Best Man's Conquest Read Free Page A

me in a terrible position. Considering all the people who will be at the wedding Saturday, it’s bound to get out that I spent a week in Mexico with my ex. You know how brutal the media can be. What if they start spreading rumors that we’re getting back together? What do you think that will do to my reputation?”
    â€œI guess I never thought about it like that.” Deidre’s lower lip began to quiver and tears hovered just inside her eyelids. “I was only trying to help. If you want to leave, I understand.”
    Ivy sighed. As mad as she was at her cousin, deep down she knew her intentions were pure. Deidre didn’t have a vindictive bone in her body. If she said she was trying to help, it was the truth, and it was executed out of love and concern.
    Oh, hell.
    She reached over and squeezed Deidre’s fisted hands. “I’m not going anywhere. This is the most important week of your life, and I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
    The tears spilled over onto Deidre’s cheeks and rolled down, leaving wet dots on the front of her shirt. “Thank you.”
    â€œBesides, Dillon and I talked, and we’ve reached somewhat of an agreement. I’ll avoid him and he’ll avoid me.” She gave Deidre’s hands a reassuring squeeze and forced a smile. “Really, how bad could it be?”
    Â 
    It could be bad, Ivy realized fifteen minutes later after Deidre left to see about dinner. Really bad.
    She experienced the same eerie, familiar feeling as she had downstairs when Dillon had entered the room, and she looked up to find him a stone’s throw away, leaning on the edge of his own balcony on the opposite end of the house. His eyes were on her, steady and intense, as if he was biding his time, just waiting for her to notice him there.
    â€œHowdy!” he called, wiggling his fingers in a casual, friendly, good-ole-boy wave. He looked out across the ocean, his chest expanding beneath his T-shirt as he drew in a long, deep breath. “Hell of a view, isn’t it?”
    Oh, yes it is, she agreed silently, her eyes wandering over his solid frame. And she could feel it coming on, that little shimmy thing her heart did whenever he was near.
    Here it comes…
    No, no, no!
    She lowered her eyes back to her book. Don’t look at him. Don’t encourage him in any way. May be he would take the hint and leave her alone.
    He didn’t.
    â€œWhatcha’ doin’?”
    â€œReading,” she answered, not looking up from the page. May be if she kept her answers short and succinct he would get a clue. He would realize she wanted him to leave her alone. Like he promised he would.
    He didn’t.
    She could still feel his eyes on her, feel him watching. Goose bumps shivered across her skin, and she felt fidgety and uncomfortable.
    Ignore him and he’ll lose interest, she assured herself. Keep reading and he’ll get bored and go away. But she could feel her anxiety level climbing again. Her foot had begun to tap, the way it always did when she was nervous, and she was grinding her teeth.
    She forced herself to relax.
    â€œGood book?” He used a tone that suggested he was making friendly conversation. May be to break the ice, so the situation would be a bit less awkward.
    He was wasting his time. The only conversation she was interested in having with him was the nonexistent kind. She didn’t want to break the ice, and she had no desire to make things less awkward.
    She just wanted him to go away.
    There was also the distinct possibility that, despite his promise to leave her alone, he was doing this to annoy her.
    Either way, she was beginning to feel like a specimen under a microscope.
    She took several deep, cleansing breaths, tried to concentrate on her book and not on the man staring at her.
    After a few very long, tense moments he said, “Must be a good book.”
    â€œIt is.” Up until a few minutes ago, anyway. Now,