner lingered.

"Thank you for dinner, Mr. Talbot. It was very nice, but you can just take me back to my motel now."

Though she hadn't said it, he knew Callie was telling him she didn't expect or need him to entertain her.

_You must be losing your touch, old man._

Dylan couldn't recall ever meeting a woman more reluctant to spend time with him. Then again, it was probably better if she kept her distance. After all, he wasn't looking for a relationship. He was merely playing host in Warren's absence. A pang of guilt jabbed him swift and hard at the thought of Warren, quickly dousing the desire he'd felt seconds earlier. This was his stepfather's daughter. Under no circumstances should he be feeling anything toward her.

"If that's what you want." He shifted the car into first gear and eased it out of its parking spot. He wasn't going to try to change her mind on this one. He doubted he could anyway. Just look how much effort it took to get her down to Newport in the first place. No, he'd drive her back to her motel and not waste any more thoughts on her.

# Chapter 4

Warm sand heated the back of her thighs as Dylan slowly trailed kisses across her jaw and down her neck. Without warning, he sat up, yanking her shirt up and over her head. His own shirt followed. "You're beautiful," he said in a whisper before covering her body with his.

Water tickled their feet as Dylan kissed her. Before she realized it, he managed to finish undressing them both. The fact that they were outside completely naked about to make love should have bothered her, but it didn't. Instead, she eagerly anticipated the joining of their bodies.

The lyrics of her favorite classic Bon Jovi hit "Bad Medicine" jarred Callie awake. Reaching for the cell phone, she switched off the alarm. "Eight o'clock already," she groaned. Normally, she would consider eight late, but she had trouble sleeping the night before. Instead of falling asleep right away as she usually did, she stared at the ceiling for hours thinking about Dylan. She couldn't figure him out no matter how hard she tried. When she'd finally fallen asleep, he'd invaded all her dreams. Her face burned at the memory of the dream her alarm had interrupted.

Despite the late start, she wasn't going to waste the day in some motel room. According to the weather forecast, it was going to be a gorgeous day. A perfect day made for sightseeing and reading on the beach. Unfortunately, the water would still be a little too cold for a swim, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the view. If her father felt well enough to fly and arrived in Newport, it'd be easy enough to change her plans and scoot over to Cliff House.

Armed with everything she'd need to spend time outdoors, Callie closed her motel room door behind her and headed toward her car. Popping open the trunk, she tossed in her bag and started to close it when she heard someone call out her name. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Though they hadn't spent that much time in each other's company, his voice with its sexy English accent was permanently stored in her memory.

Waving to acknowledge she'd heard him, Callie leaned against her car, her arms by her sides, and watched Dylan approach. He moved with an athletic grace and carried himself in such a way that told the world he was confident and sure. Watching him approach made her pulse flutter.

Annoyed by her body's reaction to him, Callie silently cursed herself for sleeping late. If she'd left even just a few minutes sooner, she would've been able to avoid seeing him this morning.

For the life of her, she couldn't imagine why he was here. If Warren arrived at Cliff House, a phone call or a text message would've been sufficient. She'd given Dylan her cell phone number again for that very reason.

Had he lost her number and come to tell her Warren had arrived? Although possible, it didn't make a lot of sense. He knew where she was staying and could have gotten in contact with her through the motel's front desk.

Maybe he'd been on his way out of town and stopped by to tell her Warren wasn't going to make it this weekend because he still didn't feel well enough to travel. It was a reasonable explanation, Callie thought. It was a polite gesture, and so far, Dylan Talbot had acted the part of the polite gentleman. If that were the case, she'd spend her day sightseeing and leave first thing in the morning. It didn't make sense to leave immediately just because things had not gone as planned.

Perhaps it was for the best if Warren wasn't going to make it this weekend. Now that she was here, Callie didn't know if she wanted to meet her father and the rest of his family just yet, especially if they were anything like Sara. Some extra time to consider things would be nice. She had felt a little pressured into this meeting in the first place.

But if you had to be pressured into anything, having Dylan Talbot do the pressuring certainly made it more enjoyable. He really was a sight to behold.

_Back to Earth, Callie Taylor. He's only here because of Warren. If it wasn't for that connection, he'd never look twice at me. Don't forget that._

Unexpected desire ripped through Dylan as he approached Callie. Instantly, an image of her sprawled out beneath him on the beach sprang to mind.

_Back it up there. This is Warren's daughter, remember._

Dylan slowed his pace and reined in his thoughts. _Stay focused,_ he reminded himself. _My job is to keep her company until Warren arrives. That doesn't require getting naked and horizontal._

It would, hopefully, only be another day until his mother and Warren arrived. Once they got here, he could minimize the amount of time he spent with Callie. If he wanted to, he could arrange it so they were never in each other's company again. That way he wouldn't have to deal with this inconvenient desire that continued to plague him.

Assuming things did work out and she saw her father on a regular basis, Dylan didn't need to be around. While he did try to see his family regularly, it would be simple enough to make certain his visits didn't coincide with Callie's.

Oddly, he didn't like the thought of not seeing Callie again after this weekend. Now wasn't the time to be wondering why though. Right now, he had a job to do, play host again in Warren's absence.

"Warren called this morning. He said the doctors will let him fly tomorrow, so he and my mum should be here in the morning," Dylan said after they exchanged greetings. "So I thought you might like to do some sightseeing today."

"It's on my list of things to do," she answered, her voice friendly.

Before leaving Cliff House, he'd mentally mapped out an entire itinerary for their day. He liked to be prepared. Yet, if she wanted to see something specific, things could be changed.

"Good. I thought we could head over to Fort Adams first. Then stop at the Old Stone Mill before lunch if there's time." She'd mentioned during dinner how much she loved history, so he made sure to add some historical landmarks to their day.

Callie's eyebrows knitted together. "We? Mr. Talbot, you don't need to escort me around. I'm a big girl. I'll be fine on my own."

She was turning him down again? If he didn't know better, he'd think she was playing hard to get.

Slightly exasperated, Dylan placed a hand on her shoulder. "Unless you want me to address you as Miss Taylor all the time, you need to stop calling me Mr. Talbot."

A faint blush crept up her cheeks, making Callie appear much younger than her thirty-one years. "I'm familiar with the area, so I should be fine, Dylan."

It was the first time since they'd met that she'd said his name. The sound of it on her lips made his heart skip a beat.

"You probably have things you want to do today. I promise not to get lost."

Dylan took a few steps closer into her personal space. He could tell she felt a little uncomfortable, and knew he should keep more distance between them. Still he didn't move. Instead, he searched her face for some hint of what she was really thinking. Perhaps she sensed his intentions because she quickly looked away when he made eye contact with her, but not before he saw the brief flash of desire in her eyes.

_Maybe you haven't completely lost your touch, Talbot._

Using two fingers, he gently nudged her head up so she was looking him directly in the eye. "Trust me. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be. I can't remember the last time I relaxed and enjoyed Newport, and I'd like to do that with you."

He should move his hand. The part of his brain still functioning properly kept telling him that. Yet he didn't do it. Instead, he allowed it to linger as his thumb moved slowly along her jaw. Her skin was smooth and flawless, just as he thought it would be.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. "Say you'll come." When was the last time he'd wanted to spend time with a woman so badly?

_Never._

But there was something about Callie that was different. Something made him crave her company. Maybe it was because she didn't seem to want anything from him like so many women did.

He wasn't the only one who felt the chemistry between them either. Dylan was sure of it. He'd even bet a good portion of his fortune that she felt something as well.

"As long as you're up for some sightseeing before an hour or two at the beach?" Callie said, her voice once again light and friendly.

He didn't give her a chance to change her mind. Grabbing the bag she'd put in the trunk, he gave her a full-blown smile. "I came prepared for anything." Slamming closed the empty trunk, he took her by the hand and led her to his car.

"Your chariot awaits." He opened the Aston Martin's passenger door for her.

The morning proceeded so smoothly that Callie almost forgot who she was with and why she was in Newport. The first stop on Dylan's itinerary was Fort Adams. Now a popular tourist attraction, the fort had been built in the late 1700's. She'd always wanted to visit the fort and the state park that surrounded it, but never had the opportunity for one reason or another.

Though the fort offered a guided tour, Dylan suggested they skip it, insisting it wasn't necessary. At first, Callie was disappointed. She'd been looking forward to hearing about the structure's centuries of history. However, her disappointment vanished almost right away when Dylan awed her with his knowledge of the fort and its role in defending the city. During dinner, he had mentioned he enjoyed history, too. At the time, she'd assumed he was being polite. Now she realized he'd been serious.

Newport's beaches were well-known. In fact, a person didn't need to travel far to find one. That was precisely where Callie planned to spend a few hours that day, and where she assumed they were heading now.

Since leaving the parking area at the restaurant where they'd eaten lunch, she'd had trouble keeping her eyes off Dylan. She was rapidly learning he wasn't only good-looking, but also friendly and easy to be around. Being with him wasn't any more difficult than being with any other man she knew. Well, except for the fact that being around him set her heart racing and sent every rational thought from her brain.

_He's not like any other man_ , Callie reminded herself as she stared out the car window. _He's filthy rich and only wants to keep me company until Warren arrives. He's just playing the role of host again. Lucky him._

She didn't believe for one minute he wanted to spend time with her for any other reason.

For the first time since getting in the car, Callie really took note of the landscape they were passing. "I thought we were going to the beach?"

She kept looking for a familiar landmark to tell her where they were. When her grandparents and uncle lived in the area, they'd taken her to the beach every summer. However, nothing around them jogged any memories.

"We're going to a tiny beach near Black Point," Dylan answered, referring to a private and very exclusive beach club. "It isn't part of the club. I don't think anybody ever goes there. I stumbled on it accidentally one day."

After parking in an empty corner of the Black Point lot, Dylan got out and opened Callie's door as he had the night before. Unable to do anything else, she accepted his outstretched hand. The moment her butt cleared the seat, she released his hand and followed him around to the back of the car.

After popping open the trunk, Dylan dropped his keys back into his pocket and pulled out the bags.

"I can take that," she said as Dylan slipped the straps of her bag over his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it; I'll carry it for you."

"Mr. Talbot, really, I can handle it."

"Dylan remember, Miss Taylor." He smiled at her and Callie resisted the urge to fan herself.

"Sorry. Really, I can take it, Dylan."

Dylan shook his head. "I already have it. Come on, let's go."

Rather than start a full-blown argument, Callie nodded and walked alongside him across the parking lot.

Breaking through a natural barrier of tall grass and reeds, Dylan stopped and looked over his shoulder. "What do you think? Will it do for today?"

Although no larger than the postage stamp sized backyard she had growing up, Callie loved the beach. The sand was smooth and free of any debris. Dense overgrown grass and reeds provided ample privacy from the parking lot, and the view of the water was fantastic.

"Absolutely."

Callie spread out the large blanket she'd brought along and then removed the denim shorts and t-shirt she'd worn over her bathing suit. Grabbing a bottle of sunscreen from her bag, she quickly covered her arms, legs, face, and as much of her back as she could reach.

She looked over at Dylan, intending to ask him if he wanted to borrow some sunscreen, when he pulled his t-shirt off. The second his shirt hit the sand, she made a valiant effort not to stare and ogle. She honestly did. But how could she not? Any woman in her position would. She just hoped her tongue wasn't hanging out too far.

She'd already known he was in good shape. She could tell by the way his clothes fit him. Still, she hadn't been prepared for the view she had now.

Obviously Mr. CEO didn't spend all his time in the office. Even though she should, Callie just couldn't look away.

Dylan's shoulders were wide, but his torso narrowed to a lean waist. With an incredibly developed chest and six-pack, she could imagine him doing underwear ads. A set of powerful legs completed the package.

After spreading a blanket alongside hers, Dylan dropped down next to her. "Mind if I borrow some of that?" he asked, pointing to the bottle of sunscreen.

"I thought you said you came prepared for anything?" Callie teased him before handing him the bottle.

"Don't tell anyone. It would ruin my image."

"My lips are sealed."

Rather than pull out her book and read like she should do, Callie watched as he spread sunscreen across his skin. Her hands practically tingled with longing to be moving across his shoulders and chest. At one point, she opened her mouth ready to ask him if he wanted her to do his back for him. Luckily, her common sense stepped in right on time.

_What the heck is wrong with me?_ she wondered, burying her nose in her book. _Did I really almost ask him if he needed help putting on sunscreen?_

She hardly knew him. How could she even consider doing something so personal for a stranger?

"Did you get your back?" he asked, as if reading her mind.

"Uh...not completely, but it's good enough."

Dylan moved a little closer. "Lean forward. I'll get it for you." Without waiting for a response, he squeezed sunscreen into his hand. "Don't want you to get burned today."

_I'd rather get burned by the sun than you._ Callie wasn't sure her body could handle having his hands on it. "Really, it's no big--"

"I think you like arguing with me." Dylan positioned himself behind her. "Do you really want a sunburn? I promise I won't bite."

Callie took in a deep breath, and then blew it out before she leaned forward so he had access to her back and shoulders. The rough callouses on his palms caught her attention as his hands glided across her skin and sent warmth throughout her body.

_Wonder how he got those_. Not from sitting behind his desk all day. Perhaps at the gym, he obviously spent plenty of time there.

Slowly, his hands moved from her shoulders and down her spine. The intimate contact was sweet torture. She found herself longing for a quick dip in the ocean to cool her skin. She could just picture herself jumping in and steam rising up around her like it did when a blacksmith dropped a piece of red hot iron in cold water to cool it. The image made her laugh before she could stop herself.

"What's so funny?" Dylan asked. His voice contained a hint of amusement, and his accent sounded more pronounced than usual.

"Nothing. You just hit a ticklish spot," she answered, thinking fast. She needed his hands off her before she melted into a puddle. "Thanks. I'm good now." Callie pulled away, putting some much needed space between them. Picking up her book again, she looked for the page where she'd left off on since the bookmark had fallen out.

Dylan leaned back and used his arms to prop himself up. "What are you reading?"

"Emma." Callie shrugged. "It's one of my favorites."

"I could never get into Jane Austen. Prefer Dickens myself."

For some reason, she couldn't picture Dylan reading anything but the _Wall Street Journal_ or some other business related publication.

Don't judge, Callie reminded herself. She'd been the victim of that enough times to know how unfair it could be.

"I like some of his stories, but I'll take a copy of Pride and Prejudice first any day. Austen is probably my favorite classical author."

"My mum really likes Austen too." Dylan slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses. "She has a few first editions of her work."

Though she had yet to meet the woman, she couldn't imagine having anything in common with Elizabeth Sherbrooke. From the little she'd read about the woman, she knew Elizabeth was the epitome of elegance and wealth. In fact, if Callie looked the word elegance up in a dictionary, she wouldn't be shocked to see a picture of Elizabeth Sherbrooke smiling back up at her. Callie was more likely to find a picture of herself near the words unsophisticated and working middle class.

"What other authors do you like to read?" Dylan asked.

"Depends somewhat on my mood. If I want something older, I'll grab something by Austen and Hawthorne. I like Gone With The Wind too, but that isn't as old. I never really cared for reading Shakespeare, although I like seeing his plays performed on stage. I don't care for Twain; I had to read him in school." She slipped sunglasses onto her face and looked toward the rolling waves. "When it comes to more modern writers, I like King and Patterson." Callie named some of the writers she liked and who she thought Dylan may know. Since she doubted he liked reading romance novels, she didn't bother naming any of those authors.

"I read Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, and hated them both. I've never tried Gone With The Wind, but I think I've read all of King's books."

"All of them?"

"Maybe I've missed one or two, but that's about it." Dylan took two bottles of water from his bag and handed Callie one. "Any favorite movies?"

For the rest of the afternoon, they talked about everything from books and movies to favorite foods. With each tidbit of information he shared with her, the more she looked at him as just another guy rather than the wealthy CEO that he was. Somehow, she sensed that was not a good thing either.

Although she'd been reluctant to spend the day with Dylan, Callie wasn't eager for their time together to end. Yet, when he walked her back to her motel room later that evening, she knew that was it. Tomorrow her father would arrive and Dylan would no longer feel obligated to play host.

And that's what he'd been doing all day, Callie reminded herself. It might have felt like a date, but it wasn't. He'd only been standing in as host for her father. Nothing more.

Pulling her room card out of her purse, she waited for Dylan to say goodnight and leave. They'd already finalized what time she would arrive at Cliff House the next morning, so there wasn't really anything left for them to say except goodnight. Regardless, neither of them moved.

"Thanks again. I had a lot of fun today," Callie said to fill the silence between them. It wasn't necessarily a bad silence. Rather, it reminded her of the awkward stage at the end of a first date when you're trying to decide if a goodnight kiss would be appropriate. Although it would've been unlike her, she might have made the first move and kissed him if it had been a date. Since it wasn't, she remained rooted in place underneath the light outside her motel room door.

"Me too. I haven't just relaxed on the beach in a long time. I forgot how much I like it. I'm going to try to do it more often."

His reply surprised her. While it appeared as if he'd been having fun, she'd assumed it'd mostly been an act. After all, he had been the one to insist they spend the day together. It wouldn't have looked right if he looked miserable all day.

Perhaps she'd been wrong though. Not that it mattered. The day was over, and they'd never spend the day alone together again.

Since it didn't appear as if he would say it first, Callie decided she better. "Goodnight, Dylan. Thanks again for a nice day."

Why couldn't she seem to turn and open the door? She'd said goodnight. Now she just needed to turn and slip the key card into the slot. Simple. Yet somehow her brain couldn't get the message to her feet, and he wasn't helping matters. Instead of leaving, Dylan stood there looking down at her as if she was the only other person in the world.

"Are you sure you don't want me to send a car tomorrow to pick you up? It's not a problem." He'd already asked her that question on the ride back to her motel. "Or if you'd be more comfortable, I can come by in the morning to get you." He took a step closer to her. "I don't mind."

Callie smiled and shook her head. "Really, I'd rather drive myself. I remember how to get there." She didn't want to inconvenience him anymore than she already had that weekend. She also didn't want to be stuck inside a car with him again. Once had been more than enough. "I won't get lost."

In slow motion, Dylan lowered his head and leaned toward her as if he intended to give her a goodnight kiss. Instantly, her heart started hammering against her chest. Anticipation gathered in the pit of her stomach and spiraled downward. Then, just like that, she was sucker punched when he dropped a brotherly kiss on her cheek.

"If you change your mind, call me." With his final comment, he turned to walk away, but suddenly stopped short. "Did you see that?" he asked, looking back at her.

Callie shrugged. "See what?"

"I thought I saw a flash of light. Must have been a car going by. Why don't you go inside before I leave?"

***

"I see you're back from your date. Anything interesting happen?" Sara asked, coming up behind him.

Dylan had just entered the main foyer, hoping to retreat to his room without running into his half-sister. It had been a long couple of days between work issues and playing host. He wasn't in the mood for another one of his sister's childish tirades tonight.

"Not now, Sara." Dylan walked around his sister and started up the stairs, wishing he'd used the service staircase in the kitchen after grabbing his drink.

Undeterred, Sara followed him. "I can't believe she had the audacity to show up here. Who does she think she is? I can't wait till her face starts showing up on magazine covers and the media starts digging through her life. Then she'll be sorry she came here."

"Your father invited her. Remember? And maybe you should give her a chance. You might like her, Sara." Dylan opened the door to his suite, but didn't go in.

"Wow! That didn't take long. She's already gotten to you with her small-town girl routine. I can't believe it." Sara threw her hands up in the air.

"I'm just playing host, Sara, for Warren's sake. I want things to work out well for him. That. Is. All." Dylan stepped into his room. "I don't want to hear any more about it." With that, he closed the door before Sara could reply.

Carrying the scotch he'd poured before coming up, he walked it out onto his balcony. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said to Sara about only wanting things to work out for Warren's sake. _It was true_. Still, he hadn't been completely honest with Sara.

He'd been physically attracted to Callie the first time he'd met her. However, there was more to it than that. Something about Callie affected him on a deeper level in a way no one had since the back-stabbing bitch Francesca.

Propping his bare feet up on the balcony railing, Dylan leaned back in his chair and gazed out across the ocean. He'd gone onto the private balcony to clear his mind. Yet, the scene outside Callie's motel room kept playing over and over in his head. Every fiber in his body had urged him to capture her lush, full lips with his. To give her a kiss she wouldn't soon forget. Thankfully, his brain had kicked in at the last minute, reminding him who she was and why he was with her. In the end, he saved them both a lot of awkwardness and dropped a brief kiss on her cheek.

Then there had been that flash of light he'd caught out of the corner of his eye. Had it been just a car passing by or had it been a flash from a camera? The paparazzi hadn't bothered him since his break up with Francesca. He saw no reason why they would now.

Had someone learned who Callie was? Sara's comment about the media and getting rid of Callie suddenly came to mind. Almost as quickly, he dismissed the notion. Sara might be upset, but she adored her father and wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his campaign.

It must have been a car driving by. Pushing all thoughts of the evening's events from his head, he focused on the star-filled sky.

Normally, the relaxing view and the breeze coming up from the Atlantic would clear his head, but not tonight. Instead, he found himself wishing for a certain someone's company. As a rule, he never brought the women he dated to Cliff House. In his mind, it was the family's private home, yet sitting here, he couldn't help wish he could share the view with Callie. He'd learned a lot about her during their time together, and he knew how much she loved the ocean.

_She'll see the view tomorrow when she comes._ Dylan finished off his scotch in one long swallow.

He needed to keep reminding himself that Callie was Warren's daughter, not some random woman he'd met at a club or society event. If he did that, maybe he could squash the feelings he had for her. Feelings he didn't want. Feelings that were gaining momentum. A long time ago, he promised himself no woman would get inside his heart again. He didn't plan on breaking that promise, not for Callie Taylor, not for anyone.

# Chapter 5

Callie pulled up to Cliff House's security gate the next day, eager to finally get this meeting with her father over with. In her opinion, the first time doing anything was always the most difficult and awkward. She didn't expect this to be any different.

Despite this fact Callie wasn't as nervous today about meeting her father as she had been on Friday afternoon. Perhaps she had Dylan to thank for that. He'd told her a lot about Warren when they'd spent the day together. Or maybe it was because her mind was so worried about how the rest of her father's family would react, that it couldn't be bothered with anything else.

Her brief meeting with Sara told her not everyone wanted to welcome her into the family with open arms. What if her father's wife and their son shared Sara's sentiment?

"Stop worrying about it." Callie parked and looked at the structure before her. "If they don't like me, there's nothing I can do about it. Remember, he invited me here. I didn't ask to come, and after today, I never have to come back if I choose."

The same expressionless butler greeted her at the door and informed her Senator Sherbrooke was waiting for her in the study.

As Callie followed the butler through the mansion, she let her eyes wander. It appeared as if no one else was around. Did that mean only her father was home? Or did that mean the whole family was together, waiting for her? She knew she wasn't ready to meet the whole family at once. Talk about overload.

A feeling of déjà vu washed over her when the butler stopped and knocked on the same closed door. Callie clasped her hands in front of her and waited as the butler spoke.

Almost as soon as the butler told the room's occupant she was there, the door opened further and Callie found herself staring into eyes identical to hers.

If she'd had any doubts about their relationship, they were gone as she stood staring at Warren Sherbrooke. She'd always wondered who she'd inherited her unusual eye color from. Everyone else in her family had some shade of brown eyes, yet she had eyes so blue people often commented on them. Warren Sherbrooke's eyes were the exact same shade. The pictures she'd seen on the Internet hadn't done them justice.

Smiling tentatively, Callie extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Senator Sherbrooke. I hope you're feeling better."

Somehow calling him Senator Sherbrooke seemed too formal considering the circumstances. At the same time, calling him dad didn't feel right either, and she didn't want to appear rude by calling him Warren.

Momentarily, his eyes got misty. For a second, she thought he might cry, but then he returned her smile. "I'm much better. Please come in." Taking her by the elbow, he led her to the leather sofa. "We have a lot to talk about."

That was an understatement if she'd ever heard one. She had a million questions, and with her mother gone, he was the only one who could answer them. The only problem was, she didn't know how to start.

Should she just take control of the conversation and ask him the questions that had been plaguing her since she learned the truth? Or should she let him set the pace and tone of the conversation? See where things went and then, if she had more questions, ask them.

Man, she wished there was a "Dummies Guide to Meeting Your Father for the First Time" book. There seemed to be one on everything else these days.

"Would you like something to drink?" Warren asked once they were both seated. "Or something to eat? I thought we could join the rest of family for lunch, but if you're hungry, a light snack can be prepared now."

Though only a casual drinker, Callie thought a glass of wine might be a good idea, but she didn't say so. After all, it _was_ only ten o'clock in the morning. "I'm fine thank you. I ate something before I left the motel."

"You have your mother's smile," Warren said after a moment of silence. "She was a wonderful person. I was sorry to hear that she passed."

When it came to her mom's death, her emotions were still too raw, and Callie clenched her teeth as she fought back tears. "She was a great mother. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for me."

"That doesn't surprise me." Warren cleared his throat. "Ruth's letter mentioned you're a teacher."

"I teach fifth grade now. When I first graduated college, I taught second; that was where I did my student teaching, but I changed a few years ago."

"And you graduated from Boston University, right?"

