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Never dreaming what was going on behind her back, Dylan was willing to bet, recalling with chilling accuracy how he had felt when similarly betrayed.
“So basically I’ve got that amount of time—” Hannah speculated thoughtfully.
There was another pause, rife with meaning.
His curiosity killing him—none of this sounded like the compassionate older brother or the affable mechanic he knew—Dylan hazarded a discreet glance around the open doorway. There were no lights on and the room was shrouded in shadow, but through the semidarkness he could see Hannah with her back to the wall, staring up at Cal. The expression on her face was the same one she wore when she was trying to figure out a particularly thorny mechanical problem on one of the expensive automobiles she worked on at the business she owned, Classic Car Auto Repair. She narrowed her eyes at Cal. “You said the guy is loaded?”
Hands thrust in the pockets of his tuxedo pants, Cal shook his head in disgust. “Yarborough’s got so much money he doesn’t know what to do with it,” he replied in a voice that was equally calculating. Cal took his hands out of his pockets and spread his hands wide. “Which is, of course, part of the problem. Had R. G. Yarborough a little less—”
Hannah nodded in understanding. “You’d be able to deal with him a lot more effectively,” she said.
“Right,” Cal agreed.
Dylan, wary of being seen, ducked back out of sight again but remained within earshot of the low, urgent voices.
“Well, don’t worry. I’m sure I can manage him.” To Dylan’s mounting dismay, the smile was back in Hannah’s voice.
Even as Dylan’s brother got grimmer…
“And one more thing, Hannah,” Cal warned. “No one, and I mean no one, can know about what we’ve got going here.” His voice caught momentarily. “If Ashley were to get wind of it—”
No joke, Dylan thought, aware what Cal’s semi-estranged wife might think. The same thing he was thinking right now.
“I understand completely, believe me,” Hannah promised in sweet sincerity. “You don’t have to worry for one second, Cal. No one—and I mean no one—is going to hear about this from me.”
THE TROUBLE WITH eavesdropping, Dylan thought, was what you thought something meant, might be completely misconstrued. For instance, there was no way Cal was supervising and setting up the twenty-eight year old Hannah Reid’s secret nocturnal activity with a wealthy-as-all-get-out man she had never met. And might not, from the sounds of it, even really want to meet under normal circumstances. At least not for socializing.
So here he was, an hour later, getting out of a cab in front of Sharkey’s Pool Hall…never having had that dance he was supposed to request from her.
He walked in, not sure what to expect. Hannah was standing by a pool table, a bottle of beer in her hand. She was dressed in a short black skirt, stockings and heels that showed off her spectacular legs. A red knit tank top with a high neck and a racer back clung to her ample breasts, and made her slender shoulders and bare arms look incredibly feminine. A man Dylan assumed was R. G. Yarborough was standing next to her. He was fifty, at least, and attractive in that money-to-burn way. That was if you liked spiked gray-brown hair and an exceptionally hard body that appeared manufactured by steroids, fancy gym equipment and maybe even plastic surgery. Plus his appearance—college T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, baggy cargo-style jeans and an earring in one ear—practically screamed midlife crisis. All in all, not a good guy for an innocent-in-the-ways-of-the-world woman like Hannah to be tangling with.
Jacket hooked over his shoulder, bow tie hanging undone on either side of the open collar of his pleated white tuxedo shirt, Dylan skirted the large, rectangular hall and numerous pool tables to the long wooden bar along one side. Keeping to the shadows, he approached the bartender and asked for a bottle of light beer.
He leaned against the bar, watching. And he wasn’t the only one. A lot of male eyes were on Hannah at that particular second as she set a triangle on the green-felt tabletop. The bartender, included. “Know her?” he asked Dylan.
Dylan nodded, but even as he did he was wondering if he really did. The sexy-as-hell woman in front of him wasn’t even close to the lady mechanic and all-around tomboy he recalled growing up with.
“Yeah, well, she hasn’t been in here before. I guarantee I’d remember that little filly if she had been,” the bartender murmured.
