Chapter 4

Two weeks.

They’d been in full-steam-ahead mode with the Literacy Now campaign, and Paige was on the verge of pulling her hair out.

She’d written all the scripts and then worked personally with each of the authors—yes, Ariel had allowed her to keep a few authors—and celebrities, but unfortunately, Ariel kept changing things without telling her. Not that it was anything big, but Paige was someone who was regimented and enjoyed having her list and crossing things off it—in order. So far, the only thing that had gone smoothly was the one thing she thought was going to mess her up the most.

Dylan.

“Hey, I grabbed a couple of sandwiches on my way here. I figured you hadn’t had time to stop and eat yet.”

Speak of the devil.

Turning, Paige gave him a smile of gratitude. “Thanks. I haven’t.”

Dylan looked around the studio space they were working in today to do the publicity photos of all the participants—alone and in a group. Paige had lost a lot of sleep trying to line up everyone’s schedules so they would all be here at the same time for at least an hour.

No small task.

“I double-checked and then triple-checked with everyone to confirm they’d be here and we’re still missing about…”

“Four people,” Dylan finished for her as he unwrapped her sandwich and handed it to her.

“Thanks.” How did he know? How could he possibly walk in here and instantly figure out what was going on and what she needed? Rather than make herself crazy with yet another thing, she took a bite of the sandwich—turkey with bacon, lettuce, and tomato on whole wheat. Her favorite. After she finished chewing, she smiled at him. “You remembered.”

He chuckled. “You’ve ordered it almost every day this week. I figured I couldn’t go wrong ordering one for you.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” She began to look around for where she’d put her bottle of water and found Dylan handing her one. A new one. A cold one. Her shoulders sagged as she looked at him again and accepted the drink. “I’m beginning to feel like you’re here to assist me and not the other way around.”

He shrugged. “What time did you get here this morning?”

Paige took another bite of her sandwich and looked away with a small shrug.

“Paige?”

“Seven,” she mumbled.

“Seven? No one was scheduled to start until ten! Why would you get here so early? That wasn’t on your schedule or your list of responsibilities, and you know it.” His tone was light but firm, but she felt thoroughly admonished.

Clearly she had shared way too much over the past few weeks. It wasn’t as if he were shining a light in her face and interrogating her, but he had a way of getting her to talk while they were working together. And when she talked, he listened. Clearly.

They ate in silence as people milled around them. Paige couldn’t help but feel anxious—this whole photo shoot wasn’t going as planned and there were still several people missing. She needed to finish eating, make some calls, and—

“Hey, do you play cards?” Dylan asked.

She swallowed the last of her sandwich and looked at him in confusion. “Um…what?”

“Cards. Do you play cards? Like poker or solitaire or gin rummy?”

Did she? Paige had to think about it for a minute before saying, “No. I don’t think I’ve ever played those.”

Dylan’s eyes went wide. “Really? What about board games? You into any of them?”

“You mean like Monopoly?”

He nodded. “Sure. Or checkers, Clue, Trivial Pursuit…”

“I’ve played all of those, but not in a long time.”

He paused, took a drink of his iced tea, and then asked, “What about chess? Ever play?”

A slow smile spread across her face. “I used to play it all the time with my grandfather when I was little. He died when I was fourteen. No one else in the family was interested. Once he was gone, I didn’t have anyone to challenge me.”

Was it her imagination or was Dylan trying hard not to smile too?

“What? Why are you smiling like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re suppressing it,” she said laughing softly. “This is a ridiculous conversation, isn’t it?”

“The part about the chess or my smile?” he teased.

That had her laughing again. Dylan could be charming, and he had a way of making her feel…happy and way less serious than she normally was. “Come on. Something is clearly on your mind. So spill it.”

“I was just thinking how you need a distraction for when things like this happen,” he said simply.

“You mean lunch?”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “No, I mean when you see something going wrong because other people aren’t doing their jobs and you want to jump in and fix things. You need something to do so you won’t give in to the urge.”