It looked like Warren Sherbrooke had done his homework.

"I got my undergraduate there, but went to UMass for my Master's."

Callie hoped her voice didn't carry any of the impatience she felt. While she didn't mind the personal questions, she wanted to discuss how her parents had met, and why he hadn't tried to keep in contact with her mom instead. Unfortunately, she didn't know how she could bring up the subject without seeming rude?

"Do you have a large class this year?"

Callie launched into a short description of her class and some of the interesting things her students had done.

Warren shifted in his seat and clasped his hands together. "Dylan told me you only recently learned about me."

The mere mention of Dylan's name brought back memories of the brotherly kiss on the cheek he'd given her the night before. Although it'd been innocent enough, it set her skin on fire and left her yearning for more.

_Now isn't the time to be daydreaming. There will be plenty of time for that later._

Callie nodded. "I always thought my father died in a car accident. That was what my mom told me. Her friend told me the truth after she mailed the letter to you. Mom asked her not to, but Helen felt guilty about keeping it from me. She felt it was only fair that I know."

An unexpected stab of anger pierced her heart. Damn it. They'd always been so close. Knowing her mom had lied to her hurt like hell. She hated lies. For as long as she could remember, her mom drilled into her that lying was bad. That nothing good could ever come from lying. Too bad her mom hadn't followed her own advice.

Again, her father's eyes filled with unshed tears. "I never knew Ruth was pregnant. She never said a thing to me."

She'd been unsure of how to ask him about his relationship with her mom, but now seemed like the perfect time. Taking a deep breath, she slowly exhaled and hoped he wouldn't think her question was too personal.

"How did you and Mom meet? I've spent a lot of time thinking about it since I learned the truth, but I can't come up with anything."

Without saying a word, her father stood. Swaying slightly, he grabbed onto the back of his chair.

"Are you okay? Maybe you should sit back down."

"I'm sorry. This food poisoning has taken a lot out of me. Would you retrieve the photo album on my desk?" Warren answered, sinking back into his chair.

Callie stood and she grabbed the large leather book on the desk. "We can do this another day, when you're feeling better. It's really okay." The book in her hands was heavy, and she wondered how many years of memories were contained inside.

"No. I'll be fine, Callie. Enough time has already passed," Warren insisted, taking the book. "Growing up, I would spend several weeks here during the summer with my family. When I got old enough, I would often spend weekends and school vacations here by myself."

"I was probably about sixteen when I first met your mother. She would often be working when I went into her parents' store," he continued. "Unlike a lot of people, she always treated me like a regular Joe. She never tried to impress me. Honestly, I don't think she even liked me the first time we met."

Pausing, he smiled, thinking of forgotten memories. "But we became friends." Warren flipped through the pages of the photo album on his lap. Stopping at a page near the back, he removed a photo from its protective sheet.

"Whenever I was here, we spent time together. Things continued like that for several years. Then the winter before my last year at Harvard, our relationship changed."

Callie accepted the photo Warren held out to her. The picture had been taken at the beach. In it, her parents stood with their arms wrapped around each other's waist. Both were smiling as if they didn't have a care in the world.

"You started dating?"

Warren nodded. "Only my brother Mark and his girlfriend Donna knew. He took that picture. My parents weren't here much that year, so they never had any idea. I planned on telling them when I saw them that fall, but in September, your mother just broke things off. She wouldn't take my calls, and she returned my letters unopened."

She knew the important parts of the story from there, at least from her mother's point of view. "Did you ever try to see her? Talk face to face?"

"No, I let my pride get in the way of that. Now I see what a mistake that was." A severe frown settled on Warren's face, and Callie truly believed he was deeply saddened by the events of the past.

"Maybe if I had, she would've told me," he said in a voice not much above a whisper.

The remorse in his voice tugged at Callie's heart. Could someone sound that sincere and be lying?

"According to her friend, Helen, my mom wanted to protect you. She knew how important image was to your family."

Warren nodded in acknowledgment. "That sounds just like Ruth, to put others first. It was one of the things I loved about her." He paused, lost in thought for a moment. "She acted strangely our last night together before I went back to school. I assumed it was because she was nervous about me telling my family about us. We argued about it that night actually. She knew my parents had someone else in mind for me. To them, my relationships were more about business than anything else," Warren said as if he'd just started putting things together. "Then she broke things off. I never thought about her odd behavior again. I was too angry with her. I wonder if she knew then that she was pregnant."

Though he continued to talk aloud, Callie wasn't certain he was speaking to her. Still, she felt the need to say something. "I don't know exactly when she found out. Helen just told me my mom was really scared when she did. She waited as long as she could to tell her parents even."

He shook his head sadly. "She shouldn't have had to go through it alone."

Callie felt compelled to comfort this man who, although a stranger, was still her father. To hug him. Instead, she said, "Her parents and brother were very supportive, so she wasn't alone."

Warren smiled as if he knew she was trying to comfort him. "I'm glad. They always seemed like nice people. I noticed they sold the store a few years ago."

Callie nodded, surprised that her father would've noticed something so insignificant. "They actually stopped running it a while ago. My Uncle was doing everything. He and his wife decided to retire and move to Arizona."

"Nice choice. It is beautiful out there." Warren put the album on a table near his chair. "How is Dan? Your mom and uncle always seemed very close."

"Okay, I think. He took mom's death really hard." The man seated before her just kept surprising her. After more than thirty years, he still remembered her uncle's name. Talk about a good memory.

Warren leaned back. "Does Dan know I am your father?"

"No. She never told anyone until she asked Helen to mail your letter." A familiar sense of anger and betrayal washed over her. Tears threatened.

_Deal with this later. You don't want to cry here. Save the tears for afterward when you're alone._

"This is probably difficult for you, Callie. Why don't we switch topics for now? Tell me a little about your childhood."

She'd rather ask him some questions about himself, but kept that to herself. "Mom and I lived in an apartment in Uxbridge until I was four, and she worked at a hospital in Worcester. When she got a position at a doctor's office in Slatersville, she bought a small house there. I've lived in that town ever since."

Callie considered what other information Warren might like to know.

"I went to public elementary school and middle school in Slatersville. I received a scholarship to attend Phillips Academy for high school."

The next two hours literally flew by. She'd expected their time together to be strained and awkward, for it to drag, but it didn't. True, it was a little strange, especially at first, but overall, she had a pleasant morning. Warren Sherbrooke seemed to be a genuinely nice man. Not at all what she expected of a rich and powerful politician.

"It is a little after noon. Why don't we join everyone for lunch?" Warren suggested. "I asked our cook to prepare something special this afternoon, at least for everyone else. I'm still eating dry toast and clear broth. Doctor's orders. We can talk more after that."

Lunch with everyone sounded less than enjoyable. In fact, she would much rather retreat to her motel and order a pizza. She didn't argue though. How could she? It was lunchtime, and she was a guest in her father's home.

We're eating in here? Callie almost shook her head as she followed Warren into the smaller dining room. The dining room he'd referred to as the informal one. The room appeared so ornate she half expected to see servants wearing white gloves waiting to pull out her chair. Instead, she found her father's wife, Elizabeth, her half-sister, Sara, and Dylan seated around a beautifully set table.

_Here we go. Round two._

"Callie, this is my wife, Elizabeth." Warren walked up behind his wife and placed his hand on her shoulders.

She didn't need to be told who the fashionably dressed woman with perfect hair and makeup was. Callie had seen plenty of photos of the woman who was still quite beautiful even though she was well into her fifties.

_I can do this._ Callie forced herself to smile. _She's not going to bite_.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Sherbrooke." Callie extended her hand and waited, unsure of what to expect. While her father had mentioned his wife several times during their conversation, he hadn't even hinted at her feelings regarding this bizarre situation, and after her brief encounter with her half-sister two days earlier, Callie didn't know what to expect from her father's wife.

"Please call me Elizabeth. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my dear," Elizabeth said, taking Callie's outstretched hand. "Warren has been looking forward to meeting you since he received the letter from your mother."

Despite Elizabeth's pleasant tone, Callie remained unsure of her true feelings. Her smile looked forced and her voice was cold, telling Callie that Elizabeth was less than ecstatic about having her husband's illegitimate daughter in her home.

_Not your problem. He invited you, remember._

"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 wondered 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 had forgotten 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'd 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--there 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.

"She's not that type of person. Miss Taylor isn't looking to gain anything." Dylan intentionally didn't use her first name.

Marty didn't immediately reply. "I hope you're right. Still, I think it would be best to keep an eye on her just in case. Stay on top of things. I know someone who would be discreet."

Though he'd only known her a short time, he somehow knew to his core that she wasn't a threat. Convincing Marty of this was another matter though. "It's not necessary to hire anyone." The idea of some stranger following Callie and invading her privacy sent a cold chill down his spine.

"Then you'll keep tabs on her?" Marty asked. "That would probably be simpler anyway. She already knows you and might not question your sudden interest in being around." Marty paused as if waiting for Dylan to answer him. When he didn't get an immediate response, he continued on. "Your mother agrees with me on this. I spoke with her yesterday. She believes it would be a good idea to keep an eye on Miss Taylor for a little while at least. If you cannot do it, just say the word. I'll get someone who can."

For a minute, Dylan considered the absurdity of the situation. Basically, they wanted him to spy on a perfectly innocent woman. As if he didn't have more pressing matters to attend to. He didn't doubt Marty would find someone else to complete the task if he didn't do it himself. If Marty Phillips was anything, it was resourceful.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled, already knowing he was going to regret his decision. "I'll take care of it."

# Chapter 6

_Home sweet home_. Callie couldn't remember the last time she'd been so happy to be home. While it didn't come close to her father's mansion in size or beauty, it fit her to a T. Surrounded by her own things, the tension in her neck and shoulders slipped away and the mild headache she'd had since leaving for Newport Friday morning disappeared.

"Man, am I glad to see you," she said to Lucky who immediately greeted her. While she'd been away, Lauren had come by to feed and walk him.

Leaving the unpacking for later, Callie made herself a cup of tea and called Lauren. She needed someone to talk to, process things with. She'd learned so much since Helen's confession. It felt like she had all these pieces to a jigsaw puzzle, and now she needed to put them together.

"You're back," Lauren said after answering the phone.

"Just walked in. Can you come over for a little while?"

"Be right over, chickie."

Callie hung up the phone to wait. Man, did it feel as if her life had been turned upside down and inside out. Everything she thought she knew to be true was wrong. She'd never known a single lie could conceal something so earth-shattering.

True to her word, Lauren knocked on Callie's door twenty minutes later. "Thought we might need some comfort food," she said, holding up a bag from Callie's favorite Chinese restaurant.

Callie smiled and gave her friend a quick hug. "You're the best, you know that? Don't know what I'd do without you."

Lauren laughed. "You'd probably be a recluse living with thirty dogs and everyone would just refer to you as the crazy dog lady." Lauren put the bag of food on the table, her smile fading. "So how did it go? Was it hard?"

"I wouldn't say hard. More like...awkward. Strange." Callie tried to think of the best adjective to describe meeting Warren Sherbrooke. She couldn't come up with a perfect one. "He seemed very nice. Not at all what I expected."

Across the table, Lauren remained silent as she pulled containers of food from the bag.

"I think he truly loved her. When talking about my mom, he seemed genuine. I guess he could have been faking it, but I don't think so. And why would he? It's not like it matters now."

"So how did it happen? Were they dating? Did he say?"

"He said they were friends for a long time before they started dating, and they even talked about getting married once he finished his MBA at Harvard."

Lauren's eyes got wide. "Seriously! Man, your life would've been so different if they had!"

"Tell me about it. You know how much I always wanted a dad like you had. But I don't think it would've worked out for them. Can you picture my mom married to Warren Sherbrooke?"

"Honestly, no. But if they were really in love, they might have made it work somehow." Lauren dug into her container of sweet and sour shrimp. "Do you think your mom loved him?"

Digging into her own container of chicken lo mein, she nodded. "I don't think she ever stopped. You know she never dated. Whenever she did talk about my father, she always got really sad."

For a few minutes, they ate in silence. "How did you leave things? Are you going to see him again?"

"He said he wants me to be part of his family. That he wants to get to know me. I promised to keep in touch." She twirled the noodles around with her fork.

"But?"

Callie shrugged. "I'm not sure I want to. Can you picture me fitting into his world? You remember what it was like in high school." She couldn't help but grimace at the memories. "And we've both seen pictures of how his daughter and son live."

"That was a long time ago, girlfriend. If you think he's sincere, and it sounds like he is, I think you should give him a chance. Get to know him better. Then, make your final decision."

Callie knew Lauren was right. "We'll see. I don't think his wife likes the idea. She was polite, but there was something about her."

Lauren put down her container of food and reached for a dumpling. "Were his children there?"

"Just my half-sister, Sara, who definitely does not want me around." Callie didn't mention Dylan, although she didn't know why. Never in her life had she been so attracted to a man in the same way. Without intending to, her thoughts drifted to their day together. It'd been the first date-like situation she'd been in for a while, even if it hadn't been a true date. But that wasn't why it'd been so delightful.

Dylan had been easy to be around. He'd been funny and charming. She'd actually forgotten who he was and why they were together. Instead, it had felt as if she was just spending time with a good friend, an exceedingly handsome friend, who did crazy things to her insides.

Lord was he gorgeous. She couldn't help but picture him that day on the beach. _Don't go there._

The picture stayed despite her orders. Disgusted by her lack of control, Callie pushed the partially full container of food away. Sitting and envisioning Dylan on the beach wasn't helping her to sort out her feelings regarding Warren and his family. Rather, it only complicated the situation.

_As if I need this to be any more complicated._

"Feel like going for a walk, Lauren?" Maybe some fresh air would help clear her head. If nothing else, it would help burn off all the extra calories she'd just consumed.

***

Three days had passed since Dylan jumped on the family's private jet and headed back to New York City. During those three days, he'd thought of not only Callie but also his damn agreement with Phillips. If he'd honestly felt Callie was any kind of threat, he wouldn't feel at all uncomfortable with keeping an eye on her or, better yet, having someone do it. However, despite his mother's insistence that she be watched, he didn't feel it was necessary.

Nevertheless, late Wednesday afternoon, Dylan found himself in front of her apartment door again. Earlier that morning, he'd flown into Boston. After a long and tedious business meeting, he'd checked into his hotel suite before driving to Slatersville.

Running his excuse for being there through his head one more time, Dylan knocked on the door. Immediately, he heard barking followed by Callie's voice telling the dog to calm down.

As usual, she pulled the door open without asking who it was first. "Oh! Hey," Callie greeted, her eyes wide. "Come on in." She pushed open the screen door and took a step backward.

"I hope this isn't a bad time." He followed her into the kitchen. Today, all kinds of papers and a laptop computer covered the table.

Reaching for some papers, she quickly started to stack things up. "No, no. I was just about done with this."

Dylan watched as she started to open her mouth to speak again, but then stopped and chewed her bottom lip instead. Automatically, he envisioned himself nibbling on her lips.

_Back to reality. Stay focused. This is Warren's daughter_.

"I have some business meetings in Boston this week. Today's ended a little early, so I thought I would stop in and see you," he said, using the story he'd settled on earlier, a story that wasn't a complete lie. Since he'd known he was coming to the area to check up on her, he had his executive assistant reschedule some meetings that he planned to attend in Boston next month to this week.

"Sunday, I had to leave suddenly, and I didn't get a chance to see how things were going for you." While it had sounded like a plausible excuse in his mind, now that he'd spoken it aloud, it sounded weak. Pathetic.

Callie didn't immediately respond. Instead, her intense blue eyes held his gaze as if searching for something. Worried that she might learn something he didn't want to share, he looked away.

"Good... okay, I guess. A little surreal, but I'm glad I went."

Dylan watched as she spoke and continued to remove papers from the table. Although she was trying to appear calm, her rapid movements and haphazard manner gave away her true state.

"Do you want something to drink? A coffee or some lemonade? Or something to eat? I was just about to start cooking dinner." The words rapidly tumbled out of her mouth, and she clutched her papers and books tightly against her chest like a shield.

_Am I really making her nervous?_

Though she hadn't actually asked him to stay, he pulled out one of the colorfully painted chairs and sat down. It felt like the right thing to do. "Whatever you're having. I was going to see if you wanted to go out, but home cooked is even better." He'd originally planned to take her somewhere for dinner as an excuse to spend time with her. Staying here would work even better.

"Let me put this stuff away, and I'll start cooking."

Dylan let his eyes follow her as she walked down to one of two doors off the short hall to what he guessed was her bedroom. Without intending to, he thought how shapely and tanned her legs appeared that afternoon on the beach. Much to his disappointment, today her legs were completely hidden by a loose pair of gray yoga pants.

Thoughts of their day on the beach brought back memories of how soft her skin had felt when he'd rubbed sunscreen on her back. It had felt like satin under his hands. He wondered if the skin on the rest of her body was just as smooth and soft. Images of him peeling off her clothes to find out overtook him. Immediately, he felt his body respond.

_Don't. She's not for you_. Untucking his t-shirt to hide the evidence of his arousal, he hoped she didn't notice the change when she came back. If she did, would she guess what prompted it? Talk about embarrassing. It wasn't like he was a teenager who'd never been around a beautiful woman before. Hell, he'd dated lingerie models in the past.

Was this really happening? Was she really going to cook dinner for Dylan? It was just too bizarre. Thankfully, she already planned to make an actual meal tonight. Some nights she just threw together a sandwich for herself. Cooking for one could be a pain in the butt. However, earlier that morning, she'd taken the tomato sauce and meatballs she'd made the week before out of the freezer so she could make lasagna tonight. Lasagna with a side of meatballs was one of her favorite meals, and one that usually lasted for a few nights.

Setting her papers and laptop down on her bed, she wondered why he was really here. He'd said he was in Boston on business. Callie didn't doubt that could be true, but Boston wasn't exactly next-door. It took about forty minutes to get to her apartment from there.

_Don't look for lies. He has no reason to lie. He's probably just being a gentleman again and checking to see how I am for Warren_. Although, if that was the case, why hadn't her father just called? Warren had her phone numbers and her email address.

No matter how she looked at it, Dylan's sudden visit didn't make a lot of sense. Could he be interested in her? The sudden crazy thought popped into her head. It would explain his unexpected visit. Was it possible?

"In your dreams maybe," Callie whispered to herself. _Now, go back out there, cook dinner, and enjoy another few hours in Dylan's company._ Taking a deep breath, she slowly exhaled. _Just pretend you're cooking for you and Lauren._

"What can I help with?" he asked when she returned.

"Do you know how to cook?" Callie immediately regretted asking the question. At least to her ears it sounded crass. It didn't seem to faze Dylan though. He just shrugged and gave her a boyish smile that made him look more like a college student rather than the CEO of a major corporation.

"Only a little," he acknowledged. "Basic stuff. Enough to survive without either eating out or getting takeout every night."

She didn't need any help. She could throw together lasagna in her sleep. However, if he had something to do, then maybe he wouldn't focus on her. Since his arrival, her body had been on high alert, and having him just sitting there watching wouldn't help.

"Umm, there is some stuff in the refrigerator for a salad." Normally, Callie didn't have anything but the meatballs with her lasagna. She didn't need to. If it kept him busy, she was all for a salad tonight.

"Even I can handle that," he said in his English accent that she loved. She could sit and listen to it all day in fact.

Did the kitchen shrink or has it always been this small? It seemed like every time she moved, she bumped into Dylan. He'd gathered the vegetables from the refrigerator and spread them out farther down the counter. Pausing in her own preparations, she watched him struggle to peel a cucumber. In addition to removing the skin, he was hacking the vegetable to death.

"You can leave the skin on, you know." She reached for more pasta, so she could start another layer of the lasagna.

Pausing, he looked over at her. "I hate the skin. Can't eat cucumbers if they have skin on them."

"Do you want some help then? By the time you get done, there isn't going to be anything left to eat."

His hand was warm when he handed her the cucumber. The brief contact brought back memories of the brotherly kiss he'd given her. Though it had been innocent, she felt herself blushing.

"It's all yours," he said, starting to cut up a tomato.

Placing a steaming pan on the table, Callie went back to the counter and grabbed the meatballs. "It's not a five-star meal, but I hope it is okay. Sorry I don't have any wine to go with it. I've been meaning to pick some up, but haven't gotten around to it." Callie knew she was a fairly good cook, but compared to the meals Dylan usually ate, she feared something would be lacking.

"It smells great," Dylan assured her, pulling out a chair for her.

Just as surprised tonight as she had been the first time he did it, Callie sat without replying. Having anyone pull a chair out for her was such a foreign event; she didn't know what to make of it. Leaning back, her bare shoulder brushed against his hand and tiny jolts of electricity danced across her skin. Moving away from him, she asked the first thing that came to mind. "Are you in Boston for long?"

"Don't know for sure," he replied, picking up the salad bowl and offering it to her first. "It'll depend on how things go. Might only be a couple of days."

Accepting the bowl, Callie was careful not to let her skin come in contact with his again. Her nerve endings just couldn't handle it. Another reaction like the one she just had and she might short out some of the synapses in her brain.

Neither said anything else for several minutes as they focused on their meal.

"Warren mentioned you might visit his ranch this summer," Dylan said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Have you ever been to Texas?"

"No, the only places outside of New England I've been to are New York for a field trip and Florida." She hated admitting that to someone like Dylan, who'd traveled the world, but there was no point in lying.

Dylan helped himself to more salad. "I think you'll like it. Warren is glad you're thinking about visiting."

Callie shrugged. She didn't have the heart to tell him she wasn't sure she would ever make the trip.

"I'm glad your visit went well last weekend. What did you end up doing with your dog while you were gone?"

It seemed like an odd question. Why did he care what she'd done with Lucky? Perhaps he was just making conversation. "My friend, Lauren, came by to feed and walk him. He hates being boarded at a kennel." Without elaborating further, she continued eating.

"Did she know why you were going away?" Dylan stopped eating. "Does she know Warren's your father?"

"Yeah. Lauren's like a sister to me. There isn't much we keep from each other." For the first time, Callie noticed Dylan had stopped eating. "Everything taste okay? You're not eating anymore."

"Delicious. Just going to get more lemonade. Do you want more?" he replied, pushing back his chair. Dylan didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he refilled her glass. "Have you told anyone else?"

Callie shook her head. "No. Just Lauren. I'm not sure I'm ready for all my friends to know." For a brief second, Callie thought she saw a look of relief pass across Dylan's face. _I'm imaging things again._

Dylan sat back down. "That makes sense. No need to rush things." With that comment, Dylan changed the subject entirely by asking her about her students and what they were learning.

With the simple switch in topics, she was again able to forget who Dylan actually was. Instead of seeing the rich, powerful CEO on the other side of the table, she saw someone she liked spending time with, and who seemed to like spending time with her. Someone who, under normal circumstances, she could see having a relationship with.

_Stop. Right. There. We're from two different worlds. He dates A-listers who shop on 5th Avenue and Rodeo Drive, not schoolteacher's who shop at the local mall._

Thanks to her mind's jolt back to the real world, Callie felt the need to put some extra distance between Dylan and herself. So even though she wasn't finished eating, Callie stood. "Keep eating. I'm just going to start cleaning up this mess." Turning to face the counter, she busied herself with putting things away and wiping down the already clean counter.

"Why don't you let me do that?"

Callie froze in place. She hadn't heard him get up. Yet Dylan now stood directly behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Without waiting for a reply, he removed the parsley from her hand and placed it on the shelf she'd been struggling to reach.

Slowly, she dropped her arm back down and turned around, expecting Dylan to step back. He didn't move. Rather, he reached out and brushed a stray piece of hair off her face.

As if on autopilot, Callie closed her eyes as his fingers skimmed down her cheek and neck to her shoulder. With the weight of his hand resting on her shoulder, she waited, not sure what to expect. And then she felt just the slightest bit of pressure as his lips settled over hers. Everything seemed to stop. The only things she was aware of were his hand on her shoulder and his lips on hers. The kiss was gentle. Tender.

_This shouldn't be happening. Not with this man._

Even as her brain protested, Callie's body responded. She wanted his hard-muscled body pressed up against hers. Even though she knew she should break contact, she took a step closer and rested her hands on his wide shoulders.

Kissing hadn't been on his agenda for the evening. Not that he hadn't been thinking about it since he'd walked in, but he kept telling himself to ignore the urge. He'd been doing a damn good job of it too until she turned around. Then, something in him just snapped. He'd felt as if he'd go crazy if he didn't taste her here and now.

_Just once. I'll stop after that_ , he promised himself, keeping the kiss light.

His mind told him to pull back, put some space between them, and he had every intention of doing just that when Callie's hands tentatively settled on his shoulders.

Putting his arms around her waist, Dylan gently tugged her up against his body. Deepening their kiss, he teased her lips with his tongue until she opened for him.

For him, the outside world faded away. The only thing he was aware of were the sweet taste of lemonade that lingered on her lips and the feel of her body next to his. Slowly, he moved his hand up her slender body and buried his hands in her silky dark hair.

The rumble of thunder and sudden flash of light yanked Dylan back to reality. Pulling back, he dropped his hands to her shoulders and tried to get himself back under control. His heart pounded, his breathing was heavy, and his body yelled for release.

