Page 60 of I Want to Know What Love Is

“Hell you did—you encouraged it you little minx. And you did that Animal Rescue ad thing with him. What was that about?”

“Dumb luck. They wanted someone from the PSU staff and—”

“They asked for the most gorgeous lady they could find. I know Jones got the part because of his sponsorship deal.” He snorts and I can feel the animosity, possibly jealousy, possibly resentment for someone who got an opportunity that wasn’t available to him. “Whatever. He got the part, but I got the lady. Glad you shut him down.”

“It was nothing to begin with.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand and I work hard not to cringe and pull back, not to dart a glance at Dylan to see if he’s looking, hoping he doesn’t see this because it’s killing my heart. I can feel the disintegration, the slow painful dissolution of the center of my being, the beat of my life.

I pull my hand from his the instant I feel the burn of Dylan’s eyes on me. Darting a quick glance, I see I’m right.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” I smile and lift the glass of wine to my mouth to hide my face or any telling expression because I’m out of control, and to take yet another fortifying sip. “Excuse me a minute. I need to use the lady’s room.”

Kevin smiles, oblivious to my discomfort. His lack of a clue is a blessing and a curse. Life would be so much easier if he were more perceptive, if he got me, if he were not lost, more complicated or interesting or generous of spirit or any one of a million little and large things that make Dylan Jones the man I’m falling for and not Kevin Ryan.

Standing, I pat his hand, hoping he’ll recognize it as friendly comfort and no more, and I walk toward the restrooms in the back of the crowded space, finally disappearing from Kevin’s view. But not from Dylan’s view. It’s a miracle I don’t beg him with my eyes to follow me. Because I want to see him, talk to him, be in his company with every fiber of my being. Silly woman. Stupid girl.

It's easy to avoid Dooley and his camera crew as I find my way to the rest room, because he’s keying in on Heather and Dylan dancing cheek-to-cheek and it looks so real, like they’re a lot more than friends. I watch for a shameless moment and suck in a breath when his eyes flicker to mine, and I see the longing in them.

But the music ends, the dance breaks up and the camera crew and others surround him, swallowing him and his date in a frenzy of attention. That look was as close as I’ll get to communicating with him. I’d tell myself that’s a good thing, but I can’t lie to myself anymore. All I can say is it’s the way it has to be because I need my career, I need to keep away from the most high-profile student on campus to avoid a scandal of epic proportions.

When I come out of the lady’s room door, I stop short. Dylan is standing there. The sight of him, his presence, his energy, knocks the breath from me.

“What are you doing?” My heart thuds and he takes me by the arms and leads me down a side hall and around a corner away from prying eyes and rolling cameras.

“I wanted to talk.”

“What about Heather?” I raise a brow and hate myself for feeling the least bit of envy.

“She’s part of the sponsorship deal,” he says.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Harley is her uncle and part of the deal is that I look out for her and take her to this ball for public relations photo op.” He pauses. “That’s why Dooley’s following me around with a camera tonight. There’s nothing between me and Heather.” He’s breathing hard like he’s been running a marathon and staring at me intensely as he holds my arms.

“Sounds like a fun date. Almost as fun as mine.”

“You’re with Coach Ryan,” he says and I know what he’s asking me.

“There’s nothing between us except friendship. We’re colleagues. We have coaching in common.”

“I know. What I don’t understand is how he doesn’t know.” I smile and my heart weeps as it pounds and every nerve ending is at full alert, so loud with insistence that I leap into this man’s arms that I’m surprised everyone in the place hasn’t come running to rescue him. Or at least Heather. She might come looking for him any second. The very real and horrible possibility of being discovered together strikes me and I back away. The very real pain of the separation strikes me harder.

“It doesn’t matter. We had our … fling and that’s it. No more,” I say.

“You’re lying your ass off. Don’t lie to me.”

“Don’t be insane. We can’t take any more chances. For what? A couple of nights of passion?” He shakes his head.

“You’re still lying. Because you know it’s more than that.” He takes a ragged breath. “You know we have a connection, that it goes deep. What we have is more about love than lust.”

The room goes silent, or it may as well be because there’s nothing in my universe except the shock of his words. He went there. He said love, the most atomic four-letter word in the world.

He’s bared his soul, made himself completely vulnerable with that one little word. He’s made me feel panicked and shaky. But more than that, there’s a bubble of elation deep inside, trying to push its way through, but I slap down that dangerous state and double-down on the defensive, erecting a guard of necessity, for my survival.

“Love?” My voice is high and mocking. “You’re shitting me.” I slice him. He flinches. And I feel like shattered glass, my words cutting deep into the flesh of my soul no matter how much I tell myself I’m clawing for survival.

“I’m falling,” he says in a raspy voice, still not defeated.