San Amaro Singles: Slammed Part 22

"It wasn't because they were bugging you to find someone. Was it...were you trying to make Corey jealous?"

His mouth dropped open. "Good Christ, no!" He shook his head. "Why would she be jealous over me? She's in love with Matt."

"Okay. Not trying to make her jealous, exactly." She laid down her own fork and stared at the toast on her plate. "But it was because of that you wanted someone there with you. Right?"

"Well. Yeah."

"You should have told me that."

"Why? What difference did it make? I was honest about it just helping me out. Not being real."

"Yes." Her heart contracted. "You were. I just wish I'd known that you..." She stopped. She didn't look up at him. "I just wish I'd known."

"It doesn't make any difference to us."

She closed her eyes, her chest hurting so bad. Last night had been incredible-the wedding, afterward at her place, the amazing s.e.x, even this morning...up until the moment he told her he'd slept with Corey Ferber and had wanted her to go to France with him on the tour.

She wasn't jealous. She was just p.i.s.sed off that she hadn't known, that she'd been made to feel foolish all those times they'd been with Matt and Corey, and she'd had no f.u.c.king clue that Dylan had apparently had pretty strong feelings for Corey. That Dylan and Matt and Corey had all slept together in a fun threesome.

That thought made her stomach heave.

"Okay," she said opening her eyes with a bright smile. "You're right, it doesn't make any difference. Now, I'd better get going or I'll be late for work and you need to meet with Brett."

He didn't move for a moment, just looked at her, a faint crease between his eyebrows. "Yeah. I guess so."

"Just put the dishes in the sink," she continued, sliding off her stool. She reached for her cell phone where it was charging and dropped it into her purse. She slid her feet into her pumps while he gathered up the rest of his clothes.

"So I'll see you Wednesday?" he reminded her as she locked her door behind them.

"I'll be there!" She paused, wanting only to get away from him in case her emotions broke free and she made a complete fool of herself. But if she wouldn't see him again until after his heat... Her heart squeezed. "Good luck, Dylan," she said seriously. She went on her toes and gave him a kiss on the mouth. "You'll do great."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up against him in a tight hug and her throat ached as he pressed his face to her hair. Dammit.

"Thanks," he murmured. Then he released her and she had to drag her eyes off him to climb into her car.

She held herself together until she was in her office and alone, sitting there at her desk staring blindly at her computer screen.

It shouldn't have surprised her. After all, the first time she'd seen Dylan since high school, she'd walked in on him with two other girls. She'd heard the rumors of his wild escapades, including s.e.xual ones. The fact that he and Matt and Corey had done that should not be a surprise.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly surprise that she was feeling.

She wasn't even sure what it was she was feeling. Disturbed. Very disturbed. Foolish. Angry. The way her chest ached made her think she was hurt, but why would that be? Just because she and Dylan seemed to have something between them, the way he'd taken charge as they left the wedding...what had he said? "From now on, s.h.i.+t gets real, babe. Let's not play games."

That had made her think what was happening between them was real. Big mistake.

He was a player. He'd slept with his best friend's girlfriend.

She gave a sharp tap to her keyboard to bring the computer to life and opened her email program. She had work to do. She couldn't sit here all day pouting about Dylan Sch.e.l.l.

What had that all been about, them thanking him for G.o.d's sake? How did that work? She shook her head, then leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling. That was messed up.

Corey seemed so nice and normal, and so in love with her new husband. She certainly didn't seem like a trampy, s.e.xy siren who guys were falling all over themselves to be with, a girl so s.e.xy she ended up in bed with two guys. Imagined scenes flashed through Brooke's mind, of Corey and Matt and Dylan-gah! She sat up straight and fiercely rubbed her eyes, as if to erase the images. Don't even go there!

Why was this bothering her so much? She'd seen Dylan with two other girls, all of them naked, for G.o.d's sake, and that hadn't disturbed her nearly as much as hearing about this. Was it because he'd wanted Corey to go with him on the tour? Ouch. Yeah, that stung a bit.

"Hey Brooke. Have you got the consumer research and sales data for the launch of Jolt?"

She looked up to see Tim. She blinked. Get it together, woman.

"Yes. Right here. I was doing some a.n.a.lysis on the data for the launch plan." They were launching a new male fragrance, Jolt. She handed the file to him, and with a smile and thanks, he backed out of her office.

Once more she sank back into her chair. She began to put things together into a more complete picture, although a lot of the puzzle pieces were missing. Dylan's reluctance to come back to San Amaro now made more sense. He'd been trying to avoid the wedding, not just because his friends thought he should settle down, but because he'd slept with the bride. Maybe because he didn't want to see them get married.

