Dare to Submit by Carly Phillips Page B

better.
    “I love this place,” Decklan said, glancing around while they waited for the check.
    “It’s relaxing. I come here a lot when I don’t want to cook. Sometimes I’ll bring my iPad and just read while I’m eating.”
    He stared at her a moment, taking in her now-makeup-free face and serious eyes and saw someone who was, at heart, a loner. Much like him. “I’m glad you let me come this weekend.”
    She smiled. “You were pretty insistent. But I have to admit I’m glad too.”
    After a shared dessert, they walked back to her apartment. As they reached the entrance to the building, a female voice called out from the parking lot. “Amanda?”
    “Mother?” Amanda stiffened, then turned.
    A well-dressed and very unhappy-looking woman strode up to her. “Of course it’s your mother. You know, the woman whose calls you’ve been ignoring. The woman you kept waiting in her car?”
    Amanda sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s not like I was expecting you. And as for not returning your calls, I’ve been busy.”
    “Yes, working as a secretary.” The older woman wrinkled her nose in disdain.
    “Personal assistant,” Amanda corrected her.
    “Same thing.”
    Amanda shook her head. “Mother, please. Not again.”
    Since the other woman didn’t seem to want to notice him, Decklan took the time to evaluate her with a lingering look. She came up lacking. Although it was obvious she and Amanda were related, blonde hair—though clearly her mother’s had been touched up with a bottle—similar bone structure, and brown eye color, the similarities ended there. Where her mother was tall and too thin, Amanda was lush and curvy. Where Amanda was warm and real, her mother was full of grandeur and illusion. Or was it delusion? Decklan wondered.
    “ Mother, please what?” the older woman mimicked. “How about you show some manners and invite me inside?”
    Good Lord, she was cold. How had Amanda grown up with this woman?
    Amanda straightened her shoulders. But Decklan could sense how hard even that small act of defiance had been.
    “Now’s not a good time,” Amanda said. “I have company. We just returned from dinner.”
    Her mother glanced at Decklan, noticing him for the first time, and her frown indicated she didn’t like what she saw. Since that made two of them, he didn’t much care.
    “Marilyn Collins, this is Decklan Dare,” Amanda said, gesturing between them.
    “It’s nice to meet you,” he gritted out. He couldn’t say it was a pleasure, but for Amanda’s sake, he’d be pleasant.
    Her mother glanced away from him, her eyes widening as she really looked at Amanda. “You went out to a restaurant dressed like that ?”
    She glanced down at her light pink dress that hung gently but clung to every curve and a pair of basic flip-flops that showed off her pink polished toes. “I like this dress,” she said softly.
    “It looks like you put on a few pounds too. Good thing I have a wonderful new diet. We can talk when we’re alone.” She pointedly stared at Decklan.
    As if he would leave her alone with this evil woman.
    If this was how her mother had always treated her, no wonder she had deeply ingrained self-esteem issues. There was nothing wrong with how she looked or her dress. Not a damned thing.
    “For what it’s worth, I think you look beautiful,” Decklan said, resting his hand on the small of her back.
    She didn’t flinch away, accepting his show of support. In fact, she glanced up at him and smiled.
    “Who are you to my daughter?” Marilyn’s shrill voice captured his attention. She perched her hands on her slim hips, her annoyance clear.
    So much for niceties. She hadn’t even acknowledged his greeting. He wanted to shove his relationship with Amanda in this woman’s face but knew better. Amanda appeared shocked, and the more her mother spoke, with her belittling tone and disgusted looks, the more Amanda quietly pulled into herself.
    “We’re friends,” he said, hating the