In Love and War Read online

  Chapter 4

  Ariela waited in the car while Dylan jogged up the path to the side yard. He let himself into a chain link enclosure and disappeared. At the sound of desperate barking, she leaned across the center console and braced her hand on the driver’s seat, trying to see what was happening out there. Unfortunately, the corner of the house blocked her view.

  Without warning, Max blew through the chain-link gate and sent it crashing against the fence while he dragged his master behind him. Dylan’s impossibly long strides seemed to defy the laws of nature. Every step was more like a leap, coming alarmingly close to actual splits. It looked both painful and comical. Then Max spotted Ariela. He ran around to the passenger side and jumped up, planting both front feet on her window and gave her a friendly woof. She was laughing when Dylan wrestled the dog to the back door.

  “Get in the back, you irritating animal,” he muttered.

  Smothering her giggles, she instantly sobered when Max bounded into the back and stuck his head between the front seats. He moved up Ariela’s arm, sniffing the entire way, before finally resting his chin on her shoulder. His hot, doggie breath steamed in her hair.

  “Good dog, nice dog.” She gave the top of his bony head an uneasy pat.

  Dylan climbed into the car and reached around, shoving Max’s muzzle back with one hand. It didn’t take. The golden set his chin right back on her shoulder again.

  “Sorry about that.” Dylan tried once more with the same result. Grinning sheepishly, he said, “Don’t worry. I have a trick up my sleeve.”

  Firing up the engine, he hit the power button on his door and opened the back window. All interest in Ariela evaporated and Max took up his position behind Dylan, facing into the wind as they pulled onto the street.

  While inside, Dylan had put on a blazer. He reached into the left-hand pocket and pulled something out.

  “Here, this is for you.” He dropped it onto her lap.

  Ariela picked up the lint roller, biting her lip with amusement.

  “It’s for your nice outfit,” he explained.

  “So I gathered. Did I mention how weird this date is?”

  He shot her a playful grin. “Once or twice. Still a good thing?”

  Ariela smiled. “It’s a very good thing.”

  ***

  They parked along Scenic Lake. Even in the dying light of evening, there was a lot of activity. Families and singles were riding their bikes on the trails. The skateboard park was full of kids and the sounds carried over the hum of slow-cruising traffic. Baby strollers were still very much a part of the scene, yet soon the path lights would switch on.

  Dylan carefully opened the back door, barely catching Max’s leash before the retriever could take off without them. In the space of time it took Dylan to lock the car, the dog must have felt the slack on the leash because he yanked his owner forward. Dylan made a desperate grab for Ariela’s hand. She held on tight, stumbling after them.

  Sparing her a quick glance, he apologized, “Didn’t mean to startle you, but I don’t want to get separated.”

  “Is that right?” She gave him a skeptical smile and left her hand where it was. “Your dog needs a little training.”

  “I agree.” They both averted their eyes as the retriever lifted his leg on the first tree he came to. “We’re still getting to know each other.”

  “Really?” Why did that surprise her? Dylan said he’d been out of the country. She was jerked out of her musings when Max hauled them to the next tree and sprinkled that one as well.

  “Yes. He was my grandmother’s dog, but he got too big for her to handle. I walked right into it when I came home. No one else was offering to take him, and since I have my own place with a fenced yard, it made sense." Dylan shrugged, his smile telling. "I don't really mind. I like the company.”

  His confession made her like him even more. “Looks like the feeling's mutual. What will you do with him while you're away?”

  “The vet recommended a kennel. I stopped to check it out—it’s pretty nice. Max is going to stay there. Aren’t you, Maxi?” His mushy tone got the retriever all worked up. Dylan chuckled and continued. “When I get back at the end of the week, we’ll look into obedience classes.”

  “You’ll both probably get a lot out of it.” Ariela smiled and skipped over a crack.

  “Let’s hope.”

  They crossed the grass to reach the lower path skirting the shoreline and Max slowed to a more comfortable lope.

