Читать книгу Last Groom Standing - Kimberly Lang - Страница 11

TWO

Marnie had nearly forgotten what it was like to wake up curled into the solid warmth of a sleeping man. Drowsy fingers stroked absently over her back, and Dylan’s chest made a lovely pillow, his slow, deep breaths calming and hypnotic.

It was a nice way to start the day, except for the nagging feeling that this was wrong. Really, really wrong. Which was very confusing because it felt really good at the same time.

Of the million men in New York that she could have chosen for a drunken hookup, why had she picked Dylan?

Beyond the obvious, of course. The chest under her cheek was sculpted and tanned, the muscles defined without being bulky and bulging. That had been a pleasant surprise to find under Dylan’s conservative gray suit. And that chest hadn’t been the only surprise waiting for her...

The want had kicked up out of nowhere last night, slamming into her with an unexpected force that got completely out of hand. Fast. She could try to blame it on the tequila, but she doubted even tequila could explain the overwhelming feeling of yes, now, please that had taken over her body last night.

It made no sense. She wasn’t attracted to men like Dylan, damn it. She craved artists, musicians, activists...interesting men who carried their hearts and their passions on their sleeves. Not disinterested, distant, society types. Not the Dylans of the world.

Just the thought caused her to feel the cage bars close in on her.

She wasn’t sure how it had happened, what threw the switch. One minute she’d been lecturing Dylan on finding his passion, and while she hadn’t quite meant for it to take the turn it did, the next thing she knew, he’d not only shown her he had it, but she’d been caught hard and unexpectedly by that very thing.

She’d been overwhelmed, to say the least.

Oh, she had a solid set of reasons to explain how she ended up here, but none of them erased that wrong feeling. Because one tiny fact outweighed them all:

Dylan was Reese’s.

They’re over. She’s moved on. And as of last night, so has he.

That doesn’t make this okay. You know that.

She’d made some questionable decisions in her life, but this was definitely a first simply because the repercussions were potentially huge.

She could tell herself that Reese and Dylan were over, but she still felt like she’d crossed a line.

Not that she knew where that line actually was...

Was there a proper waiting period? A statute of limitations? At what point did a friend’s ex become fair game? And was it different when the ex was an ex-fiancé? Surely that was a bigger deal than just a random ex-boyfriend.

Some friend she was. A nasty feeling of déjà vu settled in her chest. No. This was not the same thing at all. Dylan and Reese were over.

But still... How was she going to face Reese? For that matter, how was she going to face Dylan?

She vaguely remembered saying that being friends might be awkward. That would be a piece of cake compared to this.

Oh, God. What if he started...comparing. Ugh. She felt something nasty coil in her stomach.

Dylan shifted underneath her. Somehow, he knew she was awake, as there were no surreptitious, try-not-to-wake-her moves. “Morning,” he said, his voice gruff and husky from sleep.

Marnie peeked up at him and her breath caught. Suave, debonair Dylan was totally gone. His hair stuck up at crazy angles from sleep, and a dark shadow covered his jaw. There was something raw and yummy about him that sent sparks through her nervous system before she remembered that more sparks would just bring more wrongness to the situation.

Damn it.

She was going to have to get through this the best she could, regardless. She really could have used a few more minutes to think this through and formulate a plan before he woke up. Pretend this isn’t a big deal. Act normally.

But she had no idea what normal should be. “Morning. I—”

She was saved by the phone. Somewhere, under the pile of clothing, she heard the vibration against the wood floor. A second later, the ringtone kicked in, and adrenaline rushed through her veins.

That was Reese’s ringtone.

It was a slap in the face, a condemnation set to Reese’s favorite song, and guilt that had been tiptoeing across her mind landed on her conscience with a heavy thud.

She could ignore it, let it go to voicemail, but that just seemed worse somehow. It would be a cowardly admission of wrongdoing flavored with the attitude that it just didn’t matter anyway.

She scrambled over the edge of the bed head first, ignoring the “oof” from Dylan as her foot landed on his stomach, and dug through the pile until she found her phone.

“Reese! Good morning! How are you!” She cringed at the over-perky sound of her voice.

There was a soft chuckle from the other end. “And good morning to you. You seem to be in a very good mood today.”

Marnie struggled upright, pulling the sheet up to cover herself, and kept her back to Dylan. If she looked at him now, Reese would know somehow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I was expecting you to be a little hungover. You were certainly pounding the wine last night—”

“No. Nope. I feel fine.”

“I was just a little worried, but I certainly understand the need. You had a lot land on you yesterday—”

She could hear Dylan moving around behind her. “And I appreciate it, but I’m good. So what’s up?”

“Is everything okay? You sound funny.”