_Jesus, what the hell just happened?_

He'd kissed plenty of women, desired plenty too. Yet he'd never felt quite like this before, like he'd just run a marathon. And it had only been a kiss.

_Say something._

Usually so charming with women, Dylan found himself at a loss for words.

_Anything, Talbot. Don't just stand here._

She wasn't looking at him, but rather studying a spot just over his left shoulder. Her lips were red from his kiss, a light pink blush crept all the way down her neck, and her hair was starting to fall free from its customary ponytail. At that moment, Dylan thought she was the sexiest woman he'd ever met.

Outside, he heard the rain pelting against the windows and the older glass rattled under the assault. It was the only sound in the too quiet room.

"I'm..." Dylan began, but stopped. Apologizing didn't seem right. He wasn't sorry he'd kissed her. At least not sorry in the way she might take it. It had been an incredible kiss, but it could also complicate an already complicated situation.

"Are you okay?" he asked instead.

Chewing on her bottom lip, something he noticed she did when nervous, Callie nodded. "Don't you know I always make out with guys in my kitchen after I feed them?"

While she answered him with a straight face, he knew she was joking to make light of the situation. During their outing in Newport, he'd seen evidence of a very dry and quirky sense of humor.

"Maybe I should start coming over for dinner more often then." He meant the response to be more easygoing banter to lighten the atmosphere. Unfortunately, it didn't come out that way. Instead of laughing and coming up with a great comeback as he expected, she pulled away from him and resumed cleaning the counter.

Afraid he would make matters worse, Dylan remained silent as he helped her finish cleaning off the table and load the dishwasher.

_Now what?_ He couldn't leave after that. Somehow he needed to smooth things over. Make things comfortable between them again if he planned on holding up his end of the bargain with Phillips. How though? He didn't have a clue. Dylan was out of his element where this woman was concerned. She was so different from the women he usually spent time with. Throw in the fact that she was Warren's daughter and, hell, he was drowning.

"Dinner was delicious. Thank you." His mind worked a mile a minute trying to figure out the right thing to say. "If it's okay, I'd like to do it again sometime." Both the dinner and the kiss he thought. He continued on before she could respond. "Would it be okay if I call you this week?"

Callie didn't answer at first, and Dylan wondered what was going through her mind. He could almost see the wheels turning. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, she gave him a tentative smile. "Umm. Sure. If you want. I'll be around. No place to be except work."

Her response pleased him. A lot. More than it should have. _Time to make your exit, Talbot. Before you do something stupid. Like kiss her again._

"Good. I'll talk to you soon then."

# Chapter 7

"It was just a kiss," Callie said as she turned over the paper next to her computer. Okay, it had been an incredible kiss, but still, it was just a kiss, and not the first kiss she'd ever had.

Who was she trying to kid? Callie shook her head in disgust. The kiss with Dylan was the most amazing she'd ever experienced and the only thing she'd thought about since. Even now, when she was supposed to be plugging test grades into her computer, the memory of her and Dylan in the kitchen played through her mind like a scene from a movie.

Though she'd been nervous afterward, she'd tried to make a joke of the situation; something she often did when she was uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the attempt backfired on her, making things worse. In the end, Dylan finished helping her clean and then left. Leaving Callie more confused than she'd ever been in her life regarding a guy.

A man like Dylan Talbot could have his choice of women. While she knew she was attractive, she didn't for one minute believe she was the raving beauty who men lust after. That description fit Lauren, not her. So that left her wondering exactly what prompted those few delicious moments in her kitchen to occur.

_Don't read too much into it. It's done. It was just a fluke. Not something that will happen again._

She'd repeated the same thing over and over to herself since he left her apartment. Hopefully, if she said it enough, her brain and heart would come to a consensus. Right now, the two were at odds with each other. Constantly warring with no apparent winner.

Her brain wanted to forget, or at least write off the incident. While at the same time, her heart wanted to hope there was something more. Exactly what that more was, she didn't know, but she was strongly attracted to him. So strongly that if he'd been anyone else, she would've considered pursuing him.

_But he's not someone else. He lives and works in an entirely different universe from mine._ A universe that didn't always take kindly to outsiders. A lesson she'd learned as a teenager.

Without intending to, Callie's thoughts drifted back to her high schools days. As a child, she'd always been very athletic and did well in all sports. She'd especially excelled at softball. As a result, she'd received a scholarship to attend a very ritzy private high school. At the time, both she and her mother thought it would be a great opportunity. Quickly, Callie's enthusiasm for the school dwindled. Almost all of the students there came from wealthy families and looked down on those with scholarships. While there were a few exceptions, normally the two groups didn't associate with each other. If it hadn't been for Lauren, who had attended the school because her father taught there, Callie never would have lasted the whole four years. She would've left after freshman year and never looked back.

The chorus of her favorite classic Bon Jovi song pulled Callie out of her trip into the past. Looking at the caller ID on her cell phone, she wondered who was calling. It wasn't a number she was familiar with. She didn't even recognize the area code. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of letting it go to her voice mail. If it was important, the caller could leave a message, but then, on the fourth ring she answered.

"Hello," she greeted, expecting it to be a wrong number, or worse a telemarketer.

"Callie, am I calling at a bad time?" Dylan's voice came over the phone.

He'd said he would try to call during the week, but she hadn't really thought he would. She'd chalked his comment up to politeness, especially considering the kiss they'd shared. Now hearing his voice, she could only once again wonder how she should read this man who invaded her dreams every night.

"No, I'm just recording some grades. Actually, I just finished." She closed her grade book and saved the computer file she had open.

"School must be almost done for the summer?"

"Um, yeah. Just a few more weeks." Callie didn't know in what direction their conversation was going. "Are you still in Boston?"

"No, I flew back to New York this morning."

"Oh." She hoped he didn't detect the disappointment in her voice. While it wasn't realistic to think he would stop by again, she had secretly hoped he would. In an attempt to make small talk and keep him on the phone, she continued. "How's the weather there?"

_Did I really just ask him that? Could I sound any dumber?_

"Gorgeous night. Perfect for a ball game. Jake's over at Yankee Stadium now. He wanted me to join him."

"Lucky him." Callie scooted back into the corner of the couch and curled her legs up under her. "I'd love to be at that game tonight. They're playing the Red Sox."

Sounding surprised, Dylan said, "You like baseball?"

"Love it. I played Little League as a kid and then softball all through high school and college."

Dylan was silent for a minute. "The Yankees are playing the Sox again this weekend in Boston. I'm going to be in town. How about we go?"

He wasn't a New Englander, that was the only excuse Dylan could use for thinking he could get tickets to a game against _the_ New York Yankees at Fenway Park at this late date. Any other team maybe, but not the Yankees.

"There is no way you can get tickets now for any of those games. They've been sold out since tickets went on sale," she said. The Yankees were the Red Sox biggest rivals.

"Is that a yes? Because if it is, getting the tickets won't be a problem."

He sounded so sure of himself that Callie almost believed him. But just almost.

"Yes." The thought of a night out with Dylan sent a shiver down her spine. "Who wouldn't want to see those two teams play? I can't believe you didn't go to the game tonight." If someone had invited her along, she would've gone in a heartbeat. Even if it was at Yankee Stadium, the home of the enemy.

Something that sounded a bit like a sigh came through the phone. "I had more pressing matters to take care of."

"Work stuff?"

"That and some personal matters," Dylan answered. "But I took care of everything I needed to."

When she took care of all her responsibilities, she felt relieved. Dylan, on the other hand, sounded more disappointed. Could anyone enjoy work that much that they got disappointed when they had nothing to do?

"I'm guessing Jake likes baseball since he went to the game. What about you? Do you like it too?"

"Not as much as Jake, but yes. Most summers, I get to a few games, but I haven't made one yet this year."

Callie and Dylan spent the next two hours on the phone talking about everything from music to sports. Every once in a while, one of them would make a comment about the game they'd both turned on during their conversation.

"So I'll see you Saturday," Dylan said. The last out of the game had been called, and to her delight and Dylan's dismay, the Sox had won 7 to 1.

"Are you that anxious to see your beloved Yankees lose again?" Switching off the television, she carried the rest of her pizza into the kitchen. "The Sox are playing both days, so either is fine." Callie didn't fully believe he'd be able to get tickets that easily. "Saturday's game is at night, so if that works better for you, that's fine."

Her laughter touched him in a way he couldn't explain, and he found himself wanting to kiss her again. "You might want to watch what you say. Roberts is pitching Saturday. He has a perfect record so far this season."

She laughed again. "Even the mighty must fall."

He could hear her smile. The thought sounded ridiculous, but it was true. Dylan could clearly picture her relaxing on the couch, smiling with her dog next to her.

_You're getting sentimental in your old age, Talbot._

"We'll see about that, Miss Taylor."

After ending the call, Dylan gazed down at the city below and suddenly felt very alone. It was an alien feeling for him, and he didn't know where it came from. Without wanting to ask why, he also knew that he didn't want just anyone there with him. While he knew plenty of women in the city who would happily keep him company for the night, he knew none of them would do. He wanted a certain dark-haired schoolteacher from Massachusetts who loved baseball.

_She's Warren's daughter._

Raking his hands through his hair, Dylan went to his well-stocked bar. After pouring himself a glass of scotch, he wandered into his home office. It was actually his favorite room in his penthouse. He'd designed it to resemble his grandfather's office at the family's ancestral estate in England, complete with oak paneled walls and heavy dark furniture. It was a complete contrast to the rest of the penthouse. The last woman he'd dated had continuously urged him to redecorate it. Make it look more modern. Make it fit with the rest of the apartment. Even his half-brother, Jake, ribbed him about the room, referring to it as his uptight stuffy English office.

What would Callie think of it? What would she think of the rest of his place?

Cold. The single word popped into his head. She would find his place cold and impersonal. Unlike her tiny apartment, there were no personal touches. Everything was sleek and sophisticated. So different from her place, which was filled with color and pictures of family and friends. The only photos he had were tucked away in his office, away from the eyes of visitors.

Oddly, he'd never really thought about it before. Now though, he wasn't sure he liked it.

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 breakup 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, now 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.

Perfect, he had the place to himself. Dylan tossed his towel on a chair. It would be much easier to swim laps in an empty pool. Positioning himself near the edge, he prepared to dive in.

"Late night swim?" a woman's voice called out from behind him.

Turning, he watched the woman step out of the hot tub tucked in the corner. Wearing a fire engine red bikini that left nothing to the imagination, the woman seductively walked toward him. A month earlier and Dylan would've been turning on the charm. The woman was a beauty, with a body worthy of the cover of Sports Illustrated's swimsuit edition, but not tonight. Tonight he only wanted one woman and she was forty-five minutes away.

"Just a few laps to unwind, Miss..."

"Vanessa Mitchell."

Dylan immediately recognized the name. Her father was one of the top hedge fund managers on Wall Street. "Dylan--"

She didn't give him a chance to finish. "I know who you are. We met last December at a charity event in Washington." The woman stepped closer, placing a well-manicured hand on his forearm. "If you're looking to unwind, you should join me in the hot tub. The water is the perfect temperature."

Dylan looked down at the hand on his arm. Here was a beautiful woman coming onto him and he felt nothing. Not a single ounce of attraction or desire flowed through his body, unlike the last time he'd seen Callie. That night, his body had been on overload in the desire department, and she hadn't even been trying.

_You've got some serious issues, Talbot_. "I'm just going to stick with some laps tonight," Dylan replied in his most diplomatic voice. There was no need to offend the woman.

"I'll be down here for a little while, if you change your mind. Or if you want to come up to my room later for a drink, I'm staying in suite 607."

Without waiting for a reply, the woman sauntered back toward the hot tub. Dylan suspected she'd spent a lot of time perfecting that walk. She was a beautiful woman who knew exactly the kind of effect she had on men. Although tonight, her charms were wasted.

Diving into the water, Dylan kicked up toward the surface. On a lounge chair near the hot tub, he spotted Vanessa Mitchell watching him. Instead of seeing her there, he imagined Callie lying there in the very same bikini. The suit she'd worn to the beach had covered more than it had revealed. It was nothing like the one he envisioned her in now. Immediately, heat coursed through his veins. If it'd been Callie coming on to him the way Vanessa Mitchell had been, he would've skipped the invite to join her in the hot tub, and they would've already been up in her suite and her swim suit would've been on the floor.

_Warren's daughter_ , he forced himself to remember. Slicing through the water, he tried to push the vision of Callie in a fire engine red bikini from his mind.

It refused to leave.

# Chapter 8

_Fenway Park. A game between the Boston Red Sox and their longtime rival the New York Yankees_. Baseball didn't get any better than this. The loud hum of voices filled the ballpark. Vendors selling food shouted a little louder than usual as they walked up and down the concrete steps. And fans for both teams sat on the edge of their seats waiting for the players to take the field.

Callie had been to the stadium once before. She'd sat way up in the nosebleed section, about as far from the field as you could get and still be in the park.

Today, she had front row seats, right behind the batter's box. "I can't believe you were able to get seats like this," she said, aware of the awe in her voice. Dylan probably thought she sounded like an idiot, but Callie couldn't help it. Never had she imagined having seats like these for a Red Sox game.

"You didn't even think I could get tickets," he reminded her.

She nodded. "True. I still don't..." Her voice trailed off when Dylan's arm settled on the back of her seat and his hand settled on her shoulder, the heat from his skin seeping through her shirt. Her heart lurched, and for a moment, she stopped breathing.

_Get a hold of yourself_. He just needed a place to rest his arm. Once again, her traitorous heart didn't want to accept the words her brain sent it. She really needed to get those two organs on the same page. Otherwise, she was headed for some serious trouble.

Racking her suddenly empty brain for something to say, Callie said the first thing she found. "I've only been here once before, with the Girl Scouts on a troop field trip."

Dylan's lips curved into a smile. "So you were a cookie pusher?"

Callie gasped as she tried not to smile. "There's more to Girl Scouts than selling cookies, I'll have you know."

He nodded in agreement, a slight gleam in his eye. "True. You march in parades, too."

Without thinking, she gently punched his thigh. "Shows how much you know, Mr. CEO! We learned and did all kinds of things."

"If you say so." Dylan trapped her hand against his thigh and interlocked their fingers.

With that single touch, the rest of the stadium disappeared. All she could see was their hands linked together resting on his jean-clad leg. All she could feel was the warm skin of his hand and muscular thigh. The ease she'd felt when they'd been bantering back and forth evaporated.

_Remember who he is_. The silent order brought Callie back to the stadium as the announcer asked everyone to stand for the National Anthem, which was actually being sung tonight by a couple of Girl Scouts.

"Looks like you cookie pushers sing, too." Dylan laughed as the young girls on the field waited for the music to begin.

Shivering, she automatically rubbed her hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm up. Earlier in the day it had been warm, but now that the sun had gone down and a breeze had picked up, the temperature had dropped several degrees. Callie wished she'd thought to bring a sweatshirt along.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Dylan remove the unbuttoned long-sleeved denim shirt he wore over his t-shirt. "Here, put this on."

Accepting the shirt, she asked, "What about you?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry."

Grateful, Callie slipped the shirt on. The fabric was still warm from his body. The heat felt heavenly against her skin. She couldn't help but sigh in pleasure.

"Better?"

"Much. Thanks." The shirt enveloped her. The slightest scent of some pricey cologne or aftershave clung to the fabric, and she felt as if he was embracing her.

_Now that's a stupid thought. It's just a shirt._

Touching her arm, Dylan nodded in the direction of the scoreboard. "Told you the Sox couldn't win with Roberts pitching tonight."

"It isn't over yet." Callie narrowed her eyes at him. "They're only down by three runs, and there are still two and a half innings to play."

He shrugged and gave her a boyish, lopsided smile. "Does the Girl Scout care to make a little wager?"

She wasn't usually a betting person. She didn't even buy lottery tickets, but what the heck. "Okay, Mr. CEO, you're on."

"If your beloved Sox manage to pull off a win, you get to pick what we do tomorrow." Dylan's doubt that the Sox could win was evident in his voice. "But if they don't, I get to choose."

_What we do tomorrow?_ As far as wagers went, this one was a win-win for her. Still, she hesitated for the briefest of seconds. He'd never mentioned getting together on Sunday. Not that she had any plans, but didn't he have more interesting things to do than spend time with her?

"You're on," she replied, ignoring the questions swirling in her head. She could figure them out later when she was alone. Right now, she just wanted to have a little fun and enjoy what she was starting to think of as a date with the man next to her.

It hadn't been her intention. Ever since they made plans to attend the game, she'd been telling herself it was just a night out with a friend. She had a few guy friends who she hung out with from time to time. Right now though, cocooned in his shirt with his arm draped over her shoulders, the word date blazed in her mind like a neon sign.

A date with Dylan Talbot. Never in a million years would she have imagined it. And another date with him tomorrow. Somewhat oblivious to the game on the field, Callie thought, _What am I getting myself into? Trouble. Big. Time. Trouble._

On the field, the Red Sox batter smashed a two-run homer over the Green Monster, sending the crowd to its feet. The deafening noise drew Callie back to the stadium.

"Told you it wasn't over yet. Now we're only down by one run."

Dylan leaned closer to whisper in her ear, his breath caressing her skin. "It was a lucky shot, but it doesn't matter. Even if the Yankees don't win, I still do."

Callie wasn't sure what to make of his statement. It was pretty much exactly what she'd been thinking when he proposed the wager. "I see you know when to jump off a sinking ship." It was easier to joke and make light of the situation than overthink every one of his words or actions. If she did that, Callie knew she would drive herself crazy.

***

The drive back to her apartment was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Dylan found he liked it. Most of the women he dated found it necessary to fill any silence with endless chatter. Then again, he couldn't picture many of the women he took out wanting to spend the night at a baseball game. Sure, some may have gone, but not because they enjoyed the sport. Rather, because they wanted to be with him. Or maybe a better way of putting it was they wanted to be with rich CEO Dylan Talbot, not the man himself.

He'd known Callie was different from their very first meeting. The time he'd spent with her since only reinforced his opinion.

"Any interest in stopping for ice cream?" They'd pulled off the highway and he could see a brightly lit ice cream stand up ahead.

"I've got plenty at home we can eat. It's always been a weakness of mine. That and licorice. I'll take that over chocolate any day," she admitted.

Anyone else and Dylan would assume she was inviting him back for more than just ice cream, but not her. Still, that didn't stop the image of her lying naked in bed, mahogany colored hair spread out on a pillow, from popping into his head.

_Don't. Go. There_. Dylan gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

"That was one hell of a game," he said, hoping a conversation about baseball would get his mind and body back under control and out of the bedroom.

"Cosgrove's play in the eighth was incredible. I don't think the Sox would've pulled off the win without it."

Her voice was so animated. Full of excitement. Dylan loved how she could be so excited about a play in a baseball game.

Loved? Where had that thought come from? He didn't associate the L word with anyone except family these days.

He liked that about her, he mentally amended his thought. Somehow, though, the word didn't feel right. It didn't do justice to what he felt right now. He liked that Bill, his running buddy, pushed him extra hard when they were training together. The emotions he felt now were nothing like that. Was there something between like and love? There had to be. He just didn't know what it was.

"The ump's bad call in the ninth helped. Stiles was safe." Dylan figured it was best to keep up a steady conversation about a safe topic. It didn't get much safer than baseball.

***

"Have you thought about what you want to do tomorrow? You won the bet." They were sitting in her living room eating huge bowls of ice cream and listening to classic rock music.

Slowly licking the ice cream from her spoon, Callie shrugged. Dylan couldn't help but wonder if she had any idea of what she was doing to him. Right then, he needed a cold shower a lot more than he did ice cream.

"Don't know." She paused, searching his face for a moment. "Are you sure you have the time?"

Even a deaf person would have heard the uncertainty in her voice.

"I wouldn't have made the bet if I didn't want to spend time with you."

It was true. Even if Phillips hadn't requested he keep an eye on Callie, he would have wanted to spend time with her. In fact, his agreement with Phillips had been the furthest thing from his mind when he asked her to the game that night.

She shrugged again. "I guess..." Chewing her bottom lip, she paused. "It's just that... well, it's not..." Again, her voice trailed off.

Putting down his bowl of ice cream, he moved closer to her. "Not what?"

"There's not anything between us," she answered, not looking him directly in the face. "We're... friends. And I promise to not break your legs if you don't honor your debt. I know you have a busy schedule."

Had she already forgotten the kiss they shared the last time he was here? He sure as hell hadn't. He'd lain awake at night thinking about it. Picturing them doing that and a whole lot more.

Operating on emotion rather than common sense wasn't something he ever did. Yet it was exactly what was happening when he removed the partially eaten bowl of ice cream from her hands.

"Do you really believe that, Callie?" Without waiting for a response, he tugged her onto his lap. "Is this how friends act?"

He didn't give her a chance to answer. Instead, he captured her mouth for a kiss she wouldn't forget anytime soon. Callie's body stiffened in his embrace, and he thought she might pull away. As he teased her lips apart, however, she relaxed against him. Slowly, she put her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with equal intensity.

He continued his assault on her mouth for several seconds before pulling back and moving his lips to her neck. A small sigh escaped from her as she leaned her head to one side, providing him with better access.

"Still think we're just friends?" he murmured against her skin. "If so, I'll keep trying to change your mind till I finally convince you. I've got all night."

"I'm not sure. Maybe that is how you Englishman say hello to your friends. I've never been to England." Callie moved her hands to his shoulders. "I might need more convincing," she said, her voice all business.

If she wanted to play that game, he was certainly up for the challenge. Without warning, he tore his mouth away from her neck and once again settled his lips on hers. The minute their lips touched again, a wave of desire like he'd never experienced before engulfed him. Merely kissing her was no longer enough. He wanted to feel her skin against his, know every inch of her body.

Sliding his hands under her t-shirt, he ran his hands up her slender back. Her skin was just as smooth as he remembered from the day he'd spread the sunscreen on her. Dylan paused at her bra clasp, silently giving her a chance to stop him. Instead, she entwined her fingers in his hair. Taking that as an okay, he undid the tiny hooks and took her breasts in his hands. They fit his hands perfectly, as if they'd been made just for him to hold.

Soon, just touching her wasn't enough, though. He needed to see her.

Dylan forced himself to break their kiss and yanked her Red Sox shirt off. It landed with her sensible, no-frills, cotton bra on the floor somewhere. For a minute, he just looked at her.

_Perfection_. Even better than he'd imagined.

"Not fair," Callie whispered, tugging at the shoulder of his shirt as he trailed kisses down her neck.

Not having to be told twice, Dylan tugged his shirt over his head, barely stopping what he was doing to her. The feel of Callie's skin against his was more than he could take.

_Bed_. He needed to get them to a bed. Without stopping his assault on her lips, he scooped her up off his lap and headed down the short hall. Using his shoulder, he pushed open the bedroom door.

They fell onto her bed together, sending purple and red throw pillows to the floor. Never once letting his lips leave Callie's, he stripped off their remaining clothes, making sure he tossed his wallet on her nightstand before throwing his jeans on top of her shorts.

_Slow. You've got all night_ , his mind screamed, but somehow his body didn't get the message. Flames licked his body, and Callie's gentle caresses were only pushing him closer to being engulfed in a full-out inferno.

When he could no longer take the sweet torture of just being next to her naked body but not inside, he reached for his wallet. Withdrawing the small foil packet inside, he paused for half a heartbeat.

For some untold reason, he regretted having to use the thing. He tore the packet open anyway. Dylan didn't know if Callie was on any type of birth control, and he didn't want her telling him he was a father nine months from now.

***

There was a furnace in her bed. There had to be. It was the only explanation. She was so hot. Opening her eyes, her brain slowly began to register her surroundings, and who she was with.

_Dylan_. He was asleep next to her. The early morning light streaming through the window cast shadows on his face. Memories of what happened overwhelmed her.

Something between a sigh and a groan escaped. She'd never been into casual sex or one-night stands. That just wasn't her. She'd been intimate with only two other men, and she'd been in long-term relationships with both.

Callie flipped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. They hadn't discussed any kind of relationship. While she didn't have any proof, she suspected Dylan didn't have an aversion to one-night stands.

Just before he'd kissed her, sending all rational thought from her brain, Dylan questioned her belief that nothing existed between them, that they were just friends. A statement she knew was false as far as she was concerned anyway. His actions indicated it was false for him as well.

_Don't read too much into this_. She wasn't an idiot. Callie knew you could be physically attracted to someone without feeling anything emotionally.

She was still running the events of the last few hours through her head when Dylan draped his arm over her, indicating he was awake.

_Say something, anything,_ Callie silently ordered him. She certainly couldn't think of anything, but at the same time, she couldn't stand the silence either.

"Did you decide how you want to spend the day?"

Callie couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. Of all the things he could have said, she hadn't expected that.

Dylan tightened his hold on her. "I didn't think it was that funny."

Strangely relaxed by his question, she kissed him on the cheek. "Not a clue. Maybe we can just play it by ear."

"In that case, I should go back to my room to shower and change. I want to make sure I'm ready for anything," he said as he started to sit up.

She didn't want him to leave. If he left, Callie feared she'd wake up in a few hours and it would've all been a dream. "Why don't you stay and get another few hours of sleep. Then, I'll make us breakfast." She said the words quickly before she lost her nerve. "We can go back to your hotel before we go out so you can change."