  “Look at that,” murmured Ariela, admiring the moon coming up over the water. It cast a haunting, beautiful reflection.

  He fell quiet, lost in thought for a moment while he studied it. “Next week, when I’m halfway around the world, I’ll still be looking at that moon.”

  “But it’s different.”

  Pondering what she said, he shook his head. “The distance and time zones, perhaps, but there are constants in this wide universe of ours that don’t change. That’s one of them.”

  They waited while Max sniffed around an overgrown bush and lifted his leg.

  Dylan took that opportunity to ask, “Can I e-mail you while I’m gone?”

  “Yes, I’ll give you my address when you drop me off tonight.”

  Max pulled them back to the present and onto the path. They had to rein him in when he saw a couple with a pug coming from the opposite direction. The vicious little dog barked, straining to run at Max. The baffled retriever paused, his wagging tail frozen in midair as he looked at the other animal. Clearly, all he wanted to do was greet the little dog and share a friendly sniff. The man didn’t allow it. He scooped up his snarling pet and gave Dylan and Ariela a curt nod before he and his wife strode away, noses in the air.

  Turning in offense, Ariela stared after them. “That was frosty.”

  Dylan misunderstood her, assuming she meant the animal, not the couple. “Little dogs have more to prove, don’t they, Max?” He playfully rubbed the golden's ears and Max pepped right up, the hostility already forgotten.

  They were three quarters of the way around the lake when Ariela began to shiver.

  Dylan noticed when she hugged herself. He tugged Max to a stop. “Here, take my coat.”

  “No. Then you’ll be cold.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I do.”

  “Women.” Shaking his head, he raised his arm, one eyebrow arched in challenge. “Then tuck in next to me.”

  Five seconds was all she gave herself to consider the offer before she snaked her arm under Dylan’s blazer and around his waist. He pulled his jacket over her as best he could and snugged her against his warm side. It was a good fit.

  “Better?” Based on his smile, he knew the answer.

  “Much.”

  “I should have thought of it sooner.”

  “I wouldn’t have accepted it sooner. My grandmother would not approve.”

  Nodding, he gave Ariela a squeeze. “Over dinner you mentioned you were raised by your grandmother. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “Maybe another time.”

  “Okay.”

  She liked that he backed off and didn’t push her.

  ***

  They drove Max home first then continued on to Ariela’s. Pulling into the empty parking space behind the house, Dylan cut the engine. Would she ask him in? He hoped so.

  She didn’t disappoint. “Would you like to come up?”

  “What about your roommate?”

  “Jean’s out tonight.”

  Sweet!

  “Wait there.” He hopped out of the car and came around to open her door.

  Ariela graciously accepted his hand when she got out. Her self–conscious laugh was cute as hell.

  “I feel pampered. I’m not used to gallant gestures from my dates.”

  “It’s a standard service when you sign on to the Dylan Bond plan.” That earned another soft chuckle. He could get used to those.

  The motion lights flashed on as they walked to t
he back stoop. Ariela fumbled with her keys in the lock, but then the door swung open and she stepped inside. He followed.

  Dylan had no complaints as he climbed the stairs behind her. He had a perfect view of her tempting little ass. If anything, he was struggling with the urge to dive right into her, face first. There was something very appealing about getting up close and personal with a woman’s derriere, pressing your lips against the sexy dimple that set off the top of her pretty bottom. Of course, it was best not to mention those kinds of impulses at the beginning of a relationship.

  Ariela turned just inside her apartment door and flicked on the lights. “I think there’s beer in the fridge. You interested?”

  Loaded question. Better play it straight. “What kind?”

  “Ron likes his Guinness.”

  “A Guinness would be great.” And who the hell is Ron?

  “Good. Sit down. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

  Dylan sank onto the Jetsons’ funky, teal sofa and waited.

  “Do you want it in a glass?” she called.

  “Please—but I’ll pour it.”