A short hysterical laugh burst out before she could stop it. Clearing her throat, Marnie tried for a less insane-sounding level of perkiness. “I’m great. Just...um—”

“Wait... Did I interrupt something?”

Guilt slammed into her. “What? No! What could you possibly be interrupting?”

“Marnie...” Reese’s voice dropped a notch. “Is there someone else there?”

Oh, God. “Of course not.”

Disbelief and amusement crept into Reese’s voice. “Did you go home with someone last night?”

Nausea rolled through her belly. She was such a bad liar, and she was about to be busted, big time. “N-no, I— I—”

“You did. Let me guess. That cute bartender?”

“No! No hooking up. What kind of girl do you think I am? I finished my wine and went straight to Sven’s to crash. There’s nobody here except me.” She heard Dylan snort and without looking, waved her hand at him to shut up.

“Pity.”

I should have let her call go to voicemail. “Reese, honey, if you’re just wanting to chat, can I call you back—”

Reese turned serious. “I actually did have a reason for calling.”

Oh. “Okay.” She brushed her hair out of her face and tried to focus. “What’s up?”

“I had the most brilliant idea late last night. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before.”

Something about the way she said “brilliant” put Marnie on alert. “And?”

“And then I saw you talking to Dylan, and you seemed to be getting along okay—”

Marnie nearly choked. Careful, now. She tried for a nonchalant tone. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“I’m getting there. You need a job, right?”

“Yeah, and...?”

“As much as I’d love to ask you to come on board at Second Chance, First Response, it’s going to be a while before we’re up and running.”

“I know that—”

“Well, I happen to know that as of yesterday, Dylan still hadn’t found anyone to replace me at the Foundation.” Reese sounded almost smug.

Marnie stole a glance over her shoulder to where Dylan was leaning against the iron headboard like nothing was amiss at all. He raised an eyebrow at her. Damn. Now he knew they were talking about him. Unfortunately, she’d totally lost the thread of the conversation and had no idea what she should be saying next. “Oh, um...”

“I think you’d be perfect for the job. You’ve got experience with nonprofits and working with people trying to better their circumstances...”

Deliberately, she turned her back on Dylan. Right. Job. Foundation. Focus. “That certainly sounds interesting. Maybe we could get together and talk about it sometime—”

“Great. I’m so glad you’re interested. Hang on, I’m going to get Dylan on this call.”

“What? No, Reese—” But she was talking to dead air. Panicked, she grabbed Dylan’s pants off the pile of clothes and threw them at him, even though he was seemingly unconcerned that her life had turned into a bad sitcom. “Get your phone.”

“Why?”

“Just—” Before she could say more, Reese was back on the line, and she heard the ring on that end a second before Dylan’s phone began to scream like a Klaxon in the silence. She coughed loudly and rudely into her phone to cover the noise as Dylan produced the phone and silenced the ringtone. She could still hear it vibrating, though, along with each ring on Reese’s end.

“Marnie, are you okay?”

She moved off the bed and away. Sven’s loft was totally open plan—basically a large studio—and unless she wanted to lock herself in the bathroom, where the echo would be both bad and obvious, the only thing she could do was try for distance. “Something caught in my throat.”

Dylan held his phone in his hand, looking at her with a question on his face, and she tried to mime “let it go to voicemail” while still talking to Reese. Dylan obviously misunderstood, answering it before she could stop him.

“Hi, Reese.”

Oh. My. God. Dylan’s voice sounded caught in a loop—coming through the phone and bouncing off the walls of Sven’s apartment back through her phone. Shooting him a dirty look, she got as far away as possible and plastered her back against the wall. The jolt of cold, rough brick against her back reminded her that she was stark naked. She crossed her arms as best she could over her chest and tried to look nonchalant about it.

“Morning, Dylan. I’ve got Marnie on the line, too.”

Dylan’s eyes met hers, then slid slowly and appreciatively down her body, causing shivers to dance over her skin. “Well, good morning, Marnie.”

She could cheerfully strangle him, but Reese would probably hear the noise and wonder. “Hi, Dylan.”

“Look,” Reese began, “I won’t beat around the bush. You wanted me to help find someone to take my place at the Foundation, and I think Marnie would be perfect. She’s been working with the Refugee Center in Brooklyn for the last few years, so she has plenty of relevant experience. She’s smart and sharp, and I know she’d do an amazing job.”

The pride in Reese’s voice squeezed Marnie’s heart as the realization of what Reese was doing finally fully dawned. Reese had devoted herself to the Brookes Foundation and would not want just anyone taking her place. The fact she wanted Marnie to do it spoke volumes, and it only made Marnie feel worse about sleeping with Dylan.

Dylan cleared his throat. “It’s certainly something to talk about. Marnie, why don’t you send me your résumé—”

“I’ll do that,” she managed to squeeze out through a tight throat.