Dylan didn't respond right away and, for a second, she thought he would say no.

_Why didn't I keep my mouth shut?_

Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips. "Another few hours of sleep and a homemade breakfast sounds perfect."

***

After a quick stop at Dylan's hotel, they walked over to Faneuil Hall Market Place. It had always been one of Callie's favorite stops in Boston. Not only was it steeped in history, but it was also a fun place to hang out. There were all kinds of stores and vendors, and often there were shows performed outside on the cobblestones.

"Do you mind if we stop for a second?" Callie asked. They had just passed a vendor selling flowers near the entrance to the main food hall. "I want to see if they have any calla lilies."

Dylan stopped alongside her. "I pegged you as more a daisy person myself."

"Actually, my favorite flowers are roses. I don't really care what color. My mother's favorites were calla lilies. She named me Callie because the name reminded her of the flower." Quickly, Callie scanned the assortment of flowers. The vendor seemed to have everything from roses and carnations to tulips and daisies, but he didn't have one single calla lily.

"Oh well, maybe some other time," Callie said as she started walking again.

"How about we grab something quick to eat, and then hit the Freedom Trail? If we see another florist, we can stop if you want." Dylan pulled her close as they entered the main food hall. As usual, it was bustling with people.

Callie almost shook her head in amazement. How did he do that? Walking the Freedom Trail was one of her favorite things to do in the city. How did he know she would enjoy doing that today? He'd done the same thing in Newport. He'd taken her to some of the city's historical sites before a great day on the beach. Granted, she told him she loved history, but Callie hadn't really thought he was listening, rather just making polite conversation. Apparently, he'd been not only listening but had stored away the information.

"Sounds great. I haven't walked the trail in a while."

Dylan weaved them through the crowd, never once letting his arm leave her shoulders. "Me either. The last time I did I was at Harvard working on my Masters."

Callie didn't know if he kept his arm on her just so they wouldn't get separated in the mass of people or because he liked the physical contact. Either way, she didn't care. She was going to just enjoy the solid weight on her shoulders and how it made her feel. Special. In a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

_You've got it bad._ She really needed to get her feelings back into perspective. But not today. _Tomorrow will be soon enough for that_.

"This okay for now? Then later we can have dinner in the North End. There is one place there that has the best gelato this side of Italy." They'd stopped in front of a sub place.

Callie nodded, her mind still on her feelings rather than their lunch choices. "Sounds like a great plan. It'd be wrong to come to Boston and not eat in the North End."

After placing their orders, she immediately whipped out the money to pay. She still didn't like how he'd paid for her that night in Newport. While the bill now didn't come close to the tab that night, Callie figured it was the best she could do.

"What are you doing?" Dylan asked when she handed the teenager behind the counter the money.

As she expected, it looked like he planned on arguing with her over this. "Selling my soul," she answered. "What does it look like I am doing?"

Dylan ignored her. "Give her the money back. I'm paying for this," he ordered the teen, his voice dripping with authority.

The teen, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, paused with his hand over the cash drawer.

"No. It's my turn." Callie knew people around them were watching. If it were any other person, she would take the money back and go along with them. But not this time. Not with this man. "You bought dinner in Newport, remember? So either I pay now or I don't eat." She crossed her arms over her chest. Callie knew her reaction was a little over the top, but she didn't care. "Don't even think about giving that money back to me," she told the teen who kept looking back and forth between the two of them.

She expected Dylan to argue more. He definitely looked as if he wanted to. Eventually, he stuffed his wallet back into his jeans pocket and gave the teen a slight nod, letting him know he could proceed.

"Dinner is on me." His voice was hard and left no room for argument.

_Score one for me._

They carried their food to a bench outside not far from a small crowd that had gathered to watch a group of children perform some traditional Irish step dances. She knew by the way his jaw was clenched that Dylan was ticked because she'd insisted on paying, but she didn't really care. Callie wasn't going to let this relationship, or whatever it was, be one-sided when it came to covering costs.

_Someone not doing exactly what he says is probably a new experience for him_ , she thought, biting into her turkey sub. Rather than argue with him, she suspected people usually asked how high he wanted them to jump when he gave orders. Most people with money and power seemed to think that way, or at least those she'd dealt with in the past did. She'd heard some of the crazy things the rich demanded from their workers on those television reality shows and the Internet.

Both remained silent, content to watch the show as they worked on their lunches. Or at least tried to watch the show. Callie found herself paying more attention to the people walking by them. It seemed like every woman over the age of fifteen couldn't help but stare and check Dylan out. Not that she could blame them. Still, it annoyed her beyond belief. It was like she was invisible.

One woman in particular, a tall curvy redhead wearing painted on skinny jeans, seemed to linger near them a little longer than the rest. Callie sent her a look that she hoped said 'back off, he's mine.'

_At least mine for now_. The night before had been incredible, as had the morning's repeat performance. Memories of earlier activities brought immediate heat to her face. Without thinking, she pressed her cup of iced tea against her cheek. The cold plastic felt wonderful against her flushed skin, but did nothing for her racing heart.

Next to her, Dylan polished off his sub and tossed his trash in the nearby can without getting up. "You're not always going to win." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders again. "I gave in this time, but don't get used to it."

His statement made her wonder if he had something long-term in mind for them. Was it possible? Or was she just reading too much into his comment? Only time would tell, she guessed. "We'll see. I can be pretty stubborn." Callie took one more bite from her sandwich and then tossed the remains of her lunch in the trash.

"Ready to do some walking?" Dylan asked.

"You know it," she replied, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

Following the Freedom Trail, they went by several key historical landmarks such as the site of the Boston Massacre and the Old State House. It always amazed Callie how so much key U.S. History could be mixed in among all the modern buildings.

"What do you suppose he would think of the city if he saw it today?" Callie asked. They'd stopped in front of Paul Revere's house. "Do you think he would even recognize it?"

"I think he would be in awe. Just think of all the changes it's been through. But he would probably recognize at least some of it." Dylan began walking again. "Imagine what this place might look like in another few hundred years. We'd probably be in awe too."

He was right. In a few hundred years, would she recognize it? Things seemed to change so quickly. Technology. Landscapes. Life.

Her life certainly had been a whirlwind of change lately. Callie was almost afraid to ask what the next few weeks and months would bring.

_Heartache probably_. The awful thought popped into her head. This thing with Dylan would end at some point. Yet Callie wasn't sure she wanted to do anything differently. A man like Dylan didn't come around every day. Why shouldn't she take the opportunity and enjoy being with him while she could? She wasn't hurting anyone.

# Chapter 9

"Warren mentioned he invited you to his fundraiser in New York," Dylan said as they headed back to Callie's apartment much later that afternoon.

Callie nodded. "I talked to him on Wednesday. He asked me to come." She hadn't thought of her father or his invitation all weekend.

Dylan looked over at her as they waited for the light at the end of her street. "Stay with me instead of in a hotel."

Taken aback by his offer, she didn't immediately respond. "I'm not sure I'm going," she admitted. While she thought she wanted to get to know her father better, she couldn't see herself fitting in at an event like that. She didn't know how much tickets to this fundraiser cost, but she'd read somewhere that people sometimes paid thousands of dollars a ticket to these types of things.

Then there was the fact that the rest of Warren's family would be there. She hadn't met his son, Jake, but his daughter seemed to hate her, and Callie couldn't tell what his wife thought of her. Having her wisdom teeth pulled sounded more enjoyable than a whole night in their company.

"Come. Warren wants you there." Dylan pulled into her driveway and killed the engine. "I want you there," he added, brushing his hand across her cheek. "We'll have fun. I promise."

She didn't respond right away. His offer was so tempting. Another whole weekend with him sounded delightful, especially if it turned out to be even half as enjoyable as this one. Staying with him at his place seemed like a giant step. Then there was the fundraiser. If she agreed to stay with Dylan, she'd have to go. There would be no getting out of it, and at the moment, Callie was still leaning toward not attending no matter who wanted her there.

"Say yes." Dylan leaned closer so he could kiss her neck just below her ear.

He sounded so sincere that she couldn't resist. "Okay. I'll come."

A satisfied smile spread across Dylan's face. Pulling her as close as he could inside the car, he kissed her lips tenderly at first. Soon the kiss turned hotter, more demanding.

The sound of his cell phone filled the car. Breathless, Callie watched as Dylan pulled the phone from his pocket and turned it off. "I'll call them back." He tossed the phone onto the dashboard. "Come on, I'll walk you in."

Callie waited for him to come around and open the car door for her, something he always insisted on doing, and something she was really starting to like.

"I'm heading back to New York tonight, and I have to be in Atlanta on Wednesday. I'll try to get back here on Friday night or Saturday morning. Does that work for you?"

"Sounds good. I'll keep my busy social calendar open for you."

They stopped at her front door. "I'll call sometime during the week."

"Okay." Callie unlocked the apartment door. "Do you have time to come in?" Even though they spent practically the entire weekend together, she was reluctant to see him leave.

Dylan shook his head. "If I do, I will never get back to the city tonight, and I have to. I've got meetings all day tomorrow starting at eight."

The tone of his voice let her know why that would be the case, and heat rushed to her face, which was something that seemed to happen an awful lot lately when Dylan was around.

"But I will see you soon. Promise." With that final comment, he kissed her once more and left.

_You're getting in over your head. Way over, to the point of drowning_. "But what a way to go," Callie muttered, locking the door and turning on the kitchen light.

Too wound up to just sit in her apartment, Callie snapped Lucky's leash onto his collar and grabbed her flashlight. Dusk was just starting to fall. An extra-long walk tonight was just the thing she needed.

***

Monday was Callie's least favorite day of the week, always had been. Sitting in her classroom, getting ready for the day ahead, the classic Bangles song "Manic Monday" kept running through her head, especially the line about wishing it was Sunday.

Man, did she ever.

"I want to know all the details," Lauren said, bursting into the classroom through the side door.

Pausing next to a student's desk, Callie asked, "What details?"

"Don't even try to go there." Lauren wagged a finger in Callie's direction. "I saw you on television Saturday night looking rather cozy with Dylan Talbot." Lauren paused for a moment. "Not that I blame you. I wouldn't mind getting cozy with him myself."

"What are you talking about?"

"At the Red Sox game," Lauren answered. "The cameras showed you guys more than once. Hard not to. You were right behind the batter's box."

"Oh," Callie replied just as the bell rang.

_Saved by the bell._

"Darn it." Lauren moved toward the door that connected their classrooms. "I want to know everything later. And I mean _everything_."

Callie placed morning work on a student's desk. "We can talk after school."

Even as she said the words, Callie wasn't sure how much she would tell Lauren. Yes, Lauren was her oldest and closest friend. Still, she didn't know how much she wanted to share just yet. Everything with Dylan seemed to be happening so fast.

And not just with Dylan. Her whole life had turned into one giant roller coaster ride since the day Helen Lee told her the truth. Callie wondered if her mom had known how much her letter to Warren would change her life.

Probably, Ruth Taylor hadn't been a dumb woman.

"Morning, Miss Taylor," one of her students said as he entered the classroom.

Pushing all thoughts of her parents and Dylan from her mind, Callie smiled. "Good morning, Andrew. How was your weekend?"

The students that day were unusually difficult. Callie didn't know if it was because they were down to the last two weeks of school or because it was so warm in her classroom. Whatever the reason, she was actually grateful. They kept her so engaged she didn't once think about her own mixed up life. Or the fact that she'd told Dylan she would not only go to the fundraiser with him, but stay with him as well. Was she ready for that?

Later that afternoon, the side door in her classroom opened, letting Callie know Lauren was back from bus duty ready to pick up their conversation from the morning whether she wanted to or not.

"Okay, Callie, I want all the details." Lauren pulled a chair over to Callie's desk. "What is going on between you and that Greek god?"

Callie laughed at her friend's comparison. She definitely agreed with it. "He was actually born in England, so that would make him an English god."

Not appreciating her humor, Lauren threw her a dirty look. "Minor technicality."

"I met him through my father. Dylan's mother is married to him," Callie explained, trying to quickly decide how much to share.

"I know that. But that's not what I asked." Lauren shook her head, causing her large smiley-faced earrings to move back and forth. Leaning forward, Lauren continued, "What's up between you two? I want all the juicy details. Don't leave anything out."

"We're... friends," Callie answered, not looking Lauren in the eye.

Lauren snorted. "Friends? You looked like more than friends to me."

She wasn't sure how to answer that. Despite their wonderful weekend together, Callie had no idea where she stood with Dylan. "We spent most of the weekend together," she explained, carefully choosing her words.

Her friend smiled. "And?"

"And what?"

"Are you two a couple?"

Callie thought about their time together. Last weekend it felt as if they were. Then there was Saturday night and Sunday morning to consider. She could feel herself blushing as memories bombarded her.

Sighing, Callie shrugged. "I don't know."

"So when are you seeing him again?" Lauren asked, practically bouncing up and down.

_Should I tell her everything?_

Callie thought about it for a second. It would be nice to see what someone else thought, and there wasn't anyone she trusted more than Lauren.

"Remember the fundraiser in New York I told you about?"

"You weren't sure you wanted to go."

"Well, I am. Dylan is picking me up at the train station." She paused, wondering how Lauren would react if she told her the rest.

"And?"

Callie tried to look as if she didn't know what her friend was implying. "And what?"

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Give it a rest, Callie. This is _me_. I can tell when you are leaving something out. So you might as well spit it out now. I'll hound you until you tell me. You know that."

Picking up a pencil, Callie rolled it between her fingers. "He asked me to stay with him." The words came out in a rush. "I said yes."

A low whistle escaped Lauren. "I don't think you need to wonder if he's interested. And why wouldn't he be? You're beautiful, smart, and kind. Hell, if I was a guy, I'd be attracted to you."

Callie shrugged. She wanted to believe what Lauren said. If it was anyone other than Dylan, she would. Dylan Talbot, though, wasn't just anyone.

"Do you really think--"

"Can I borrow that evening gown you bought for your cruise last year?" Callie asked, cutting Lauren off. "I don't have anything for the fundraiser."

Lauren gave her an 'I know what you are doing look.' "Sure, either come over this week and get it, or I can bring it in."

"Great. Thanks." Callie pulled out the materials she would need the following day.

"I think he's interested, Callie. Why else would he want you to stay with him?"

Callie shrugged again and continued to get things ready for the following day. "To help me save money. Hotels in New York are expensive."

" _Please_. Your father's family owns a whole chain of hotels. Dylan could have gotten you a room for free if saving you money was his reason."

Lauren had her there.

"Other than the game Saturday night, what else did you guys do this weekend?"

Maybe if she kept the answer short and sweet Lauren would get the hint she didn't want to talk anymore about Dylan. "Just hung out in Boston."

"Did you sleep with him?"

Callie knew the question was coming. After all, this was Lauren. So she should have been able to contain her reaction.

She couldn't.

Immediately, her hands stilled and her face burned.

"You did! You go girl!" Lauren said before Callie could even open her mouth.

Moving back to her desk, Callie refused to look at her friend. "Could you bring the dress tomorrow? I think it'll be fine, but I want to try it on just in case it doesn't fit."

"Sure. If you want to talk later, call me," Lauren said, finally getting the hint that Callie didn't want to talk right now. "I'm only teaching two dance classes tonight, so I'll be home early."

***

Thursday night Dylan sat in his mother's favorite New York City restaurant waiting for her and Warren. Normally, he found dinner with them enjoyable, a nice break from his usual daily grind. Tonight though, he wanted to be at the office. Several pressing matters demanded his attention. Matters he wanted resolved before Friday night. He didn't want work keeping him in the city this weekend.

The volume of noise in the restaurant dropped slightly and heads turned as his mother and Warren walked toward his table. Both stopped several times to speak with people they knew. Eventually though, they reached him.

"Mum, you look fabulous tonight." Dylan gave her a hug before shaking Warren's hand. And she did. Tonight she wore a cream colored Chanel dress. For a moment, Dylan wondered if his mother and sister owned anything without a famous designer's name attached to it. Like a pair of Levi jeans and a t-shirt.

Once everyone was seated and drinks were served, Warren spoke. "I talked to Callie yesterday. She said you're picking her up at the train station the night before the fundraiser."

Dylan nodded, wondering if she told him she planned on staying with him too. He had every intention of telling Warren tonight, but if she already had, all the better. He wasn't sure how his stepfather would interpret the news.

"Good. I'm guessing you couldn't convince her to come on the plane."

Shaking his head, Dylan replied, "Tried. She refused."

Warren smiled. "She seems a little stubborn, kind of like me, but at least she is coming." He paused for a drink. "She mentioned you are letting her stay with you so she doesn't need to get a hotel room."

Before Warren could continue, a waiter appeared to ask if they required anything else while they looked over their menus. "I wish Sara would welcome Callie to the family the same way you have," Warren said once the waiter left.

Dylan nearly choked on the water he'd just swallowed. Obviously, his stepfather had no idea his relationship with Callie had turned intimate. His mother gave him a strange look.

"Just went down the wrong way," he said once he stopped coughing. "Give Sara a chance. She might still come around. It hasn't been that long, and it has been quite a shock for everyone."

He thought Sara was being immature about the situation. In many ways, he felt she hadn't fully grown up yet. Not that it was entirely her fault. Warren and his mother tended to still treat her like a princess rather than an adult woman.

"I hope you're right. They are sisters," Warren said before changing the topic.

For the rest of the meal, they discussed Warren's campaign, an upcoming debate, and the upcoming fundraiser. With the election only five months away, there was a lot of work to do, and Warren liked to get input from those closest to him.

Right before dessert arrived, Warren's cell phone rang. Excusing himself, he retreated to a more private area to take the call. Dylan didn't envy his stepfather. These days, the man ate, slept, and drank politics. This was actually the fourth call he'd gotten during dinner. He didn't want to know how many Warren had already received that day.

Once Warren left, Dylan's mother focused her attention on him. "Thank you for keeping an eye on Callie."

"It's not necessary," he said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

Wrapping her manicured hands around her teacup, Elizabeth studied him before answering. "You're probably right. Callie seems like a nice woman." She paused as if trying to choose just the right words. "But Warren has worked too hard for this. I don't want everything ruined because of one indiscretion from his youth."

Dylan knew Mum only had Warren's best interest in mind. Still, it didn't sit well that she viewed Callie as any kind of threat. True, he once shared her sentiments, but that was before he'd gotten to know her.

"Once you get to know her, you'll see she isn't like that." Dylan tried to keep his voice devoid of emotion.

By the way his mum's perfectly shaped eyebrow went up, Dylan suspected he hadn't succeeded. "Just how well have you gotten to know her?"

"We've become friends." The last person he wanted to discuss his relationship with was his mum.

"I'm glad to hear that." Elizabeth looked as if she wanted to add more, but didn't say another word as Warren approached the table.

***

Callie stared at her silent cell phone. She didn't even want to know how many times she'd done it that night.

_You're pathetic_. She couldn't keep the derogatory thought from her mind.

Dylan said he'd call tonight, and here she sat by the phone like a lovesick teenager. She sighed at the thought of the word love. She couldn't deny it. She was falling in love with Dylan Talbot. Callie didn't know when it had started to happen, not that it really mattered. The only thing that mattered was what she planned to do now.

Telling him was not an option. He hadn't given any indication that he felt the same way. Maybe that made her a coward, but she still had no intentions of telling him.

Lauren suggested she just enjoy herself and see where things went. That didn't seem like a great idea either. In the end, she would be the one with the broken heart, not Dylan or Lauren.

"Be glad you're a dog." Callie scratched Lucky behind the ears.

The classic rock lyrics coming from her cell phone caused her heart to beat faster, and she silently cursed herself. She hated how she had so little self-control where Dylan was concerned.

"Hello." Man, she wished she didn't sound so eager.

"Hi. I hope I didn't wake you," Dylan said. "I just got in from dinner with Warren and my mum."

"No, I'm just watching some television." _Or at least trying_. The television was on, yet she didn't know what was happening even though it was one of her favorite shows.

"I won't keep you. I just wanted to say hello, and tell you I should be up on Saturday. There's no way I can get out of the city before then."

"You can stay here if you want," Callie said before she even had a chance to really think about it.

As soon as the words passed through her lips, she wanted to snatch them back. Was she coming off as too clingy? Was she pushing things too far too fast? Callie felt so out of her element with this man who kept inching his way into her heart.

_More like bulldozing._

"If you don't want to..." she added, wishing she could turn the clock back a few seconds.

"There's no place I'd rather stay, especially if it means more of your apple cinnamon pancakes for breakfast. Preferably served to me in bed by you naked, but I'm flexible."

Callie pushed away the mental image his words evoked. "Don't count on it. I have a rule about not eating in bed, so unless you're on your death bed, it's not happening."

His sexy laugh came over the line. "Like I said, I'm flexible. If you want to serve them to me in the kitchen while you're naked, that's fine too."

Callie rolled her eyes. The man was impossible. "I still wouldn't count on it."

"Sounds like a challenge to me. One I look forward to undertaking this weekend."

# Chapter 10

Man did she have it bad. She hadn't dusted in more than a month. Or was it two? He was spending the night not conducting a white-gloved test of her apartment to see how good a housekeeper she was.

Still, Callie wanted the place to look nice. She'd already vacuumed, cleaned the tiny bathroom, and changed the bed sheets. Dusting was the last thing on her to-do list, and it was only eleven o'clock. He'd sent her a text message that morning when he left New York and said he would be there around two, so she still had plenty of time to shower before he arrived.

Tossing the dust cloth in the trash, she surveyed the room. It might not be worthy of Park Avenue, but it looked inviting, the neatest it had looked in ages actually.

Three hours later, Callie remained curled up on the couch, her nose buried in a new suspense novel by one of her favorite authors. Dylan had called to say he would be late due to traffic. A multi-car accident had completely closed down I-90.

"I'm starting to feel like a character from one of these books, Lucky." The dog sat in his usual spot next to her, his head on her leg, half-asleep.

_Average everyday woman falls head over heels in love with rich powerful CEO._ Man, did that sound like something written on the back cover of a hundred books she'd read.

In those cases though, the heroine always got a happy ending. Callie had no idea what to expect. She wasn't even sure what kind of relationship they were in. Were they free to see other people? Did he see other women during the week? She couldn't imagine him having the time. He called her every night, though sometimes it was well after nine o'clock when he finally got home from the office. Some nights they only had time to talk for a few minutes. Other conversations lasted much longer.

Despite their numerous phone calls, the status of their relationship never came up. Actually, the word relationship never came up at all. Neither did the word love. She'd almost slipped once and said it, but she caught herself in the nick of time. _Thank God_.

_At some point, I'm going to have to bite the bullet and confront him_. Find out where their relationship was going. It wasn't happening this weekend. Her only plan was to enjoy herself. She would leave the tough conversations for another time.

Heck, maybe he would confess his never-dying love for her tonight. _Don't count on it._

Such scenes only played out in movies and books, not real life. Still a girl could hope, right?

A loud knock at the door sent Lucky bolting from the couch, waking Callie in the process. Still half-asleep, she sat up and checked her watch. Nearly five.

Rubbing her eyes, she stood and stretched. How long had she been asleep? She hadn't even intended to take a nap. One minute she'd been reading, and the next, her eyes were so heavy she just couldn't keep them open. She only planned on closing them for a minute. That had been sometime around four, she thought.

"Quiet, Lucky. Go sit," she commanded as she pulled open the door. Thanks to all the obedience classes she'd done with him, the dog stopped barking and moved back to the living room.

Dylan didn't wait for her to invite him in. "Who needs a doorbell with him around?" In one quick movement, he dropped his bags on the floor and pulled her tightly against him.

Callie found herself wrapping her arms around his neck as he worshiped her mouth. Standing there safely locked in his embrace, she lost all coherent thoughts that might have been going through her head. The only thing she could focus on was the hard body pressed against hers, and the soft fabric of his shirt beneath her fingers.

"God, I've missed you," he said, finally coming up for air. His breathing was slightly ragged, informing Callie he was as affected by their kiss as she was. "I thought I'd never get here. Traffic stood still for hours."

_He said he missed me_. She hadn't imagined that. It wasn't any declaration of love, not by a long shot, but it did show he cared about her. Right?

She'd consider that later. "I'm glad you're finally here. I've missed you too." It was as close to telling him she loved him that she was going to get this weekend.

Callie moved out of Dylan's embrace to close the door behind him. "Is there anything particular you want to do this weekend?" Callie picked up his bags, so she could take them into her bedroom.

Before she could move, he grabbed the bags away from her. "Do you really need to ask?" The heat in his gaze told her exactly what he had in mind.

Desire and excitement shot through her body. There was no stopping it. "We might need to come up for air at some point," she said, almost not recognizing her own voice. To her ears, it sounded sexy and flirtatious. Neither were words she associated with herself.

"That's where you serving me pancakes in bed wearing nothing but a smile comes in," he joked before heading to her bedroom to drop his bags off.

_Did the heat in here just go up?_ Just thinking about Dylan's words set her on fire. Callie grabbed a magazine off the table and fanned herself. Was he serious? Even if he was, it wasn't something she could ever do. She'd never been comfortable being naked, or showing off too much of her body. The one time she'd dared to wear a bikini to the beach, she ended up leaving on her cover-up the entire time.