And no wonder. Hannah’s pretty face was alight with feminine mischief and barely reined-in flirtation as she bantered animatedly with the group of men standing around the pool table. Color flooded her face. Her auburn hair was flowing in unruly waves down around her bare shoulders. Every time she moved, her hair brushed her silky-looking skin and drew attention to the sumptuous curves of her breasts. Worse, as she captured another loose ball and fit it into the triangle, the tank top rode above her waist, baring even more silky-smooth skin. Dylan felt a tightening in his groin, and was willing to bet, every other man there did too.
As she straightened, slowly, R. G. Yarborough reached out and stroked a hand along her hip. Hannah tensed visibly but didn’t resist as she turned to face him. She murmured something—Dylan couldn’t make out quite what—and the rich guy responded by pulling out his wallet and extracting several bills.
Hannah mocked whatever he was offering, but appeared ready to take him up on his proposal.
Normally, Dylan would have remained on the sidelines, no matter what was going on. But this was too much. He didn’t know what Cal had gotten the naive Hannah Reid into, but Dylan was for damn sure not going to stand idly by and watch someone he’d known from their elementary-school days get hurt.
He moved away from the bar and sauntered toward the pool table where Hannah was still flirting madly. “Money?” Dylan heard her say as she tucked the bills back into Yarborough’s hands. “Come on. Surely—” Hannah batted her eyelashes at him “—you and I can wager for something a little more interesting than that….”
Yarborough looked down at Hannah, a lecherous gleam in his eyes. “Well, maybe we could at that,” Yarborough flirted back as Dylan stopped just short of them. Determined to interrupt before this charade went any further, he said casually, “Hey, Hannah.”
She looked over and froze, the color draining from her face. Recovering admirably, she said, “Dylan. Fancy meeting you here.”
“What’s that saying?” Dylan asked, pretending to all those witnessing the scene that he had some claim to Hannah. “Wherever you go-est, I go-est?”
Yarborough looked Dylan up and down, then turned to Hannah and asked, “This your husband?”
Hannah’s smile tightened. “No. Most definitely not.”
“Boyfriend?” Yarborough persisted.
Dylan clamped a hand around Hannah’s shoulders. “Hannah doesn’t like the term boyfriend,” he said. “Too high school. But to answer your question, yes, she and I do go back a ways.”
Hannah glared at him in a way that said back off, then turned back to R.G. “It’s not what you think. Dylan’s like a brother to me.”
“A brother who does not want to see you hurt,” Dylan continued, looking at her just as meaningfully.
Hannah propped her hands on her hips as a crowd began to gather round them. She was so piqued with him that steam was practically coming out of her ears. “Since when are you my keeper?” she demanded, even as the two guys nearest them elbowed each other. “Hey,” one of them said, taking a closer look at Dylan. “Aren’t you that guy that used to be on W-MOL, doing the sports?”
“Yeah. Dylan Hart, isn’t it?” someone else asked, edging closer.
“You coming back to work on one of the local TV stations again?” another asked excitedly.
“Yeah,” chimed a fourth. “You were good!”
Looking relieved to no longer be the center of attention, Hannah patted Dylan on the arm. “Maybe you should attend to your fan club and let me continue here.”
Dylan looked down at her, still not sure what she had been about to wager. He couldn’t say why exactly, he just knew he was more certain than ever that she was doing something she did not want him, or anyone else in Holly Springs, to know about. “No way.”
Her soft lips took on a mutinous line. “Excuse us, will you?” Hannah tugged him aside. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking out for you.”
She drew a deep breath, clearly exasperated, as she apparently did not want to be kept away from the unsavory types, by him or anyone else. “How did you even know I was here?” she hissed.
Wondering if he would ever in a million years understand women and why they were drawn to rich losers over decent hardworking guys like himself, Dylan replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “I followed you from Holly Springs.”
That gave her pause, Dylan noted with grim satisfaction. “Why?” she asked a lot more cautiously.
