“I know you do.”
For a few minutes neither of them spoke, then Dagan said, “You know, I’m really looking forward to meeting your mother, even if I do take exception to her taste in music.”
Chelsea ignored the first part of his statement—after she revealed the Big Bad secret, she suffered no illusions that he’d want to meet her mom—and focused instead on the second part. She pushed up on her elbow. “What do you mean her taste in music? How would you know what her taste in music is?”
“Her ringtone. She likes Dolly Parton, right?”
Chelsea narrowed her eyes.
“Uh-oh. I know that look. You’re about to let me have it, aren’t you?”
“And what the heck is wrong with Dolly Parton?” she demanded.
“Yep.” He sighed. “Let me have it.”
“She is one of the greatest songwriters of the last century. She’s had dozens of hits. And did you know she turned down Elvis Presley when he wanted to recordI Will Always Love You? Elvis Presley, for heaven’s sake! And—”
He dragged her down and melted her brain with a soft, seductive kiss.
When she was thoroughly breathless, he released her and said against her lips, “I take it back. Dolly’s awesome.”
“Damn straight.” She felt more than saw his smile. “But for the record, it was my dad who was the big Dolly Parton fan. Mom and I…we each have a different Dolly ringtone because it… Well, every time we call each other, it reminds us of him. That’s also why we wear so much purple.”
“Was that his favorite color?”
Her brow puckered. “You know, I don’t know what his favorite color was. I just know that he thought Mom looked beautiful in purple. Every Christmas, he would buy her something new. A lavender scarf one year. An eggplant-colored summer dress the next. After he died, I started wearing purple too. Sort of a…”
“Memorial,” he finished for her.
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“He must have been an amazing man for two amazing women to love him and miss him so fiercely.”
“He was the best. He had the biggest laugh you’ve ever heard.”
“Wish I could have met him.”
A lump formed in Chelsea’s throat. “He would have loved you and hated you at the same time.”
“Hated me? Why’s that?”
“Loved you because you’re a wonderful man. Hated you because you’re diddling his daughter.”
“Diddling?”
A smile twitched her lips. “I picked that one up from Emily.”
“That woman hassucha way with words.”
“Doesn’t she, though?” Chelsea snorted. “So what about your folks? I mean, what were they like when you were growing up?”Stall much, Chels?Yes. Yes, she did. But if this was the only time she would ever have to talk to him like a lover, to get to know him, then she was taking it. “You’ve never told me much—read: anything—about your childhood.”
Dagan’s voice had turned sleepy, the warm hand rubbing her back becoming slow and lazy. The strain of the day, both mental and physical, was catching up with him. It was catching up with her too now that she was warm—more than warm,steamy. Their body heat had combined with their soggy clothes to leave beads of condensation glittering dully around the hull. Her eyes threatened to drop closed, and her body loosened until her muscles felt liquid.
“I guess you could say we were your all-American family. Dad was an accountant for a wire mesh manufacturing plant. Mom was a librarian at the Union Branch of the Cleveland Public Library. We lived in a three-bedroom house on a cul-de-sac. Little League. Boy Scouts. Summer barbecues with the neighbors. Pretty standard stuff, really.” He stopped abruptly, and she could tell he was gathering his thoughts.
“And then your mom got sick?” she prompted.
“Yeah. I was away at college, but Avan was still at home. He watched her go through it, watchedDadhaving to watch her go through it. After she died, Dad was really never quite the same. And then before Dad could truly heal from his heartbreak, he had the aneurysm.” She heard Dagan’s throat work over a swallow. “Maybe it was a blessing. I don’t know. I’m not sure there’s an afterlife, but if there is, I like to think my parents are together sharing it.”