“And you think a board game is going to help with that?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Paige laughed as she shook her head. “You don’t know me very well. This is who I am. I’m a fixer. I have a compulsive need to take care of things. If I see a problem, I fix it—or I try to.” When he tried to comment, she held up a hand to stop him. “Let me put it this way—it’s physically impossible for me to sit back and watch people struggle without stepping in. I can’t.”

Dylan looked at her with a mild expression. “If you’re too scared to try…”

She huffed with annoyance. “I didn’t say I was scared. I said I have work to do that can’t be ignored.”

Dylan took another drink of his tea and then leaned in close. “Let me ask you something—who’s in charge of this photo shoot?”

“I am.”

“Liar,” he said softly but with a grin.

Another huff. “Okay, fine. Ariel is supposed to be here.”

“And where is she?”

The last text Paige had received claimed that her sister was on her way. But that was…two hours ago.

Dammit.

“She got detained,” she said, although why she was defending her sister, she didn’t know.

“Detained or did she know you’d be here to take care of it?” Dylan challenged.

“Hey!” Paige snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t appreciate what you’re implying.”

With his hands held up in surrender, Dylan took a step back. “Sorry. My mistake. I’ll sit over there with Stevie and Alan. Let me know when you’re ready for me.” And then he cleaned up his lunch mess and turned to walk away.

“Dylan…wait.”

Looking over his shoulder at her, he waited.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

He smiled. For some reason, she was starting to enjoy seeing him smile. As much as she hated to admit it, Dylan Anders was becoming a friend with whom she enjoyed spending time. Paige no longer looked at their time together as a chore, but rather a perk. Their conversations were always fun and he was quite pleasant to look at.

Not that she went for the scruffy, rock-star type.

At least, she never had until now.

But Paige was far too intelligent to think someone like Dylan would give her a second look. He was being nice to her because he had to. Or felt like he had to. They had formed a friendship and that was that. During her Google searches, she’d found a plethora of pictures of Dylan with various models and other beautiful and glamorous women. Tall, thin, sexy women. If there was one thing Paige knew about herself, it was how she certainly didn’t fit into that category.

So what if he remembered her favorite sandwich and made sure she had something to eat? He was being nice. Still…no one else around her seemed to care if she hadn’t eaten. And so what if he was concerned about her stressing herself out and tried to find a helpful solution? He was probably bored and looking for something to do to pass the time and figured, as his official assistant/babysitter, she’d be open to entertaining him.

Only…it felt like more. Like he was a genuinely nice guy who put the needs of others before his own. Or was she seeing something that she wanted to see? True, it had been far too long since she’d been in a relationship or even went out on a date. Maybe she was a little…needy, in the male-companion territory.

And it didn’t help that he was so attractive.

“Dammit,” she muttered.

“You okay?” Dylan asked.

Crap! She hadn’t meant to say anything out loud. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “I just hate that everyone isn’t here yet. I should probably make some calls and see what’s going on.”

“You mean call your sister and let her know that she needs to call the talent?” he asked sweetly.

And if she hadn’t found his smile so darn attractive, she’d want to slap it right off his face.

“No,” she said with a hint of irritation. “We’re on the clock and people need to get here now. I’m not starting a phone tree. Excuse me.”

As she pulled out her phone to start making calls, Dylan gave a small shrug and walked over to where a couple of other musicians who were now part of the campaign were sitting.

Great. He had to have a sexy ass that looked amazing in a pair of faded jeans.

A-ma-zing.

Fairly grab-able.

“Ugh…I really need to stop thinking like this,” she said with a weary sigh and startled when a voice answered on the other end of the phone.

“Margaret, hello! It’s Paige Walters!” She went into her spiel and explained how they were all waiting for her and then had to stifle a groan when Margaret apologized profusely and swore she was on the way.

As did the other three people she called.

Across the room, she spotted Dylan laughing with a group of people. He looked good—comfortable, relaxed. His dark hair was mussed, and Paige made a mental note to talk to the hair and makeup people about leaving it alone.