If he was serious, that told her something, didn't it? It meant he desired her at least, right? It told her he was attracted to her. She was certainly drawn to him like a moth to light and not just physically.

Slowly, Dylan's eyes opened. Callie's warm body was tucked up against his, her head resting on his chest, her dark hair spilling across his bare skin. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and not only beautiful on the outside. During his thirty-three years, he'd seen plenty of women who were physically beautiful. That was just window dressing. On the inside, they'd been shallow, self-absorbed. Not his Callie.

_His Callie?_ When had he started to think of her as his, he wondered?

"What have I gotten myself into?" he whispered to himself. This thing between them wasn't permanent. He shouldn't be thinking of her as his.

Just because I enjoy spending time with her and making love to her is incredible... his brain paused mid-thought. When had he started to think of it as making love and not sex? Dylan had no idea. Still, he thought of it that way with Callie. To say they had sex didn't do justice to what he experienced with her. It was so much more.

_You're overthinking it, Talbot. This is just another relationship. Like any other_. "Yeah, right, and the world is flat," he muttered to himself.

Next to him, Callie moved. "Morning," she said, her voice gravely with sleep. "How did you sleep?" Callie reached up and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Damn, but he could get used to waking up like this every morning. _Bad. Very Bad._

"Like the dead. You wore me out last night," he teased. He knew without even looking that she was blushing. Maybe it was cruel, but he loved how he could make her blush. "If I'd known how demanding you were going to be, I would have had a few Red Bulls before I got here. Or at least a coffee after dinner."

Callie punched him in the arm before starting to climb out of bed. "Look who's talking."

Dylan grabbed her arm and pulled her back next to him. "Where are you going?"

"To make pancakes. Got to make sure I replenish your energy reserves." She scooted out of his reach and pulled on a long New England Patriots t-shirt.

Oh, yeah! He could definitely get used to waking up like this every day. _You're in big trouble here, Talbot._

Dylan remained in bed staring at the ceiling. In the kitchen, he could hear her moving around, but he stayed under the covers. _You're digging yourself a hole the size of the Grand Canyon_.

Lying in Callie's bed was perhaps the last place in the world he should be. At the same time, it was the only place he wanted to be. When had the situation gotten so complicated? Maybe the night he'd first kissed her in the kitchen. Or had it been that night in Newport when they'd gone out for dinner?

Face it, you were attracted to her the first time you met her, he told himself, raking a hand across his face. If he was smart, he'd call it quits after the fundraiser in New York. Let her move on. Phillips wouldn't have to know. Dylan knew it was the right thing to do. The thought of ending it, however, left him feeling hollow inside. Now isn't the time to make this decision, he reasoned, tossing off the blankets. There would be plenty of time to do that when he was alone in his apartment.

***

Stuffed with apple cinnamon pancakes, they headed to Brook Farm State Park for a day hike. "What do you think? Do you have enough energy left for a challenging trail or do you need one of the beginner ones?" Callie asked as they looked over a map of the various trails.

"I'm up for a challenge, but if you're tired, by all means, a beginner one is fine." Dylan kissed the side of her neck and smiled when she tilted her head, exposing more of her neck to him.

"You're trying to distract me so I'll pick an easy one. It won't work." Callie took a few steps away. "Follow me."

Neither of them spoke much as they made their way up steep inclines and through the various vegetation. Dylan didn't mind the lack of conversation. It allowed him a chance to really take in his surroundings. One of the things he loved about hiking was how isolated you felt. Living in the city, he constantly had people around him. Out here, though, you could almost imagine you were the last person on Earth.

The lack of conversation also allowed him to focus on Callie. She made her way up the mountain with ease. She actually made it look effortless. Though he was in excellent shape, it'd been a while since he'd last hiked and his legs were certainly feeling it. Callie showed no sign of sharing his discomfort.

_I'm going to feel this in the morning._ Reaching into the side pocket of his pack, he pulled out his water. Morning, now there was a time he wasn't looking forward to. He'd be waking up alone tomorrow. Doing so had never bothered him before, but now he found himself wishing Callie was coming back to the city with him tonight.

For a moment, he considered inviting her. Bad idea, his brain screamed as he chugged water. _I'm letting myself become too attached_. Besides, she has work tomorrow, he reminded himself. He knew she only had a few days of school left.

"Why don't we stop here for a rest," Callie called out to him, interrupting his thoughts. They'd broken through to a fairly level area with a small stream running through it.

"Sounds great." Dylan removed the backpack he wore and joined her beside the stream. Settling himself on the ground, he used a large boulder as a backrest. "I'm glad we did this today."

Callie took a long drink from the water bottle he handed her. "Me too. I haven't been hiking since last fall. I love it out here. Whenever you want a hiking partner, just holler."

He couldn't think of her as a hiking partner. That made her sound too much like just a buddy. She was certainly not that. The term girlfriend didn't fit either. That implied a possible long-term situation. Yet he couldn't think of her as just another casual relationship that he would forget about in a few months either.

"I'll do that," he replied before they both fell silent, content to enjoy their surroundings and each other's company.

Dylan had no idea how long they sat there before the ringing of his cell phone broke the peaceful silence around them. Surprised he even had service out here, he yanked the phone from his jeans pocket.

Marty Phillips. The man's name appeared on the screen. _Bloody hell. Now what does he want?_

"I'm sorry, Callie, but I need to take this call. I'll be right back."

"No problem," Callie said.

Dylan pressed the talk button as he walked away.

"What?" Dylan snapped, not caring if the campaign advisor heard his annoyance or not.

Perhaps detecting Dylan's feelings, Marty didn't bother with any small talk either. "Have you spoken to Miss Taylor about skipping the fundraiser next weekend?"

The man sure knew how to ruin a nice afternoon. "I told you, Phillips, I'm not going to do that. Warren wants her there, and she wants to go. End of story." Dylan didn't mention the role he'd already played in convincing her to go in the first place.

"Someone might pick up on the family resemblance. Warren doesn't need that right now."

The tone of the man's voice never changed, but Dylan knew he was ticked. He'd spent enough time around Marty to notice the clipped edges to his words. "No one will notice, Marty."

Most of the people at these types of events were so self-absorbed they wouldn't notice if a whole legion of women walked in resembling Warren.

"I hope you're right."

Callie wanted time to stop. Not forever, but for a little while. The weekend was quickly slipping away, and she wasn't ready for Dylan to return to the city.

With a small sigh, she watched him from where she sat. Who was he talking to anyway? She couldn't hear him. Yet his mannerisms suggested he was having a disagreement with someone. If she asked, he would probably tell her. So far, he'd been nothing but completely open and honest with her. Even during his second visit to her apartment when she'd questioned why her father hadn't come to see her himself, he'd been honest.

She loved how he was always so honest with her. It was the complete opposite of what she'd experienced in her last relationship.

Callie didn't remember the last time she'd thought of Michael Adams, but sitting here watching Dylan, she couldn't help but compare the two. She'd met the corporate lawyer through a mutual friend. For the first few months, he'd been the perfect boyfriend, even though they had few things in common. Things changed sometime around their third or fourth month together. He became secretive and abusive. Not physically abusive, but emotionally abusive. Despite being told the obvious by her mother and close friends, Callie had denied there were any problems. It had taken her a year and a half to see the real Michael. That had been two years ago.

Michael and Dylan were like night and day. Dylan sometimes teased her, but always in a good-natured fashion, and never once was he anything but a gentleman; pulling out chairs and opening doors.

Men like Dylan didn't come along often. She suspected he might have ruined her for anyone else. No other man would ever be able to compete with him in her eyes.

_Enjoy being with him while it lasts_. That was basically the same thing Lauren had told her earlier that week. Minus the while it lasts part. Lauren seemed to think wedding bells were a possibility. She always had believed in fairy tale endings. Callie was too practical to believe she and Dylan would ever reach the altar. Still, she planned on enjoying her time with Dylan while she could. Who knew how much longer she would have with him? For all she knew, after the fundraiser in New York, she may never spend time like this with him again. He was too polite to back out of his offer to have her stay with him in the city, so she had at least one more weekend with him, but who knew after that? He had been unusually quiet at breakfast that morning. Maybe he'd been reconsidering their relationship, or even regretting their involvement? Perhaps he'd been trying to decide when and how to end it.

_Always the pessimist. Maybe he really had been tired_.

Dylan sat down next to her again. "Sorry about that. I can't believe I even got cell service out here."

Callie handed him one of the granola bars from her pack. "Everything okay? You looked agitated over there."

Instead of answering right away, Dylan bit into his bar. "Issues with an acquisition I've been dealing with. I told them I'd handle it tomorrow." He finally answered after chewing and swallowing his food.

# Chapter 11

Callie shifted in her seat in an attempt to get comfortable, but it didn't help no matter what position she moved to. What she really needed was to get off the train and relax.

Maybe she should have taken a personal day and caught an earlier train. She had considered it. In the end though, she dismissed the idea and opted to work her normal hours before heading to South Station in Boston. After all, it was her first day back at the summer camp where she worked over summer break.

At least the ride was almost over. Penn Station was the last stop. A strange mixture of excitement and apprehension churned in her stomach, making her very happy she hadn't eaten anything since lunch.

Another whole weekend with Dylan. Just the thought made her giddy. Unfortunately, she also had the fundraiser to deal with. For the umpteenth time, she wondered if she'd made the right decision regarding both Dylan and her father.

Should she be going to this event? Should she really be trying to fit into this alien world of theirs? In many ways, she felt like the proverbial square peg trying to be shoved into a round hole. No matter how much one tried, it just wasn't going to work. What if that was the case here? Maybe it would be better if she didn't waste the time and the anxiety.

Then there was Dylan. She'd gone back and forth all week regarding her decision to stay with him this weekend. Twice she'd almost told him she'd changed her mind about getting a hotel room for herself. The weekend before was magnificent. Regardless, she kept wondering if she should end things with him this weekend before she got in any deeper. It might be easier and far less painful to cut ties with him now rather than later.

The train rolled to a stop. "Penn Station," a voice boomed over the PA system.

_Too late to go back now_. Gathering up her overnight bag and borrowed gown, Callie followed the rest of the passengers down the aisle toward an exit and some much needed space.

The minute her feet touched the platform, she spotted Dylan walking toward her through the crowd. Momentarily, she stopped breathing at the sight.

Lauren had it right when she called him an English god, and, at least for now, this god dressed in a charcoal gray suit was hers.

_Don't get too used to it_. The thought brought a frown to her face. _Get your act together. You should be happy. Smile._

Dylan's own smile wavered slightly as he reached for her. After giving her a quick kiss, he asked, "What's wrong?" He sounded concerned. "You look as if you just lost your best friend."

Letting him take her bag, she forced her lips to form a smile. "Just a little tired."

Callie really wasn't lying; she was tired. She'd barely gotten any sleep the night before thinking about her trip this weekend and then had been up at five thirty to make it to work on time.

"Why don't we skip going out for dinner and head straight to my place?" Taking her hand in his, he led her toward the exit. "We can have something delivered. Whatever you feel like eating. You name it, we can find it in the city."

She'd only been in New York City once. It'd been a school trip her freshman year of high school. The class arrived late in the morning and spent the whole day visiting museums and shopping. The city was so congested and alive that day. She had wondered if it was always like that even late at night. Judging by the amount of traffic around them and people still on the sidewalks, it was. Obviously the city never slept.

Callie breathed a tiny sigh of relief when Dylan pulled his Aston Martin into the underground parking lot of his building. Personally, she hated driving in any city, and did it as little as possible. People seemed so much more aggressive there. Yet it hadn't fazed Dylan in the least.

"I couldn't drive in that every day," she admitted when he opened the car door for her and helped her out.

Dylan slipped an arm over her shoulders. "You get used to it, but I don't do it every day. Often I have a car pick me up."

He had access to a car that could take him to and from anywhere he wanted, and he still paid to own a car in the city. Man did that seem like a waste. "If it was me, I'd have it pick me up every day. I wouldn't even bother having a car." She followed him into the elevator.

Dylan shrugged. "I like to drive. It's my alone time. That's why I drove to see you last weekend instead of flying."

A few seconds later, the elevator doors opened and they stepped into a foyer that looked like it came straight from a movie. Several framed canvases hung on the walls and large crystal vases filled with fresh flowers were positioned on either side of the ornate door. Dylan opened the door and allowed her to walk in first. The marble tile from the foyer flowed into the penthouse apartment before ending at two hardwood steps that lead to an open living room filled with black leather furniture and glass tables. To her, it looked as if the room had been decorated straight from some interior-decorating magazine.

Callie couldn't imagine living here. Everything was cold and sterile. There was nothing to indicate who lived here. No personal touches. No pictures of family. Yet she didn't tell Dylan that as he gave her a quick tour. This was his home. She assumed he liked it the way it was. Why else would he decorate it this way?

"Finally, this is my office. I probably spend more time in here than in any other room." Dylan pushed another door open.

She was speechless for a moment. This room looked so unlike the rest of the apartment.

"I love it," she told him, stepping inside. "It's beautiful." Now this room told her something about the person who lived here.

Dylan gave her a 100-watt smile. "In the rest of the apartment, I let the designers have free rein, but not in here. I worked on every aspect of decorating this room." She could hear the pride in his voice.

Callie wandered over toward the floor to ceiling bookcases. They were filled with everything from the classics to books on science and finance. "It's an English library."

Crossing his arms, he leaned against his massive desk. "I had my grandfather's office at his country estate in mind when I did this room."

She knew his maternal grandfather was an Earl and his father was a Viscount. She guessed the men she saw in the pictures with him were his father and grandfather. There was a definite family resemblance.

After looking at the pictures on the shelf, Callie walked to look at some on a side table. "We really do look like sisters." She picked up the picture in the middle. It was an informal shot of Dylan with Warren, Elizabeth, and their children.

"Our eye and hair color are completely different, but we have the same shape face and nose." A wave of sadness washed over her. She'd always wanted a sister. Now she had one, and the woman couldn't stand the sight of her.

Carefully, she placed the picture back. "Why does she hate me?" Although she'd wanted to ask him before, she'd intentionally avoided the topic. Tonight her curiosity won out though.

Dylan walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "She doesn't hate you."

"Yeah, right. Did you already forget about my run-in with Sara?"

He forced her to turn around. "Sara has been burned by people in the past, so she has some trust issues. She'll come around. Just give her some more time." After dropping a quick kiss on her frowning lips, he continued, "Now, no more talk about Sara. I can think of many other more enjoyable things we can be doing."

Moving slightly, he placed a trail of kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Joy bubbled up inside her and all thoughts of Sara Sherbrooke left her. "I thought you were hungry," she asked, sounding slightly breathless.

Dylan stopped kissing her long enough to yank her shirt over her head and toss it on the floor. "I am. For you." He pulled the elastic out of her hair, causing her hair to cascade down her back. "I've missed you."

He didn't give her a chance to respond. Once again, his lips settled over hers, sending every coherent thought into outer space. As his lips slanted over hers again and again, Callie melted against him and held on tight for the ride. Her entire body pulsed with desire, with expectation. Finally, when she thought she could no longer take it, Dylan picked her up, cradling her lovingly against his chest, and carried her back to his bedroom.

He had no desire to move and disturb the woman sleeping in his arms, but if he didn't get up soon and get them something to eat, his growling stomach would wake her anyway. Carefully, Dylan untangled himself and pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt.

After ordering from his favorite Thai restaurant, he selected a wine from the rack. Opening the bottle, he poured himself a glass and gazed down at the street below. Since the food wouldn't be there for another thirty minutes or so, he figured he would let Callie sleep. When she'd gotten off the train, she looked exhausted.

He knew from their phone calls that she'd been busy all week. The students' last day had been Wednesday and her final day of school had been Thursday. Then she'd immediately started her summer job earlier that morning. They'd spoken almost every day that week. He never spoke with anyone that much unless it related to business. Still, it hadn't been enough. Every night, he found himself thinking about her. Wanting her by his side and in his bed. When he'd seen her step off the train, his first instinct was to pull her into his arms and kiss her, then lock them both in his apartment for the entire weekend.

So far, he'd only done two of the three. The jury was still out on the last one. Would anyone really notice if they didn't emerge from his apartment this weekend? These political fundraisers were hectic. Perhaps Warren would think he'd just not seen her there among everyone else.

_Fat chance of that, Talbot_. Accept it. He was just going to have to share her this weekend. At least for a little while. Tomorrow night, he had every intention of getting them as much alone time as possible. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to make it up to Massachusetts at all next week. This weekend might have to hold him over for a while. Maybe he could convince her to come back to the city next Friday after work. They might not get a lot of time together during the day on Saturday. He had a business lunch he couldn't get out of that day. They'd have the nights together, though, and most of Sunday. If he could convince her to take his private plane instead of the ridiculous train, they would have even more time together.

It was a definite possibility. Something he really liked the idea of. _For someone who doesn't do emotional relationships, you're getting yourself pretty damn entangled._

"I've got everything under control." Dylan spoke the words aloud as if they would help convince him it was true. In the deep recesses of his mind and heart though, he knew that was the furthest thing from the truth. Somewhere along the line, he'd entered uncharted waters despite his best intentions.

Dylan took another sip of wine with his thoughts turning to what his family might be thinking. They knew Callie was staying with him this weekend. They also knew he was escorting her to the fundraiser tomorrow night. His mum already knew about his agreement with Phillips. She'd been all for it. He got the feeling she also knew their relationship had crossed into intimate territory. She hadn't come right out and said it, but she dropped several hints. Warren, though, seemed oblivious to the possibility.

Was that because his stepfather was so distracted by the campaign? Or did Warren trust him so implicitly that he assumed Dylan would never fool around with his daughter? Dylan just didn't know.

Warren wasn't one to lose his cool. Perhaps that was why he made such a good politician. He could hide his true emotions whenever he wanted. Dylan could only recall a handful of times when his stepfather had become visibly irate.

"How's he going to react if he finds out?" Warren knew exactly how Dylan approached relationships these days. Most likely he would not be pleased. "I'm not going to do anything differently, so why worry about it," he muttered before taking another sip of wine.

Dylan was still staring out the window twenty minutes later when he heard Callie enter the room. Turning to watch her, an unfamiliar feeling of contentment settled over him. Having her here in his apartment just felt natural. Reaching for her hand, he tugged her close. "Have a nice nap?"

Callie nodded. "You should have woken me," she replied just before yawning.

"Obviously you needed the rest," he pointed out, laughing. "Besides, I plan on keeping you up tonight, so I figured letting you sleep now was in my best interest."

She blushed at his comment, and he couldn't resist the urge to kiss her. Dylan forced himself to pull away before they ended up in his bedroom again.

_Damn_. He'd only intended a quick kiss. Yet once again, he got carried away. It happened so easily with her. It wasn't something he was used to. He always remained in control, no matter who he was with. Yet with Callie, all his control went not only out the window but down the street to the next block, and Dylan kept forcing himself to not think about the reason why.

"Dinner is on its way." He moved further away, putting a little more space between them. "I opened some wine. Would you like some?"

"Sure." Callie walked closer to the windows, which stretched from the ceiling to the floor.

With her back toward him, Dylan couldn't tell what was on her mind. Was she thinking about him? Her surroundings? Her father? The fundraiser? Whatever it was, he wanted to know.

"You have a spectacular view from here."

Dylan thought he had the best view, and it had nothing to do with the view outside. "I sure do," he agreed, his tone letting her know he wasn't talking about the city below.

Handing her a glass of wine, he asked, "Are you looking forward to tomorrow night?"

Callie sighed very softly. In fact, if he hadn't been so focused on her, he probably would've missed it.

"Yes... I guess so." She nibbled slightly on her bottom lip, which Dylan knew either meant she was deep in thought or nervous.

"Honestly, I'm nervous about it." She paused and took a long sip of wine. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have come," she admitted, looking him squarely in the eye.

Her honesty and sincerity touched him. Dropping a feather light kiss on her mouth, he replied, "I'm glad you did." A knock at the door interrupted him before he could say anything else. "That must be our food. Why don't you have a seat at the table?"

After returning with their meal, Dylan spread the containers of food on the table and grabbed some plates from the cabinet. "You know, I can't remember the last time I sat here to eat dinner. Most of the time, I just grab something at the office or on my way home."

"That can't be good for you." Callie accepted the first container he offered her. "Everything looks and smells great. I haven't had Thai food in months."

_It sure does_. However, Dylan wasn't thinking about the food. He was thinking about how she looked sitting in his penthouse. It was definitely a sight he could get used to every night.

_Careful there._ He was definitely treading on thin ice.

Dylan spooned some rice onto his plate. "The fundraiser isn't until seven tomorrow. I thought we could spend the day exploring the city. We can go anywhere you want. Shopping, museums. You name it."

Callie smiled, and his chest tightened with emotion. Instinctively, Dylan rubbed his chest as if he could get the feeling to leave. Emotions like the ones he felt for Callie were taboo to him. He didn't allow them into his life. That was why he now had relationships only with women he knew wouldn't evoke them. Not that some didn't try. With the exception of Francesca, none had ever succeeded. Until now.

But Callie wasn't even trying. She was simply being herself. Perhaps that explained why he couldn't resist her.

Dylan poured himself more wine. "I have a surprise for you."

She eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of surprise?" Callie didn't wait for him to answer. "The last time I got a _surprise_ , I found out Warren Sherbrooke was my father."

"It's not life changing, I promise." He took her free hand and squeezed it. "Was the surprise about your father good or bad?" He hadn't intended to ask the question. It just slipped out. Now that he had, Dylan found that he really wanted to know.

"Now that's a loaded question." Callie groaned, pushing the food around on her plate. "Good and bad, I guess. I know that makes no sense. I'm glad I know the truth, and Warren has been very nice."

"Sounds all good to me."

"My mom and I were really close. Believe it or not, she was one of my best friends, or at least I thought she was." He could hear the bitterness in Callie's voice.

"I'm sure she had her reasons for not telling you."

Shrugging, she forced a smile. "Let's talk about something else, okay?"

Without saying another word, Dylan stood. "Stay right here. Don't move."

Dylan disappeared into his room to retrieve the gown his executive assistant picked up for him that afternoon. He hoped she liked it.

"I told you my surprise wasn't life changing." He held up the gown and waited for her response.

She didn't say anything. Instead, she stared at the dress, and then at him.

"You said you were going to borrow something to wear." When she still remained silent, he wondered if maybe she didn't like it. "If it doesn't fit or if you don't like it, we can get something else tomorrow."

"It's... I love it," Callie replied, her voice full of emotion. "But I can't... you shouldn't have."

Dylan moved closer. "I wanted to."

# Chapter 12

Dylan flipped through the television channels, not really looking for anything in particular. They needed to leave in less than half an hour, so there wasn't really time to watch anything. He just wanted to kill time while he waited for Callie to finish getting ready.

When he hit the sports channel, he put down the remote and watched the Yankees pregame report. As the announcer droned on about the night's starting lineup, Dylan wished he and Callie were getting ready for the game instead of the fundraiser. He'd definitely be a lot more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt instead of the tux he wore.

He didn't enjoy these society events. Most people thought he did, but the truth was, he went because it was important to the family, not to him. If he never went to another one of these black tie affairs, it'd be fine with him.

And he _really_ didn't want to go tonight. Dylan kept telling himself it was because he didn't want to share Callie. Tomorrow afternoon, she would head home. Yet, if he was honest, there was something else. He sensed something was going to happen tonight. Exactly what, he didn't know. Just that it wasn't anything good. He couldn't shake it either. Dylan didn't put any stock in premonitions. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that tonight wasn't going to end well for them.

"All set." Callie stood in the doorway.

Dylan stared at the vision before him. She simply took his breath away. The sapphire gown clung to her every curve, and the color made her eyes even more mesmerizing. All he could picture was pulling every pin from her hair, slowly peeling the gown from her body, and carrying her back to his bedroom.

"Lord, I wish we had more time." Without a thought of how wrinkled her gown might become, he pulled her into his arms. "You look incredible," he murmured against the side of her neck, inhaling the light scent of the vanilla shampoo she favored. Slowly, he kissed his way up till his mouth settled on hers.

He'd just reached to slide the zipper of her gown down when his cell phone went off. The offending sound cut through his haze of desire, and he pulled back enough to pull the device from his pocket. "The car is waiting for us." Dylan dropped a kiss on her forehead. "You might want to fix your makeup before we go." Their little make out session smudged her lipstick.

Callie glared at him before turning and leaving. Dylan watched her retreating form with pure male appreciation. It was going to be a very long evening. He wondered how early an exit they might be able to make.

She'd ridden in limos to all of her proms, as well as to her cousin Rachel's wedding. Those limos were nothing like this one. This one may have resembled the others, but everything in it was new and top of the line.

"What's tonight going to be like? Are there going to be a lot of people? Have I told you how much I hate large gatherings when I don't know anyone?" Callie took a sip of her sparkling water. Her mouth felt as if it was covered in cotton, yet her palms were ridiculously sweaty.

"Speeches, dinner, and a whole lot of ass-kissing. Nothing too exciting."

The limo stopped in front of the Waldorf Astoria.

_This is it. I can handle it._

"Just relax. I'll be with you all night. If you need to leave, just tell me and we'll go."

Callie gave him a small, weak smile. "Thanks."