Dylan shrugged, never taking his eyes from her face. This much at least he had been prepared to answer. “You’ve got my stuff in the van. My carry-on luggage. The clothes I was wearing earlier. It’s all in the back.”
Yarborough strode over. “Hey, babe,” he drawled so lasciviously Dylan wanted to punch his face. “You going to play or not?”
To Dylan’s chagrin, Hannah looked torn, as if she wanted to go off with R.G., just not in front of Dylan, or anyone else she knew from Holly Springs.
Not gonna happen, Dylan decided. He winked over at her with a playfulness he knew she would not appreciate. “I don’t mind.” He shrugged his shoulders lazily. “I can wait.”
Hannah dug into the front pocket of her tight black skirt. “I’ll just give you the keys and you can go on out and get your stuff.” She pressed them into his palm, her fingers warm against his.
Dylan planted his feet firmly beneath him and resisted the way she was practically pushing him away. “I also need a ride back to Holly Springs,” Dylan continued matter-of-factly.
Abruptly, Hannah stopped pushing. “I thought you followed me here,” she said with a frown.
Dylan examined her keys. “In a cab.”
Her pretty pine-green eyes radiated displeasure. “You can’t take a cab back?”
Dylan shrugged. “I’m out of cash. But that’s okay.” He leaned against the pillar at his back, prepared to do whatever it took. “Like I said, I can wait.”
Thwarted, Hannah gave up. “Wait here,” she commanded furiously as she stalked off, R. G. Yarborough in tow, and said something to him that he looked none too happy to be hearing.
There was another brief exchange. One that Yarborough seemed to be on the losing end of again, then Hannah headed back to Dylan, her strides long and sexy. “You’re turning out to be one royal pain today,” she told him as they headed toward the door, side by side. “You know that, don’t you?”
“So I’ll make it up to you,” Dylan drawled, wondering how it was that he could have known Hannah Reid as long as he had and never made a single pass at her.
“How?” Hannah snapped, giving him yet another hot, aggravated look.
Dylan reached past her to open the door. Still determined to find out what was going on with the former tomboy, he smiled at her gallantly. “I’ll buy you dinner.”
Chapter Two
Hannah stared at Dylan as they moved out onto the sidewalk. He appeared to be serious, anyway. Not that she would in any way consider this to be an invitation for a date. The men she knew from Holly Springs did not ask her out on dates. “When?” she said, still not sure what Dylan Hart was up to this evening.
He shot her another appreciative male glance. “Right now sounds good to me.”
Hannah ignored the unsettling way her senses stirred at his proximity. She stepped back a pace, then another. “We already ate at the reception.”
He stood, legs braced apart, arms folded in front of him. “That was more like a late lunch. Unless you’re used to eating the seniors’ special at 4:00 p.m.”
“Very funny.” She made a face at him, refusing to be charmed by his teasing.
“Come on,” he cajoled her, his hot gaze sliding over her from head to toe before returning with heart-stopping accuracy to her face. “I’m buying.”
Just looking at his handsome face made her heart race. She didn’t want to think about what it would be like to go on a date with him, never mind fantasize about what would happen at the end of the evening as they said good-night. Keeping her defenses up—and her thoughts at bay about being held against his tall strong body and kissed by those soft, sensual lips—she countered mildly, “I thought you didn’t have any cash.”
“I still have a credit card,” he murmured with easy familiarity.
Ignoring his steady, probing gaze, she continued walking away from him. “Some cab companies take credit cards.”
He waited until she swung around to face him again. “Then I’d miss our…date.”
So this was a date. “It’s ten-thirty on a Sunday night. Only the fast-food joints and the pancake houses are going to be open this late.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders lazily. “Sounds fine to me. Let’s go.” He gestured for her to lead the way to her vehicle.
Cantankerously, Hannah stayed right where she was. “I haven’t exactly agreed to go out with you yet.”
“Buying you something to eat is the least I can do after interrupting your ‘hustling’ back there.”