It looked good on him.

What must it feel like to be that comfortable in your own skin? She knew from some of their conversations that he was just now starting to feel that way. The time in rehab and his new focus on his life turned things around for him, but still. Paige didn’t have any vices—didn’t have a need for therapy—and yet, she still always felt out of place. Okay, maybe not always, but certainly in some social settings.

Feeling inferior had been a lifelong thing. It didn’t help that she had an extremely charismatic older sibling who seemed perfect at everything. Ariel had an outgoing personality and a sense of ease and grace in all that she did. Paige had learned at a young age that she lacked the talent and social skills—and the good looks—to compete. So she put her focus on academics, exceling in areas her sister hadn’t.

Unfortunately, her sister also had a talent for laying on a good guilt trip.

It started with her asking Paige to cover for her when she’d break curfew or do the chores Ariel forgot about. It was a pattern that had started early on, and clearly it was still going on today. But how was she supposed to break it? Anytime she’d brought it to Ariel’s attention, things got turned around and Paige ended up being the one to apologize!

Yet another of Ariel’s talents.

Ugh.

Who knows? Maybe spending time with Dylan would be beneficial to her and the way she looked at herself. Maybe she could learn something from him, and when this campaign was over, she would believe in herself all the time and not only some of it.

So for now, she would be the friend.

The buddy.

The work babysitter.

And she’d pray those dimples and that smile stopped making her tummy flutter all the time.

* * *

When Dylan got home later that afternoon, he tried calling Riley, but his call went to voicemail. Feeling slightly unsettled, he called Matt Reed, the guitarist for Shaughnessy and another close friend.

“So…what are you doing, reading poetry and crap?”

Dylan rolled his eyes and let his head rest on the sofa cushions. “No, that’s not what I’m doing. Weren’t you listening at all?”

“I am, I totally am, but I’m still confused. This is a literacy thing, but you’ve yet to do anything that has to do with reading. So, what gives?”

Dylan explained the entire layout of the campaign, how they were in the staging part of it with taking publicity shots and shooting the promos. “Once all that is done, we’ll have events to go to where we’ll be speaking about and promoting the cause.”

“Events? You mean like book clubs?” Matt asked with a chuckle.

“If you’re gonna be a dick, then I’ll say goodbye now,” Dylan said, feeling irritated.

“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” Matt said and then cleared his throat. “How are you feeling with all this? You’ve been holed up alone for a while. This has got to be weird for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“For starters, this is the first social thing you’ve done in about six months,” Matt began. “Then—and don’t take this the wrong way—this is something that is so different from your usual thing. We never did publicity stuff like this alone. Well, Riley did some, but for the most part, we did everything as a group. Now you’re out there solo. And for a fairly…normal cause. There is nothing rock-and-roll related about it.”

“Nope.” And it had been one of the things that appealed the most to Dylan. There was less of a chance for anyone to get on him about his past this way. True, Stevie Campbell and Alan Day were musicians—but they were more of the soft-rock scene. Nothing hard or partying about either of them. It was nice to talk shop with them earlier, but other than their craft, he had nothing in common with either of them.

“Are you going crazy yet? How much time do you have left?”

“It’ll be three months when it’s all said and done.”

“And it will take care of your community service stuff?”

“Yup.”

“Damn. It seems like a long time. Hopefully you’ll meet some people who make it more tolerable.”

“Well…the chick who’s acting as my handler—”

“Oh God. You’re not sleeping with her, are you?”

“What? No! Why would you even ask that?” Dylan croaked.

“Dude, that’s totally your MO,” Matt chuckled. “So what’s the deal? Is she old? Fat? Married? No…wait, that one hasn’t stopped you in the past.”

“Shut up,” Dylan murmured. Everything Matt was saying was true—there had been far too many years when Dylan hooked up with women he shouldn’t have. But he was a different man now and hooking up with Paige—sleeping with Paige—was… Well, he wasn’t going to allow himself to go there.