Obviously he'd had pretty deep feelings for Corey. Curiosity burned inside her about what all had happened between them. Clearly he'd only given her minimal information about the whole thing. It confused her. And G.o.ddammit, it made her ache and want to cry.

She leaned forward and dropped her forehead to her desk. Flerkinschmidt! She was falling in love with him.

That could not happen. It had to be back to business for them, business and nothing but business. She had a job to do and Dylan did too, his job being to win a compet.i.tion. And in less than a week, that would be over and he'd be flying off to Brazil, and if she'd successfully kept him out of trouble, her boss would be happy and she'd be on track for moving into a management position. That was all she had to worry about.

Chapter Eighteen.

The bleachers had been set up since last weekend, but only now when the senior men's qualifying rounds began were they filling up with people. The weather was cooperating, with cloudless blue skies that almost hurt to look at, the ocean an equally blinding blue, tossed into decent waves by the wind.

White tents had been set up along the beach, home to all kinds of vendors of food, clothing, jewelry, sungla.s.ses and a hundred other things. At the end of the beach, the stage sat empty right now, but later on there'd be a fas.h.i.+on show and at four thirty the first of the headliner bands would take the stage to rock the beach.

Crowds meandered along the sand, girls in tiny bikinis, ripped guys in low-slung board shorts, everyone wearing sungla.s.ses and a sheen of sunscreen on tanned skin, music pulsing in the background.

Dylan grinned. This was so familiar to him, it felt like home, and he loved it. He soaked up the atmosphere, the sound of the waves a backdrop to voices talking and laughing and the chords of "Party Rock Anthem" blasting from some giant speakers; the briny scent of the ocean mingled with coconut sunscreen and from somewhere, the smell of popcorn. The sun warmed the sand beneath his bare feet and his face as he turned it up to the sky. He held his board beneath his arm and s.h.i.+fted from one foot to the other as he waited for his scores. Adrenaline still surged in his veins from the run he'd just had.

It had been radical.

He didn't even need to know the score to know how he'd done.

He'd sat outside, waiting, everything still around him, watching the rolling water swell all the way to the horizon, and then he'd felt it move beneath him and he was ready. He'd latched onto that wave, sensing the movement of the water, antic.i.p.ating where he was going, surefooted and steady. He'd felt like he was flying out there, like he was one with the waves, like he could do no wrong. Inside a wave, he'd experienced that strange effect of being perfectly still on the water even as he was tearing across it, an oxymoron of speeding stasis.

When his score was announced, easily qualifying him for the next round, another broad grin broke out across his face and he waved to the cheering crowd. Cheering for him.

More adrenaline rushed through him, his heart pumping, his muscles twitching, and he found himself searching through the sea of faces for Brooke. Where was she? He'd only caught a glimpse of her earlier, but he knew she was there somewhere.

There were Matt and Corey, and he gave a wave to them, watching them lift their arms above their head to applaud, smiles stretched across their faces too.

Dylan hugged Brett and Elroy, and began the trudge through the sand. He needed to find Brooke. But before he could get very far, a microphone was thrust in front of his face and he found himself being interviewed by half a dozen reporters.

He pushed back his impatience to see Brooke and flashed smiles, threw out some lines about his run. "Yeah, it was fun out there, today," he said, shoving his wet hair back off his face. "The waves are fun, it's pretty consistent. I saw some barrels before my heat so I wanted to find some, and find some air. The wind is perfect for the airs."

It seemed to take forever, even though he never minded talking to the media. Hey, what was more fun to talk about than surfing, especially when it was going well? But he found his attention drifting, his gaze sliding away to search for Brooke, and he had to give himself a mental slap on the back of the head and focus.

When he finally managed to break free of the reporters, he was surrounded by girls, gorgeous, half-naked, tanned girls in bikinis and sungla.s.ses. Jesus.

He almost laughed at himself, at how uninterested he was in them when only a month ago he would have been in heaven surrounded by a bevy of s.e.xy chicks. When he spied Matt and Corey making their way across the sand toward him, he excused himself to the girls. "I gotta go talk to my friends, ladies. Catch you later."

"Hey dude," Matt said. "Great run."

"Thanks. Hey, you guys seen Brooke?"

Corey grinned. "Looking for your girl already?"

Dylan grimaced. "Yeah. She's here somewhere. I'm gonna get out of this wet suit and then check out the VIP Lounge."

"Okay. When's your next heat?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. Five o'clock."

"We'll be back to cheer you on."

