Chapter 2

Dylan shook hands with the woman who was still wide eyed and slack jawed, but it was the one directly in front of him who held his attention. She was petite and curvy and maybe it was the glasses but…her eyes looked huge. They were such a deep shade of brown they were almost black and maybe it was his imagination but she hadn’t blinked. At all. Taking his hand from the first woman, he asked, “And you are?”

She giggled. “Daisy. I’m Daisy Garner and I’m a huge fan.” She studied her hand and then sighed. “Wow. I can’t believe you’re here. I was just saying how I was hoping you’d come in and here you are! Can I get a picture of you? Will you wait while I get my camera? I swear I’ll only be a minute and—”

“Daisy!” the woman in front of him snapped, but she didn’t look away from him.

“Oh…right. Sorry. Give me a minute.”

When she was gone, Dylan relaxed. Smiling, he said, “She’s a bit chatty, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

He waited a minute to see if she’d introduce herself, and when she didn’t, he prompted, “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

She blushed. “Oh…um. Paige. I’m Paige Walters.”

Uh-oh. This threw his plans for a loop. He was all set to charm an elderly librarian type. And Paige Walters was as far from an elderly librarian as they came. She had a studious look to her, but those killer curves and the fact that she was probably younger than him blew that plan to hell. Now what? Maybe she was a fan like Daisy was. That could work in his favor.

“So,” he began, “you’re exactly who I was hoping to see.” Then he noticed her satchel and it dawned on him that she had been waiting for the elevator. “I’m sorry. Is this a bad time?”

“Did we have an appointment?” she asked, her voice sounding a little gruff and shaky.

“Uh…no. We didn’t. I was hoping to talk to you about this campaign that you’re working on.”

Her eyes got wider and then narrowed at him. “Really?” she asked with both sarcasm and disbelief.

Dylan nodded. “Yes. So…do you have some time right now to talk? If you’re heading somewhere, I can walk with you, or we can grab some coffee or—”

“Oh, take her to get some coffee!” Daisy said excitedly, as she walked toward them, smiling from ear to ear. She snapped a couple of pictures of him and then asked Paige to take one of the two of them together before she got back on topic. “Paige was heading out, but she loves that great coffee shop on the corner. They have amazing cake pops.”

“I’m standing right here, Daisy,” Paige said wearily.

“I know you are, but I also know if I didn’t say anything, you’d probably pass on taking the time to talk with Dylan. I’m being helpful.”

“You’re being rude,” Paige murmured and then offered Dylan a tight smile. “Anyway, um…I am heading out for the day, but I can spare a few minutes for coffee if that works for you.”

“And cake pops?” he teased and almost sagged with relief when she smiled. And damn, did she have a great smile.

“And cake pops,” she said as she ducked her head and blushed again. Turning to Daisy, she said, “Go and man the phones and I’ll see you Monday. If anyone comes looking for me—”

“I’ll take care of it,” Daisy replied, clearly suppressing a grin. “Have a great weekend.” Then she looked at Dylan and giggled. “It was nice to meet you!” Then she spun and practically skipped away.

Beside him, Paige shook her head.

“Is she your assistant?”

She nodded and then reached around him to hit the button for the elevator. A few minutes ago, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, and now she would barely look at him. They waited in silence, and once the elevator arrived, he motioned for her to precede him into it and then stepped in behind her.

“If you’d rather not get coffee, you know, I’m sure I can schedule a time to meet with you here next week,” Paige said as soon as the doors closed.

Wait, was she trying to get rid of him?

While looking straight ahead at the doors, she went on. “I’m sure you’re a very busy man and I don’t know if you can have coffee without people swarming you or something, and to be honest, if we’re going to talk about the campaign—and your possible involvement in it—I prefer to do so without fans hovering for pictures.”

Her voice was almost void of emotion, and Dylan realized Paige clearly wasn’t a fan of his.

“I don’t normally get bothered,” he supplied. “I mean occasionally a fan or two, like your assistant, will come over to say hello, but it’s not like my presence in a Starbucks is going to incite a riot or anything.”

“Still… I think it would be better if maybe we scheduled something for…”

Dylan stepped in front of her—directly in her line of vision so she couldn’t ignore him. “How about a compromise?”

She looked at him quizzically but silently. Great. He hadn’t thought about where he was going with this. All he knew was that he didn’t want to wait until next week to talk to her. True, he hadn’t known that until this minute, but there was something about her that…intrigued him. And more than anything, he wanted to know if she had an aversion to working with him because of his history or because of something else.

Maybe he was paranoid, but he was getting a strong vibe that Paige was trying to get rid of him.

“A compromise?”

Think fast! “Um…yeah. A compromise.” Brilliant. Keep repeating the same words. That oughta make her want to work on a literacy campaign with you. Moron.

The elevator came to a stop on the first floor, and when the doors opened, Dylan again motioned for her to go first as he frantically tried to think of a reasonable compromise.

“Like what?” she asked as she came to a stop in the middle of the massive lobby. There were a few people walking around, but no one was paying any attention to them. Maybe that would work in his favor, if she noticed he wasn’t one of those mob-inducing celebrities.

“Well, you seemed like you were on your way out to…someplace. Maybe I can tag along and we can talk. Like in the car. We’ll grab our coffees—if you want one—and drive for a bit. No one’s going to chase after the car or anything,” he said with a small laugh and instantly stopped when he saw she wasn’t laughing.

