His eyes darted to the lump under the covers that was just starting to wiggle around and wake up. In three long strides, he reached the bed and stretched out an arm to whip back the sheets and spread.
A long, lithe form with curly red hair and wearing only a matching hot-pink bra and high-cut underwear blinked thick lashes and rolled from her side to her back. Her lips curved when she spotted Trevor.
“Hi, baby. Hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”
That was all Haylie needed to hear. Or maybe all she could stand to hear without becoming ill or violent, or both.
Spinning on her heel, she marched from the room. Of course, by the time she got downstairs, she wasn’t sure what to do.
She could have stormed out, climbed back into the Escalade that didn’t belong to her and drive away…but where would she go? Jarrod Ridge? Home to Denver? A local hotel? Any of those options would require returning to the resort to pick up Bradley, at the very least.
But deep down she knew she wasn’t going to do any of those things. She also knew she didn’t really have a right to be upset at all.
What business was it of hers if Trevor had another woman in his bed? If he had a dozen Playboy bunny girlfriends on the side?
She and Trevor might be sleeping together—a decision she’d known from the outset wasn’t the wisest move of her life—but no one had ever said their relationship was an exclusive one. In fact, they hadn’t called it a relationship at all.
And she’d known his reputation with women, known he had a girl in every port, so to speak. Could she even be surprised that one had popped up out of the blue? Although, it would have been nice if this particular flavor of the month hadn’t popped up in his bed while Haylie was still sharing it with him, but that was the risk one ran, she supposed, when one chose to take up with Colorado’s most notorious ladies’ man.
Which meant Haylie needed to get over it. Stop acting like a jilted lover, a jealous spouse.
But just because logic was winning out over raw, knee-jerk emotion didn’t mean she could shed the physical effects of her upset quite as easily. Her heels click-clacked on the polished hardwood floors as she stalked to the giant stone fireplace. It was cold now, empty, but she didn’t care.
Crossing her arms beneath her br**sts, she slowly began to pace. Not out of anger, exactly, but more to burn off the excess energy still thrumming through her bloodstream and give her something to do while she waited for…whatever she was waiting for.
Though she doubted she and Trevor would end up going to dinner now, she was overdressed for anything else. And even going back upstairs to hide in her room wasn’t an option because she was too afraid of running into Trevor and his copper-haired bimbo along the way.
So she stayed where she was, wearing a path in front of the fireplace until she heard footsteps upstairs, moving closer. Bracing herself for what was to come, she dropped her arms and tried to look as casual and unruffled as possible.
The woman was fully dressed again, though parts of her silver lamé jumpsuit looked like it was painted on. Her hair was piled on top of her head like a giant, flamered crown, and big, chunky jewelry graced her neck and wrists. Haylie was sure the outfit was the height of fashion, but she looked a bit like a stowaway from the disco era. Her makeup was also smudged in places, and every few steps she would sniff, then wipe at her nose as though she’d been crying.
Trevor, on the other hand, was the picture of stoicism as they made their way down the stairs, single file. He kept one hand on the railing, the other in his trouser pocket and his gaze firmly on Haylie.
Haylie watched them move through the house to the front door, watched the woman turn on her go-go booted toe to flash doe eyes at Trevor and run a manicured fingertip down the center of his chest over his navy-blue tie.
“Are you sure, Trev-Trev?” the redhead murmured in a clear pout. Her lips were pursed in a deep frown, her lashes batting fast enough to cause a draft.
To his credit, Trevor didn’t respond to the woman’s flirtations, except to grasp her hand and very firmly move it back to her side. “I’m sure. Have a safe flight, Isabelle.”
With that, he opened the door and saw her out.
Haylie didn’t want to believe that the woman’s departure could affect her one way or another, but as soon as the door closed behind Isabelle with a click, a wave of relief washed over Haylie. But only because it meant there would be no ugly arguments, no petty confrontations. Right? Certainly not for any other reason.
Pushing away from the front door, Trevor started walking slowly in her direction.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That definitely wasn’t how I intended this evening to begin.”
“That’s all right,” Haylie responded, ever so proud that her voice came out steady and sure. “It’s none of my business who you invite into your bed.”
Okay, so that didn’t sound quite as detached and aloof as she might have hoped.
Halting in front of her, he cocked his head, lifting a hand to the side of her face. “I didn’t invite her,” he said softly. “At least not recently. We dated a while back, and I guess she was hoping we could strike things up again.”
“Since she had a key to your house, I guess she wasn’t far off the mark.”
His lips quirked up in an indulgent half smile, and Haylie locked her jaw, telling herself to keep her mouth shut before he started to take her comments as a sign of jealousy.
“She knows where I keep a spare, though I’m thinking I should probably change that now. And she only climbed into my bed to wait for me because she was tired. She’s a model and just flew in from her last shoot in Paris.”
