Talk about a show stopper.
“Well, now I can breathe again,” he drawls, grinning down at me. “Name’s Dillon, and I am most definitely all too pleased to make your acquaintance.”
I laugh and step away, feeling out of sorts and jittery all of a sudden. Is this what it feels like to be attracted to a guy? I mean… But no, I am definitely attracted to Devon, have been for years, and this feels nothing like that.
All I’m feeling is a small amount of amusement and quiet, friendly interest. There are no butterflies or happy nerves. All I feel is…friendly affection.
Damn.
Why though? Dillon is hot, I mean seriously hot, and he’s got a big, open smile that makes me want to smile right back, but…I dunno, I’m not all tingly and breathless, I’m not thinking of what to say not to make a fool of myself, and I am most definitely not thinking about what’s under those jeans and his white shirt, even though I suspect any red-blooded female in my position would.
Bummer.
“Becky,” I say, holding out my hand for him to take. “So what are you doing here, Dillon?” I ask, pulling my hand away to scan the gate again.
Still no Devon.
“I’m here to get my little sister, Mags. She’s coming home from college, and I thought her big brother should take her out before the parents get their claws into her poor hide again.”
His tone makes me laugh, and I relax, reminding myself that being hit on by a gorgeous man is not a bad thing. I’m a little dumpy and what I would consider plain, so this is most assuredly a new experience for me. I should enjoy it, not look around for a way to fob him off gently.
“Big brother, huh? I have many of those creatures in my life, and as far as I recall they live to torment little sisters,” I tease, casting another quick glance at the gate.
“Huh, well, I can’t say you aren’t wrong, but the little darlin’ has spent the last four years cooped up in a dorm with nothing but her books. It’s time for her to live a little.”
Damn, now I’m a little jealous. I’d spent four years being managed by my over-protective siblings, and the last two being managed as well.
My brothers even take turns coming up every three months to check things out and make sure I’m ‘safe’.
“So, you live around here?”
‘Here’ being Georgia, which is big, so I should have been more specific, but truth is I really don’t care that much. Huh.
“Yeah.” He laughs, tweaking a curl that’s fallen over my shoulder. “We should go out some time, ya know—”
“Rebecca?”
My body goes hot and cold at the sound of that cultured accent, and I feel a blush spread over my skin, heating me up in a way I wish the tall, teasing Dillon could have.
What’s the use of getting all hot and bothered for a guy who doesn’t even know you exist most of the time? He’s so…intense, and…he’s a playboy, I keep telling myself as I take a deep breath and turn, willing myself not to blush or start stammering the moment I see those blonde locks and gray eyes.
“Devon.”
The name is a breathy whisper of sound that makes my lips tingle and the jittering start low in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t allowed myself to even think his name since the last tabloid article had shown him smiling down at a reed-thin, leggy blonde who’d looked air brushed, she’d been so perfect.
Blech.
Yesterday had been the first time I’d so much as thought his name in years, and yet here I stand, feeling every bit the gauche, plump girl I’ve always been in his presence.
Those gray eyes hold mine for a second before going over my shoulder, the slight smile that had played there hardening when he spots Dillon and the hand still resting at my hip.
“I don’t believe I’ve made your acquaintance,” he says, his eyes trained on the hand that now feels like it’s burning a hole through my flesh.
“Oh, hey man, I’m Dillon, Dillon Johnson. Becky here was just about to agree to a date, ain’t that right, gorgeous?”
No! I want to scream that I am so not even interested in the tall, hot hunk beside me and prostrate myself at his feet in payment for a betrayal that shouldn’t exist, that I really shouldn’t feel, considering I don’t really exist as a whole person to this man. But I can’t.
I do have some pride, after all, and for the first time ever I’m desirable to someone and not just plain little Becky, the kid who’d spent half the summer following him around like a loser.
“Uh, yeah. Let me give you my number and you can call me,” I say, my voice a high-pitched squeak as I fiddle with my phone, ignoring the man beside me.