  She returned, carrying two bottles and one glass. He smiled as she handed one to him, and he took his time pouring the stout. Noticing how amused she was by his careful technique, he explained, “You have to understand, this isn’t just alcohol—a six-pack to slam while you munch cheese puffs and watch the game—but rather the result of years of masterful devotion to a craft. Think of it as a fine wine, with many levels of enjoyment possible. You have the nose, the rich color, and finally the complex flavors on the tongue. It would be an insult to the brewer to drink it like swill.”

  Admiring the contents of his glass first, he savored the first swallow.

  ***

  Being witness to that kind of pleasure felt downright indecent. Ariela could feel herself blushing all the way to her roots. She tipped back her bottle of juice, hiding behind it, but he noticed her embarrassment anyway. His smile was infectious and her lips spread against the mouth of her clear bottle.

  “I love your blush,” he told her. “Very cute. Come on.” He patted the cushion next to him. “Have a seat.”

  Ariela lowered the bottle, but not the corners of her mouth, and sank slowly beside him.

  He set his glass on the end table then turned with a request. “Forgive me?”

  “For what?” she asked, mildly alarmed.

  “For this.”

  He reached out and captured her face in his hands, then moved in. Ariela stopped breathing, held spellbound by how the intense blue of his eyes deepened even more as he closed the distance. When the brush of his lips came, it was so gentle, so right. They both smiled without disconnecting.

  Ariela fumbled to put her juice on the floor without spilling it. Dylan helped her out. He took it and set it next to his glass.

  “You know,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “I wouldn’t be offended if you felt like touching me too,” Then his hand was back, caressing her face, her cheek, tracing her jaw and throat. “If I touch you where it hurts, let me know, okay?” he murmured against her ear.

  She shuddered at the heat of his breath on her sensitive skin, yet somehow managed to nod. She wanted to stretch under Dylan’s hands like a cat, almost as much as she wanted to run hers all over him. Her hands made the decision for her, pressing against his chest and feeling the shape of him under his shirt. His nipples tightened beneath her palms and she pressed them with the heels of her hands. But there was more, so much more she needed to explore so she moved on, riding over his collarbone, curling over his shoulders, and sending her fingers into the silky hair at the nape of his neck. They moved together, their lips meeting and retreating, cautiously tasting until he finally stopped the nonsense. His next kiss was relentless—hungry and demanding. He coaxed her lips apart and thrust his tongue inside. Her head swimming, her body pliant, Ariela moaned, drunk on the subtle taste of Guinness on his breath.

  Somehow Dylan managed to shed his jacket without breaking the kiss. When his hands found her body again, they were so hot they could have ironed cotton. She gripped his hair, her knuckles pressing against his scalp as she held on tight, drinking desperately from his lips as if he truly was that canteen she’d pictured during dinner.

  Her prediction he’d be one hell of a kisser was dead accurate. He knew exactly where and how to touch a woman. When they broke apart, they were both panting for air, shaken, and stunned. The last thing Ariela expected to see were her own confused emotions flashing across Dylan’s face.

  “I think I’d better go.” He wrenched away from her. “I want to leave you with a good opinion of me. That’s not going to happen if I stay.”

  Nice to know she wasn’t the only one impossibly aroused. She walked him to the door and they stared at each other, both still susceptible to the powerful pull, buzzing like electricity, between them.

  “My e-mail,” she reminded him, feeling as weak as she sounded.

  “Tomorrow. Give it to me tomorrow. I really need to go—now—or I won’t be able to leave. I’m sorry.” He fled, pulling the door closed behind him.

  Stunned, Ariela waited, listening as his car drove off. She’d been so wrapped up in the moment, she hadn’t even recognized how dangerously close she’d come to tossing away her principles in a moment of sexual haze. It was good he’d left. She wasn’t a casual-sex kind of person, and to her relief, neither was Dylan, apparently.

  Five minutes later, her telephone rang. Ariela hurried out of the bathroom with her toothbrush in hand, a frothy mint rim circling her lips. She picked up, assuming it was Jean. It wasn’t.

