“I think you should go for it,” I say, then tug him into the bedroom long enough to give him a deliciously sensual kiss before we join the agent on the balcony to tell her the good news.
Afterward, we walk the short distance to the townhouse, and he steps back as I unlock the door. “You’re not coming in?”
“No,” he says. “I’m not.”
I tilt my head, surprised. Then he moves in and stands very close to me as he reaches around to open the door, his arm brushing my shoulder. “Pretend I’m kissing you good night,” he whispers, then backs away.
“Dallas.” I hear the plea in my voice. I want him to come in.
But he just shakes his head and smiles. “Sweet dreams, sister mine. Until tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I repeat. And when I go into the townhouse, I’m smiling, too.
Steak and Potatoes
Just a normal dinner party, Dallas thought. Just your average, every day evening around the table with the man who may well have masterminded your kidnapping, the sister you’re in love with, and the older woman you used to sleep with.
No doubt about it—as a group, they made one hell of a Norman Rockwell painting.
“This is why I chose this house,” Colin said, indicating both the dinner table and then, with another sweep of his hand, the patio upon which he had grilled their steaks and vegetables. “Entertaining. Family. And perfectly done steaks.”
“Here, here,” Jane said. “But don’t forget the wine.” As if to illustrate the point, she took a long, slow sip of an exceptionally smooth pinot, keeping her eyes on Dallas from over the rim of the glass. Damned if just the look in her eye didn’t make him go hard.
“I could use a refill.” Adele pressed her hand on his thigh while she leaned across him to grab the bottle. “Pardon my reach,” she said as her sleeve brushed against his.
He knew she was trying to get a rise out of him, but he had no reaction at all. Not physical, anyway.
Emotionally, he wanted to tell her to calm the fuck down, because Jane was there. But Jane was sipping her wine and chatting with Colin, and so maybe Dallas was being hyperaware and paranoid.
Maybe.
Hell, maybe he was being paranoid about Colin being their jailer. Because how on earth could the man just casually have them over for dinner—how could he have interacted as a friend for the last seventeen years—if he’d put both Dallas and Jane through that kind of torture?
The man would have to be so fucked up it was almost beyond belief. Dallas, however, knew better than most that some horror stories were real. And that some monsters looked like men.
For that matter, some monsters looked like women.
They moved to the patio for port and dessert, and the conversation flowed from the house to their jobs to the weather to travel. It was normal and pleasant and way too surreal.
And despite everything, he was actually enjoying himself. Which, frankly, added to the strange quality of the evening.
“You met him?” Colin was asking Jane when Dallas tuned back into the conversation. “Lyle Tarpin?”
Jane nodded, looking exceptionally pleased with herself.
“He’s the sitcom actor, right?” Dallas asked.
“I’ve heard he’s looking to do features,” Adele said, then laughed when everyone turned her direction. “Well, I do pay some attention to West Coast gossip.”
“Yes to both of you,” Jane said. “And the feature he’s most interested in is The Price of Ransom.”
“The movie based on your book?” Colin asked. “Sweetie, that’s amazing.” He pointed his finger at the group in general. “And that boy’s a fine actor. I watched two seasons of his show when I dated the woman who played his mother.”
“Did you?” Adele asked. “Dallas was just asking me who you dated between Lisa and me.” She leaned toward him, then squeezed his leg as if to underscore the comment.
Dallas shifted, freeing himself from her touch, and saw that Jane was no longer looking at Colin, but was staring right at him.
“Mom said that, too.” She peered at Dallas. “What was it you said it was for?”
Dallas frowned, wishing both women had kept quiet. “An ill-advised housewarming gift.” He looked at Colin and forced a grin. “Trust me when I say you’re glad I realized the stupidity of the idea.”
“A montage of all the women in my life?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I can’t say I regret any of them.” He smiled at Adele, then turned his attention to Jane. “Not even your mother. Lord knows I put her through hell. Divorcing me was probably one of the two best things anyone has ever done for me.”
“And the other?” Jane asked.