Or smiling.

“I’m going to the grocery store,” she stated. “And then home. I don’t think that’s going to work. We can do this next week. I’ll have Daisy call you. I think we have your number on file so—”

“No!” he quickly interrupted. Okay, this time he was definitely being paranoid, but he knew if he didn’t talk to her today, didn’t convince her to let him in on this project, that he wasn’t going to get another chance.

“Excuse me?”

He sighed and figured he had nothing left to lose. “Look, I get it. You know who I am and I can tell you’ve got no real interest in working with me. Actually, I don’t get it. If you feel like this, why reach out to me at all?”

“Actually…I didn’t,” she said hesitantly and then instantly looked down at the ground.

“I don’t understand.”

Now it was her turn to sigh, but then she looked up at him. “I had… And then my sister…” She stopped and sighed again. “Maybe we should go get that coffee.”

Two minutes ago, Dylan would have considered that a victory, but now he had a feeling she was using it as a way to let him down easily. “Yeah. Okay. Sure.” She gave him a brief nod and then led the way out of the building. He got in step beside her, and neither spoke as they walked along the sidewalk to the corner coffee shop.

Once inside, they still didn’t speak except to give their orders. He breathed a sigh of relief that no one seemed to recognize him, and when Paige offered to get a table, he agreed to wait for their drinks. Dylan motioned to the barista and asked for a couple of cake pops to be added to their bill. He noticed Paige hadn’t ordered any, but at this point, he wasn’t above using whatever he could to get on her good side.

As he waited, his mind raced. Why was this so important? When Mick had first mentioned this project to him, it wasn’t something he’d wanted to do. Then he’d made his peace with it, but it wasn’t as if it were mandatory that he do this project in particular to meet his community service commitment. There were plenty to choose from. Maybe it was ridiculous for him to be getting in a snit over it and trying to win over a chick who didn’t seem like she wanted to be won.

Dylan looked over to the table in the far corner that Paige had snagged for them and smiled. She looked flustered, and she fidgeted with her hair and then her glasses as she looked around the room as if waiting for some sort of flash mob to jump out at any moment and demand he perform with them.

“Oh my God! Are you Dylan Anders?” a voice whispered from behind the counter.

Dylan turned and smiled at the young girl holding his tray of cake pops and coffees. He leaned in a little and whispered. “I am.”

She blushed and slowly handed him his tray. “I thought it was you and I didn’t want to say it out loud and embarrass you—or me, in case I was wrong. Wow! I…I’m such a big fan. Really. You’re awesome.”

“Thanks,” he replied and looked at her name badge, “Tammy. I appreciate that.”

She looked over her shoulder as if gauging the line. “Would you mind signing something for me?”

“Not at all.” He waited as she reached for a cup and then grabbed a Sharpie and handed it to him.

“Sorry. It’s all I can find, and I don’t want to draw attention to you or get in trouble with my boss.”

“No worries,” he said, still smiling, as he signed the cup and handed it to her. “And thanks. I appreciate you keeping it quiet.”

“Oh,” she sighed happily. “Sure. No problem. Enjoy your coffee!”

With a wave, Dylan made his way to the corner where Paige was waiting, frowning.

Great.

Deciding to ignore that look, he put the tray on the table and smiled. He handed her the white chocolate mocha Frappuccino and then the plate of cake pops. He saw her eyes light up briefly and decided right then and there that if he managed to get her to agree to let him work on this project, he would have to remember that she clearly had a sweet tooth.

Placing the empty tray aside on a vacant chair, he stripped off his jacket and was about to sit down when he saw the horrified look on Paige’s face.

She was staring at his arms—at his tattoos—with more than a hint of disgust. Okay, not everyone was a fan of tattoos, but his weren’t anything to freak out over. It wasn’t as if he were covered in demons and skulls, for crying out loud! His sleeves were deeply personal to him. Every drop of ink on his skin held a special meaning—his latest tat finished the sleeve on his right arm and said, “Inhale the future, exhale the past.” It was a good motto to be living by right now. The rest on that arm had to do with music and was filled in with roses, which were symbolic of deep love, passion, and balance. Or so he’d been told. They were also sometimes seen as a message for healing, rejuvenation, and courage.

That described his journey of the past several months.

Not deterred by her reaction, Dylan sat and took a sip of his dark roast. Not that he didn’t enjoy a good latte or espresso, but right now, he really needed some straight coffee.

“So,” he began after his first sip, “I read the packet you sent along, and I have to admit, it sounds great.”

Paige took another sip of her drink and then put it down before speaking. He watched her eye the plate of cake pops, and he had a feeling she was fighting the urge to at least taste one before talking to him. But she looked up at him and gave him a small smile.

At least she wasn’t sneering or looking at his arms anymore. She cleared her throat and straightened in her chair.

Here we go.

“Mr. Anders—”

“Dylan,” he corrected with a smile.

That seemed to relax her a little. “Okay…Dylan. There seems to be a bit of a…misunderstanding.” She paused. “You see, my original plans for this campaign involved using well-known authors and only authors. After all, who understands the love of reading and the importance of it more than an author?”

“That makes sense.”