Elegantly dressed men and women sat at every table. Some she recognized from television or magazines. The whole thing felt surreal to her, like she'd stepped into another reality. She had to fight the urge to ask Dylan to leave the minute they walked into the ballroom. While he had offered to go whenever she needed to, Callie wasn't sure how he really felt about doing that. This type of event was not new to him. Besides, Warren probably expected him to be there along with the rest of the family.

"I can't believe some of the people who are here tonight. Was that Mia Troy we passed when we first came in?" Callie asked, referring to a popular film star.

Dylan placed his hand on the small of her back and led her toward the bar. "Yes. She's a big supporter of Warren's. Has been since he first announced his plan to run. She's also a good friend of Sara's."

"Really? For some reason, I thought most Hollywood celebrities tended to support Richardson." Callie accepted the glass of white wine the bartender handed her and surveyed the ballroom in awe. She couldn't believe she was in the same room as these people.

"Most do, but not all. Anderson Brady is another big supporter of Warren's from Hollywood." Dylan accepted his own drink, then placed his arm around her shoulders. "So who do you think will win the game tonight, the Yankees or Tampa Bay?"

So far that evening, she'd only spoken with her father for a few minutes. They'd just started a conversation when someone had interrupted them, insisting he needed to talk with him immediately. Callie hadn't minded too much. While she liked her father and did want to get to know him better, she'd come tonight because of Dylan. She'd tried to tell herself otherwise before coming, but it was true. Somewhere along the line, she'd fallen head over heels in love with him, and coming tonight meant she could spend time with him.

Dylan leaned closer to her so he could whisper in her ear. They were seated alone. The table's other occupants hadn't yet been seated. "Are you doing okay?"

The concern in his voice touched her. While she wasn't fooled enough to think he loved her, Callie thought he did care about her. She squeezed his hand, which rested on her thigh. "Fine. Just a little overwhelmed."

"You're doing great." He placed a feather light kiss on her cheek. "As soon as we can go, we will. Promise. I'd much rather have you all to myself."

Callie saw the flash of light. Turning, she caught a glimpse of a photographer before he moved on to another table. She hadn't expected anyone to take pictures of her tonight. Then again, the photographer seemed to be taking pictures of everyone there. Obviously, this event was an even bigger deal than she'd thought.

"Callie, I'd like to introduce you to Marty Phillips. He is Warren's campaign advisor."

She'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of the photographer, she hadn't noticed that someone had started a conversation with Dylan.

The man extended his hand. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Taylor. I have heard a lot about you from Warren."

Callie smiled and shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you too." The man was handsome, but he couldn't hold a candle to Dylan. Then again, not many men could hold a candle to Dylan. And the man's eyes were so cold. The thought sounded a little silly to her, but it somehow described the eyes of the man who carefully studied her just then.

"If you'll excuse us, I need to speak with Dylan in private," Marty said, explaining his presence at their table.

Nodding, Callie watched them walk away. She hoped Marty didn't keep Dylan long. She felt silly sitting all by herself and wasn't comfortable enough to socialize with anyone else.

"Following in your mother's footsteps?" a voice asked softly so that only Callie would hear.

Groaning inwardly, Callie turned to face her half-sister. So far that night, she'd managed to avoid the woman. In fact, they hadn't spoken since the day they met in Warren's office.

Keeping her voice low, she replied, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sara sat down and leaned closer. "I know you're sleeping with Dylan. If you think it will last, you're wrong." She paused for a moment, as if waiting for some kind of response from Callie.

_Don't take the bait_. "I need to use the ladies' room." Callie pushed back her chair and came to her feet.

Sara smirked. "Wait, you'll see."

Callie bit down on her tongue, afraid if she didn't, something she couldn't take back would slip out as she walked away. As quickly as possible, she weaved her way through the ballroom. She'd noticed a sign for at least one restroom earlier when she'd first come in, so she headed in that direction. A few minutes of privacy would be nice. Between the general stress of the evening and her brief conversation with Sara, her stamina was shot. Hopefully, a few minutes alone would help revive her.

The ladies' room was located just outside one of the hotel lounges which had been closed to the public for the evening. Callie reached for the door, but paused when she noticed Dylan and Marty Phillips seated inside the empty lounge.

Though they weren't that far away, neither noticed her. For a moment, she stood admiring Dylan. He always looked gorgeous, but tonight in his tuxedo, he looked magnificent. She didn't intend to eavesdrop, but when she heard her name, Callie couldn't help but listen.

"Warren has an interview with NBC next week. He wants to tell the world about Miss Taylor during it. Your mother and I are still trying to convince him to wait until after the election," she heard Marty say.

This was news to her. Her father hadn't mentioned his intentions during their last phone conversation.

"He plans to talk it over with her first. See how she feels about it," Marty said.

_This is wrong_. Callie knew she shouldn't be listening to a conversation she wasn't supposed to ever hear. She should either go into the ladies' room or return to the ballroom.

She couldn't get her feet to move. Her curiosity was too great.

"I see you took your job of keeping tabs on her to heart. Maybe you can convince her to hold off on the announcement too. At least for a few more months."

_Job_? The word rang in her ears. She took a step forward, not wanting to miss any of the conversation. Callie no longer cared that she was eavesdropping.

"You've kept her happy and away from the media. I knew you were the best man for the job."

The room seemed to spin and tilt. Callie gripped the wall for support. She watched as Dylan leaned forward.

"I didn't have much of a choice."

Callie swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. She didn't want to believe what she'd just heard. Could everything be a lie? Just a game to keep tabs on her? A way to ensure she was content so she wouldn't run to the media and tell them the truth.

"You just better hope Warren doesn't find out." Dylan sounded angry.

Marty laughed stiffly. "More like _we_ better hope he doesn't find out. It might have been my idea, but you are in just as deep."

_I have to get out of here_. Struggling to hold back tears, Callie retraced her steps. She made it almost to the main foyer before realizing her purse with her money was still in the ballroom. In her rush to get away from Sara, she'd left it on the table. There was no way she'd get anywhere without money or a credit card.

Turning, she headed back toward the ballroom. _Come on, get the bag and go before he gets back._

The low murmur of voices and the tinkling of ice in fine crystal glasses greeted her. For a brief second, she gazed at the scene. What a fool she'd been to think she belonged in this world. Taking a deep breath, she crossed into the lion's den and made a beeline for her table. With her purse in hand, Callie's only thought was to escape before Dylan or anyone else came looking for her. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on her side that night.

"There you are, Callie." Elizabeth stopped next to her. "Warren is looking for you."

Before realizing it, Callie wiped a tear from her cheek.

Elizabeth studied her for a moment, concern evident on her face. "Are you okay, Callie? You look upset." Elizabeth's eyes moved over Callie's face.

Did she know about her son's agreement with Marty? Did Sara and Jake know too? Was that how Sara knew they'd been intimate?

"I think I'm starting to get a migraine," she replied, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for leaving. "I'm going to go back to Dylan's and rest."

The older woman studied her for a moment longer, and Callie was sure Elizabeth knew she was lying. "I'll let Warren know where you went. Dylan should have something you can take. He gets migraines sometimes too."

Callie mumbled some kind of reply and bolted from the ballroom. It seemed to take the bellhop forever to flag down a taxi. Eventually, she slid into the backseat of one and gave the driver Dylan's address.

Her first instinct was to go straight to Penn Station. Catch the first train home. However, the haze cleared in her head long enough to realize she couldn't ride the train in an evening gown.

Thankfully, Dylan had given her a key earlier when he'd been forced to go into the office, so she could go out and sightsee alone. Out of habit, she threw the key into her purse before they left that night.

After entering the penthouse, Callie changed into shorts and a tank top. Then she stuffed the rest of her belongings into her overnight bag. Finally, she jotted the words 'Went Home' on a piece of paper and left the note and dress on Dylan's bed. She didn't know why she even bothered with a note. He'd never care where she went anyway as long as she kept her secret away from the media.

Without a backward glance, Callie turned off the lights and closed the door behind her.

Dylan wanted to get away from this conversation and Marty Phillips. The longer he sat there, the more uncomfortable he became. Yes, he'd agreed to keep an eye on Callie, but when they were together, his agreement with Phillips was the furthest thing from his mind. Still, he felt guilty because he'd gone along with it at all.

_It's time to end this conversation_. Dylan pushed back his chair. "Listen, Phillips, I'll talk with Callie, but I'm not going to force her. She's a grown woman who makes her own decisions. If she wants to give Warren the green light, that's up to her."

"Do what you can."

Dylan left the other man and their conversation behind. He had only one goal in mind: Finding Callie and seeing if she wanted to leave. Earlier, he'd caught a glimpse of a sapphire gown, and he'd thought she had come looking for him. When she hadn't appeared, he'd assumed it was someone else.

When she wasn't at their table, he walked the perimeter of the ballroom. Occasionally, someone would stop him. In no mood for small talk, he kept all his conversations short.

_Bloody hell, where is she?_ He'd walked all the way around the room. Yet he hadn't seen her. She wasn't with Warren. From where Dylan stood, he could see his stepfather talking to the mayor.

_She has to be here somewhere. She wouldn't leave._

With a frown, Dylan plowed through the crowd, not even stopping when someone he knew called out to him. His mother sat at her table chatting with Senator Greenwood's wife. Dylan stopped at their table. "Excuse, me ladies. Have you seen Callie recently?"

His mother's eyebrows went up in surprise. "She didn't tell you she was leaving?"

"She left?"

Nodding, his mother continued. "About fifteen minutes ago. She said she was getting a migraine. I assumed you went with her."

Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to believe Callie was back at his place resting. She wasn't the type to lie. Maybe she hadn't wanted to disturb him, so she decided to leave a message with his mom, knowing he would come looking for her.

Yet something told him it wasn't true. She hadn't left because of a migraine. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Why don't you go and check on her," his mum suggested, sounding concerned. "I'll let Warren know where you went."

Dylan wasn't sure if she was concerned about Callie or him. Regardless of which one, he didn't need to hear her suggestion twice. "I plan on it."

All the lights were off and the apartment was silent. Not a good sign. Still, Dylan told himself not to worry. If she did have a migraine, it would make sense that she was lying down in the dark. Whenever a migraine hit him, he preferred his room to be pitch black.

Despite the urge to fling open his bedroom door and flip on the light, Dylan pushed the door open slowly. The light from the hallway provided enough illumination for him to see that his bed was empty and the gown she'd been wearing was laid neatly across it.

Confused, he yanked off his tie and pulled out his cell phone. He was about to call her when he saw the note.

_What the . . .?_

He read the note again. The two words stared back at him. Taunting him.

_Why?_

Dylan dialed her number. He knew she had her cell phone with her. She didn't answer. Instead, it rang a few times before going to voice mail.

_Damn, why isn't she answering?_ He replayed the night over in his mind. They'd been having a good time. At least, he thought they were. Then Phillips asked to speak with him. Whatever sent her running must have happened after that.

Dylan didn't bother wasting time to change. Tossing his tuxedo jacket and tie on the bed, he grabbed his car keys and headed back out. Urgency like none he'd ever experienced before rode him hard. There was no time to waste. She had at least a forty-five minute head start and the train didn't have to worry about traffic or weather slowing it down. In record time, he pulled out of the parking garage, the same questions taunting him. What could be so awful that she'd take off without a single word to him? It just didn't make sense. They'd been having a great weekend.

Pressing redial, he tried her cell phone again. Like his previous attempt, it rang several times before going to voice mail.

Bloody hell. He threw his phone onto the passenger seat. Was it possible she just didn't have any cell service on the train? Maybe she wasn't really avoiding his calls, he reasoned, navigating the busy New York City streets. _Right, and pigs can fly_.

Thanks to a rainstorm, the ride to Callie's took longer than usual. Finally, sometime after three in the morning, Dylan pulled into the driveway behind her building. He fought to keep his worry and fear in check as he banged on her apartment door, not caring if he woke her neighbors. Something had upset her enough to send her running home. He needed to know what that was. At the same time, he was pissed she hadn't bothered to tell him she was leaving.

Like his many phone calls and text messages, his knock went unanswered. "It's me, Callie! Open the door! I know you're home. I can see the light on inside." He pounded again, this time a little harder.

The outside light went on, and she opened the door for him. Soaked to the bone, he moved into the tiny kitchen where Callie backed up till she leaned against the counter. Her eyes were red as if she'd been crying, and she stood with her arms crossed, hugging her body.

"What are you doing here?" It was the first thing she said to him. Dylan thought it was the most ridiculous question he'd ever heard. She'd run out on him and hopped a train. What had she thought he would do when he discovered her gone? Go out for a beer?

He moved to stand in front of her. "Why do you think I'm here?" What the hell was wrong with her? This wasn't the Callie he'd come to know.

_Relax, Talbot. Getting upset isn't going to help anything._

"I went to talk with Phillips, and when I got back you were gone." Dylan tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. "I tried calling, but you didn't answer your phone. I sent you two text messages too." He knew she had to hear the anger creeping into his voice, but he couldn't do anything about it. "I was worried."

"Worried? About what?" Her eyes flashed with anger. "That I would tell someone I was Warren Sherbrooke's daughter?"

Of all the things she could have said, this was the last he expected. "What? No. What are you talking about? Where did you get that idea?"

"I heard you," she said, her voice cracking. "You didn't have to sleep with me to keep me from going to the press." She wiped a tear off her cheek. "All you needed to do was ask me. I would've told you that."

_Shit, she knows_. How was he going to defuse this situation? Obviously, she overheard his conversation with Phillips. Dylan raked a hand through his wet hair as he moved toward her, but stopped when she stepped away, putting more space between them again.

"Maybe you should add acting to your resume, Dylan. You're very good at it."

Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled. He knew his silence was damning, yet he didn't know how to explain. He couldn't deny what she'd heard. Still, he hadn't been acting either.

"Let me explain. Please," he pleaded. "Phillips was worried about what you might do before Warren made a formal announcement. He asked me to keep an eye on you. Make sure you were happy."

Dylan moved toward the counter again. He only wanted to grab a towel to wipe the rain from his face, yet Callie again moved farther away. Her insistence on keeping distance between them cut him deep.

"And you felt you just had to go along with him."

"If I hadn't, Phillips would have found someone else to do it." His explanation sounded so cold even to him. He could only imagine how horrible it must sound to her.

Callie moved to the door and yanked it open. "Please leave." Her voice was soft and cracked with emotion. "And next time you see Mr. Phillips, make sure you tell him he has nothing to worry about. I won't tell a soul Warren is my father."

He didn't want to leave. Not like this. "Callie, yes I agreed to help Phillips, but I do--"

"I don't want to hear it, Dylan. Just go," she said, interrupting him.

_Just leave_. If that was what she really wanted, there was no point in him staying. Without another word, he walked back out into the pouring rain.

Leaning against the closed door, Callie gave into the tears she'd been holding back. Gut-wrenching sobs racked her body. Slowly, she slid down to the floor.

How could she have been so stupid? She should have known something was up. Men like Dylan Talbot didn't fall for women like her. Maybe in movies they did, but not in the real world.

Lucky nudged her with his nose as if to comfort her. Hugging the dog close, Callie sat and cried till no more tears would come. Physically and emotionally exhausted, she stood and headed to her bedroom. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and block all thoughts of Dylan from her mind, but the minute she saw the neatly made bed, memories of their time together in it hit her head-on like a freight train.

_I can't sleep in here tonight_. Callie grabbed a pillow and headed back to the living room. However, even this room contained painful memories. She could vividly picture them sitting in here eating ice cream and listening to music that night after the baseball game.

"Unless I plan on sleeping in the bathroom tonight, I am just going to have to suck it up." Callie tossed her pillow onto the couch. Every room in the apartment except the bathroom contained memories of her time with Dylan. Plopping down on the couch, she forced her eyes shut and prayed for a dreamless rest.

***

_Why were they playing that song at the fundraiser?_ It seemed like an odd choice of music for this event.

It took Callie a few seconds to realize she was dreaming and that the music she heard was her cell phone. Dragging herself off the couch, she retrieved the phone from the kitchen counter. Warren Sherbrooke's name glared up at her from the phone's screen. Sighing, she pressed the talk button.

"Callie, how are you feeling today? I was worried when Elizabeth said you left last night with a migraine."

Callie had almost forgotten the excuse she'd given Elizabeth for leaving early.

"Better, thanks. Just a little tired," Callie said, hoping she sounded more convincing to Warren than she did to herself.

"I had hoped to visit with you today, but when I called Dylan, he said you'd already gone home."

She could hear the unasked question in her father's voice. He was wondering why she'd bolted from the city so quickly. There was no way she was telling him the truth, so instead, she lied again.

"The earlier train was cheaper."

It wasn't a complete lie. The train she'd taken home had been fifty dollars cheaper than the one she had originally planned on taking this afternoon.

"I wanted to talk to you about this in person. Next week, I have an interview with Lindsay Phelps from NBC." Warren began to explain, not commenting on her decision to take the earlier train. "I wanted to tell her about you, get everything out in the open, but I wanted to speak with you first. Are you okay with this?" Warren asked, his concern coming through the phone loud and clear. "If you're not, that's fine. I understand. We can wait."

This was exactly what Dylan and Marty Phillips had been trying to prevent. The logical part of her mind screamed that making any major decisions now while upset was a mistake. She ignored it. Pissed at the two men for trying to manipulate her, she made up her mind in a split second.

"I'm okay with you doing that."

"Why don't you join me? The interview is being done in New York. I can make arrangements for you to stay at one of the Sherbrooke hotels in the city."

Letting Warren tell the reporter he had a previously unknown daughter was one thing. Being present for the interview was something else entirely.

"I'm not sure I could handle that. It's probably better if I stay home and let you handle it." Callie had no desire to be on television.

Warren didn't respond at first. Callie couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, but eventually, he said, "If you change your mind, let me know. I would like to have you with me for that part of the interview."

"If I do, I'll call you," Callie replied, although she knew there was no way she would change her mind on this one.

Right after she ended the call with Warren, Callie pulled up her Uncle Dan's number in her contact list. Her uncle and Aunt Melinda deserved to hear the truth about her father from her, not some interview on television.

The phone rang twice before her uncle answered. "Callie, your aunt and I were just talking about you. Have you changed your mind about staying with us for a few weeks this summer?"

"No, sorry, Uncle Dan, that's not why I'm calling." She wished her mom had sent a letter to her uncle too.

"Is everything okay?"

In all the ways that counted, Uncle Dan had acted as her father. He'd taken her to father daughter dances and played baseball with her whenever she visited. When he'd taught his daughter, Rachel, to ride a bike, he'd taught her too. Whenever he took Rachel hiking, he took her as well. If Uncle Dan took his family camping, he invited her along. He'd even helped teach her to drive.

"It's about Mom and my father. I know he didn't die in a car accident."

Silence filled the phone line, and then her uncle cleared his throat. "I always told Ruth that she should at least be honest with you. She never wanted to tell any of us who your father was, but I thought you had the right to know."

"Uncle Dan, Warren Sherbrooke, the senator, is my father."

Again, her uncle didn't speak for several seconds.

"Are you okay?" Callie asked.

"I knew they were friends for a long time. I didn't know it was ever anything more." Her uncle didn't sound as surprised as she'd been when she learned the truth.

"There's more." Callie ran a hand down Lucky's back. "He has an interview coming up and he's going to tell the reporter about me." Part of her would love to see the expressions on Marty and Dylan's faces when Warren told them of his plan.

"I take it you've met with him. How has he been toward you?"

"I've seen him a few times, and he's been very nice." She had no complaints with her father or his behavior. She couldn't say the same about his stepson or campaign advisor. That information, though, her uncle didn't need to know.

"If you have the time, I'd like to hear the whole story."

Her uncle deserved to know as much as she did. "Before Mom died, she gave Helen a letter to mail," Callie said starting the tale at the most logical spot.

# Chapter 13

_It's done. For better or worse, it's finally over._ Callie sat in her favorite coffee shop waiting for Lauren, yet her mind was not on their upcoming shopping trip. Warren's interview with the reporter had been earlier that morning.

When she'd spoken with Warren, she'd been angry at Marty Phillips and Dylan. Giving him the go-ahead had been her way of getting back at them. Now, though, she wasn't sure it'd been such a good idea. She didn't want people to start treating her differently just because Warren Sherbrooke was her father.

Callie finished off her latte and went to order another. Two lattes in the same day wasn't good for the waistline, but today, she didn't care. Someone near the counter had his laptop open, and she glimpsed a picture of Warren on the screen.

"Looks like the media finally uncovered some skeletons in Senator Sherbrooke's closet," she heard the laptop's owner say to his friend. "According to this article, he has an illegitimate daughter floating around."

"Big deal. All those politicians have their secrets. I think it's a job requirement," the companion responded, not bothering to even look up from his magazine.

_Wow! That was fast._ Technology made getting news out too easy. At least she didn't see anyone she knew, and she wasn't likely to since the mall was so close to Boston. Most of the people she knew went to the Salem Mall, which was just a few towns over from Slatersville.

She didn't want to think about all the questions she would face now from people she knew. On the plus side, school was out for the year, so she didn't have to face any of her fellow teachers right then.

_Damn. I really shouldn't have made this decision when I was so mad_. Callie sat back down with a fresh latte in her hand.

"All right, chickie. Let's do some shopping," Lauren said, joining her, "and then pedicures."

Callie held back a groan. She wasn't in the mood for one of Lauren's shopping sprees. Still, she'd agreed to go along because she knew Lauren wanted to cheer her up. She'd been trying to since Callie had told her everything about that night in New York. Unfortunately, Callie knew a day shopping and getting pedicures wasn't going to cut it. Perhaps it would keep her physical body busy, but her mind and heart would still be on Dylan's betrayal.

He'd tried calling her once since that awful night. When she saw his number on the caller ID, she let it go directly to voice mail. When she never returned the call, he sent a text message, but she ignored that too. Since then, he hadn't tried to contact her again.

Lauren pulled Callie to her feet. "Smile, we're going to have fun and spend more money than we probably should."

_Stop thinking about him_. It wasn't real anyway, Callie reminded herself, entering the busy mall. He sure as heck wasn't losing any sleep over her in that huge penthouse of his. He probably already has someone else in his bed. Maybe he'd had someone else all along. Who knew what he'd been doing when they weren't together.

"When we're done at the spa, I made us reservations at The Melting Pot. I heard they have the most amazing Hazelnut Chocolate Fondue," Lauren continued, referring to the new fondue restaurant Callie had wanted to try for months.

"Thanks, Lauren. For everything."

Lauren stopped walking. "What are friends for? You'd do the same for me." Linking her arm through Callie's, she started walking again. "First, I want to hit the new swimsuit store. I'm in desperate need of a new bathing suit, and I have to stop in Pottery Barn to get a present for my cousin's bridal shower next week."

As Lauren rattled off the rest of her plans for the mall, Callie tried to appear enthused. "Sure. Whatever. Doesn't matter to me."

When she got home several hours later, there were reporters waiting outside and a man who could play the Incredible Hulk, if they ever made another movie. He informed her Warren sent him to be her personal bodyguard. There were also twenty voicemail messages and several text messages on her phone. Somehow, she'd forgotten her cell phone at home, so she had missed all the calls. There were even some on her house phone, and no one ever called that line. "Word sure travels fast."

Every single message sounded the same. Was she really Senator Sherbrooke's daughter? How long had she known? Why hadn't she told them? Even the principal from her school called, much to Callie's disbelief. While she had a great professional relationship with the woman, they didn't interact outside of school. Still, she called wanting to know if Callie planned on returning in the fall.

Out of all the calls, that one was the only one she felt she needed to return. Callie dialed the number left by the principal. "Irene, it's Callie Taylor," she said when the woman answered.

"Callie, I apologize for calling, but I had to after I saw the news this afternoon. Is it true?"

She wanted to say no, it's a big joke, but she held her tongue. "Yes. I only found out recently."

"I see." Irene paused for a minute. "Does that mean you won't be returning in the fall? Should I be looking for your replacement?"

Why Irene even thought she wouldn't be back was beyond her. "I'll be there in the fall, Irene. This doesn't change anything. I have no intention of leaving the school."

Before hanging up, Callie reassured the principal three more times. Once she did end the call, she turned the ringers off on both phones. If she received that many calls just while she shopped, Callie didn't want to know how many more she'd get that night.

***

Dylan stretched out on the couch in his media room and flipped on his favorite news channel. As he expected, the big story was Warren's announcement. It had been on his mind all day. Not because it might affect Warren's candidacy, although it might, but because of Callie. This was going to change her life in ways she probably couldn't imagine.

He unconsciously rubbed his chest, trying to get rid of the dull pang he got every time he thought of her, which was something he found himself doing constantly. Dylan hated the way things ended between them. That was what upset him. Or so he insisted on telling himself. He wasn't upset because things had ended. After all, he didn't do long-term relationships. He kept them to a maximum of two months. If he counted the time they spent together in Newport, theirs had already hit the one-month mark.

The fact that he hurt her was what bothered him. It had never been his intention to get involved with her. At least not as anything more than friendly acquaintances.

_I really screwed up this time_. Dylan figured that was actually a major understatement. Not only had he gotten involved with her, he'd gotten himself in deep. He'd let himself become emotionally, as well as physically, involved, which was something he hadn't done since Francesca.

