The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection. Кейт Хьюит

and complicated and volatile. It had burned hot and fast, but what she felt for him now was more mature and undemanding. Simple in its complexity. And deeper than she imagined possible.

      They had come full circle, and by letting go the first time, they had somehow grown together. It was finally their time. She was sure, all the way down to her soul, that they could make it work and that they would both be happy.

      At least a dozen times she’d opened her mouth to instruct the driver to turn around, to take her back. But she’d been too chicken to do it. How could she willingly destroy her own career? Admit to millions of readers that she was wrong? And how could she not?

      But what scared her the most, was what if he rejected her? What if he didn’t love her the way she loved him?

      What a pathetic excuse for a strong, independent woman she turned out to be.

      But damn it, she was sick of playing that role. And the honest truth was, that’s all it had been. A role. An act. When she stripped herself down to the core, to the real her, she was still the same old Ivy. Only a little wiser, she hoped.

      What it really boiled down to, the thing she had to decide once and for all, was would she rather be successful, or would she rather be happy?

      The answer came to her instantly.

      Definitely happy.

      Well, that wasn’t so hard.

      And who knows, May be someday she would be able to manage both. But one thing at a time. First she had to talk to Dillon.

      It was a risk. It was possible that he wasn’t willing to give her a second chance. He could have moved on by now. But she knew that was a chance she was willing to take. One she had to take.

      Oh, my God, she was really going to do this.

      She reached for the phone, hand trembling with anticipation. Nothing in her life had ever felt so scary. Or so right.

      The instant her hand hit the receiver she realized that she didn’t have his number. She could call directory assistance, but she seriously doubted he would be listed.

      But she did know where he lived.

      Besides, if she was going to grovel, she should at least give him the satisfaction of seeing her face.

      She pushed away from her desk. She would go to his house and hope that she was able to get past the front gate. Even if that meant running into his horrible mother. Mrs. Marshall, as Ivy had been instructed to address her, would just have to adjust to having Ivy around again. The same with Ivy’s mom. She would have to accept that Dillon had changed. And if she couldn’t, if she still believed Ivy was making a mistake, Ivy would just have to learn to tune her out. In fact, she should have learned that a long time ago.

      And who knows, May be a couple of grandchildren to spoil would lighten them both up a little. Right now, she felt as though anything were possible.

      She grabbed her keys off the table in the entryway and stuck her feet into one of the pairs of shoes she’d left by the front door. Her hands were shaking and her heart was about to burst from her chest it was beating so hard, but she was determined to see this through.

      She turned the knob and swung the door open and—hello!—almost ran face-first into the wall of man standing there.

      It took her brain a second or two to process who it was. “Dillon?”

      He stood in the hallway outside her apartment, fist raised, as if he’d just been preparing to knock, and he looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Several days’ worth of dark, coarse stubble branded his face and his clothes were wrinkled. His hair was a mess and when he slipped off his sunglasses his eyes looked red-rimmed and tired.

      Good Lord, he looked about as awful as she felt. For some reason that was a comfort.

      He didn’t say a word. He just gripped her by her upper arms and tugged her roughly to him. His lips came down hard on hers, rough and sexy and demanding. His beard chafed her chin, fingers dug into her flesh. He tasted like coffee and sex, smelled warm and familiar. Her body went limp and she heard her keys hit the floor.

      The kiss was as hot as a flash fire and over just as fast. He set her loose and she stood there, dizzy and disoriented, clutching the door frame to keep from falling over.

      Whoa.

      If he was trying to knock her off base, he was doing one hell of a job.

      He scooped her keys up from the floor. “Going somewhere?”

      “Believe it or not, I was just on my way to see you,” she said. “We must be on the same wavelength or something.”

      “No kidding. You were coming to see me?” He looked her up and down, and his brow crinkled. “Like that?”

      Like what? She looked down at herself and snorted out a laugh. She was still in the baggy pajama bottoms and threadbare T-shirt she’d slept in last night. The sandals on her feet were each a different style and color. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember if she’d even brushed her hair. She hadn’t grabbed her purse, either, meaning she didn’t have her driver’s license. Had she been pulled over, the police might have mistaken her for an escaped lunatic.

      “I guess I forgot to get dressed.”

      “We have to talk,” he grumbled. It wasn’t a request. It was an order.

      “Okay, let’s talk.”

      “Can I come in? If I’m going to grovel, I’m sure as hell not going to do it in front of your neighbors.”

      Grovel?

      Dillon laid down the law. He divided and conquered. But Dillon did not grovel.

      Without waiting for an answer, and in typical Dillon form, he strong-armed his way inside and shut the door behind him.

      “Make yourself at home,” she mumbled, annoyed, but only a little.

      “So here’s the deal,” he said in that Master of the Universe tone. “I’m not going to let you toss me away again.”

      So this was his idea of groveling? Ordering her around again?

      She crossed her arms over her chest, stuck her chin up in the air. “You’re not?”

      He settled into an identical, defiant stance. “Nope.”

      “Do I have a say in this?”

      “Nope. I love you, and you love me. Even though you’re too damned stubborn to admit it.”

      Oh, she was, was she? Why in the heck did he think she was coming to see him? To tell him she didn’t love him?

      “For your information, I do love you. Although at times like this I have to wonder why.”

      “Great, so you won’t object to the fact that you’re marrying me.”

      A shiver of excitement scrambled up her spine. He wanted to marry her. “If that was a proposal, you really need to work on your delivery.”

      “You want me to get down on one knee? Fine.” He dropped down in front of her. “How’s that?”

      “Better.” A lot closer to the groveling he’d promised.

      He looked her right in the eye and said, “Marry me.”

      Another demand. For Pete’s sake, could he drop the macho act for two seconds?

      “What about my work? My career? If we get married, professionally I could be ruined. You said yourself that it was too much to ask me to give up.”

      The cockiness never wavered. “Too bad. Because I’m asking.”

      No, he wasn’t. He was telling. The way he always did. But knowing how hard it must have been for him to swallow his pride and come here in the first place, this time she didn’t mind so much. He was just being