She nodded and took another small sip of her beverage. “Well, that was the plan I laid out to my firm, and the person I asked to reach out to those authors took it upon herself to…expand upon my list and reach out to…”

“Me?”

She nodded again. “And others.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

That had her hesitating, and he watched with a mixture of annoyance and amusement as she eyed the cake pops again. Knowing he’d never have her full attention at this rate, Dylan reached over and picked one up and held it out to her. “Here. Eat it. Please!” he said with a forced chuckle. “Just…get it out of the way so we can talk.”

Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and Dylan realized it probably wasn’t overly proper or polite of him to point out that she was agonizing over a piece of cake, but they had bigger issues to discuss, and dammit, he deserved her full attention.

“Sorry,” he murmured as she reluctantly took the pop from his hand. “I hate sitting here watching you argue with yourself over this. Take it and enjoy it. I got it for you.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “It’s not very professional, or ladylike, for me to be paying more attention to cake than a client so…I’m sorry.” Then she took a delicate bite of the pop and groaned with pleasure.

Dylan’s immediate thought was how the cake was bite-sized and wondered why she took such a small bite, but as soon as she groaned, he realized he didn’t give a damn how many bites it took for her to get through it. Never had he seen someone take such extreme pleasure in their food—especially such a tiny bite of food!

He shifted in his seat and thought of helping himself to one of the pops but immediately reconsidered. If they had to sit here for the rest of the afternoon, he was willing to torture himself and simply listen to Paige enjoy each and every bite.

“Oh, that’s good,” she said and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he replied, and meant it. “So…someone messed with your list…”

She took another bite, moaned, and nodded.

Dylan shifted again to ease what was sure to become a very evident reaction to the sound of Paige’s throaty voice.

“My sister,” she said. “She doesn’t think authors—bestselling authors—are a big enough draw for the campaign. So she decided to reach out to bigger names, but to be honest with you, I don’t understand her reasoning.” She studied him for a moment. “I mean, overall I do. Many literacy campaigns in the past have used athletes and celebrities to help sell the cause. But…is there something about you that would have her believe you’d be a good fit for a literacy project? Have you ever done anything for this cause before?”

He shook his head. “Honestly, I’ve never worked on anything like this before.” He paused and tried to work out in his head what he wanted to say, but his mouth didn’t want to wait. “Look, I’m a musician. Normally my time is spent on tour or in the studio. There was never time or a need to do anything like this. But right now? I’ve got nothing but time on my hands and this is a project I’d like to get involved with.”

With a tilted head, she looked at him, and he noticed the slight frown. “Why? Why do you have so much free time?”

“The band’s on hiatus.”

Straightening, she nodded. “Oh. Okay. For how long?”

“I don’t know. Things are a little…complicated right now. But from what I saw of your timeline, it’s not going to cause a conflict.”

“How can you be so sure? What if things worked out and someone wanted to perform next week? Then what?”

“Then I’d make it work out so I would honor my commitment to you first,” he said quickly, feeling the first twinge of hope since this conversation began. “If I sign on with you, Paige, then I promise I will see it through to the end. Although I can’t imagine that you’d need me to be an active participant 24/7 for the entire run. But the campaign would be my first priority. You have my word on that.”

That seemed to please her. She took another sip of her Frappuccino and then picked up the next cake pop. Dylan almost leaned in with anticipation.

“I, um…I wasn’t sure which flavors you liked,” he said as she studied the pop. “That one is red velvet, I believe.”

She gave him a shy smile. “Red velvet is my favorite, but they’re all good.” Then she took a small bite and—God help him—let out another little moan.

He felt a bead of sweat start to trickle down his neck.

Was she aware that she was doing it?

Clearing his throat, he said, “I think what you have planned is impressive. I can imagine it’s going to be successful and I want to be a part of it. So what do you say, Paige?”

Rather than answer, she took her second bite and finished the cake pop. Dylan had to distract himself until he was certain she was done.

Clearly, it had been way too long since he’d had sex if he was getting this hot and bothered over a woman eating dessert. He made a mental note to work on rectifying that.

Tonight.

Paige shifted a bit in her seat and studied him. “Dylan, I’d like to say yes to you, but…I can’t.”

Dammit.

“I was leaving early today to look over all the information Ariel changed and sort of wrap my head around it all and see if it makes sense or if we should stick to my original list of contributors and authors. It’s nothing personal—”

“It feels personal,” he muttered.

A small sigh escaped her. “I don’t know enough about you to make this personal,” she countered. “Honestly, Daisy told me who you were, but before that…I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

For a minute, he could only stare. Was she for real? Not that he thought that highly of himself, but he knew that in current pop culture, he was a pretty big name. And she had no idea who he was?

“Do you listen to music? At all?”

She laughed. “Of course I do. And I’m sure if you told me what band you’re with—”

“Shaughnessy.”

“Oh! Oh yes! I really liked your last album,” she said with a genuine smile. Then she shrugged. “But I’m the kind of person who can listen to the music and not give any thought to the people behind it. I know that sounds horrible but…there it is.”

Okay, this wasn’t a bad thing. It could totally work in his favor. If he could convince her to sign him on without having to get into the whole community service requirement quite yet, he’d be thrilled.

