Erin McCarthy: Lady of the Lake

Which suddenly sounded very lame and tame.

Dylan tilted his head. “Sounds nice. Normal. Does Frank live with you?”

“No.” Violet picked at the T-shirt and sighed. “If I can borrow your phone again, I’ll call my friends and see if someone can come meet me at the dock.” So she didn’t have to spend one more second than was necessary with Dylan Diaz, catcher for the Cleveland Indians. Her company must be close to putting him in a coma.

He hesitated, but then handed the phone to her. “There’s no hurry, you know.”

Yes, there was.

In rapid succession, Violet got the voice mail for Kindra, Ashley, and Trish. Damn it. None of them were home, and she couldn’t remember any of their cell phone numbers. She had those programmed into her own phone, which was sitting in her purse on Frank’s fishing boat. She didn’t know what she could possibly say in a message so she just hung up.

“No one home?” Dylan asked.

She shook her head. Her friends all had social lives, darn them. They should all be losers like her.

“No big deal. I can take you home.”

Ye-ah. Like he had nothing better to do. Geez, how humiliating. “Oh, that’s okay. I can call a taxi or take the bus or something.” She had no idea how to take the bus from downtown to Westlake. Not a clue. But she’d rather walk than force a gorgeous millionaire to baby-sit her.

Dylan let go of the whatever sailors hold and moved towards her. “I’m not letting you take the bus home. First of all, my mother would fly up from Miami and beat the hell out of me. Second, I want to spend more time with you.”

“Why?” she asked stupidly, thinking she must have flooded some brain cells during her soak in the lake. What he was saying didn’t make sense.

“Because I want to get to know you better.”

“Why?” To underscore how truly thrilling his life was compared to hers?

But he just picked at the paper label on his water bottle. “It’s my birthday today, you know.”

“It is?”

He nodded. “Twenty-seven today.”

“Well, happy birthday, then. I’m so, so sorry I ruined your birthday by almost drowning.” Could she be any more mortified? Maybe she could vomit on him while she was at it.

But Dylan laughed. “You weren’t interrupting anything. I was just out sailing by myself.”

Now that he mentioned it, he was alone. “Are you having a party later with your friends? I’ll definitely take a cab then.”

“No party. My family all called me this morning. That’s the extent of the celebrating.”

He didn’t sound happy and that made Violet forget that he was a baseball player, that he was gorgeous, that she was a geek. She moved just a little closer to him. “Don’t you like birthdays?”

“Sure. But I don’t have anyone to spend it with this year. It’s a little tough to make friends when you’re on the road all the time.”

“And then I landed in your lap.” Literally. “Not exactly what you wished for, I’m sure.”

He set his water down and locked eyes with her. He was smiling, a smile she didn’t really understand. “Actually, I think you’re the best thing that’s happened to me today.”

“That’s not saying much for your day.”

“I was having a very unexciting day until you floated along.” Dylan touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “But I’m thinking you’re a damn good birthday surprise.”

“But…”

“I’m attracted to you, can’t you tell?”

Violet was tempted to glance around the boat to make sure she hadn’t missed a gorgeous blonde hiding behind a sail. “I hadn’t noticed that, no.”

His eyes narrowed, got darker. Hotter. “Do you find me at all attractive?”

She could only stare. Was he absolutely joking? Of course she did. A woman in her nineties with cataracts would find him attractive. She was so amazed, she didn’t hesitate to answer. “Well, sure, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Because it was like staring through the window at a two-thousand-dollar dress. You could want it, but it could never be yours. Maybe he did find her mildly attractive because she was sitting right in front of him and he liked women, in whatever form they took. Maybe he saw her as just another easy conquest, a little Friday night fun. A staid boring woman, easy to manipulate. And maybe she was all of those things.

Maybe he was drunk.

But somehow she didn’t believe any of that was true. Dylan seemed, well, almost lonely. But none of that was important because she wasn’t the kind of woman men sought out when they wanted company. “Because it just doesn’t matter. So…your family is in Miami?”

That wolfish smile was still in place, but he leaned back from her, resting on his elbows. “Yep. Mom, Dad, three sisters, all married, and five nieces, two nephews last count.”

“Do you have a house there?” One that hopefully he would be going to in, oh, an hour or so. So she would never have to see him again.

Not that she would. They’d dock this boat and she’d scurry away like the mouse that she was.

And the one chance for a little excitement in her life would be gone.

The thought made her sit up straighter. She had never desired excitement. She liked her life. She did. She was happy and well-adjusted. And come Monday, she was going to shop the sperm bank and have a child.

But wouldn’t it be fun, just once, to think that she, Violet Caruthers, had been desired by a hottie?

Even if that hottie had baked his brains in the sun too long to want her when he could have half the women in the 216 area code.

Maybe he’d already had half the women in town and now he was moving to the bottom dregs. Maybe she shouldn’t care why he was interested, but she should just enjoy it. Keep her head square on her shoulders and just take pleasure in his company, attention, flirtation.

“No, I stay with my parents when I’m down there. I got them a really nice six-bedroom house. And I have the apartment here, but the furniture came with the place. It’s like living in a hotel. I was actually thinking I should buy my own place in Miami, but it always seems like such a waste for a single guy who’s only there half the year.”

He looked a little wistful when he spoke, and Violet realized the downside to his career. He must feel uprooted all the time, living on the road out of a suitcase. “Have you ever been married?”

Not that it was any of her damn business, but the sun must have baked her brains, too. She actually liked him. He seemed, well, normal. Needy. Like one of her students who just needed a hug. Of course, Dylan was also phenomenally gorgeous and wealthy, but she wouldn’t think about that or she’d scare herself again.

“Nope. How about you, Vi? You look like the marrying kind.” He winked.

That didn’t sound like a compliment. “No, I’ve never been married. But Frank would get married if I wanted to.” He would. He was a genius, after all. He knew a good deal when he saw one, and she was Frank’s dream wife. She was quiet, did his laundry, didn’t nag him about his friends or hobbies or the late hours he kept, and would never cheat on him. So they didn’t burn up the bedroom together. Frank still got what he needed.

Violet sighed. She must be hopelessly romantic, because she really just couldn’t bring herself to commit to a lifetime with Frank or to a similar arrangement with another man.

Dylan sat back up and scoffed, all amusement gone from his face. “You wouldn’t marry that guy, would you? He’d probably forget to pick you up for the wedding.”

For some reason, she laughed. It shouldn’t have been funny, yet it was. The image of herself standing in white satin outside her front door for two, three hours while Frank lost himself in some computer software was so heinous it was amusing. Frank would be up to his eyeballs in dirty ashtrays and empty soft drink cans, that strange gleam in his eye when he was working. He would never turn that obsessive focus onto her, and she would always be an afterthought.