until she’d finally lost her balance and gone over it.
Dillon stood in the kitchen, coffee mug in hand, quietly observing. He still hadn’t said a word to Ivy, but she could feel him there, watching her. Yet every time she glanced up, he was looking the other way. Either he was trying to make her feel uncomfortable, or it was her own guilty conscience gnawing at her.
“Is there anything I can do?” Ivy asked Blake.
“I don’t think so. The week has been pretty…stressful. I think she just needs some time to rest.”
Blake was living in the land of Deep Denial if he thought Deidre could rest this one away. He was going to have to face the fact that he needed to make some changes.
If he didn’t, he was going to lose Deidre.
“She said you guys should take the boat tour without us. It starts at eleven.”
Six hours trapped on a boat sailing up and down the coast with Blake’s brothers, the Tweedles and Dillon. Don’t think so.
“I wouldn’t feel right going without her,” Ivy said.
Blake shrugged. “The charter is already paid for and it’s too late to get a refund. It would be a waste not to use it.”
“We made other plans,” Dale said, but he wouldn’t look his brother in the eye. Blake just shook his head. How many more ways could they let him down this week?
“Ivy and I will go,” Dillon said.
She was about to say, I will? But she had to wonder if this was his way of saying no hard feelings. And if she said no, what message would that send to him?
Besides, if the charter was nonrefundable, it was a shame to see all that money go to waste. And Deidre might feel better knowing that Ivy and Dillon were taking some time alone together and could potentially work things out.
Not that Ivy thought there was a chance in hell they ever would.
Blake shot her a questioning look. Normally she wouldn’t tolerate anyone telling her what to do, but in this case she would make an exception.
“Sure,” she told Blake. “We’ll go.”
Most women are brought up to believe that their husband will take care of them for the rest of their lives. But that’s only true 50% of the time. The other 50% end in divorce.
—excerpt from The Modern Woman’s Guide to Divorce (And the Joy of Staying Single)
Ivy was flirting.
Shamelessly flirting with a member of the crew. A kid who looked as though he was barely out of high school. Or May be still in high school for all Dillon knew. Since they’d left the marina she had been cozying up to him, and the kid was practically drooling over her form-fitting tank top and short-shorts.
Okay, May be the shorts weren’t that short, but they seemed to show an awful lot of leg.
She’d worn her hair down, and it rested in soft chestnut waves on her shoulders and tumbled down her back to just above her bra strap. Everything about her screamed pick me up.
Since Ivy was not, and never had been, the type to flirt—she was way too uptight—Dillon guessed this little show was entirely for his benefit. To make him jealous. Though he had no idea why she thought he would be. Because he wasn’t.
At all.
She’d made her feelings pretty damn clear yesterday. She regretted ever marrying him. Wasn’t that just great.
Well, it hadn’t been all roses and sunshine for him, either. Did she think she’d been easy to live with? Always complaining, her panties always in a twist over something. If she thought he gave a damn what she felt about their marriage, she was mistaken.
And people wondered why he stayed single. Sheesh!
It had been her idea to “talk.” Her telling him they needed to resolve things. Far as he could figure, she was pretty gung ho about resolving things, until she heard something she didn’t like.
He was all for working things out, but how could they if she refused to admit she was wrong?
He had the feeling they were just going to have to agree to disagree and leave it at that. He would go his way and she would go hers and they could forget they ever knew each other.
Although he had to admit, it would have been really nice getting her under the covers one last time.
When they reached the dock later that afternoon, he saw Ivy slip her new boyfriend what appeared to be a business card. It looked as though the lovebirds planned to hook up later. Did she have the slightest clue how ridiculous a woman her age would look dating an adolescent? Did she have no dignity?
He had dated a lot of women in the past couple of years, but never one young enough to be his daughter. Or at the very least, a young niece.
A car waited to take them back to the villa. As they were rolling out of the parking lot he said, “Looks like you made a new friend today.”
Ivy cast him a sideways glance, a grin on her face. “You could say that.”
Didn’t she see how foolish she looked? Pining over some kid. And obviously the kid in question was only in it to get some tail. And what a fine tail it was, he couldn’t help noticing.
But that was beside the point.
In college, Ivy had always had been on the naive side. She probably had no clue this kid was using her. She was not the type to settle for a one-night stand. She’d made Dillon wait three excruciating months before she would sleep with him.
May be he should point out the obvious and save her a bit of humiliation.
“You don’t think he’s a little young for you?” he asked.
She was looking out the car window, but he could see her smile widen a fraction. “Just the way I like ’em.”
“I hate to break it to you, but he’s only after one thing. When you leave Mexico, you’ll never hear from him again.”
She turned to him, her expression blank. “What’s your point?”
She wasn’t fooling him with her casual attitude. “I know you, Ivy. You don’t do casual. You’re a commitment kinda’ girl.”
She shrugged. “Go ahead and tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
“This has nothing to do with me. I don’t care what you do. I just don’t want to see you get your pretty little heart broken.”
“I think men should be like tissues,” she said. “Soft, strong and disposable. The jealousy is flattering, though.”
He snorted. “Jealous of what? You’re a complete pain in the ass.”
“May be, but you still want to sleep with me.” She looked over at him. “Admit it.”
Great, now she was stealing his material. “Why would I want to sleep with a woman who regrets marrying me?”
Only after the words were out did he realize how pathetic that sounded. Like she’d hurt his feelings or something.
Which she hadn’t. He didn’t give a damn what she thought about their marriage.
She looked out the window and said in a soft voice, “I didn’t mean it.”
Was that some sort of veiled apology from Miss Perfection? Miss I’m-Never-Wrong. “You didn’t mean what?”
She fiddled with the strap of her purse, eyes downward. “As bad as things got between us, there were good times, too.”
“What are you trying to say, Ivy?”