Relaxing, he crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at her. “It’s okay, Paige. I don’t have that big of an ego, where I expect everyone to know my name. Still, I feel like you’re cutting me off—and anyone who isn’t an author. I don’t know what your sister’s logic was behind the changes, but maybe she’s onto something. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have authors in the bunch. You totally should. But there’s something to be said for adding another demographic. I’ll bet we could organize a concert of some sort to raise money and awareness.”

And if she agreed to sign him on, he’d make it happen come hell or high water!

Her eyes went wide. “A…a concert? I didn’t think of anything like that. But then again, I haven’t had the time to look at this from every angle. I was so set on having authors doing this that a concert wasn’t even on my radar.”

“Between the band and my connections, I’d like to think I could help you put something together that would get the attention your cause deserves.” Then he leaned forward and took one of her hands in his. “And I truly believe in this, Paige. I think what you’re doing is very…noble. There are a lot of kids who grow into adults without learning how to read—or who can’t read beyond the basics. With any luck, this campaign will not only raise awareness, but it will also provide the funds needed for programs to help people of all ages.”

When he stopped talking, he saw how Paige’s eyes were bright with unshed tears.

What the…?

“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

She shook her head. “No. No, not at all. You said something completely right.”

He looked at her with confusion.

With a quick swipe of her eyes, Paige looked at him with a small smile. “I feel like I’ve been fighting an uphill battle with this particular project. It’s something that’s personal to me, and I can’t seem to get that same excitement from anyone else at the firm.” She paused. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like anyone’s sabotaging it, but—”

“But they’re also not going out of their way to support it either,” Dylan finished for her.

“Exactly.” She sighed. “I was in the middle of my presentation yesterday when I discovered the changes to my list. Then my sister… Well…never mind. It’s not important. Let’s say that my presentation got cut short and now I need to decide how to move forward.”

It hit him then that he wasn’t going to get an answer today. Clearly, she was a person who thought everything through, and from what she she’d said, this particular campaign was her baby, and she wasn’t going to take to making changes kindly. He knew when to throw in the towel and let things go. And he would.

For now.

Picking up his cup of coffee, he took a long drink and then put it down. “Well, I guess I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Standing up, he smiled and held out a hand to her. “It was nice meeting you, Paige, and I hope to hear from you soon.”

His abrupt change of action seemed to fluster her. She went to stand and shake his hand at the same time and ended up almost knocking her chair over and did succeed in dumping her satchel. With a muttered curse, she apologized and dropped to her knees to pick up her things. Dylan crouched beside her, and they both reached for a book that had fallen out. Dylan grabbed it first and smiled.

“I finished this last night,” he said, handing it to her. “I love a good whodunit, don’t you?”

For some reason, that seemed to fluster her too. She accepted the book and hugged it to her chest as she frantically scooped up the rest of her things. With a muttered thanks, she stood. Dylan straightened and studied her. Paige kept her back to him as she repacked her satchel and he wondered if she was going to turn around or acknowledge him again. He was about to tap her on the shoulder when she faced him.

“So um…yes. I mean…I do love a good whodunit too,” she said softly. “Do you have a favorite author?”

Dylan motioned toward her satchel. “I like his entire series. I started it about three months ago, and now I’m bummed because the next book won’t be out for another couple of months.”

“You… I mean… That’s book eight in the series. You read all eight in three months?”

He nodded. “And a few others. Like I said, I’m a sucker for that kind of story. There were also a few Stephen King books, and I’ll admit to a couple of graphic novels that I threw in for variety. It’s a great way to pass the time.”

For a minute he thought she was going to comment, but all she did was nod.

All righty then.

Deciding there was more to Paige Walters than he was going to figure out today, Dylan knew it was time to go. “I hope you have a great weekend and enjoy your book,” he said and then grabbed his empty cup and walked away.

“Dylan?”

Was it wrong how he got a little bit excited at the thought of her calling out because she had changed her mind and was going to sign him on the spot? Taking a steadying breath and hoping he didn’t appear too anxious, he turned around.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling. “I appreciate the coffee and cake.”

“Oh…uh…sure. No problem.”

“Have a good weekend,” she said and then gave him a little wave.

The urge to ask her for a definite confirmation of at least a callback for next week was fairly strong. But he knew it would only hurt his cause. He had to be patient and give her time to think. With any luck, he’d given her enough information to at least consider him for the project.

Walking out onto the sidewalk, he slipped his sunglasses on and took a moment to enjoy the sun on his face. It felt good. And he enjoyed the smell of the city air. In rehab, he had been up in the mountains of Colorado and it had been beautiful, but he was a city boy at heart. The noise, the people…even the smog—it made everything seem right.

After a minute, he started toward PRW’s building, where he’d parked his car. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was a little after four. Traffic was going to be a bitch, but it wasn’t as if he was in a rush to get anywhere. Well, there had been that thought of getting laid tonight, but it was something he had to think about—no need to repeat what had happened with Heather. Or what hadn’t happened. The thought made him shudder.

Pulling his keys from his pocket, he approached his Mercedes-AMG GT and used the remote to start it. The sporty convertible had been his first purchase after rehab. It was the first time he’d trusted himself to own a nice car. Now he was able to enjoy driving himself around—something he hadn’t done in years—and it felt good. It gave him a sense of pride, and then he felt foolish for it. After all, most people were capable of driving themselves around town.