It was bad enough that his subconscious seemed to want to go there nightly. There had been several very…explicit and erotic dreams where Paige was the star. And in each and every one of them, he took great pleasure in taking those big glasses from her face—a face that was flush with excitement and her lips were red and glossy and making a perfect O because she was in awe of what they were doing.

Once the glasses were off, he found it was sexy to slowly remove the crazy layers of her wardrobe. Seriously, the woman wore layers of scarves, sweaters, tights, skirts, and large chunky jewelry. In his dreams, it was like opening up a present—taking each one of those items off her was a sensual experience. He almost groaned at the image that was now right in front of him and had to force himself to stop. She was off-limits and he wasn’t going to go there with her.

No matter how much he wanted to.

It was hard work to make all these changes in himself, his life, and not sleeping with every available woman was part of it. He needed to show some self-control. And besides, Paige was barely tolerating him. She was heading up this campaign—no matter what anyone else at her agency thought. And sleeping with the boss, so to speak, was definitely not something he wanted to be known for. Especially not after he’d worked so hard to clean up his act.

So he didn’t allow himself to even think of Paige as a woman, let alone an attractive one, when they were together. She wasn’t his usual type, but it turned out his usual type wasn’t particularly good for him.

Or maybe they were never really his type at all.

Right now, Paige Walters seemed more and more like the perfect woman for him. She was funny and attractive, and he loved hanging out and talking to her. Dylan loved how she wasn’t afraid to eat what she wanted and how she owned up to her own shortcomings and mistakes. She was honest to a fault and took care of everyone around her.

Honestly, she was too good for him and he needed to remember that too.

“Enough about me,” he said, realizing both he and Matt had gone quiet. “What’s going on with you? How’s Vivienne?”

“She’s great,” Matt said, and Dylan could hear the smile in his friend’s voice. “We’re heading to Paris next week to see her parents. It’s a big step for her—this is the first time she’s taking the trip willingly.”

“She doesn’t get along with her parents?”

“She does now. But for years, her trips to France tended to end with her feeling inferior to her brother and then being depressed for weeks. She and her mom finally started having a better relationship, and I’m hopeful this visit will be a good thing for all of them. Plus, you know, Paris. It will be nice to go there and not have to work.”

“I’m sure. I know we’ve been there on tour but for the life of me, I don’t remember it,” Dylan admitted. “How messed up is that?”

“Very,” Matt said and then chuckled. “I’ll send pictures.”

“Thanks,” Dylan replied, laughing too. “So what else is going on? Things any better with your dad?”

Matt sighed loudly. “I’m trying, I really am. But sometimes it’s hard to get past the memories, you know? We’re seeing a family counselor—can you believe it? Me and him go together three times a month, and on the fourth visit, his wife and daughter go with us.”

“Why? I mean, they don’t have anything to do with your issues with your father. Seems like if he needs help with his wife and kid, you could skip that week.”

“I thought so too, but apparently this is to help us learn to come together as a family unit.”

“Is it working?”

“Not yet,” Matt said wearily. “Don’t get me wrong. I like his wife. I adore the kid. But it’s normally when I see him being this great guy with them that I tend to lose it.”

“Sounds about right. What does the therapist say?”

“She says my lashing out is normal, but I need to find another way of expressing my emotions.”

Dylan couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow. How very textbook of her.”

“I know, right?”

“So have you? Found another way of expressing your emotions?”

“Vivienne bought me a punching bag,” Matt replied with a laugh. “When I get home from a session, I go right to the home gym and pound on it for a while. It’s not the best solution, but it’s something.”

“Maybe I need to do that.”

“Get a punching bag? Why? Who are you pissed at?”

Dylan laughed again. “I’m not pissed at anyone, but working out might be a good way to fill this downtime. I’m telling you, I would love to get together and jam with someone, anyone, but you’re all the way in North Carolina, Riley’s busy, and… Wait. Has anyone heard from Julian?”