Dylan paused. Emotion tightened his chest. He slapped a hand onto Matt's shoulder and squeezed. "Thanks, man. That means a lot to me."

"I'm sure you have tons of people cheering for you everywhere you go," Corey said, glancing at the girls who'd ambushed him moments ago.

"Well, yeah." They laughed and he grinned too. "I'm not bragging, it's the truth. But seriously, it means a lot more when it's your friends here for you." Christ, he was getting all sappy.

"And Brooke," Corey added.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"Go find her," she said. "We'll talk to you later."

"Come up to the VIP Lounge," Dylan said. "I'll get you in."

"I have a pa.s.s," Matt said. "We're one of the sponsors. They're stocked up with our beer."

"Well s.h.i.+t, yeah, I should've known that. Okay, I'll see you up there."

He quickly changed into his usual baggy knee-length shorts and a loose Hawaiian print s.h.i.+rt and headed to the VIP lounge constructed on the second level of the ma.s.sive tent on the beach. When he walked in, he scanned the room for Brooke. He did a double take at seeing the Beckhams there, schmoozing with Adam Levine and a blonde girl...hey, wasn't that Wayne Gretzky's daughter?

He spotted executives from the big sponsors and then Matt and Corey and-yes!-Brooke stood there talking to them too, along with the bigwigs from ICON, the big entertainment company that put on the event. He made his way through the crowd, but people kept stopping him to say hi and congratulate him. h.e.l.l, he hadn't won yet. This was early in the compet.i.tion, but he accepted the good wishes with smiles and handshakes and paused to say a few words to the people he knew he should.

"Hey Dylan." Jancy Barnes stepped in front of him and laid a hand on his arm, her smile wide and friendly. "Haven't seen you since Fiji."

He smiled. Jancy was a good kid, a talented surfer with a promising future. They'd hung out a few times on the tour. He gave her a hug. "Hey yourself. How're you doing, babe?"

"Great." They chatted about their heats and Jancy introduced him to her friend Tiffany, another cute tanned blonde.

"It's so awesome to meet you!" Tiffany gushed, shaking his hand and beaming up at him.

Then he paused to talk to Heath Marlow, his main rival in this compet.i.tion, the man he was determined to beat. But Heath was a good guy and they could shoot the s.h.i.+t and hang out with each other and still be compet.i.tors. Deuce and Jimmy, both from Australia, joined them as they talked.

Finally he made it to the group where Brooke stood, and he positioned himself beside her. The others greeted him immediately and included him in the conversation. Brooke glanced up at him with a professional smile and said, "Congratulations, Dylan."

"Thanks." He smiled into her eyes, but she immediately looked away. h.e.l.l. He'd been hoping for a bit more reaction from her than that. Maybe he needed to get her alone.

"I was just telling Matt and Corey how lovely their wedding was," she said.

Why did her voice sound funny, kind of strained?

"Yeah, it was nice," he agreed. "Lots of fun."

"Thanks," Corey said. "That's what we wanted."

They continued to make small talk about the event, and when he had the opportunity Dylan looked back at Brooke. "I'm gonna get something to eat and drink. Would you like something?"

"I'm okay, thanks."

He tightened his jaw. "Oh come on. Come with me and see what there is." And he firmly drew her away from the crowd.

"I already ate," she said in a low voice, still smiling that tight smile.

"I just want to talk to you for a few minutes," he said. "Without everyone else there."

"Talk about what?"

He paused. "Um. I thought...well, never mind." He thought she might have more to say than just "congratulations" but, okay, whatever. "I wanted to see you. Did you watch the heat?"

"Yes, I watched from here. Great view."

"True that." He paused. "So what've they got to eat here?" He steered her toward the long table laden with food.

"All kinds of things."

"I'm starving." He always ate light before he competed. "And I'll grab myself a bottle of Gatorade."

"I'll get it for you." She moved away from him toward the bar where all kinds of drinks, both alcoholic and non-, were being served by s.e.xy bartenders.

He watched her, something settling inside him like a stone in his gut. She was so pretty, her long brown hair loose and s.h.i.+ny down her back, wearing a yellow sundress with tiny straps that showed off a lot of her smooth gold skin. But she didn't seem very pleased to see him or very excited by how well he'd done.

He started loading a plate up with shrimp and chicken fingers and raw veggies, and she returned with his bottled drink. "Thanks," he said. "Sure you don't want something?"

"I'm sure." She flashed another smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I thought you might sit with Corey and Matt to watch."

Her eyes flickered and the corners of her mouth tightened. "I had to come up here and act as hostess on behalf of Jackson Cole."