Westmoreland's Way - Brenda Jackson [21]
“That’s not my style, Ram.”
“Typically, it’s not mine, either, being the loner that I am, but I’ve learned that with some things you need to know when and how to adjust your thinking, be flexible and restructure your thought process. Especially if it’s a woman you want.”
Dillon blinked, taken aback by Ramsey’s statement. “What makes you think she’s a woman I want?”
“I can hear it in your voice. Do you deny it?”
Dillon opened his mouth to do that very thing and then closed his mouth shut. No, he couldn’t deny it, because his cousin who knew him so well had just spoken the truth. And the question of the hour was whether or not he intended to do anything about it.
Five
P am was trying, desperately so, to convince herself that the only reason she was sitting at the kitchen table and staring out the window was to study all the Indian paintbrushes that were still blooming this late in the year.
It wasn’t working.
Just like it wasn’t working to try and convince herself the only reason she’d gone to bed with thoughts of Dillon on her mind instead of the man she was engaged to marry was because Dillon had been to dinner the last couple of nights. The reason that argument wouldn’t hold up was because, although Fletcher had been dropping in for dinner quite often, she had yet to take visions of him to her bed. She had yet to remember, in vivid detail, what he’d been wearing the last time she’d seen him, and yet to hear the sound of his voice in her head in the wee hours of the morning.
So why was Dillon Westmoreland causing so much havoc in her life when she should be concentrating on setting the best date to marry Fletcher? The main thing that had been nagging at her since meeting Dillon was the fact that he could arouse feelings and sensations within her that Fletcher didn’t. Was that something she should be concerned about, she wondered.
She quickly decided that it didn’t really matter if she should be concerned, since Fletcher was the only one capable of getting her out of such a dismal situation. Their marriage would not be one of love and, the way things were looking, it wouldn’t be one of passion either. But she would make do. She really didn’t have a choice.
The ringing of the phone intruded her thoughts. Getting up from the table she quickly crossed the room to pick it up, but turned to make sure she still had a good view out the window. “Hello.”
“I called to see if you’ve come to your senses and called off your engagement.”
Pam couldn’t do anything, but shake her head and smile. She wasn’t sure who was worse, her sisters or her best friend from college, Iris Michaels. From Iris’s initial meeting with Fletcher, he had rubbed her the wrong way and she hadn’t gotten over it yet. “No, sorry, the wedding is still on, so I hope you haven’t forgotten your promise to be my maid of honor.”
Pam could picture Iris sitting behind the desk of the PR company she owned in Los Angeles with a beautiful view of the Pacific. Iris would be tapping a pen either on her desk or to the side of her face, trying to think of a way to get out of the promise she’d made their second year in college together over a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Their days in college had been hard. Money had been tight, so they had made do, shared practically everything and had become best friends for life.
Right out of college, Iris had met, fallen in love with and married Garlan Knight. Garlan, a stuntman, had been killed while working on a major film less than a year into their marriage. That was four years ago and, although Iris dated on occasion, she had long ago proclaimed that she would never give her heart to another man because the pain of losing the person she loved wasn’t worth it.
“I’m trying to forget I made that promise. So what’s been going on with you lately?”
At first Pam couldn’t decide whether she should mention anything about Dillon and then thought, why not? Chances were, when Iris came to visit, her sisters would tell her about him anyway, and then Iris would accuse her of holding secrets. “Well, there is something