Dare to Touch (Dare to Love 3)

Olivia bit her lip. “No, umm, what’s your rush?” she tried to explain. “Where are you off to?”

He glanced around nervously. “I’m just, uh, taking a walk.”

Dylan narrowed his gaze. “You don’t lie well, Marcus. What gives?”

“You’ll be mad and I’ll get in trouble.” For all his size and weight, Marcus was still very much a kid, probably less mature than the average twenty-four-year-old. Of course, the average twenty-four-year-old didn’t get tossed into heartthrob, millionaire status right out of college.

Olivia exchanged a worried glance with Dylan. “Is your cousin here?” she asked.

“No!” he said too quickly, still not meeting her gaze.

“Okay, well, then go,” Dylan said. “And take care.”

Marcus darted for the revolving door, and Olivia turned to Dylan. “What was that all about? Why did you let him go?”

“Because he’s an adult who deserves the chance to make the right choices. We can’t babysit him. We just have to hope for the best.”

“In theory, I agree. In reality, Ian sent me to keep an eye on him too.”

Dylan grasped her hand. “There’s keeping an eye on him and there’s babysitting. You can’t just follow him around twenty-four seven.”

She sighed. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“Don’t you know by now? I’m always right.”

She elbowed him in the side. “And I’m always starving. Let’s go before I’m forced to comment on that statement.”

They turned and headed for the restaurant once more, but Olivia couldn’t stop thinking about Marcus … and she had a gut feeling trouble would definitely be coming. She only hoped any fallout didn’t hit her, as well as Marcus.

To her pleasant surprise, trouble didn’t follow Marcus that day or the next. They attended all the Pro-Bowl-related parties and press events. And when they weren’t talking business, she and Dylan spent time alone, their relationship growing. It was a novel experience, allowing herself to enjoy without worry—but he made it easy. And without the real world to intrude, she actually relaxed.

The morning of the Pro Bowl, the players had interviews scheduled at the Tailgate Party in the VIP Tent. The sun shone, and the day was warm, perfect for the musical celebrity talent to play outside. Dylan and Olivia showed up early, making sure the players were comfortable and had what they needed. Olivia was having a blast. The casual atmosphere allowed her to wear a comfortable sleeveless dress, and she pulled her hair up in a sleek ponytail to help her avoid getting sweaty and hot.

Players from every team mingled, some accompanied by their families, all with smiles on their faces. All but Marcus, who was nowhere to be found.

“Where is he?” Dylan asked, teeth clenched, his annoyance palpable. The time for the man’s interview in the broadcast booth was inching closer. “We should have met them in the lobby and traveled to the stadium together.”

“They aren’t children, as you pointed out. We didn’t think we needed to make sure they met their limo at the hotel this morning.”

Dylan frowned, and she couldn’t help but smooth the wrinkles in his forehead with her finger. He groaned at the intimate touch.

“Not the time,” he muttered, but his voice dropped to that husky tone that got her insides revving.

Of course, just looking at Dylan in his dark pants and white shirt with aviators on his eyes and it didn’t matter that she’d had him inside her earlier this morning. She wanted him again, as evidenced by the pulsing between her thighs.

She swallowed a groan of her own. “Don’t worry. I’ll do my best to track him down,” she said, focusing on what was important.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“You stay and keep an eye on the others,” she assured him.

She walked away from the tailgate, stopping when she knew she could hear better on her phone. She hoped there wasn’t anything seriously wrong and Marcus had just overslept.

First she called the hotel and asked for his room. No answer. She called back and asked the operator if either she or Dylan had had any messages left for them, hoping maybe Marcus had tried to get in touch.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing,” the woman who’d answered the phone said.

“Can you connect me with the concierge?” she asked. When a man answered, she asked if anyone had seen Marcus get into his scheduled limousine that morning.