And now he was one of them.

With a grin, he opened the door and slid behind the wheel and sighed with pleasure at the feel of the soft leather and how the seat hugged him. Yeah, life was good.

And if he could get Paige Walters to take a chance on him, he might be able to say that life was great.

* * *

“Brilliant. Just brilliant,” Paige murmured as she placed her trash in the pail and carefully wove her way through the crowd of people in the coffee shop. Over and over in her mind, she replayed her clumsy act of knocking her stuff to the ground.

And that was after practically orgasming while eating a cake pop.

Okay, two cake pops.

She groaned as she exited the shop and walked toward the parking garage. Why had she agreed to go for coffee with Dylan Anders? Why hadn’t she stuck to her guns and had Daisy call him with an appointment? Not only could she have avoided making an idiot out of herself, but she also could have kept her previous clueless opinion of him intact and not have to deal with the fact that he was a nice guy who seemed to get what she was trying to do.

Other than Daisy, he was the only one who seemed to get what she was doing.

And now she realized she had a fascination with tattoos. Tattoos! When Dylan had first taken off his jacket, she was shocked and a little repulsed by the sheer amount of ink on his arms. But after a little while, she couldn’t help but keep noticing the artwork and found it to be…exquisite. Beautiful. More than once she had to stop herself from reaching out and touching his arms—which, forgetting about the tattoos, were muscular and sexy—and asking him to tell her what had inspired the choices.

Why? Why him? Why couldn’t one of her favorite authors have come in and talked with her like this? Why did it have to be a scruffy, tattoo-covered rock star who not only didn’t look the part of anything she was trying to do, but who potentially would also be a distraction for…well…her and probably any female in a ten-mile radius?

Although, she had to give him credit—other than the barista who handed him their order, no one bothered him. No one came looking for autographs or pictures. He blended right into the crowd. How was that possible? When she got home, she would do a thorough Google search and see what else she could find out. Yes. That’s exactly what she’d do. As charmed as she was by him—and she truly was—she had a feeling that part of it was an act to get her to agree to have him join the campaign.

But why? Why was this such a big deal to him? He wasn’t going to be paid for it. And compared with being in one of the biggest rock bands in the world, this was nothing. It wasn’t doing anything for him on a professional level, so why was he so anxious to be a part of it? What could he gain?

If there was one thing Paige prided herself on, it was being a good judge of character. And Dylan didn’t strike her as the selfless type. He had a swagger and a confidence that seemed in direct conflict with the image she was hoping to project with this campaign.

So was this personal? Did he know someone who struggled with reading? He was clearly well read based on what he’d shared with her, so she knew he didn’t have the issue. Someone who struggled with literacy didn’t read that many books in a three-month time span. Should she decide to work with him, she’d have to ask.

With a groan, she pulled out her keys as she approached her Toyota Prius Prime. Her sporty little hybrid was shiny and new, and she loved how she was doing something good for the environment at the same time. It had been a fight to get her father to install charging stations in the company garage, but he had relented and now…

She stopped and noted that her car wasn’t charging.

“Dammit, how could I have forgotten to plug it in?” Then she remembered how she had hurried in this morning and feared she was late. Honestly, it wasn’t the first time she’d forgotten. But as she stepped closer, she saw that was the least of her problems.

She had a flat tire.

“Dang it,” she hissed. With a loud sigh, she opened the door and tossed her bags in and then popped the trunk to get at her spare tire.

Then she really started to curse.

It wasn’t until that moment she remembered how this model no longer came with a spare but with a patch kit and a pump. Great. Like she had even the slightest clue how to patch a tire! She let out an aggravated growl and slammed the trunk shut.

“Everything okay?”

Great. Just great. Turning around, she forced a smile. “Oh…hey, Dylan. What are you still doing here?”

“I wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere and I got a call, so I decided to take it rather than be distracted on the road. So…what’s going on? Everything okay with your car?”

And for the life of her, she didn’t know why her temper chose that moment to snap, but it did. “No. It’s not. And you know why?”

Dylan was about to answer, but she cut him off.

“Because life sucks, that’s why!” she cried. “Or maybe it’s just me. I forgot to put my car on the charging station. Why? Because I’m too worried about how it will look if I’m three minutes late for work! Then—because that’s not enough—my front tire is flat. Flat! It was fine this morning! And my super-new, super-cute, super-efficient, great-for-the-planet car doesn’t come with a spare tire. Oh no. That would have been too easy. No, this car comes with a patch kit and a pump. So I have more trunk space, but now I have to figure out how to patch a tire!”

“I’m sure it’s not—”

“Do you see the lighting in here? My glasses? Do I look like someone who is going to be able to spot a hole in a tire and then patch it? Take the tire off and put it back on? Do I look like I even want to?” she asked, her voice going into the hysteria category.

Slowly, Dylan climbed from his car and walked toward her. “Okay, okay. How about we call AAA or something? Maybe they can send someone to do it for you?”

While it was a completely reasonable suggestion, it pissed her off even more. “But I wanted to leave! I wanted to leave an hour ago! And now I’m never going to get to leave or go to the grocery store to get brownies and wine, so I can go home and Google who the heck you are!”

“Who I…? Um…”

A rather unladylike snort of disgust came out before she could stop it. “I know who you are, Dylan,” she snapped. “Sort of. But…what’s your deal?”

