She couldn’t breathe. Dear God, she was an idiot. She’d thought he wasn’t getting the message she was interested, and that was all that was holding them in this pattern. She’d never thought for a moment that this was exactly what he wanted.
And he would never want more.
Somehow, she’d managed to turn into her mother, and they weren’t even dating. She’d be a thousand times more pathetic if they ever became a couple and he continued emulating his womanizing father as he was certain he’d do. A humorless laugh echoed in her head. What a pair they’d be, each of them repeating their parents’ mistakes.
No thank you. Not now, not ever.
Alyssa closed her eyes and demanded they stop watering for no damn reason. She didn’t have the right to feel like she’d lost him. She’d never had him to begin with, and apparently, she never would.
After making a hasty excuse and promise to “be right back,” she gathered their empty plates and took them into the kitchen. She blotted the waterlines of her eyes with the backs of her fingers and sniffed any irrational emotions back into her nostrils.
As she worked on clearing the counters, her mind raced. She needed to get over him, and fast. She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous thought. Like she hadn’t tried doing just that every time he brought someone else home the last couple of years. Contrarily, Alyssa couldn’t remember the last time she’d went on a date or was even interested in another man.
Alyssa was so engrossed in her own thoughts, she almost dropped the plastic container of leftover coq au vin when he called out from the other room, “You need help in there?”
“No, I’m just putting a couple things away,” she said, praying he wouldn’t come in. “I’ll be right back.”
She closed the door of the fridge and saw her collection of book-cover magnets staring back at her. The amount of money she spent on her romance novels alone was a staggering example of her attempts to replace thoughts of Dillon with fantasies of hundreds of book boyfriends. Unfortunately, a fictitious character in black typeset was hardly competition for the living, breathing man currently in her living room.
Too bad those sexy heroes didn’t appear while she was reading. She’d bet her chances of forgetting her best friend would be a hell of a lot better in the strong arms of one of those hotties.
Hello, lightbulb. A smile curved her lips as an idea formed. That’s exactly what she needed. A hero to help her get over this one-sided crush, once and for all. A hero with abs so defined she could body surf them all night long, and a smile so perfect that Dillon’s rather endearing lopsided grin would fade in comparison.
And it just so happened she was going to a romance-novel convention that would be filled with men who fit that very description. Okay, so they weren’t really heroes, but they played them in photo shoots.
Her solution could be summed up in two words.
Cover. Models.
Alyssa grinned as a new plan took shape. She’d already planned to sin while in Vegas. Hell, she even had the wardrobe for it. So now all she had to do was put it to good use…and hook herself a cover model for a steamy, no-strings-attached tryst.
Yes, this would work.
She would get over this childhood crush in one hot weekend with another man, and then she and Dillon could go back to their regularly scheduled program. He could stick with his bimbos, and Alyssa wouldn’t have to develop stomach cramps as each Friday drew near, wondering who the lucky girl would be this week. It was a perfect plan, born of desperation and determination, and it could not fail.
Because if it did… Then this had to end.
Either she finally kicked this one-sided crush, or she’d have to make the even more painful decision to move and cut all ties with her best friend. She really saw no other choice. Because ending up ten years from now just like her mom, pining for a man who would never love her back, was not an option.
And who knows, maybe this hot cover model would fall madly in love with her, follow her back to Longmont, and she could spend her Friday nights kissing his washboard abs, ridge by glorious ridge. Stranger things have happened, right? With a nod to herself, she rejoined Dillon in the living room.
“What’s with the goofy grin, Aly-gator?” Dillon tipped his bottle up and took a swig of his beer. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.”
“Do I?” Alyssa brought her feet up and tucked her knees to her chest. She tried to affect a facade of innocence but knew she failed miserably.
“Yeah,” he said, “you do. And I know something’s definitely up because every time you think I’m not looking you’re pouring yourself more wine. So spill it.”