Steal a kiss and prove his point.
So he had. He pushed her against the wall and kissed her. And yeah, it had done the job all right. Besides shutting her up, the woman lit up like a ball of fire. His tongue sank into pure heaven, and when they finally pulled apart, they both realized something had changed. Even then, he remembered the raw desire, and the horrifying fear of wanting a woman who drove him apeshit. She seemed to echo his thoughts.
The solution?
They ignored it.
Over the years, he’d caught news of her epic rise in business, and the opening of her publishing firm. He’d seen the cover of Fortune magazine and felt sheer pride at her achievement. Many times, he even wondered about contacting her, before he shook off the urge and got back to his life.
But here she was a decade later. He was a different person, and she’d been delivered to him in a blizzard for one reason. This was no coincidence. The whole situation screamed kismet and all that other bullshit.
Because Dylan realized in that moment he wanted her.
She turned up her nose and looked down like a queen to her peasant. “I despise you.”
He waved his hand in the air in dismissal. “Don’t be silly, you’ve always been secretly attracted to me. You’re probably cranky because you’re hungry. Let’s go into the kitchen and eat. I have leftover turkey sandwiches.”
Riley glared, probably caught between hunger and her need to win the argument. After a few moments, she drained her glass and held it up. “Only if there’s more wine. If I’m going to get through an entire evening without hurting you, I need more alcohol.”
“I can manage that.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
She walked out of the living room and down the hallway like she owned the place.
Dylan grabbed the bottle of wine and followed, shaking his head.
This was going to be a hell of a night.
Riley stalked down the carpeted hallway that seemed longer than the Appalachian Trail, trying not to shudder at the huge portraits canvassing the walls. No way. She’d been to the Haunted Mansion at Disney and she refused to catch the eyes moving. She’d never sleep again.
He followed her, probably waiting to laugh when she walked into some gigantic closet or something, but Riley refused to give him the satisfaction by asking where the kitchen was. She’d eventually find it.
She came into a huge foyer, with a curving staircase and stained-glass windows. How did one person possibly live here? Four arched openings were available. She did the eeny meeny miney mo again, knowing she screwed up the first time, and chose the second doorway.
Nope. The library. Wow, the floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcases and burgundy Oriental rugs seemed familiar. Hmm, where had she seen something like this before? The room had massive arched windows, and there were leather recliners with afghans draped over the arms and drink tables spaced throughout. And . . . there was another fireplace. Wow.
Dylan’s dry voice echoed behind. “We can eat tomorrow if you want to go through all the rooms. Or you can give up and just ask me where the kitchen is.”
She hated it, but was afraid she’d never find it on her own. And damn, she was hungry. Riley pursed her lips like she sucked on a lemon. “Fine. Where’s the kitchen?”
He treated her to his famous badass grin that always made her stomach do the weird flip-flop thing. “Follow me.”
Back to the foyer, and toward the left. She’d never play eeney meeney miney moe again. She sucked.
“Are you some kind of perverted hermit who wants to hole up in this dusty old place and guard his fortune? Because this is a little weird, dude. Are there servants?”
“Yes. And Mrs. Potts would be devastated to hear you call the place dusty.”
“That’s it!” she screeched. “This place reminds me of Beauty and the Beast?!”
He laughed. “Still addicted to Disney movies, huh? I was only teasing. I have a maid and a cook, but you won’t find a withering rose in the east wing.”
She sniffed. “I’ll believe it when I don’t see it. And I’m not addicted to children’s stuff. That one was up for an Academy Award.”
“Sure. That’s why I always caught you watching those movies on your portable, huh?”
“At least I wasn’t watching porno.”
“Wonder who was more satisfied.”