_Francesca_. There was someone he didn't think about too often.

They'd been engaged, but thankfully, he'd learned of her true nature months before the wedding. Not only had she been after his money and connections, which was bad enough, but she'd also been sleeping with one of his old college buddies. He'd actually caught them together one night in her apartment. She'd tried to blame him for her indiscretion by complaining that he worked too much. She'd insisted it never would have happened if he spent more time with her and less time at work. She'd even had the audacity to promise it would never happen again, if he just spent less time at the office.

_Callie isn't Francesca_. The fact that they were both women was the only thing they had in common. She deserved better than the way things ended between them. He'd tried calling to explain again. She hadn't answered. He'd left a short message. She hadn't called back, and he hadn't tried again.

_Let it go. Even if she did forgive me, then what? How much longer would our relationship have lasted anyway?_ It wasn't as if he planned on getting married. So things would end anyway. Did it really matter if they ended now or later?

Deep down, he suspected there was another question lurking. What if their relationship didn't end at all? Disgusted with himself, Dylan switched off the television and opted for some classic heavy metal music. He'd never been the type to sit and mull over his emotions, and he didn't plan on starting now.

The lyrics to his favorite Metallica song filled his media room, but they did nothing to distract him from his thoughts. Instead, they reminded him of the night he and Callie ate ice cream while listening to music in her apartment. Surprisingly, they liked much of the same music. Not many women he knew enjoyed classic and hard rock.

Then again, they had a lot in common despite their different backgrounds. It was just another reason why he enjoyed spending time with her. Not that it mattered now.

"Damn it." He punched the arm of the couch. "I need to get over this." Whatever had been between them was over. Finished.

Turning the music off, he headed to his bedroom to change. Perhaps an hour or so in his home gym would help. If nothing else, maybe it would tire him out enough that he would sleep tonight. He'd had trouble doing that every night since the fundraiser. Every time he tried, visions of Callie in her kitchen came back to haunt him. The hurt and betrayal on her face were permanently burned into his memory.

_She was the one who refused to listen. I tried to explain things to her._ He tore off the polo shirt he was wearing as anger toward Callie burst through him. It was the first time he'd felt that emotion toward her. If she really cared, wouldn't she have let him explain? Wouldn't she have at least returned his phone call or text message?

Almost as quickly as the emotion came on, it disappeared. Who was he kidding? She had every right to respond the way she did. _I wouldn't have even opened the door that night. Probably would've called the police instead and had them escort me away._

***

Had it really only been a few days since Warren's announcement? It felt like a lifetime ago. Both her cell phone and house phone seemed to be constantly ringing. Even her uncle was getting phone calls. People at the summer camp were continually asking her questions. Television and newspaper reporters were camped out across from her apartment. And Neil, her bodyguard, constantly followed her. It seemed like the guy never slept. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. Already, she'd reconsidered Warren's offer to come stay in Newport until things died down a bit. At first, she'd thought he was exaggerating about how crazy things might get, so she'd turned down the offer. Now though, she was seriously thinking about going for a little while.

A knock at the door sent Lucky barking through the tiny kitchen.

"It's me," Lauren called from the other side.

_A friendly face_. Callie unlocked the door. Lauren was one of the few people who wasn't treating her differently these days.

She immediately handed Callie a copy of _The Star Report_. "Have you seen this yet?"

Unlike the cover of _Celebrity_ magazine that she'd seen in the grocery store, which had one picture of her and one of Warren on the cover, this one just had a picture of her the night of the fundraiser. The constant knot in her stomach tightened. "No, I haven't seen this one," Callie answered with a sigh.

"Turn to page twelve."

By the tone of her friend's voice, Callie knew she wasn't going to like what she saw. Flipping to page twelve, she was greeted by a double page spread of pictures. All of them featured her and Dylan. There was even one of them standing outside her motel room in Newport the weekend she went down to meet Warren for the first time.

Tears welled up in Callie's eyes, blurring her vision. Seeing her face on the cover of a magazine was bad enough, but seeing her disastrous relationship, or whatever her thing with Dylan had been, announced to the world was just too much.

_How_? They'd been alone when some of the photos were taken. Or at least she'd thought they were alone.

Pushing the magazine away, Callie dropped her head into her hands. "What a mess," she groaned. "I never should have gone along with this. What was I thinking? No one else ever needed to know."

Lauren patted her on the arm. "I don't think you could've kept it a secret forever."

"It was a secret my entire life. I think it could have stayed that way for a few more decades."

"That was before anyone else knew, including you," Lauren said in the same voice she used when she tried to make a student see reason. "Too many people knew to keep it a secret forever. Eventually it would've come out."

Callie knew she was right. "It still sucks." Standing, she went to get some iced coffee. "Do you know there have been at least four reporters and I don't know how many photographers parked across the street all week? They follow me. I can't even take Lucky for a walk without someone bothering me. I actually asked Neil to do it for me last night so I wouldn't have to deal with them." Callie slammed her glass down on the counter, causing some of the coffee to slosh over the sides. "And I've lost count of how many reporters have called or just showed up looking for a statement from me."

Lauren remained silent, just letting Callie unload which was something she hadn't done in a while. "To top it off, Mrs. Brooks called this morning and let me go," she said, referring to her boss at the summer camp.

"I'm sorry. I know how much you liked it there." Lauren accepted the iced coffee Callie handed her.

Callie shrugged. "I don't really blame her, but it still makes me mad." It was true; she didn't really blame her former boss. Her presence at the camp was disruptive for the children. Still, she resented the situation. She would miss working with the children. This was her fourth summer there.

"I think I'll just take the summer off. Maybe by September, I will no longer be newsworthy. My fifteen minutes will be up." She hoped that would be the case. She couldn't risk losing her full-time teaching job too.

Lauren didn't reply, and Callie didn't know if that was a good sign or not. Instead, Lauren reached for the discarded magazine, which was still open to the pictures of Callie and Dylan. "Have you spoken to him?"

Forcing herself not to look at the pictures, Callie took a long sip of coffee. "No, and he hasn't called again."

"Maybe you should call him. Hear what he has to say," Lauren said gently.

Callie opened her mouth to reply, but Lauren cut her off. "I know what you're going to say, but it _is_ possible that it wasn't a lie, that he does care about you."

"And pigs can fly, Lauren." Callie shook her head. "You didn't hear him that night." Callie didn't want to have this conversation with Lauren again. She thought about Dylan enough without having to talk about him too.

"No, but these pictures tell another story. He could really care about you. Maybe even love you."

"It's called acting, Lauren. People do it all the time."

Lauren held up her hands in surrender. "If you say so."

Her friend's words resonated in Callie's head long after Lauren left. How she wanted them to be true. The time she'd spent with Dylan had been magical. Never had it felt so right to be with someone.

Without intending to, she'd fallen in love with him. Even now, after his betrayal, he was lodged in her heart. Yet wanting something to be true didn't make it so. _Don't I know that by now?_

She wanted to go for a walk. Sometimes that helped to clear her head. Pulling back the curtain, she saw three cars were parked outside, waiting for her to leave. Already that morning, she'd dealt with several reporters and photographers when she'd tried to take Lucky for his walk. In the end, Neil sent her back in the apartment and did it for her.

_I just don't have the energy to deal with them again._ She let the curtain fall back into place. Instead, she settled onto the couch to watch the Red Sox game and consider her options.

_Maybe I should go to Newport. No one will bother me there. Security at Warren's mansion won't let anyone through._ She wouldn't stay long. Just long enough to recharge. With any luck, some other big news story would break in the meantime. Then everyone would forget about her and life would go back to normal.

The plan sounded perfect, assuming Dylan wasn't there. He'd told her once that he visited Cliff House occasionally. What constituted occasionally to him? Did that mean once a month or once every few months?

She couldn't handle running into him. Not now anyway. Sure, it was bound to happen someday. After all, his mother and Warren were married. Hopefully, that someday would be years away.

Years might be pushing it, Callie admitted. Still, she didn't want to see him until she'd been able to bury her feelings for him. Right now, her emotions were too raw.

Would it sound odd to ask if anyone else would be there? Possibly. Then again, this entire situation was odd. It had been from the very moment Helen Lee told her the truth.

Muting the television, Callie pulled Warren's number up in her contact list. The phone rang several times before Warren answered.

"Callie," her father greeted warmly. "I was going to call you later tonight. How are you holding up?"

She could hear the concern in his voice. "So, so."

"Have you thought anymore about my offer? Elizabeth and I are arriving at Cliff House tomorrow for a few days."

"Actually, yes. That's why I'm calling." Callie paused to think of her next words. She didn't want to come right out and ask about Dylan specifically. At the same time, she needed to know if he would be there. "But I don't want to intrude on any family time if everyone is going to be there."

"Callie you _are_ family."

She was touched by his statement and wasn't sure how to reply. Thankfully, she didn't have to.

"Don't worry though. This trip, it should just be Elizabeth and me. Sara is visiting a friend in Miami and Dylan hardly ever comes anymore. I don't know what Jake's plans are, but it is doubtful he'll show up."

She couldn't have asked for a better response.

"Oh, and if you want, bring your dog; there is plenty of room for him to run around outside and an empty kennel next to the stable. Then you can stay as long as you want without having to worry about boarding him."

_He's really trying_. Callie had been impressed with Warren's treatment of her since their first meeting. His offer to bring Lucky really sent her opinion of him over the top.

"Uh, okay. If you're sure." While she appreciated the offer, she already felt as if she was taking advantage of the situation by accepting his invitation to hide out there.

_Hide out._ Never in a million years had she thought she would need to hide out. Then again, she'd never imagined someone like Warren Sherbrooke was her father.

An unexpected burst of anger exploded in her heart. If her mother had never bothered to write that letter, none of this would be happening. She wouldn't have reporters staking out her apartment and hounding her. She wouldn't be nursing a broken heart either. Instead, she would be happily living her life as she always had. Perfectly content to think her father was dead, killed in a car accident as her mom had always claimed.

_It's not her fault_. Deep down, Callie knew that. Yes, her mother wrote the letter and Helen told her the truth, but she'd made the decision to meet her father. She gave Warren the green light to tell the media. No one had forced her to do that. Just like no one had held a gun to her head when it came to getting involved with Dylan. She'd made that disastrous decision all on her own. She could have told him not to call after that first kiss they'd shared. She hadn't been strong enough to. Now she had to pay the price for her lapse in judgment.

# Chapter 14

The electric blue Lamborghini she parked next to told her someone besides Warren and Elizabeth was there. Callie just couldn't see either of them driving the over-the-top car. The black Bentley farther down in the garage was more their style.

She dismissed Dylan as its possible owner. It wasn't his style either. He leaned more toward the classy and subtle. There was nothing subtle about an electric blue Lamborghini. That meant it could be Sara's or Jake's--or worse, another guest.

"Please don't let it be Sara's," she said, turning off the engine. She couldn't deal with Sara right now.

On second thought, maybe another guest wouldn't be the worst thing. If the car belonged to Jake and he turned out to be anything like his sister, the next several days would be torturous.

_Get moving._ She wasn't going to learn anything by sitting there. "Lucky, I'm starting to wish I could stay with you in the kennel." With a sigh, she opened her car door.

Before pulling into the garage, she'd stopped at the kennel and dropped Lucky off. The kennel was attached to what Warren called a stable, although calling it that seemed wrong. It was nicer than her apartment. The kennel too was like none she'd seen before. It consisted of both outdoor and indoor areas. Inside there was a sofa, as well as central air and music, of all things. The outside area was fenced in and included a small child-sized in ground pool for the dog to use. Warren had told her the kennel had been designed for Sara's dogs. For some reason, Callie couldn't picture her half-sister as a dog lover.

Popping open her trunk, Callie reached for her suitcase.

"Don't worry about those. Paul can bring them up to the house for you," a male voice called out behind her.

Startled, Callie spun around and came face to face with a much younger version of Warren. Even if she hadn't seen pictures of him, there would be no mistaking who this was.

Jake. So much for no other relatives being around this weekend.

"Dad is having lunch served in the Tea House for a change. I'm heading down there," Jake explained, his voice friendly. Welcoming, actually.

_Lunch in the Tea House?_ He made it sound like it was something everyone did. In his world, they do, Callie reminded herself. "Okay." Really, what else could she say?

They walked in silence at first. Unsure of her half-brother's feelings toward her, Callie decided the less she said, the better. While he hadn't displayed any hatred like his sister, that didn't mean he was happy about her existence. It just meant he was more mature about the situation.

"Sorry I missed you last time you were here," Jake said, breaking the silence. "I meant to get here, but things got really busy." He sounded so sincere that Callie couldn't help but believe him.

Too bad Dylan hadn't been too busy. She suspected she'd started to fall for him that very weekend. _No thoughts of Dylan allowed today_.

"No problem. It was..." Callie paused, searching for the right words. That weekend had been so many things. "... overwhelming with everyone else here," she finally finished.

Jake laughed. "I can imagine."

Callie could now see the Tea House. She didn't know how she could have missed it before. It was perched overlooking the ocean, and the building looked as if it had been taken directly from China and placed here.

"Wow. When you said Tea House, you really meant it."

Abruptly, Jake stopped. "My...I guess I should say, our great-grandmother loved Chinese architecture. She had carpenters from China brought here to build it."

His mini-history lesson didn't surprise her. Those with the means were known for going to great lengths to get exactly what they wanted. "It's beautiful," she said, taking a step forward. "We probably shouldn't keep them waiting."

Jake shrugged nonchalantly, reminding her so much of Dylan. "Dad's used to me being late. If I was ever on time, he'd probably have a heart attack." He paused for a minute. "Callie, I know you and Sara didn't hit it off," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

She smirked before answering. "Now that's an understatement."

"She'll come around eventually."

Callie was glad he didn't try to make any excuses for his sister.

"But I wanted you to know I'm glad you're here." Looking a little uncomfortable with the discussion, he continued on. "If you need anything, let me know. We're family now, sis." The way he said _sis_ lightened the atmosphere and made her smile.

She'd always wanted a sibling. Maybe after all this time, she would finally have one.

"So you're all right with this whole situation?"

"It happened a long time ago, before Dad even met my mom," he answered. "I'm just glad you're a woman. One older brother is more than enough," he finished with a boyish smile very similar to Dylan's. Throwing an arm around her shoulders, he started walking again. "Now let's go eat, I'm starving."

For the first time since her initial meeting with her father, some of the anxiety about being a part of this family melted. At least someone else besides Warren wanted her there. It was better than nothing.

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Relax and try to enjoy your time here._

The inside of the Tea House was just as lavish as the interior of Cliff House. Not that it surprised Callie one bit. Walking into the small structure, she actually felt as if she'd just stepped into a teahouse in China.

"Callie, it's wonderful to see you," Warren said, coming to his feet as soon as she and Jake entered. Without a moment's hesitation, he hugged her and dropped a kiss on her check. "And I see you've already met Jake."

Warren pulled a chair out for her. Memories of Dylan doing exactly the same thing for her on countless occasions flooded her mind.

She really needed to do a better job of not thinking about him.

"He surprised us and showed up last night."

Lost in her own thoughts, it took Callie a moment to realize Warren referred to Jake, who now sat next to her.

_Please don't let there be any other surprise guests this weekend._ One surprise was enough.

Reaching for her water glass, Callie took a sip, content to sit and listen to the conversation around her. It wasn't like she had anything to add to it anyway. They were talking about politics and the campaign.

"Marty said you did a fantastic job in New York and Ohio, Jake. Our poll numbers among voters under thirty took a definite jump."

Callie choked on her water at the mention of Marty Phillips. Overcome by a coughing fit, the water in the glass she held sloshed over the sides and all over her shirt.

Jake pried the glass out of her hand. "Are you okay?"

Still coughing, Callie could only nod yes until it stopped. "It just went down the wrong way. I'm fine," she answered once she could speak again.

"Are you sure?" Warren asked, sounding concerned.

Heat climbed up her neck and she wished the floor would swallow her up. Somehow, she managed a nod.

"Do you want to go up and change?" Elizabeth asked, eying Callie's wet shirt.

Callie thought the older woman had been looking at her oddly since she'd walked in, and so far, Elizabeth hadn't really said much to her.

_Does she know?_ Her father might not know about Dylan's little arrangement with the campaign advisor, but that didn't mean his wife was also in the dark. More importantly, did Elizabeth know how involved she and Dylan had been?

_Please don't let her know._ A burst of pain and anger exploded in her heart. How she wanted to hate him. Unfortunately, even as angry as she was with Dylan, she just couldn't. Callie hated herself instead. She should have known better.

"We don't mind waiting," Elizabeth continued to say, pulling Callie out of her own thoughts.

"I'm okay. It's just a little water. It'll dry."

Elizabeth let the matter go. The conversation quickly returned to some upcoming campaign stops Warren was making that month. With only a few months remaining until the election, this would most likely be his last time off until November.

During the meal, Callie ate in silence, perfectly happy to listen to the conversation around her. She wasn't big into politics. She followed it enough in the news to know the basics of what was going on and to make an informed decision at the polls, but aside from that, it held little interest to her. Yet she did find this insider's view into the campaign fascinating.

"Dylan wants to know if we want to have dinner next week when we are in Connecticut," Elizabeth said, changing the topic.

The saltshaker in Callie's hand slipped through her fingers, crashing into the center of her plate. Three sets of eyes turned on her.

"Sorry, it slipped," Callie muttered, looking down at her plate.

Next to her, Jake started a new conversation with his father, but Callie still felt someone's eyes on her. Looking up, she meet Elizabeth's steely gray stare. Her eyes were the exact same shade as Dylan's.

_Hell, she knows. She knows everything_. Callie couldn't explain it. Yet, she was positive Elizabeth Sherbrooke knew everything from Dylan's agreement with Phillips to the fact that she and Dylan had slept together.

_Great. Just great. This weekend is going downhill fast._

***

When Callie entered the kennel early the next morning, Lucky immediately jumped off the couch and bolted straight to her. "Hey there, buddy." Picking up the dog, she gave him a quick squeeze. "How about a game of fetch?"

Grabbing a bright yellow tennis ball from a basket of toys, she pushed open the door. The air outside was warm, already close to seventy degrees even though it was barely eight thirty. In the distance, she heard the waves crashing on the shore. For a moment, she closed her eyes, simply absorbing the atmosphere. It was so tranquil and relaxing.

"You're up and about early."

Opening her eyes, she saw Jake coming toward her. Wearing a pair of shorts and a sweat-soaked t-shirt, it didn't take a rocket scientist to guess he'd been running.

"I wouldn't call this early. I'm usually at work by now," she responded, tossing the tennis ball. Lucky took off like a shot in hot pursuit.

Jake stopped next to her. "Nice arm," he commented, sounding impressed. "Dylan mentioned you played softball in college."

Callie picked up the ball Lucky dropped at her feet and pretended to examine it closely. She was surprised Dylan had mentioned her to anyone, let alone told them she'd played softball. It wasn't as if they'd had a real relationship.

How much did Jake know? She didn't think anyone other than Marty Phillips, Dylan, and Elizabeth knew about his little agreement. That didn't mean Jake didn't know they'd been intimate. Somehow Sara knew, or at least suspected.

Throwing the ball again, she finally answered, "Mostly center field, but sometimes I would play right too."

Jake dropped down to the ground, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and leaned back on his elbows.

It looked like he'd planned on staying for a while. Preferring to let him continue the conversation, she once again picked up the ball Lucky dropped at her feet.

"I never played baseball," he admitted, picking at the blades of grass. "Basketball and soccer were my games. And, as you can imagine, Sara's not exactly into team sports."

No big surprise there. She couldn't imagine Sara intentionally getting sweaty unless it involved sitting in a steam room wrapped in a big white fluffy towel.

Not waiting for a reply, Jake continued his family history lesson. "Dylan was big into cricket and rugby, although he did play a little basketball too. He probably would've played football if his school in England had a team."

She could picture Dylan as the star quarterback, the football player who had all the girls falling at his feet.

Chucking the tennis ball even harder this time, she tried to keep her emotions from bubbling over. So much for the peace she'd been feeling a few minutes ago. Yet she couldn't blame Jake. He had no way of knowing that talking about Dylan would upset her. He was just making conversation.

This time when Lucky dropped the ball, Jake reached for it before Callie could. "I know you two were seeing each other," he said, his voice gentle.

_Okay, so much for just making conversation_. "It was nothing." She hated how her voice cracked with emotion. _Nothing to him at least_. To her, it had been so much more. God, she didn't want to talk about this.

Jake looked up at her, an eyebrow cocked. "I've seen the pictures. It was more than nothing."

For a split second, she wished Jake was more like his sister Sara. Then, they would never be having this little heart to heart.

Dropping down to the ground, she sighed loudly before realizing it. "You can't always believe what you see."

Her half-brother laughed sarcastically. "You _do not_ have to tell me that." Judging by the tone of his voice, he spoke from experience. "In this case though, you're wrong, Callie."

Neither said anything for a few minutes, which was fine with her. She didn't want to talk about Dylan. Instead, they took turns throwing the ball for Lucky, who repeatedly bolted after it, usually making the catch before it hit the ground. Callie had started to think he'd let the subject go, but then he looked at her.

"Dylan can be a cutthroat bastard in the boardroom, but he's not the type to screw with someone's emotions. He's a good guy, and I'm not just saying that because he's my half-brother."

She remained silent. What was she supposed to say? You don't know him as well as you think you do. That would just make things uncomfortable between them, and she didn't want that. She liked Jake. He seemed to be a nice guy, someone she could become friends with.

"Did you know he was once engaged?" Jake asked. It seemed he was unable to let the topic of Dylan go this morning.

The news stunned her. "No, he never told me that." Then again, she had never asked about his previous relationships, and he hadn't asked her.

Jake pulled out another blade of grass. "He doesn't talk about it."

"What happened?" It wasn't any of her business. Still, she couldn't help but ask anyway.

"Francesca turned out not to be who Dylan thought she was. Let's just say things didn't end well between them."

Why was he telling her this? She doubted Dylan would appreciate it if he knew.

"He hasn't had a serious relationship since then. Not until you."

If you only knew the truth Jake, Callie thought bitterly. "There was nothing serious about our relationship, Jake. We only went out a few times. It was no big deal. Really."

Jake scratched Lucky, who had collapsed on the grass between them panting hard, and shook his head. "I don't buy it. He respects my...I mean, our father too much to just fool around with you."

Callie shrugged, but didn't comment. What was she supposed to say? Dylan was trying to protect Warren by faking interest in me? She didn't want Jake or anyone else to know how naive she'd been. She should have known from the beginning that something other than a true interest in her drove Dylan's actions, but Callie had been too wrapped up in her feelings to stop and consider things from the analytical side.

Not that she would've ever guessed the truth.

As if knowing he wasn't going to convince her otherwise, Jake got to his feet when she remained silent. "Why don't we head back for breakfast?" Holding out his hand to help her up, he continued, "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry and want some coffee."

"Coffee sounds like a great idea." Callie accepted his hand and came to her feet. Thanks to their conversation about Dylan, her appetite was shot, but she was always up for a good cup of coffee. Especially if it meant Jake would finally end this talk about her and Dylan's relationship.

***

Dylan rubbed the back of his neck. The clock on his desk read ten, which meant he'd spent the last four hours hunched over his computer working. He was in the middle of acquiring another hotel chain, one that operated primarily along the East Coast. Acquisitions always meant additional hours. This time, it wasn't business alone that kept him working eighteen-plus-hour days.

Working kept his mind busy, kept it focused on something other than Callie. Every time he thought about her, he pictured her that night in her kitchen. She'd been so devastated. Powering off the computer, he decided it was time to call it a day before the outline of his chair was permanently etched in his ass and the pounding in his head got any worse. Thanks to a combination of long hours, stress, and little sleep, he'd had a headache all week. Not quite a migraine, but damn close.

The cell phone in his pocket rang just as he closed his office door behind him. Jake's number was on the screen.

Jake didn't bother with a hello when Dylan answered. "Just got to your place. Where are you? Tell me you're not still at the office."

Great, he was getting a lecture from his baby brother. "Just leaving, and you could've called first."

"Tried. Your assistant said you were in a meeting."

He'd been in and out of meetings most of the day. "Ever heard of something called a message? People leave them all the time."

"Nope. Are you coming straight here?"

_Like I have the energy or the desire to go anywhere else tonight._ "That's the plan. Why don't you make yourself useful and order some pizza or something." He'd eaten lunch hours ago and had not eaten since. A pizza loaded with everything and a beer sounded perfect to him.

The streets in the city were never empty, but at least tonight traffic wasn't too heavy. It didn't take him long to reach his penthouse. Dylan pulled his Aston Martin into his spot and noticed his brother's Lamborghini parked a few spaces down. Pushing open the car door, he wondered what Jake wanted. While it wasn't unusual for him to just show up and stay a night or two, he never called looking for him if he wasn't home. He had a key to the place, so he could come and go as he pleased. Obviously, tonight's visit was more than just a random event. Jake wanted or needed something. For the life of him, Dylan didn't know what that could be. His younger half-brother wasn't the type to ask for anything. He dealt with things himself. He always had, even as a kid.

The rich aroma of pizza greeted Dylan when he walked in.