A model. Of course. Haylie should have guessed as much from the woman’s perfect body, perfect hair, and how perfect she’d looked standing next to Trevor, all tall and lovely and photo-ready.
Haylie’s aversion must have shown on her face because Trevor gave a low chuckle and brushed his knuckles across the line of her jaw. “Don’t worry, I sent her away. For good. She won’t be bothering us again.”
Haylie would have been lying if she hadn’t felt a small thrill at his words. But the reality of the situation was close behind, reminding her that she didn’t belong here, and that today’s Sleeping Beauty was only the first in a long string of women Trevor had wrapped around his pinky and was dangling like marionettes from his fingertips.
Licking her lips, Haylie whispered, “There is no us. Not really.”
Rather than draw away, as she’d expected, a tiny, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. “At the moment, there is. And I’m not going to let a surprise visit from a presumptuous runway model ruin that or our plans for the evening. Now,” he said in a firmer tone, retreating a step, “are you still interested in dinner at Chagall’s or would you prefer to stay in?”
Haylie’s first instinct was to say “neither.” His uninvited guest had been like a splash of cold water, startling her out of her warm but misleading cocoon.
Even though she’d warned herself not to, she’d grown comfortable under Trevor’s roof. Sharing his bed. Moving through his world as though she belonged there. Sticking her head in the sand and letting the fantasy of living in Aspen, with all that it encompassed, carry her away.
On the other hand, maybe Isabelle’s impromptu arrival was exactly what Haylie needed to remind her not to get too comfortable with her current circumstances.
She couldn’t leave, because she’d promised Trevor she would stick around until the paternity results came through. And by agreeing to arrange Erica’s wedding, she’d sort of inadvertently agreed to stay through the Christmas holiday, hadn’t she?
It certainly wouldn’t do for the wedding planner to up and run off before the actual nuptials. Especially over something as unreasonable as discovering that her temporary (and accidental, really) lover had other girlfriends. Not when she’d known from the very beginning that he was the playboy type. How hypocritical it would be of her to get upset now simply because she’d been slapped in the face by the flesh-and-blood evidence of his true nature.
So she couldn’t leave Aspen because she’d given her word, and she couldn’t stomp off in a snit because she didn’t have a right to be in a snit. And either way, Bradley still needed to be picked up from the resort’s day-care center.
Taking a deep breath, Haylie forced her mouth to curve in a smile. And, really, it wasn’t that difficult. Not once she’d put things into proper perspective.
Her current situation might not be ideal, not the fairy-tale romance she might have created for herself if she were the author of this story, but it was one she’d walked into with eyes at least moderately wide open. She’d made her bed, so to speak, and until he kicked her out of it or something more significant happened to change her mind, she was going to share that bed with Trevor.
Twelve
Haylie was unaccountably nervous. It was the Friday before Christmas Eve and a week before Erica and Christian’s Christmas Eve wedding. But more importantly, it was Erica and Christian’s rehearsal dinner, all planned and prepared by Haylie herself.
Which meant it needed to go off without a hitch. Not only because she wanted everything to be perfect for Erica, but also because she took immense pride in the events she organized.
But being in the same room with so many Jarrods was more nerve-racking than she’d anticipated. Especially considering her ongoing affair with Trevor.
Did they know? Had he told any of them, maybe let it slip? Had someone seen them standing a little too close? Speaking a bit too intimately? Acting too familiarly with one another?
What if they could tell, just by looking at Haylie, that she spent her nights in his bed, making love with him in a thousand different ways? Wonderful, amazing ways. Ways that she was going to miss and long for once she left Aspen and went back to Denver.
Did her cheeks flush when she glanced in his direction? Did she stammer in response when someone asked her how she was enjoying her time at Jarrod Ridge?
Her only hope was that even though everyone in the room knew Trevor quite well, they didn’t really know her, and would perhaps excuse any odd behavior on her part as the simple anxieties of an event planner coming up on the big event.
Although Trevor’s brother Guy had volunteered chefs from the various restaurants to prepare the evening’s meal, the dinner itself was being held on the Manor’s rooftop, at the Sky Lounge, which they’d temporarily closed to guests.
Tables had been arranged and place settings laid out. Soft, romantic instrumental music filtered through the air, wine flowed liberally and members of both the family and wedding party had been mingling for the past half hour.
Haylie was pretty sure she’d met all of the Jarrods now, as well as their significant others. Erica, of course, she was starting to know rather well just from the amount of time they’d spent together the past few weeks. And she’d been introduced to most of the ladies during the spa day Erica had organized.
Now she was also becoming acquainted with more of the men. She’d interacted with Christian and Guy occasionally because of the wedding plans. Then there were Trevor’s brothers Gavin and Blake, and Melissa’s fiancé, Shane McDermott.