The Australian Affairs Collection. Margaret Way
read that thought in her face, Dylan thrust out his jaw, his eyes glittering. ‘Felipe, sell me the photo.’
She stabbed a finger at the photographer. ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort.’
Felipe turned to Dylan, hands raised. ‘You heard what the lady said, darling.’
Dylan glowered—first at her and then at the photographer. ‘Okay, let me make myself crystal-clear. If that photograph is ever displayed publicly I’ll bring the biggest lawsuit you’ve ever seen crashing down on your head.’
Felipe merely smiled. ‘The publicity will be delicious!’
Mia grabbed Dylan’s arm and shook it, but her agitation barely seemed to register. It was as useless as rattling iron bars.
‘You will do absolutely nothing of the sort!’ she said.
His brows drew down low over his eyes, his entire mien darkening. ‘Why not?’
‘Because you don’t own me. You don’t get to make decisions for me.’ She swung to Felipe. ‘You don’t own me either. In a just world you wouldn’t get to make such a decision either.’
Nobody said anything for a moment.
‘Mia, darling...’
She didn’t want to hear Felipe’s excuses and justifications. She turned towards the car. ‘I thought art was supposed to make the world a better place, not a worse one. I think it’s time we headed back.’
‘Darling!’
She turned to find Felipe removing the memory card from the camera. He took her hand and closed her fingers over it. ‘It’s yours. I’m sorry.’
Relief almost made her stagger. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, slipping it into her top pocket and fastening the button. She tried to lighten the mood. ‘I expect for an artiste like yourself great photos are a dime a dozen.’
‘No, darling, they’re not,’ he said, climbing into the car.
All the while she was aware of the brooding way Dylan watched her, of the stiff movements of his body, betraying...anger? It made her heart drum hard against her ribs.
‘That photograph is truly unique, but I could not exhibit it without your blessing. I do not wish anyone to feel diminished by my art.’
She nodded. Felipe was a good man. So was Dylan. She was surrounded by people she didn’t deserve.
‘But if you should have a change of heart...ever change your mind...’ He slipped a business card into her hand.
She nodded. ‘You’ll be the first to know.’
She didn’t add that a change of heart was highly unlikely. She had a feeling he already knew that.
She glanced in the rear-vision mirror to find Dylan staring at her, his gaze dark and brooding. She had no idea what he was thinking...or what he must think of her. Her pulse sped up again. Did he hate her after what she’d said?
She didn’t want him to hate her.
She had a feeling, though, that it would be better for both of them if he did.
* * *
Dylan showed up at her cottage that night.
Without a word she ushered him in, wondering at her own lack of surprise at seeing him.
‘I wanted to discuss what happened this afternoon,’ he said without preamble.
‘I don’t see that there’s much to discuss.’ She turned towards the kitchen. ‘Can I get you something to drink—tea or coffee? I have some light beer if you’d rather.’
‘No, thank you.’
Good. They could keep this quick, then. She grabbed some water for herself and motioned him to the sofa, taking a seat at the table.
Dylan didn’t sit. He stood in the middle of the room, arms folded, and glared at her.
She heaved a sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Dylan, but I’m not a mind-reader. What exactly did you want to discuss?’
‘I didn’t appreciate your implication this afternoon that I was trying to own you. I simply felt responsible for putting you in a situation that had obviously made you uncomfortable. I set about fixing the situation. I don’t see how that can be seen as trying to control you.’
She stared into her glass of water. ‘I appreciate your intentions were good, but it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t ask me my opinion first.’
‘There wasn’t time!’ He flung an arm out. ‘Where people like Felipe are concerned it’s best to come at them hard and fast.’
‘And what if I told you that your solutions were more horrifying to me than the initial problem?’
‘Were they?’
‘Yes.’
He widened his stance. ‘Why?’
She stood then too, pressing her hands to her stomach. ‘Ever since I got out of jail I’ve had one objective—to keep a low profile, to keep out of trouble. A lawsuit would create a hundred times more furore than an anonymous photograph in some exhibition.’
He straightened, his height almost intimidating. Not that it frightened her. She sensed that frightening her was the last thing he wanted.
‘Are you concerned that someone from your past will track you down?’
‘No.’ And she wasn’t. That was all done with.
His hands went to his hips. ‘Look, I understand your dismay at the thought of publicity, but what on earth was wrong with me buying the photograph?’
‘I’m already beholden enough to you!’
‘It’s my money. I can do as I please with it.’
‘Not on my watch, you can’t. Not when you’re spending that money solely for my benefit.’
He stared at her with unflinching eyes. ‘You’d rather have let that picture go public then be beholden to me?’
She met his gaze. ‘Yes.’
He wheeled away from her. When he swung back his eyes were blazing.
Before he could rail at her about ingratitude and stubbornness, she fired a question back at him. ‘If Felipe had sold you that photograph, would you have given it to me?’
He stilled. His chin lowered several notches. ‘I’d have promised to keep it safe.’
They both knew it wasn’t the same thing. She could feel her lips twist. ‘So, in the end, it was Felipe who did what I truly wanted after all.’
A tic started up in his jaw. ‘This is the thanks I get for trying to help you?’
She refused to wither under his glare. ‘You weren’t trying to help me. What you’re angry about is missing your chance to buy that picture.’
He moved in closer. ‘And that scares the pants off of you, doesn’t it?’
Bullseye.
She refused to let her fear show. ‘I’ve told you where I stand on relationships and romance. I don’t know how I can make it any plainer, but offering such a ludicrous sum for a photo of me leads me to suspect that you haven’t heard me.’
‘Some women would’ve found the gesture romantic.’
Exactly.
‘Not me.’
He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode around the room. Mia did her absolute best not to notice the way the muscles of his shoulders rippled beneath the thin cotton of his business shirt, or how his powerful strides ate up the space in her tiny living room. He quivered like a big cat, agitated and