His dark eyes went wide. “My deal?”

“Yeah. Why would someone like you—a rock star with the whole…I don’t know…rebel-look thing going on—why would you want to be involved in something so boring as a reading campaign? It doesn’t fit. So the way I see it, there’s got to be something in it for you, or you lost a bet.”

“A bet?” he croaked. “Paige, look…I know you’re upset about your car and all but…you’re talking crazy here. Let’s call AAA or a mechanic and get your tire fixed so you can get your brownies and wine. Okay?”

If he wasn’t so darn tall, she would’ve slugged him.

It wasn’t his fault—not completely. She didn’t know if her tire was flat an hour ago, so she couldn’t say with any great certainty that he was the reason she was stuck here right now.

But she was.

“Fine,” she sighed, pulling out her cell phone. It didn’t take long to get AAA on the phone, but unfortunately, at four thirty on a Friday afternoon in downtown LA, she was going to have to wait.

Goodbye, brownies.

Goodbye, wine.

When she slipped her phone into her satchel, she looked at Dylan and gave him a weary—and apologetic—smile. “They can’t get anyone here for two hours. So…I guess I’ll hang out up in my office until they get here.”

He studied her for a minute. “Where were you going to get your brownies and wine?”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I’ve got absolutely nothing to do right now and I feel bad that I interrupted your afternoon. Maybe I can take you to pick up what you need and this way you don’t have to sit around and wait. And besides, you seemed like you wanted to get out of the office today. It would majorly suck if you had to go inside.”

You got that right, she thought.

“I’m not going to ask you to take me grocery shopping. That’s ridiculous.”

Dylan chuckled. “Really? Why?”

“Seriously?” she asked without hiding the sarcasm. “When was the last time you went grocery shopping?”

He laughed a bit harder before saying, “Last Tuesday.” At her shocked expression, he looked a little smug. “Believe it or not, I’m not so much of a diva I can’t do things for myself.”

Somehow Paige had a feeling that wasn’t necessarily the whole truth. “So no one does your shopping for you on a usual basis?”

He shook his head. “They used to, but not for a while now. Ever since re…” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Ever since the band went on hiatus, I found I was tired of never having anything in the house I wanted to eat. It was easier to shop for myself.”

Still, she couldn’t hide her disbelief.

“And shame on you for making assumptions,” he said, leaning closer, but she could tell he was teasing.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

Tucking his hands into his front jean pockets, he gave her a lopsided grin. “So, come on. You know you don’t want to go into the office. You’ll get sucked into working, and before you know it, it will be late and everyone will be gone, and you’ll still be sitting at your desk doing the work you wanted to put aside for the weekend.” He paused. “We’ll shop and by the time we return, AAA should be here and your tire will be fixed and you’ll be free to go. What do you say?”

She’d say he was crazy, but she had a feeling that of the two of them, right then, she had clearly come off as the crazier one.

“Only if you’re sure,” she began. “I don’t want to put you in a situation where…”

“We’ve been over this already, Paige,” he said patiently. “I’m not going to cause a riot at the Whole Foods. Or anywhere, for that matter.”

For now, she’d have to take his word for it. “Okay,” she finally said. “Thanks.”

They walked over to his car and Paige was surprised when he opened the passenger door and waited for her to climb in.

Quite the gentlemanly move.

When he climbed in beside her, she noticed several things at once: First, the car was incredibly high-tech. Second, the leather seats felt like butter and hugged her like they were made for her. And third, Dylan Anders smelled really good.

Like really, really good.

So not the thing to focus on right now.

“There is a Whole Foods not too far from here,” she said.

Beside her, Dylan nodded. “I don’t live too far, so I’m familiar with it. Is that where you normally shop?”

“Um…yeah. It’s close to the office, and I go by it on my way home.”

“I love their deli department. They have some great salads,” he said conversationally. “I’m not a great cook, so I appreciate their selection of ready-to-go stuff. And their salads are always so fresh. I’ll probably grab some dinner for myself while we’re there.”

Were they seriously having this conversation? He was a rock star with one of the biggest bands in the world and this was the kind of conversation she inspired? Grocery shopping?

Well, that was a depressing thought. She was so plain and boring that this particular rock star was talking produce with her.

Fabulous.

She made a mental note to add ice cream to her list.

They made it to the store, and while she had been having an inner dialogue over the pity party that was about to be her weekend, Dylan had kept up a running dialogue about shopping and how much he was enjoying doing things for himself. Obviously, there was an extended period of time when he’d had hired help to do everything for him.

Tough to feel sorry for the poor, little, rich rock star.

“I can tell by the look on your face that you’re making assumptions again,” he said, his voice soft and somewhat close to her ear. They were walking through the produce section, and he was practically pressed up behind her as he spoke. Paige nearly jumped out of her skin.

Maybe it was his nearness. Maybe it was the heat coming off him, but either way, she wasn’t copping to it.

“This is just…bizarre to me,” she said instead.

“Because…?”

She shrugged and picked out a head of romaine. “I guess when I think of celebrities, I don’t envision them shopping for themselves. Or if they do, they’re incognito or something.”

“So if I had on a hat and sunglasses, and maybe a fake mustache, you’d feel better about this?”

