Page 20 of Dirty Like Dylan

“Kitchen’s in the back,” I heard Ashley mutter from somewhere up ahead of me. “Help yourself.” When I looked up, he’d already vanished.

As I moved deeper into the house, the entryway with its sweeping staircase opened up into an expansive living room with a massive stone fireplace and a couple of leather couches. A sparkly blonde woman was perched on one of them.

Honey, no doubt.

She was chatting animatedly at Ashley, who was standing by the other couch, sipping on a bottle of beer and half-listening. Even though he wasn’t looking at me, I could feel his rigid awareness of my presence from across the room. Kind of like he had a thorn in his ass he was trying to ignore.

Neither one of them acknowledged me.

Was this her house? I had no idea. But I didn’t exactly feel oceans of welcome pouring over me.

I caught the scent of something roasting, both revolting and torturous. I really was hungry as hell, because it smelled like meat and I still wanted to eat it.

Maybe this was a mistake…

The ferry would board in about another hour, and there was a little cafe onboard. Surely I could get a muffin there or something. Meanwhile, I could starve for another hour…

I was just trying to decide if I should backpedal the hell out of here or stay and let myself go carnivore, just this once, when I heard footsteps.

I turned to find an unforgettable redhead strolling down the big staircase toward me. I actually felt my jaw drop in awe, but I was far too distracted to close it.

His faded jeans were zipped up but not buttoned. He was casually pulling a T-shirt over his ridiculously sculpted abs, in no particular hurry to cover his glorious nakedness. And his hair was slightly damp, like he’d just showered.

Somehow, out of the context of the commercial shoot, and without all the oil and makeup and hoopla… he was even sexier.

Was this his house?

The blonde bounced up off the couch and strode to meet him, but Dylan Cope greeted me first. Actually, his face kinda lit up when he saw me.

“Amber Paige Malone,” he said, reaching for my elbow.

“Uh… hi.” How did he know my full name?

Did he ask Liv about me?

He leaned in and I did the same… because when a man like that leaned in, you leaned in. He gave me a lingering cheek kiss that made the blood rush to my face. Oh… God… He smelled like spicy man-soap and oranges. I was so fucking hungry, I salivated.

“How’d you sleep?” He was still speaking to me as he greeted the blonde, his eyes on me as he kissed her cheek—and clearly, she didn’t care for that, her smile kinda freezing on her face.

“Great,” I said. “I love waking up to Trooper.”

Dylan’s answering grin was dazzling and sort of crooked, and up close, his green-gold irises were nothing short of mesmerizing; they actually sparkled when he chuckled.

I looked away. I could feel Ashley watching from across the room, his tense, unwelcoming vibe the polar opposite of Dylan’s warm, laid-back manner.

“Whatever it takes,” Dylan said, his voice a low rumble on the end of that chuckle. “I know how hard it is to drag a woman out of Ash’s bed.”

Ash’s bed?

A full-body shiver of revolt rippled through me and my back straightened. I was in Ashley’s guest bed. Alone.

Major fucking difference.

But when Dylan aimed his gorgeous grin at Ashley, I let it slide; he seemed to be ribbing him more than me anyway.

Ashley just scowled and drank his beer.

“Come on,” Dylan said to me, “I’ll show you around.” And the blonde’s pasted-on smile slipped a fraction. Unlike her, he seemed totally unfazed that I’d just turned up in his living room. “Oh, Amber. This is my realtor, Susanna. Susanna, Amber is a photographer.”