“A brother who does not want to see you hurt,” Dylan continued, looking at her just as meaningfully.
Hannah propped her hands on her hips as a crowd began to gather round them. She was so piqued with him that steam was practically coming out of her ears. “Since when are you my keeper?” she demanded, even as the two guys nearest them elbowed each other. “Hey,” one of them said, taking a closer look at Dylan. “Aren’t you that guy that used to be on W-MOL, doing the sports?”
“Yeah. Dylan Hart, isn’t it?” someone else asked, edging closer.
“You coming back to work on one of the local TV stations again?” another asked excitedly.
“Yeah,” chimed a fourth. “You were good!”
Looking relieved to no longer be the center of attention, Hannah patted Dylan on the arm. “Maybe you should attend to your fan club and let me continue here.”
Dylan looked down at her, still not sure what she had been about to wager. He couldn’t say why exactly, he just knew he was more certain than ever that she was doing something she did not want him, or anyone else in Holly Springs, to know about. “No way.”
Her soft lips took on a mutinous line. “Excuse us, will you?” Hannah tugged him aside. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking out for you.”
She drew a deep breath, clearly exasperated, as she apparently did not want to be kept away from the unsavory types, by him or anyone else. “How did you even know I was here?” she hissed.
Wondering if he would ever in a million years understand women and why they were drawn to rich losers over decent hardworking guys like himself, Dylan replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “I followed you from Holly Springs.”
That gave her pause, Dylan noted with grim satisfaction. “Why?” she asked a lot more cautiously.
Dylan shrugged, never taking his eyes from her face. This much at least he had been prepared to answer. “You’ve got my stuff in the van. My carry-on luggage. The clothes I was wearing earlier. It’s all in the back.”
Yarborough strode over. “Hey, babe,” he drawled so lasciviously Dylan wanted to punch his face. “You going to play or not?”
To Dylan’s chagrin, Hannah looked torn, as if she wanted to go off with R.G., just not in front of Dylan, or anyone else she knew from Holly Springs.
Not gonna happen, Dylan decided. He winked over at her with a playfulness he knew she would not appreciate. “I don’t mind.” He shrugged his shoulders lazily. “I can wait.”
Hannah dug into the front pocket of her tight black skirt. “I’ll just give you the keys and you can go on out and get your stuff.” She pressed them into his palm, her fingers warm against his.
Dylan planted his feet firmly beneath him and resisted the way she was practically pushing him away. “I also need a ride back to Holly Springs,” Dylan continued matter-of-factly.
Abruptly, Hannah stopped pushing. “I thought you followed me here,” she said with a frown.
Dylan examined her keys. “In a cab.”
Her pretty pine-green eyes radiated displeasure. “You can’t take a cab back?”
Dylan shrugged. “I’m out of cash. But that’s okay.” He leaned against the pillar at his back, prepared to do whatever it took. “Like I said, I can wait.”
Thwarted, Hannah gave up. “Wait here,” she commanded furiously as she stalked off, R. G. Yarborough in tow, and said something to him that he looked none too happy to be hearing.
There was another brief exchange. One that Yarborough seemed to be on the losing end of again, then Hannah headed back to Dylan, her strides long and sexy. “You’re turning out to be one royal pain today,” she told him as they headed toward the door, side by side. “You know that, don’t you?”
“So I’ll make it up to you,” Dylan drawled, wondering how it was that he could have known Hannah Reid as long as he had and never made a single pass at her.
“How?” Hannah snapped, giving him yet another hot, aggravated look.
Dylan reached past her to open the door. Still determined to find out what was going on with the former tomboy, he smiled at her gallantly. “I’ll buy you dinner.”
Chapter Two
Hannah stared at Dylan as they moved out onto the sidewalk. He appeared to be serious, anyway. Not that she would in any way consider this to be an invitation for a date. The men she knew from Holly Springs did not ask her out on dates. “When?” she said, still not sure what Dylan Hart was up to this evening.
He shot her another appreciative male glance. “Right now sounds good to me.”
Hannah ignored the unsettling way her senses stirred at his proximity. She stepped back a pace, then another. “We already ate at the reception.”
He stood, legs braced apart, arms folded in front of him. “That was more like a late lunch. Unless you’re used to eating the seniors’ special at 4:00 p.m.”
“Very funny.” She made a face at him, refusing to be charmed by his teasing.
“Come on,” he cajoled her, his hot gaze sliding over her from head to toe before returning with heart-stopping accuracy to her face. “I’m buying.”
Just looking at his handsome face made her heart race. She didn’t want to think about what it would be like to go on a date with him, never mind fantasize about what would happen at the end of the evening as they said good-night. Keeping her defenses up—and her thoughts at bay about being held against his tall strong body and kissed by those soft, sensual lips—she countered mildly, “I thought you didn’t have any cash.”
“I still have a credit card,” he murmured with easy familiarity.
Ignoring his steady, probing gaze, she continued walking away from him. “Some cab companies take credit cards.”
He waited until she swung around to face him again. “Then I’d miss our…date.”
So this was a date. “It’s ten-thirty on a Sunday night. Only the fast-food joints and the pancake houses are going to be open this late.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders lazily. “Sounds fine to me. Let’s go.” He gestured for her to lead the way to her vehicle.
Cantankerously, Hannah stayed right where she was. “I haven’t exactly agreed to go out with you yet.”
“Buying you something to eat is the least I can do after interrupting your ‘hustling’ back there.”
Hannah propped her hands on her waist, puzzled by the hint of derision in his low tone. “What is it you’ve got against me scrounging up a game of pool, anyway?” she inquired, refusing to be sidetracked by the dark woodsy scent of his aftershave. He had to know, from all the times she had played him and his brothers in Holly Springs, that she was bound to win.
Dylan raised his eyebrow. “Is that what you were doing?” he asked, his audacity unchecked.
As far as anyone else knew, yes it was. Although she couldn’t quite ignore the hint of innuendo in Dylan’s watchful gaze. “I wasn’t trying to date the guy, Dylan,” she explained dryly, continuing toward the minivan.
“Good, ’cause in case you didn’t notice,” Dylan continued, still observing her carefully as he fell into step beside her, “R. G. Yarborough is married.”
Hannah wasn’t surprised Dylan had noticed the wedding ring R. G. Yarborough had been wearing when she had approached him for a game, then ever so discreetly slipped into his pants pocket when he thought she wasn’t looking. Dylan noticed