Wishes for Tomorrow. Brenda Jackson

Iris, a ten. He is so darn pleasing to the eyes it’s a shame,” she said, inwardly blaming Iris for making her tell all.

      “What about his personality?”

      Pam thought about how dinner had gone yesterday and how pleasant it had been for her sisters to feel included in the dinner discussions. Dillon had held their focus because he had paid attention to them, as if what they had to say was important, not trivial like Fletcher would often do. Yes, she would have to say he had a nice personality.

      “He’s nice, Iris, and his personality goes right along with it.”

      “Would he be someone that would interest you if you weren’t engaged to Fletcher?”

      Pam frowned. “Why would you ask me something like that when I am engaged to Fletcher?”

      “Cut all the drama, Pam, and answer the question.”

      Pam’s frown deepened because she knew the answer to Iris’s question without thinking much about it. “Yes, he would be. In a heartbeat.” And then because she had to tell someone and Iris, being her best friend, was the likely candidate, she said, “I’m attracted to him. Isn’t that awful?”

      “Why is it awful? You and I both know why you’re marrying Fletcher, which I still think is a mistake. I refuse to believe there is not a bank anywhere that will loan you the money you need to pay off that second mortgage.”

      “We’re talking about a million dollars, Iris. You know how much hassle you got from the banks when you wanted to borrow half that much to start your PR business. I have very little in savings and what I do have Jill will need for college next year. And Paige and Nadia need a home. I can’t expect them to move away from the only home they’ve known. A home that’s been in the Novak family for over a hundred years.” Pam sighed in frustration. “I still can’t believe Dad didn’t take all that into consideration when he took out that second mortgage.”

      “If Fletcher was really a nice guy, he would cosign for you to get that money without any strings attached,” Iris said. “For him to put stipulations on his help by asking you to marry him is just downright underhanded, if you ask me.”

      Pam didn’t say anything since she had heard it all from Iris before, several times. When Iris finally ended her spiel, Pam said, “Marrying Fletcher won’t be so bad, Iris.”

      “It will be if you’re sentencing yourself to a life without love and passion, and we both know that you are. I loved Garlan and the passion we shared was wonderful. I can’t imagine being married to a man I didn’t love or who didn’t do anything for me sexually.”

      Pam was silent for a moment and then said quietly, “Well, I can. I don’t have a choice, Iris.”

      For a short while Iris didn’t say anything, either. “Then maybe now is the time to enjoy passion while you can.”

      Pam blinked. “Just what are you suggesting?”

      “You’ve admitted you’re attracted to Dillon Westmoreland, so take advantage of that attraction and think about yourself for a change, not the house or the land or your sisters. Think about Pamela.”

      “I can’t do that,” Pam said.

      “Sure you can. Are you going to deny you haven’t been thinking about Dillon Westmoreland in the wee hours of the night?”

      Pam almost dropped the phone. “How did you know?”

      Iris laughed. “Hey, you said the man is a ten. Men who are tens can’t help but find their way into a woman’s nightly dreams, regardless of whether she’s single, engaged or married. It happens. My advice to you is to bring him out of your dreams into your reality. You will be married to Fletcher until death do you part. Do you want to go through the next fifty, sixty or seventy years without feeling any passion again?”

      “I told you about my past experiences with passion, Iris,” she said, remembering the couple of times she had slept with guys and the disappointment she’d felt afterward. She hadn’t heard the bells and whistles, nor had she felt any earthquakes like Iris had claimed she would.

      “That’s why you owe it to yourself to try things out one more time. I bet Mr. Ten will deliver.”

      At that moment Pam saw Dillon’s car pull into her yard. Moments later she watched him get out. Today he was wearing a pair of khakis and a dark green shirt. And just like yesterday and the day before, he looked handsome and utterly sexy.

      Her gaze scanned over his body and, as if he knew she was staring out the window, he turned and looked directly toward her. She immediately felt heat suffuse her body at the same time blood gushed through her veins. Yes, there was no doubt in her mind that if given the chance he could deliver.

      “Pam?”

      “Yes?”

      “When will you be seeing him again?”

      Pam licked her lips as she continued to stare. Dillon hadn’t moved. He was still standing in that same spot gazing through the window. He couldn’t see her, although she could see him. Yet it was as if he knew she was there, knew he was holding her attention. She wondered if he had any clue about the thoughts flowing through her mind at that particular moment. If he did, he would probably jump back into the car and hightail it off her property.

      “Pam?”

      “I see him now, Iris. Through the kitchen window. He just drove up and has gotten out the car.”

      “Then the ball is now in your court, Pam. And you owe it to yourself to play it.”

      * * *

      Dillon leaned back against his car as he stared into what he knew was Pam’s secret window. Somehow he knew she was there, looking at him, with the same intensity with which he was looking at her.

      Ramsey’s words of last night rang in his ears, and the thought of wanting her made his breathing quicken and his guts clench. If she knew what he was thinking she probably wouldn’t let him within a foot of her, and definitely not inside her house.

      He had soaked in the bathtub in his hotel room last night with his eyes closed and thought about her. He had gone to bed thinking about her. And he had awakened that morning thinking about her. A woman who belonged to another man.

      Not yet though, as Ramsey had pointed out to him last night.

      He would be out of line to make a pass at her, so he wouldn’t. But he intended to do everything to incite her to make a pass at him...if she was interested. If she wasn’t, then he knew he would have to control his urges. But if she was interested, then those urges would be set free.

      There was a chance that he was reading too much into the looks they had exchanged across the dinner table last night, or the heat that he’d felt. But there was only one way to find out. If she decided to indulge in this thing he felt between them, then that meant her relationship with Fletcher wasn’t as tight as it needed to be.

      Deciding he couldn’t stay outside and stare into the window for the rest of the day, he drew in a deep breath before shifting his eyes away to move toward her front door. He took his time walking up the steps and by the time he lifted his hand to knock, the door had opened and she stood there.

      His guts clenched harder as he lowered his hand to his side. She looked as beautiful as usual, but today she was wearing her hair differently. It appeared fluffed up and it billowed around her shoulders like she had used one of those curling irons on it.

      His gaze moved from her head to her eyes and saw her watching him as intently as he was watching her. He then moved his gaze lower to her lips. They were the same lips he had dreamed about last night. Many times.

      Then his eyes followed the hand that she nervously ran down her throat to the V of her knit top. He couldn’t help but notice how her breasts swelled in perfect formation against the blouse.

      “I’ve been waiting for you,” she