Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
D ylan.
Not that she could recognize him from his hand, but somehow she knew it was him.
She only had a few minutes, but she couldn’t resist. Dylan must have felt rushed like this in Paris. That realization soothed her. Even if he’d wanted to see more of her, he’d had obligations. Though he hadn’t told her how he felt about not being able to be with her more. Did guys even do that?
Mallory rounded the corner.
Dylan wore a ball cap, a loose, dark sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. At a glance, he’d simply be a well-built guy in the crowd. Close up, he was stunningly rock-star handsome.
Mallory gestured toward the door. “I only just found out that you’re responsible for my reinforcements. Thank you.”
“Sunny and Jenny help at our Seoul concerts.”
“Ah. That’s why they’re such pros.” Mallory raised her arms overhead, stretching. “This has been the best signing.”
“Looks like it’s going well.”
“How come you’re here? Need a riveting read, autographed by a goddess’s hand?”
Dylan’s lips quirked. “How did you know?”
Mallory pulled out an imaginary pen. “Okay, which body part do you want signed?” She’d scroll her way up his whole body if he wanted. Her lips quirked, and she barely resisted making that offer.
Dylan patted his pocket and pulled out a professional-grade, fine-edged marker. The smooth move after her flippant request made her laugh. Not that it was odd for him to carry a marker; given his fame, he’d signed a million more autographs than she had.
He reached for the hem of his sweatshirt and raised it an inch, showing hard abs.
What a canvas. Mallory’s mouth went dry. Billions of people had seen his abs, but not this close up. She was lucky.
Dylan let his shirt drop and re-pocketed the marker. “Just teasing.”
Why hadn’t she reached forward and signed her name with at least her fingertip? Talk about missed opportunities.
Dylan rubbed at his neck. “I have to get up to a meeting.”
“Can’t be all spotlights and soundtracks all the time, I guess.” Mallory was amazed the words came out, her mind still focused on his body. What were his workouts like? Lifting speakers, swinging guitars, bench-pressing drum sets?
“If you ask Texk, it can. If you ask Oliver, meetings and paperwork are the priority. If you ask the guys, it’s the music.”
His schedule was next level. The media made it seem like rock stars partied all the time. This guy’s dark shadows weren’t from hard living but from overwork. “How long can Texk keep you going like this?”
“Until the money runs dry.” Dylan shook his head. “I’m fine. I didn’t pull you aside to complain.” He lifted his cap, shoved his hair back off his forehead, and shoved it back on.
“Why did you stop by?” She repeated the question he had evaded. Was he here to check on his sibling? To profess his love for books? Or was this simply the fastest route upstairs?
“I really do have a meeting. I’m mentoring a young group.”
“That’s nice of you.” Was he avoiding the personal part of her question or did he not know the answer? She understood because she was doing the same. Why was she here talking to him instead of in line at the coffee shop or back outside at her table? She was drawn to him. She wanted to get closer, to learn more about him, to kiss him again.
Her insides fluttered, and she knew she was looking up at him with a helpless expression, but she couldn’t pull up a more professional pose.
Dylan stared back at her, his eyes glittery, and a faint flush hit the top of his cheekbones. He looked so handsome, so intent, but he didn’t make a move.
When the building’s exterior doors opened, the faint chatter of fans came through in the distance, reminding her of her duty. That, plus his inaction, gave her the ability to breathe. “I have to go back outside.” No time for coffee now. Mallory turned toward the hallway that would take her to the exit. She simply needed her feet to move.
Dylan touched her chin lightly, turning her face up to his. His touch against her skin made her melt, taking her from solid and upright to practically needing him to support her because her knees wouldn’t hold her up.
She didn’t have time to play with him. “I can’t keep them waiting. It’s not fair.” She made no move to go.
“I understand.” Dylan shut his eyes briefly. “Even so. I don’t want to let you leave.”
He still felt the pull between them too. Sparkling understanding shot through her, and Mallory smiled. How nice not to be in this alone.
Dylan brushed her hair off her shoulder. “Security controlling the crowd okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” Mallory made a sound of agreement, liking the feeling of his hand touching her hair. She made no move to pull away.
“They’ve let too many fans in venues before. Moving the signing outside isn’t only because of the good weather. They can break capacity codes this way. Don’t hesitate to speak up if you get the impression security is dropping the ball.”
“I think the biggest drama I can expect is if my marker runs out of ink.”
Dylan withdrew his marker again and offered it to her with a wink. “Backup.”
“Aww, thank you.” His endearing gesture and the physical pen connected them to the moment. Even if every pen in the area ran out of ink, she wouldn’t use this one. She’d save it. Place it atop her desk and look at it when she needed a sweet memory.
The second she touched the pen, there was a small pop, and the cylinder cracked open, spilling silver-blue metallic ink over both their hands, staining them like a shared prophecy. “Oh.”