Hannah propped her hands on her waist, puzzled by the hint of derision in his low tone. “What is it you’ve got against me scrounging up a game of pool, anyway?” she inquired, refusing to be sidetracked by the dark woodsy scent of his aftershave. He had to know, from all the times she had played him and his brothers in Holly Springs, that she was bound to win.
Dylan raised his eyebrow. “Is that what you were doing?” he asked, his audacity unchecked.
As far as anyone else knew, yes it was. Although she couldn’t quite ignore the hint of innuendo in Dylan’s watchful gaze. “I wasn’t trying to date the guy, Dylan,” she explained dryly, continuing toward the minivan.
“Good, ’cause in case you didn’t notice,” Dylan continued, still observing her carefully as he fell into step beside her, “R. G. Yarborough is married.”
Hannah wasn’t surprised Dylan had noticed the wedding ring R. G. Yarborough had been wearing when she had approached him for a game, then ever so discreetly slipped into his pants pocket when he thought she wasn’t looking. Dylan noticed everything. Especially, apparently, the sleazy elements of her would-have-been companion for the duration of the evening. Not that Hannah intended to discuss with Dylan why it had been so important she hook up with the rich son of a gun, anyway.
“So?” Hannah kept her focus on Dylan as she unlocked the repair-shop minivan and slid open the back passenger door so he could get his clothes. “Last time I heard, it wasn’t against the law for married men to play pool.”
Dylan unzipped the bag and drew out a pair of jeans, a knit polo shirt, sweat socks and running shoes. He tossed the bag aside, then prepared to climb into the back. “Mind if I change?”
Yes, as a matter of fact, she did. “Wait till we get where we’re going to eat,” Hannah said, pretending she hadn’t been affected at all by his earlier quick-change artistry. “I’ve seen enough of your studly body for one day.”
Dylan flashed a surprisingly wicked grin. “Turned you on, huh?” he said, tossing his clothes down and climbing into the front-passenger seat inside.
If you only knew, Hannah thought. She was still burning from the glimpses of his handsome body. “You wish.” She threw the taunt over her shoulder as she circled around the front of the van and climbed behind the steering wheel.
Dylan relaxed in the passenger seat, looking debonair and sexy, and very much ready to take a woman to bed. Which was ridiculous given that generally speaking he didn’t even know she was alive, let alone a woman. Although you wouldn’t know it the way he kept glancing at the way her skirt was riding up over her thighs…
Shaking off the wistful transgression—the day she would get Dylan’s attention in that way was never going to come!—Hannah started up the vehicle and eased away from the curb. “So where do you want to go?” she asked in the most casual voice she could manage, wishing he didn’t still look and smell so good.
“There’s a drive-in root-beer stand en route back to Holly Springs. What do you say we stop there? That is if they take credit cards.” He looked worried.
“I think I can handle it even if they don’t,” Hannah said dryly. She might not be rolling in dough, but she made more than enough to handle her day-to-day expenses as well as anything she felt like doing after hours.
“If it’s cash only, I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” Dylan said, giving her another curiously analytical look.
“No problem,” Hannah said.
The silence strung out between them. “You don’t look happy,” Dylan said eventually.
Hannah released a long, irritated sigh. “Should I be?” Given that he had just interrupted a very important get-to-know-you session she had planned. Not that she could have continued her preplanned manipulation of events with Dylan standing there, watching every move she made, without revealing what she and Cal were trying to accomplish when it came to R. G. Yarborough.
“Are you disappointed that guy you were with tonight turned out to be married?”
Hannah blinked in surprise as Dylan favored her with a challenging half smile she found even more disturbing than his sudden interference in her life.
“You were flirting with him,” Dylan said.
Just as a means to an end, Hannah admitted to herself. But Dylan didn’t need to know about any of that. “He’s a little old for me. Don’t you think?”
“He still looked like he wanted to take you to bed.”
Hannah’s neck and shoulders drew tight as a bow. Be blunt, why don’t you? “And that surprises you?” Hannah asked coolly, flushing despite herself.
“That someone would want to take you to bed?”
