All She Ever Wanted - Barbara Freethy [35]
She did love a confident man, especially in bed, but there was a fine line between confidence and arrogance, and she doubted Dylan could walk that line.
"I can probably get you to believe just about anything is real," he added.
"You sound awfully sure of yourself."
"I'm very good."
"Now I remember why I never liked you."
"That's not the way I remember it." His eyes dared her to challenge him on that statement, but unfortunately a vivid and embarrassing memory of throwing herself at him one night still burned bright in her mind.
"I doubt you remember things the way they really were," she said. "Everyone has their own version of the truth." She looked around the room. "So what next?"
"Why don't you try one of our adventures, see if it's something you want to help me promote."
"I'm not sure virtual reality is exactly what would work for our event." She couldn't imagine these contraptions being effective at a masquerade party.
"Then we'll say good-bye." He turned toward the door.
"Wait. I'll give it a try. I'm sure it's fun." And she wasn't ready to walk out of here yet. She needed time to think of just how his technological magic could work at a high-society party. There had to be a way. Maybe she could set up a special-event area ...
Dylan led her to one of the booths. "Have a seat there. Put on the goggles and headphones and just sit back." He paused, sending her a thoughtful look. "I have a special treat for you."
"What is it?"
"You'll see." He drew the curtain around her, leaving her in darkness. She put on the goggles and was completely blinded. The headphones cut out the noise, and she suddenly felt very isolated and unsteady, as if she couldn't quite find her balance or her bearings.
She was startled when music came blaring through the headphones. She was even more surprised to hear Gloria Gaynor singing "I Will Survive," one of their favorite songs in college. Emily had played it every time one of them had had a bad date or a boyfriend fell through. They must have played it a hundred times. Emily had been one of those girls who loved to play a favorite song over and over again until you wanted to pull your hair out. Whenever they'd complained, Emily had laughed and said she was building memories. She'd told them that someday, thirty years from now, they'd be driving along in a car, maybe with their kids, and the song would come on the radio, and they'd remember the good old days, their friendship, and they'd smile.
Madison didn't feel like smiling. She felt like crying, and she never cried. But, dammit, why hadn't Emily lived another ten or thirty years? Why hadn't she had the opportunity to hear those old songs and remember the good old days?
The screens in front of her eyes suddenly lit up. She jerked at the familiar sight of the two-story sorority house in Santa Cruz where they'd pledged and lived—and where Emily had died. Was her mind playing tricks on her? What was this?
She wanted to look away, but she couldn't.
The front door to the sorority house opened, and a group of girls came out—girls who looked a lot like Laura, Natalie, and Emily. It was them, she realized, dressed in fashions at least ten years old.
Where was she? Why wasn't she with them? Her heart stopped as Emily came forward—Emily with the laughing dark eyes, the brown hair blowing in the breeze, the infectious smile on her lips that had always made Madison want to smile, too—an Emily who was still alive, still happy, still filled with hope for their futures.
She was so close, Madison wanted to reach out and touch her, grab her hand and hold on for dear life.
Emily suddenly wagged a finger at her. "You are so bad. Stop it right now."
Madison gasped. Was Emily talking to her? God! She couldn't take it. Yanking off the headphones and goggles, she burst out of the booth to find Dylan waiting for her with a cool, calculating smile.
"What the hell was that?" she demanded, shaken to the core.
"That was Emily. Isn't that why you came here, Madison? To talk about Emily?"
Madison stared at Dylan in bewilderment. She saw anger in