“Why don’t we just all go to lunch?” Reese asked instead, and Marnie wanted to bang her head against the wall. “We can talk about the job and—”

“Sure,” Dylan interrupted. “I’m just not sure what my schedule is like next week—”

“Which is why I thought we could do it today.”

Horrified, Marnie squeaked, “Today?”

“Today?” Dylan sounded only slightly less horrified.

“Yes, today,” Reese sighed. “I know you, Dylan, and I know your schedule. With the holiday Monday and everything else, it could be ages before there’s a hole. If we meet today, get that part over with, Marnie could start officially interviewing and such as early as next week. You already kind of know her, and you know I wouldn’t recommend her if I didn’t know she would be awesome—”

Marnie tried to interrupt. “Reese, I’ve got—”

“Really? You’re going to fight me over lunch? Jeez, I’ll even buy. I don’t know why you two are being so difficult when this is the perfect solution to everyone’s problems. An hour, you guys, that’s all I ask. Do you really have such pressing plans today that you can’t spare an hour for lunch?”

Marnie couldn’t figure out a way to say no, damn it. Reese knew full well that she didn’t have plans today because Marnie had told her just yesterday that she didn’t. She shot Dylan a pleading look, but he looked resigned to the inevitable. They were both being steamrolled, but it was impossible to fight because Reese did it with only the very best of intentions.

Reese took the silence for acquiescence. “Great. How about we meet at Vincent’s, say eleven o’clock?”

Although she frantically scrambled to find one, she had no reason to say no. “Okay.” Marnie tried to inject a little enthusiasm into her voice for Reese’s sake.

“Fine.” Dylan still sounded downright begrudging and Marnie wanted to throw something at him. She had to remind herself that Reese only had his best interests in mind, as well.

“Great. See you then. Bye!”

Marnie was left naked, leaning against a wall, holding a dead phone, staring down at the man she’d spent the night with—who, in addition to being the ex-fiancé of one of her dearest friends, was also going to interview her for a job in two hours.

This day was off to a very bad start.

And it was way too early to start drinking.

* * *

Dylan couldn’t tell if Marnie was on the verge of tears, hysteria, or murder.

When she closed her eyes and banged her head gently against the wall, muttering something to herself he couldn’t quite hear, he figured those three options were off the table.

Even so, Marnie was a tempting sight, blond hair rioting around flushed cheeks, all that creamy skin and those soft curves deliciously on display against the red brick walls of the apartment like a modern rendition of the Birth of Venus. As she continued to mutter, the possibility of her returning to bed for a proper wake-up seemed to be out of the question, as well, and he sent a stern memo to his body as he reached for his clothing.

Reese had lousy timing, that was for sure.

The movement brought Marnie’s attention back to him—and her lack of clothing, it seemed, as she disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a towel wrapped around her. “Reese will kill me if I cancel the meeting,” she said briskly. “You’re going to have to do it.”

“So Reese can kill me instead?”

“I simply cannot face her today. Not after...” Marnie’s face, already pink, deepened to scarlet. “I just can’t.”

“Just tell her you’re not interested in the job, and we don’t have to have lunch. End of whatever problem you’re having.” He found his shirt, righted the sleeves and shrugged into it. “Not that I understand this problem...”

“Of course you don’t.” Marnie sounded miserable and angry. He’d been able to piece together that Reese had asked her if she’d gone home with someone, and while he’d heard her protestations that she wasn’t “that kind of girl,” this reaction still seemed extreme.

If she’d just calm down... “Then explain it to me.”

“I owe Reese so much. If it weren’t for her, I’d probably still be in Savannah, the perfect helpmate and wifelet to some banker or doctor, running the church bake sale and bazaar every year.” Marnie began tidying up, talking more to herself than him now. “I owe her practically everything and now she’s even helping me job hunt again, and how do I pay her back? By sleeping with her fiancé, of course.”

Technically, they’d slept together before Reese decided to start headhunting, but it was a detail he didn’t think Marnie would appreciate right now. There was one detail, however, that did require correcting. “Ex-fiancé,” he reminded her. “And since she threw me over for Mason—”

All the color drained from Marnie’s face so quickly, he was sure she was about to faint. “Oh, God, I’m a revenge lay? Reese hurt your feelings so you sleep with one of her friends to slap back? And I just helped you hurt her.” She sat on the bed and ran her hands over her face. “I am a terrible, terrible person—”

“Whoa, there. You are way off base. First of all, I don’t need or want revenge on Reese. That never even crossed my mind, and even if it had, it’s a poor way to try to get back at someone. For God’s sake, Reese and I are over—”

“Oh, like that matters. Do you honestly think she’s not going to care that I slept with you?”

“I certainly hope not. I don’t get a say-so in her sex life anymore, so I don’t see where or why she’d get a say in mine.”