  “I’m closing in on six months here,” Dylan explained without preface.

  Ariela blinked in surprise. “Pardon?”

  “I haven’t had sex in six months. My self-control was pretty strained when I bolted. I was ready to pin you to your couch like a butterfly in a bug collection.” He caught his breath, as if he’d been running. “I just thought you should know. It’s not a rejection, far from it.”

  Relieved, she smiled. “Thanks. I wondered. Six months?”

  “Just about.” There was a pause on his end before he added, “There were opportunities. But they weren’t offers I was willing to follow up on, if you get my drift. Besides, until recently, I’ve been on the fly for so long, relationship sex was out.”

  “I think I understand.”

  “Good. I just thought you should know.”

  “I can beat you by two months," she told him with a slow smile.

  “Seriously? Eight months?”

  “Much to my chagrin. I sort of lapsed back with an old boyfriend for convenience’s sake, but after two days, I remembered why I found him so irritating in the first place.”

  He laughed. “I think we both need to work on this. Why don’t we discuss it more tomorrow? I’ll give you a call after eleven, if that’s okay with you.”

  “I’ll pencil you in.”

  His chuckle deepened her grin. “Sleep well, Ariela.”

  “Fat chance now.” She hung up to the sound of his laughter.

  Chapter 5

  Ariela shuffled into the kitchen Saturday morning and found Jean already at the table having her morning toast and coffee.

  She was just about to take a sip when she snorted at the sight of Ariela and had to set down her cup or spill. Looking up with a grin, she asked, “Rough night? That’s some impressive bed hair. Should I get my camera?”

  “Ha ha. I’m a little rumpled. Get over it.”

  “How’s your head?”

  Ariela stifled a yawn. “Better. When did you get home?” She headed over to the stove and lifted the kettle, shaking it to gauge how much water was in it before turning on the burner.

  “Two hours ago. Ron wanted to get to the garage early so he’d be done by four. We’re going to a comedy club tonight—catch a little dinner first.”

  While Ariela set up her bowl of instant oatmeal, Jean returned for
a refill on coffee. She kindly poured a cup for Ariela as well and slid it down the counter to her.

  “Looks like you could use it.”

  “Thanks.” Ariela let out a deep groan at her first swallow of the day.

  Returning to her seat, Jean pointed to the plate on the table. “There’s toast if you’re interested.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  By Ariela’s third bite, her brain had finally booted up. She stopped eating and frowned at Jean. “Why did you say you’re home?”

  “Ron wanted to get to work early, and I didn’t want to hang around his place.” The shrill whistle of the kettle make both women jump. Laughing at herself, Jean said, “Stay put. I’ve got it.” A minute later she set the steaming bowl down in front of Ariela with the spoon already in it. “There you go. But you can stir your own oatmeal.” Jean dropped back onto her chair and picked up her mug. “So, I never got to ask you about that guy yesterday. When I came back upstairs later you were zonked out.”

  Ariela felt her cheeks heat.

  Jean’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? What am I missing?”

  “We went out to dinner last night.”

  “You did not!”

  Her eyes cast down, Ariela licked her spoon clean. “Did too. He called and asked me out. He said he was going to call. I just didn’t expect it so soon.”

  “And?”

  “And…” said Ariela, slowly carving swirls into her cereal, “I had such a great time.” Looking up, she made a scary and heartfelt confession. “I felt like Cinderella, you know—when she goes out, expecting to have a nice time, and she’s still blown away?”

  Jean’s mouth dropped open. “No kidding?”

  Ariela nodded. “He…is…something.” Erasing the swirls with the back of her spoon, she started over. “Dylan has table manners too. You know how much I value those.”

  Jean sighed and rolled her hand impatiently, coaxing Ariela to go on.

  “He’s a journalist, so he’s been everywhere. He had me laughing most of the time.” Then Ariela’s eyes went soft. “Oh Jean, he’s so nice. I mean, so, so nice.”