The image that flashed through her mind made her laugh. “I don’t know if I’d feel better, but I’d certainly be more amused.”

“Duly noted,” he said with mock seriousness as he stepped around her and began perusing the fresh vegetables.

For almost an hour, they walked around the store, talking about everything and nothing, and Paige had to admit, it was quite…pleasant. Dylan Anders seemed like a nice guy. Genuine. So maybe she had jumped to conclusions earlier. Maybe he could make a good spokesman for the campaign. And, if she thought about it, he could add a certain edginess to the whole thing that could hit a demographic they wouldn’t have had before.

Her mind made up, Paige was willing to give him a try. Not that she was going to tell him today—she didn’t want to seem overly anxious—but she would call him on Monday and let him know. Plus, this would give her the weekend to rework some of the promotional spots to include him. And maybe his band. Oh! How cool would it be to have his band do a spot for the campaign and have her be the one to bring them back after their hiatus?

Ideas immediately began to swirl in her mind, and as much as she was enjoying wandering the grocery store with him, now all Paige could focus on was getting home, so she could finesse her ideas.

As much as it pained her to admit, maybe Ariel had been onto something. With the potential of using bigger names in pop culture, it would open up advertising opportunities—they could get onto the music sites and magazines where they could reach out to teens or get national interviews on TV! Her heart started to race with excitement at the possibilities.

Pushing past Dylan, Paige made her way toward the checkout.

“Hey!” he called after her with a small laugh. “Where’s the fire?”

Looking over her shoulder at him, she gave him a distracted smile. “Oh…um… I’m just afraid the AAA guy is going to show up sooner rather than later and thought we should wrap things up here. Is there anything else you need?”

His eyes narrowed like he wasn’t quite sure he believed her, but it lasted only a second. Then he followed her. “Nope. I’m good. I have enough to get me through the weekend.”

Paige looked at their shared cart and frowned. He had purchased an awful lot of food. Single servings. Was it possible he didn’t lead some glamorous social life like she always imagined musicians did? Would that be too personal of a question to ask?

“So…all of this is for you? For the weekend?” she asked and then immediately wanted to kick herself.

“Sure is. I had thought about going out but”—he shrugged—“I think I’d rather stay in. And besides, did you see this grilled salmon salad? That is definitely tonight’s dinner.”

Was he for real? If this was the life of a rock star, she was seriously disappointed. “Wow,” she said with a chuckle, “and here I was thinking guys like you were eating steak and lobster and caviar and drinking until dawn and then being driven home because you overindulged.”

He paled. There was no other way to describe the way his entire appearance changed. Oh God. Did she offend him? Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?

“I mean…” she stammered, immediately trying to backpedal, “that’s the way I envisioned the life of a rock star. I didn’t mean to offend you. I guess I’ve watched too many documentaries on musicians in the eighties. It was the decade of decadence, right? I guess I didn’t think anything had changed. Sorry.” When he still didn’t move or blink, she stumbled on. “I need to stop making assumptions about you. I swear that was the last one. Really. I…I’m sorry, Dylan.”

Finally, he seemed to snap out of his daze, and he blinked at her and then began walking. “No big deal. Don’t give it another thought. There are people who live like that, but right now, that’s not me. I’m perfectly content to have a quiet weekend at home.”

At the checkout, they divvied up their orders and paid and then made their way to his car. Paige was too afraid to say anything, so instead she sang along to the radio.

Back at the parking garage, he pulled up beside her car and parked. Her tire was still flat, so she hadn’t missed the repair guy. With a sigh, she turned to him. “Thanks for killing time with me. You were right. It was much better than going up to the office. No doubt by now I would be deeply entrenched in things I was hoping to get away from.”

He gave her a small smile. “No problem.” Looking around, he seemed to be considering his next words. “We can grab another coffee or something. You know, since they haven’t called to say they’re on the way yet.”

It was a tempting offer, but she felt bad about monopolizing his time. Although she could argue that she was using the time to get to know him and make sure he’d be a good fit for her project, but…that seemed a bit wrong.

“Thanks, but…I know you’ve got a trunk full of perishables. And besides, I’m sure they’ll be along soon.”

As if on cue, her cell phone rang, and two minutes later, she confirmed that a truck would arrive within thirty minutes. She relayed the info to Dylan.

“Well, I feel bad leaving you in the parking lot,” he said, shifting in his seat so he could face her. “I have a feeling if no one’s watching, you’ll go work.”

Was she that transparent?

“Maybe…but by the time we transfer my groceries and I check emails on my phone, they’ll probably be here. I can hang in my car for a few minutes and not be tempted to go upstairs.”

“I don’t know,” he said teasingly, but then he shut off the car and opened the door. “I think it wouldn’t take much for you to get annoyed with waiting and go inside.”

Okay, yes. Yes, she was that transparent.

Paige climbed from the car and met him at the trunk and it didn’t take long to move her groceries.

Like, less than a minute.

Dylan shut his trunk and then leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest as he studied her. “Look, far be it from me to tell you how to spend your time or whether you should work or not work. All I’m saying is I don’t mind hanging out if it will keep you from…you know.”

They both chuckled, and for a minute, Paige considered asking him about his career, so she could plan the campaign. Would that be wrong? Inappropriate? Could she—

“Paige? What are you still doing here? Daisy said you left hours ago,” Ariel said as she made her way toward them.

