Claimed by the Rebel: The Playboy's Plain Jane / The Loner's Guarded Heart / Moonlight and Roses. Jackie BraunЧитать онлайн книгу.
Katie, every single one of them seemed to slide Dylan the most appreciative of glances, and he seemed way more distracted by the toys than by any of those glances. He didn’t even seem to notice that he was on the receiving end of rapt gazes, some that were shy, some that were openly inviting.
Some of those women looked at him as if he were a piece of art, to be admired but not touched, others let the heat of their thoughts right into their eyes, the sudden sway of their hips. It reminded her that he was the playboy and she was the plain Jane. That she was allowing herself to be sucked into a fantasy, to entertain the illusion that she and Dylan and Jake were just an ordinary little family, out shopping for toys.
For a man who had claimed to be easily distracted, he didn’t even seem notice the female kafuffle he was generating. He seemed seriously and sincerely engrossed in trying out the remote-control helicopter, punching the bounce-back rubber clown, tossing the foam basketballs through the hoop that had been set up. At the basketball hoops, she was almost certain he was showing off for her.
She was overtaken by a feeling of wanting to let her guard down and just give in to liking him, enjoying him, feeling compatible with him. Within moments he had her laughing, and feeling light inside. She had seen his most secret side. She had seen the side of him that tempered his phenomenal strength with equally phenomenal tenderness, she had seen the part of him that was patient, she had seen the part that was laughter filled and joyous.
Back in the car now stuffed with their purchases, Dylan contemplated his nephew’s indifference to the toys, and the new sumo wrestler hold he had on Katie.
“SHE,” Jake announced, as she strapped him into the car seat. He watched the two adults on the curb.
“He’s getting ready to throw himself into a prizewinning tantrum if you leave,” Dylan deduced.
“You’re going to have to deal with that sooner or later,” she said firmly, though she didn’t think in his car, dealing with the steadily building rush hour traffic, would be a good place for him to do it.
“A puppy!” Dylan announced with a snap of his fingers. “I’ll get him a puppy. And then drive you back to work.”
“Dylan, we have already established the fact that you cannot even be trusted with a plant. A puppy?”
“I’ll bet once he has a puppy he won’t even notice you’re gone.”
And would Dylan notice she was gone once he had a puppy to engage himself? Probably not.
She slid him a look. Was he trying to get rid of her? Did he sense, as she did, something deepening around them, a force gathering, beckoning, whispering?
Follow me. Come.
Her heart was calling. It was an ancient calling, not so much words as feeling, instinct, drive. But following the voice of the heart was no matter to be taken lightly. Some choices were momentous, they had the potential to change everything, forever. Was he feeling that, too? Could he feel that they were standing on the precipice of choosing heart over logic, over mind? Was he trying to get away from that choice?
As if to answer her, Dylan began fishing through one of his shopping bags. He found and unwrapped a pingpong ball attached to a paddle, and began to play with it, trying to distract Jake. He appeared to be the man least likely to be listening for the ancient language of the heart.
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