"Sorry. Just couldn't wait for you," Jake said, nodding toward an open pizza box and bottle of Sam Adams.

Tossing his suit jacket and tie over the back of a chair, he walked into the kitchen. "Didn't think you would," he replied, opening the refrigerator and getting a beer for himself.

Dylan took a long swig of the beer before saying anything else. "What brings you here?"

Jake finished chewing and reached for another slice of topping-heavy pizza. "Have you seen this?"

He picked up the magazine Jake tossed his way. "Since when do you read this trash?"

"I don't," Jake said defensively. "Sara gave it to me."

Dylan glanced down at the cover, which featured a photo of Callie the night of the fundraiser. She looked absolutely gorgeous. "You came all the way here to give me this?" He reached for a slice of pizza, wondering what Jake was up to. Tabloid headlines never bothered the guy, or if they did, he never let on.

"I met her this weekend. She's staying in Newport for a little while," Jake explained between mouthfuls of pizza.

Dylan's hand stopped on its way to his mouth. "So? What does that have to do with me? Tell me you didn't come here to tell me _that_."

Jake dropped his pizza, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned forward. "She's not Francesca, Dylan."

"What the hell are you talking about? Why would you think I'd compare those two? I barely know Callie Taylor." He knew every word coming out of his mouth was a lie. He knew her in the most intimate way possible. Dylan bit into the pizza, which smelled heavenly, but tasted like saw dust.

Jake opened the magazine that Dylan discarded and pushed it back toward him. "I'd say you know her fairly well."

_Damn it._ Pictures of them together gazed back up at him. Who else had seen these? Maybe a better question was, who hadn't?

"It doesn't take a genius to see she cares about you. She nearly broke out in tears whenever I mentioned your name." Jake paused for a moment as if to let his words sink in. "And I'd bet my new car you feel the same way, bro."

"When did you become Dr. Phil?" Dylan asked sarcastically. Although his brother was right about his feelings, he didn't have to like it, and he certainly didn't want to be getting relationship advice from his kid brother.

Finishing off his beer, Jake went to get another. "I don't know what you did, but you should try to fix it."

"She didn't tell you?" He'd been wondering if she'd told Warren. Dylan didn't know how his stepfather would react to the fact he'd gone along with Phillips' plan, and Warren's opinion mattered to him.

"Nope. Don't think she even muttered your name. I brought you up, not her."

Dylan pushed his pizza away. "Mum and Marty were worried that Callie would go to the media before Warren did. They thought if she did it would hurt Warren's campaign." He blew out a deep breath. "Marty asked me to spend time with Callie. To keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't say anything to anyone before Warren made his announcement."

"And you went along with that?"

"If I didn't, Marty planned to hire someone to do it." Dylan looked away from his brother's eyes.

"He'd do it too."

"That was my conclusion as well, so I agreed. I didn't plan for things to progress as far as they did, and then after a while, I more or less forgot about what Phillips wanted altogether."

"What went wrong?"

"Callie overheard me talking to Phillips at the fundraiser and learned the truth. When she asked me about it, I couldn't lie to her." Dylan took another swig from his beer, still unable to look his brother in the eye.

"I tried to explain everything, but she wouldn't accept anything I said and told me to get out. We haven't spoken since that night."

Jake whistled low. "Ouch. I can see why she's pissed at you."

"That's putting it mildly." Dylan laughed bitterly. The pizza he'd eaten now felt like a lead weight in his stomach.

"You should still try to undo this mess with her." Jake fell silent for a moment, looking much more serious than Dylan had ever seen him. "I know you, Dylan. You never would've let things go as far they did if you didn't care about her."

Dylan opened his mouth to protest. His brother didn't give him a chance. "She's about as different from Francesca as they come, so stop using her as an excuse. Yeah, Francesca was a bitch, but she was only one woman. You can't judge them all using her as the standard."

Dylan stared at the younger man. When had his baby brother become so insightful?

Standing, Jake gathered up his plate and empty beer bottles. "I'm going to watch a movie. Something with a lot of violence. All this Dr. Phil shit is getting to me," he said. "But seriously, think about what I said. Not all women are like Francesca. Definitely not Callie. You'll regret it if you don't at least try to fix this." Jake got rid of his trash and disappeared down the hall, leaving Dylan alone at the table.

In the other room, he could hear the opening music to a movie, but he had no desire to join his brother. Looking down at the open magazine, the pictures brought memories flooding back. He rubbed at the dull ache in his chest. Most of the photos had been taken without their knowledge, which wasn't unusual to him. Thanks to who his family was, the paparazzi often took photos without his permission. It wasn't something Callie was used to. He wondered how she was coping with it. Maybe staying at Cliff House was her way of avoiding the spotlight and chaos Warren's announcement had caused.

Dylan's eyes focused again on the picture taken at the Red Sox game. The night they'd first made love. From beginning to end, it had been a perfect evening. The best date he'd ever been on, and they'd only gone to a baseball game. He'd felt content and liked for who he was as a man, rather than liked for _what_ he was. Callie always made him feel that way.

And he'd gone and blown things with her. Jake was spot on. He did care about Callie.

_Admit it, Talbot. You more than just care. You love her._

Though he'd suspected it, he'd been denying it to himself for a while. After what had happened with Francesca, could anyone blame him? If he opened his heart again, he ran the risk of having it stomped on. Ran the risk of being betrayed again. You never really knew who you could trust.

Jake was right though. He needed to fix things, or at least try. Callie may never forgive him, but if he didn't do something, he would never forgive himself and he'd always wonder what if.

There was only one problem--he had no idea how. Expensive gifts like jewelry would work on most of the women he knew, but they wouldn't help his cause with Callie. She wasn't like most women. It would need to be something with heart.

"Hey, Jake, do you know how long Callie is going to be at Cliff House?" Dylan stopped at the door to the media room, a partial idea forming in his mind.

The younger man threw him an 'I told you so' smile and shook his head. "Mom said they were staying just the weekend. I don't know about Callie though. I can find out for you."

"Do that," Dylan replied before heading to his own bedroom.

# Chapter 15

She'd been hiding out there for almost a week. Hiding out. It sounded ridiculous to say, but it was exactly what she was doing. In fact, she hadn't left the estate once since her arrival.

So far, the media hadn't lost interest in her, even though it'd been over two weeks since Warren's announcement. Where is a celebrity scandal when you need it? Callie wondered as she sipped coffee Tuesday morning Both Warren and Elizabeth assured her the media would back off once she wasn't the latest news. The sooner that happened, the better. She needed her life to return to normal. It'd never be as it was before learning the truth, but something more normal than this would be nice.

"Maybe I should just suck it up and go home?" She gazed off in the distance. The morning sky was cloudless, and from the balcony off her room, she had a spectacular view of the ocean. She'd told Warren she'd stay till at least Thursday, and she would. After that though, she'd probably head home. After all, she couldn't hide forever, and she was getting lonely. Jake left Saturday night. Warren and Elizabeth followed him early Monday morning. While the house was full of staff, they weren't much for talking. At least, not talking to her. They were friendly in a polite sort of way, yet that was it. They all kept their distance. For the most part, they only interacted with her when she approached them first.

Warren told her to treat the place like home and invite friends to visit if she wanted. She'd considered inviting Lauren, but almost immediately dismissed the idea. This wasn't her home. It was her father's private sanctuary. It didn't seem right to have outsiders invade it.

Finishing her coffee, Callie checked her watch. Eight thirty. "Lucky will think I forgot about him."

Every day since arriving, she went down to the kennel to take him for a morning and afternoon walk. Though there was someone on hand who could do it, Callie preferred to do it herself. Taking Lucky for a walk was routine and normal. She needed both of those things. Nothing else felt normal anymore. It felt more like she was living someone else's life, and it wasn't a life she was enjoying. What she wouldn't give to turn the clock back to before Helen's visit. If she'd known then what a mess talking with Helen was going to make of her life, she would've pretended not to be home the day she visited, and she certainly never would've opened the door for Dylan the afternoon he showed up on her doorstep.

_Hindsight is a glorious thing_. _Too bad it never helps anyone._ "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It could be worse," Callie said as she walked toward the kennel. How it could be worse though, she didn't have a clue.

***

Drumming his fingers on his leg in impatience, Dylan wished the guy across from him would just sign the final documents and leave. Instead, Steven Macy, the CEO of the hotel chain that Sherbrooke Enterprises was swallowing up, kept talking to him and the attorneys present as if they were long-lost buddies.

_I don't have time for this._ _I've got more important things to do._ His fingers stilled. Work was always his first priority and had been since he'd graduated college. Yet right now, he couldn't care less about it. The only thing that mattered was getting to Callie and convincing her to give him another chance. He had everything planned. Dylan just hoped it worked.

"Bill, is everything in order?" he asked one of Sherbrooke Enterprises' attorneys, not caring that he'd interrupted Steven Macy in mid-sentence.

Bill gave him a look as if to say thank you for shutting him up. "It's a done deal. We are all set."

Coming to his feet, Dylan announced, "Then we're done here, gentlemen." Normally, he had more finesse. He'd casually bring the conversation to an end so Steven Macy didn't feel as if he was being tossed out of the office. Today, he just didn't care. Right now, the only thing he cared about was getting out of the city and to Cliff House.

Dylan used the short plane ride to Rhode Island to clear up any other business that might interfere with his weekend. He didn't want any distractions from the outside world. As arranged, a car was waiting for him at the airport in Newport.

"Where to tonight, sir?" the driver asked, getting behind the wheel of the Town Car.

"Straight to Cliff House." Dylan pulled out his cell phone and pulled up Jake's number. He'd arrived in Newport the previous evening at Dylan's request. Though he hated to admit it, Dylan needed his brother's help to carry off his plan tonight.

Jake had several responsibilities. First he had to keep Callie busy so she wouldn't see things being set up in the Tea House or see Dylan arrive, and, most importantly, it was up to Jake to make sure she showed up at the Tea House that evening.

"Everything ready?" Dylan asked once his brother answered the phone.

"Just waiting for you. I checked and everything is just the way you wanted it. Callie and I have been gone all day, so she has no idea anything is up."

"Thanks." Dylan hoped his brother knew he was thanking him for more than just his help today.

"Don't mention it. Good luck."

_I'm going to need it._ Dylan returned the cell phone to his pocket.

***

Flopping onto the king-sized bed, Callie wished she could lie down and go to sleep. She was exhausted. The night before, she'd been up way too late talking with Jake, who had unexpectedly shown up around lunchtime. When she'd finally gone to bed, she hadn't fallen asleep right away. Instead, she'd stared at the ceiling for hours, only falling asleep when the first rays of sunlight came through the window.

Never one to waste the day lounging around in bed, she'd still gotten up around seven. Then after returning from her morning walk with Lucky, Jake took her sailing for the rest of the day.

_Just a quick dinner then bed_. She forced herself into a sitting position. Normally if she felt this tired, she would get into some comfortable pjs, grab something simple like cereal for dinner, and plop down with a good book.

She couldn't do that here. At least not with Jake expecting her to join him downstairs. _Another hour or two, body, then you can get some rest. Promise._

Before heading downstairs, Callie combed her hair out and pulled it back in a simple ponytail. A day on the open water destroyed the French braid she'd fashioned that morning, and she didn't feel like taking the time to re-do it now.

Downstairs, Jake stood with one arm resting on the marble banister waiting for her. "Thought we'd eat down in the Tea House. It's a perfect night for it."

"Can't we just eat here? It must be a pain for the staff to get food down there. Then they only have to bring everything back afterward. I'm fine with eating in here."

Jake didn't immediately reply. Rather he seemed to consider her words as if he'd never given it any thought before. "They already set things up for us."

She came down the last few steps. "Whatever, I guess."

Jake threw an arm across her shoulders. "Don't sound so enthused," he said with amusement. "Trust me, you'll be glad I suggested it."

Callie wasn't sure if it was what he said or rather how he said it, but she got the distinct feeling he wasn't talking about dinner anymore. "Lead the way."

It truly was a gorgeous evening. While the thermometer still read eighty-five degrees, a cool refreshing breeze rolled up from the ocean. There wasn't a cloud in the star-studded sky, and the moon was nearly full.

_This is what summer in New England is all about._

As they crossed the large expanse of lawn separating the mansion from the Tea House, Jake kept up a steady conversation.

"What did you think of your first time sailing?"

"Loved it. It was so different from the ferries and pontoon boats I've been on. I can see why you like doing it so much."

"Glad you enjoyed it. Maybe we can go again before I leave. If you want, I can teach you; then you can take my boat out whenever you want." Reaching for the door to the Tea House, he started to pull it open, but stopped. "Damn. I forgot to tell Maria to bring down some of her special Sangria." Jake let go of the door handle. "Go on in and get started without me. I'll be right back." With that statement, he gently nudged her up the steps before turning and heading back toward the main house.

"Whatever," Callie said, somewhat confused. She assumed Jake had his cell phone on him, and even if he didn't, there was a phone inside that could be used to call the main house. She saw Warren use it the day they had eaten lunch in there. Why didn't Jake just call the kitchen and save himself a trip back, she wondered as she pulled open the door.

Callie took one step inside, and then stopped dead. The Tea House was full of red and white roses and calla lilies. The only other place she'd seen this many flowers was inside a florist shop. Hundreds of candles lit the room, casting a warm romantic glow. Standing in the center of it all was Dylan, dressed in Dockers and a polo shirt. Despite everything, her heart leaped at the sight of him. _Traitor_.

He'd obviously orchestrated this, but for what purpose? Was his conscience feeling so guilty that he felt he had to go to such extremes to apologize?

_Might as well get this over with. I was going to have to face him sooner or later_. She crossed her arms protectively around herself, then moved a few more steps into the room. "I didn't know you were coming," she said in lieu of a greeting. It wasn't like she was going to say, nice to see you.

Dylan didn't move. "I came to see you."

"Did you buy out every flower shop in the state?" She refused to acknowledge his statement. She didn't care who he came to see.

"If that's what it takes, I will." He started to move closer, but stopped when Callie took a step back toward the door. She wanted as much space as possible between them.

She swallowed, hoping to dislodge the lump of emotion in her throat. It was threatening to choke her. _Don't cry in front of him. He's not worth it._

Callie struggled to hold back the tears. "What do you want from me, Dylan?" Her voice was low, not much louder than a whisper.

He moved forward again, this time not stopping until he stood mere inches away. "A second chance." She almost didn't recognize his voice; it was so thick with emotion.

Callie chewed on her bottom lip, questions swirling around in her head. A second chance? At what? Being friends? Being lovers? Did she dare ask?

"That doesn't really answer my question, Dylan, and you know it."

Dylan reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek. She jerked her head back slightly, but didn't move away from him. "I know you think everything between us was an act," he said. It sounded as if he was choosing his words carefully. "It wasn't, Callie."

More than anything, she wanted to believe him, but could she take that risk? The conversation she'd overheard hadn't been a dream. It had been very real, and Dylan had never once tried to deny his agreement with Phillips when he'd shown up at her apartment that night. He wasn't trying to deny it now either. Yet right now, he seemed so sincere, and this whole setup had taken some planning. Would someone who had just been acting go through so much trouble? She just didn't know.

_Damn, I should have rehearsed this earlier_. Now wasn't the time to figure it out. "I was attracted to you from the beginning, long before Phillips asked me to keep an eye on you."

"But you didn't trust me." It was more a statement than a question. One filled with a combination of anger and sadness. Both of which pulled at his heart.

He wiped another few tears from her face. This time she didn't pull away. "That wasn't an issue. I knew you weren't a threat to Warren by then."

Dylan specifically said he knew she wasn't a threat to Warren rather than saying he trusted her. Because while he had trusted her in terms of his stepfather, deep down on some level, he hadn't trusted her in regards to himself. He hadn't even realized that was the case until Jake gave him a kick in the ass. Now that he'd dealt with those fears keeping him from trusting her, Dylan knew it hadn't been Callie he didn't really trust, but himself.

"I couldn't convince Phillips to leave you alone. If I didn't go along with him, he was going to hire someone." He wondered if he was getting through to her. Since she hadn't bolted, he assumed she was at least willing to listen. "I couldn't allow that."

"What a world you live in," Callie said, sounding amazed. "Did it ever occur to you to tell me what was going on?"

"There was more to it," Dylan admitted. He had to tell her everything if he had any chance of her forgiving him.

Callie groaned and, for a minute, he thought she planned on leaving. "Honestly, Dylan, I'm not sure I want to know any more. Maybe it's better if we just leave things the way they are. We probably won't see much of each other anyway, and I won't tell Warren about any of this."

_It's now or never, Talbot. She's going to bolt soon_. "Did you know I was engaged once? Francesca and I met at a party in London." He didn't give Callie a chance to respond. Instead, he plowed on. "She was from Connecticut, but visiting friends in England. I thought she was the perfect woman until I walked in on her and an old buddy of mine from college one day. A friend who I introduced her to."

Looking confused, Callie shook her head. "What does that have to do with me?"

"I haven't had a real relationship since then. Haven't met anyone I wanted to be in one with. Not till you anyway," Dylan answered, dreading the next words he knew he had to say. "I didn't realize it till after that night in New York, but I've been scared. Scared that I would make the same mistake again that I made with Francesca."

Callie remained silent, her sapphire eyes studying his face. _What is she thinking?_ He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her till she said something, anything. The silence was killing him.

He watched as Callie ran her tongue over her lips. "You still haven't answered my question, Dylan. You say you want a second chance. A second chance at what?" He heard the fear in her voice. He knew it had been hard for her to ask the question. If the tables were reversed, he wasn't sure he would be willing to give her a second chance.

He smoothed back a few strands of hair. "Do you really need to ask?" He studied her face for a moment. God, he hoped it wasn't too late. "I want another chance with you. I love you. And if I thought you'd agree, I would fly us out to Vegas tonight and marry you."

Joy and love bubbled up inside her. He loved her. Was it really possible? "Getting married by Elvis was never a dream of mine." She needed to lighten the atmosphere a little.

Had he just asked her to marry him, or had that been his own attempt to cut through the tension? If he had, it was one strange proposal. Maybe the strangest ever uttered by a man. "Now if it can be Mickey Mouse, I say get the plane ready."

Dylan brushed her mouth with a feather light kiss. "No more joking," he ordered. "Now isn't the time."

She heard the uncertainty and worry in his voice. Two emotions she didn't know he was capable of. He always seemed in control of situations. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she said, "I love you too."

Crushing her against him, he gave her a long, tender kiss. She felt it down to her very soul. Eventually, he broke contact and took a few steps back so he could see her. Then he pulled a small black ring box from his pants pocket. "Callie Taylor, will you marry me?"

_Oh, my God!_ He hadn't been joking around before. Happiness like she'd never known before overwhelmed her. "Yes," she replied, laughing and crying all at once, which was something she hadn't thought possible to do.

Dylan slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. "I wasn't joking about Vegas tonight, but if you want to wait, that's fine." Pausing, he gave her one of his lopsided boyish grins. "And if you want Mickey Mouse to marry us with Goofy as best man and Minnie as your maid of honor, that's okay too. I don't care what kind of wedding we have as long as you're by my side."

Callie laughed. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed joking with him. "What if I want the wedding cake made out of Girl Scout cookies? Got to keep those cookie pushers in business, you know."

He burst out laughing at her question. "Only if they're the ones filled with peanut butter."

She pretended to think it over for a minute. Finally, with a small sigh, she said, "I guess I can live with that, but I'd rather have the mint ones." Callie stared down at the diamond and emerald ring on her finger.

"I would like to wait. I don't need a huge wedding, but I do want my family and friends there," Callie said seriously, thinking for the first time since her mom's death that she wasn't as alone as she'd thought. Perhaps her mom had finally told Warren the truth so she wouldn't be so alone.

Dylan kissed her again. "Whatever you want. As long as I have you, I don't care about the rest."

# Epilogue

About One Year Later

_This is it._ Callie gazed at her reflection in the full-length mirror. In less than an hour, she would be Mrs. Dylan Talbot. She still found it hard to believe sometimes. It was like she was living in a dream and, at some point, she would hear her alarm go off and she'd wake up. But then again, she'd been feeling a bit like that every day since learning the truth about her father the year before.

"You look gorgeous," Lauren, her maid of honor, said, coming up next to her. "He's going to be speechless when he sees you."

"Dylan might be looking at me, but every other man here will be looking at you. You look fabulous." Callie wasn't exaggerating either. The royal blue gown looked as if it had been designed just for Lauren.

"I doubt that. Everyone is going to have their eyes on you."

Fidgeting, she tried to think about just Dylan and not the hundreds of guests waiting outside on the lawns of Cliff House. Though they'd tried to keep the guest list small, there had been too many people they had to invite. In the end, the list had maxed out at three hundred.

"Don't do that. You're going to spoil your lipstick," Lauren scolded Callie as she began to chew on her bottom lip.

Callie smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. "I can't help it. I'm so nervous. What if something goes wrong?"

Lauren was about to answer when there was a knock at the bedroom door. "Is it okay to come in?" Warren called from the other side.

"All clear, Mr. President," Lauren answered, picking up her bouquet to leave. "Everything will be perfect, you'll see. I'll meet you downstairs, Callie." After giving her one last hug, Lauren left as Warren came into the room.

Warren didn't immediately say anything. Rather he looked at her with misty eyes. Then after clearing his throat, he said, "Elizabeth and I are so happy you're part of our family, Callie. I know it was strained between the two of you at first, but she has come to care for you like another daughter."

Strained was one way of putting it. From the very beginning, Callie's relationship with Elizabeth was awkward, and it only became more so immediately after she and Dylan had announced their engagement. But slowly, they had gotten to know each other, and now she thought of Elizabeth as almost a second mother. She'd been especially helpful planning the wedding, which had all of the paparazzi in the country interested.

"I just wish I'd learned about you sooner." He paused as if overcome with emotion. "I feel as though I missed out on so much with you."

Callie choked back some tears of her own. Warren had been wonderful to her since their first meeting, and their relationship had only grown stronger since then. "Me too." She gave him a hug and then kissed his cheek.

"We'd better get you downstairs." His voice was thick with emotion. "There is a very anxious groom waiting for you. If I don't get you down there soon, I think he'll come storming up here himself to get you."

Warren handed Callie her bouquet of roses and calla lilies. "The two of you are going to be very happy," he predicted. "You won't find a better man."

Callie linked her arm through her father's. "I know."

Arm in arm, they walked through the mansion and out onto the sprawling lawns. It was a picture perfect late May afternoon. Originally, they'd wanted a fall wedding, but had decided it was a bad idea to have the wedding so close to the election. A winter wedding had been out because Callie really wanted the ceremony to be held at Cliff House, where their relationship had essentially begun. So in the end, they had settled on late spring.

As soon as her cousins, Rachel and Allison, as well as Sara--Callie's three bridesmaids--and Lauren reached the steps of the Tea House, which was serving as the alter, the orchestra began to play the traditional bridal march. She'd asked Sara to be in the wedding, not because the two had become friends, but because she knew Dylan would want her there. Callie suspected that was the only reason Sara agreed. In truth, Callie wasn't sure she would ever have a friendly relationship with her half-sister.

All together, the diverse group of guests stood to watch Callie proceed toward Dylan, accompanied by her father. It was possibly the most eclectic group to ever attend a wedding. Schoolteachers, waitresses, and nurses sat alongside secret service agents, English aristocrats, and multimillionaires. Callie didn't really see any of them though as she made her way down the aisle. She was solely focused on the tall, handsome man waiting at the altar.

He couldn't take his eyes off the vision coming toward him. Callie was the most beautiful bride he had ever seen.

_She's mine forever_. The single thought filled him with so much love and pride he thought his chest might burst.

Waiting for this day had been torturous. More than once, he'd stopped himself from trying to convince her to just elope. But he'd wanted everything to be perfect for her, so he'd somehow restrained himself. For the most part, he'd let her plan everything. The only aspect that had really been his idea was using the Tea House as the altar.

"I couldn't be happier for you two," Warren said, slipping Callie's hand into Dylan's. "I know you will take good care of each other."

Dylan intertwined his fingers with hers. "You know it, Mr. President."

With that, Warren took his seat next to Elizabeth as Supreme Court Justice Smith, who was an old friend of Warren's, began the ceremony.

In the blink of an eye, Dylan slipped a simple white platinum wedding band onto her finger and kissed her. Turning together, they faced the crowd of guests and began the walk to the gardens where the wedding photos would be taken. All around them, cameras flashed as both guests and the few photographers who'd been given access took pictures.

"I love you, Mrs. Talbot," he said, stopping at the last row of guests. "Why don't we give them a picture worth printing?" He nodded toward the professional photographers.

Without waiting for an answer, he scooped her up into his arms and covered her mouth with his. Everything around him disappeared; the only thing that mattered was the woman in his arms, who was now his wife.

He had no idea how long they stayed like that. When he felt a not too subtle nudge in his back, he dragged his lips away.

"Save it for later," Jake, who was his best man, said jokingly. "Some of us want to eat."

Slowly, Dylan lowered Callie to her feet and began walking toward the garden.

"You've made me the happiest person alive today." Dylan whispered, leaning close to her ear.

Callie smiled at him. "The feeling is mutual."

***

Want to read more about The Sherbrookes of Newport? Grab one of the other books in the series. 