Great. Now she could feel small and insignificant with an audience. Awesome.

“Oh, um…I’ve got a flat and I’m waiting for AAA,” Paige replied and then noticed her sister staring at Dylan. “Ariel, this is—”

“You’re Dylan Anders, right?” Ariel said, ignoring Paige’s attempt at an introduction. “The guitar player?”

Nodding, Dylan glanced at Paige before extending a hand to Ariel. “Bass player, but yeah. And you are?”

“Ariel Blake,” she said smoothly, shaking his hand briefly. “What are you—?”

“Dylan stopped by about the campaign,” Paige said quickly. “Apparently your invitation got to him and he came by the office to talk about participating.”

A serene yet knowing smile played at Ariel’s lips as she looked at her sister. “You see? Just because it wasn’t your idea didn’t mean it was a bad idea.”

“I never said it was a bad idea, Ariel,” Paige murmured, completely mortified that her sister would choose to have this discussion in front of Dylan. “You just sprang it on me. I would have appreciated a heads-up.”

“Either way, I think people will be way more interested in hearing people who are relevant to pop culture, instead of a bunch of literary nerds no one recognizes,” Ariel said and then turned to Dylan. “You agree, don’t you? If you were a kid struggling to read, who would you rather take advice from—a famous guitar player or…or…that Shakespeare guy? I mean, what’s he going to say to kids about reading?”

“Um…probably nothing since he’s dead,” Paige pointed out.

“Exactly,” Ariel agreed, totally missing the sarcasm in Paige’s tone. “He has no idea what today’s teens want to read. But Dylan will be able to relate to them. And he’s got more going for him than anyone else on your list.”

“He does?”

“I do?” Dylan asked, his voice a bit squeaky.

Ariel looked between the two of them and nodded. “Absolutely! We can talk about how important reading is to a musician—you know, because he has to read the music.”

Paige slowly closed her eyes and lowered her head in embarrassment, catching the smirk on Dylan’s face as she did so. Didn’t her sister realize that what she said made no sense whatsoever? She had to fight the urge to laugh.

“And then there’s the angle on how he needs to have more advanced reading and writing skills to write music.”

Oh God. She was still talking, wasn’t she?

“Ariel,” Paige said, interrupting her, “I don’t think you need to—”

“But more than anything,” Ariel went on, ignoring Paige’s words, “Dylan can show teens that reading is cool.”

Oh. Okay. “Well, that’s true,” Paige agreed, seeing the somewhat roundabout way her sister came to this conclusion. As a musician, most kids—and some adults—would look at Dylan’s profession as something cool and to be envied, and if he could impress upon them his own love of reading, it might encourage them. She looked over at Dylan and saw him almost sag with relief. Was he as thankful as she was that Ariel was done?

“Anyway, it’s something to consider. I need to go. Dennis is taking me to dinner, and I don’t want to be late.” Ariel turned and extended her hand to Dylan again. “It was nice meeting you and I hope to see you as part of the campaign.”

“Thanks,” he said, shaking her hand. “I hope to be a part of it.”

With a little wave, Ariel started to leave, and Paige’s mind raced about how she could end this conversation with Dylan without offering him a part right now. She was seriously considering it, but she needed a bit more research.

Ariel climbed into her sporty little red Porsche and backed out. When she came up alongside them, she lowered her window, her gaze on Dylan. “By the way, I meant to tell you that I hope you’re doing okay. I hear rehab can be a struggle. It’s good to see you out and about.” She paused and smiled. “And I spoke with your manager, and we’re totally cool with you doing this as part of your community service. I’m sure Paige will sign off on whatever you need. Take care!” And with another little wave, she was gone.

Paige felt a little…shocked. Dazed.

Betrayed.

She looked over at Dylan and saw he was frozen to the spot, his gaze wary.

As it should be, she thought to herself.

Why had no one mentioned this to her? How had she not known? And dammit, why was her sister so completely oblivious and insensitive that she thought it was okay to drop that bombshell here, like that, and right in front of Dylan?

No! Don’t think about Dylan’s feelings, she chided herself. Think about yours! Not only had Ariel gone and messed with her plans, but she was also doing it by asking addicts to help her out? What kind of message was that going to send to people?

“You…you were in rehab?” she asked cautiously.

Dylan nodded.

“For…?”

“Alcohol. Drunk driving. There was an accident. I went and—”

“Was anyone killed?” she asked, hating both the tremble and disgust in her voice.

He shook his head. “No.”

“So all this today—the coming here and schmoozing me—it was to guarantee that you could check community service off your list?”

He seemed to stiffen and Paige could see the anger in his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

Like she could believe him now. “Right. Whatever,” she said with a huff and was saved from saying anything else by the arrival of the AAA truck. There was no point in hiding how she felt. She couldn’t. “Excuse me.” Rather than say anything else to Dylan, Paige greeted the driver and showed him her car. With any luck, Dylan would take the hint that their conversation was over and leave.

Unfortunately, five minutes later, when she looked over her shoulder, he was still there, leaning arrogantly against his car, arms still crossed. He thought he could wait her out? Fine, she thought. He can stand there all night if he wants to, but once my tire is fixed, I’m out of here.

And she wouldn’t give Dylan Anders a second thought.