“I talked to him last week,” Matt said. “For the first time in ages, he seemed like his old self. Like he finally saw through all of Dena’s nonsense and he was ready to be done. I think it’s safe to say the wedding is on hold indefinitely and it probably wouldn’t take much to get him to come out and jam someplace.”

“Oh man… I would love that. Would you and Viv be willing to fly out here for a week or something?”

“We’ve got the Paris trip first, but after that, I’m totally open to it. If you get a chance, talk to Riley. And maybe if both of you call Julian, we can get something together for around the middle of the month. What do you think?”

“I’m on it! Once we have a date, I’ll let you know.”

“Perfect!” Matt said happily. “All right, I’ve gotta go. Viv is making my favorite Mexican food for a late dinner, and it’s almost ready. Take care of yourself, Dylan. And behave!”

Dylan said his goodbye with a laugh, and when he hung up, he was still smiling. Talking with his friends—his real friends—did that for him. And knowing he could look forward to seeing them all in a couple of weeks and playing music with them was enough to lift his spirits.

Not that they needed lifting, but he was getting bored.

He had always enjoyed music—listening to it, playing it, writing it. It came naturally to him. During his time in rehab, Dylan had sort of punished himself by not playing it. He didn’t feel like he deserved to get any joy from anything. So when Mick had come to see him and brought Dylan’s bass with him, Dylan had refused to play it—told Mick to take it back.

And that had been his attitude since.

But maybe it was time to change that.

Rising from the couch, Dylan made his way across the house, toward his music room. He had a collection of bass guitars and several acoustic guitars. He looked around the room and his fingers began to twitch.

Yeah. It was time.

Picking up an acoustic, he sat on one of the stools scattered around the room and began to tune it. It had been over six months since anyone had touched these instruments, so he was fairly certain every guitar in the room needed to be tuned, but for now, he’d stick to this one.

No need to get ahead of himself.

He wanted to play. Wanted to hear the music, feel the music…or simply just feel.

It took almost a half an hour to get the guitar to sound the way he wanted it to, but once he did and Dylan began to strum, it was as if he was transported to the greatest place in the world. Everything around him faded away as the music came to him. He didn’t have to think about the notes, the chords, the movements—it was as natural to him as breathing.

Time stood still as he went from simply playing songs that were familiar to him to creating something new. Slow ballads, heavy rock, country tunes… His entire body rejoiced in the return of the music. Sweat beaded on his temples, his arms and hands began to cramp, and when he finally stopped, it felt as if he’d played a complete concert. A quick glance at the clock showed he just about had. Two hours had gone by, and he felt exhilarated.

Carefully putting the guitar in its stand, Dylan left the room and went to the kitchen to grab something cold to drink. As he downed a bottle of water, he went in search of his phone and found it in the living room. The light was flashing to let him know he had a text message. When he picked it up, he saw Paige’s name and smiled.

He pulled up her message and read it.

And then read it again.

As if sensing his disbelief, the phone rang—almost falling from his hands—and her name called out to him.

“If you don’t want to do it, I’ll completely understand,” she said instead of greeting him.

“I don’t understand what this means,” he said. “This wasn’t on the schedule, right?”

“It wasn’t. Ariel decided she wanted to kick things off with an impromptu get-together. Something low-key.”

Dylan chuckled. “The Beverly Hills Hotel is not low-key. But…it will be convenient.”

“How so?”

“I’ll be moving in there at the end of the week.”

“You will? Why?”

“My house is up for sale and I don’t want to be here while there are people coming through to look at it. We already have offers, but I won’t let anyone come in and look while I’m living here.”

“Dylan, how are you handling all of it? Are you packing up? Do you have another house lined up?”

He explained his theory and why he was moving into a hotel for a month. “I still don’t know what kind of house I want. All I know is I’m ready for a change.”

“So this party would be a major inconvenience with its timing. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure—”

“Paige, it won’t be an inconvenience. I’ll be living in the same hotel as the party. I’m sure I’ll be able to come downstairs and socialize for an evening. Who knows? It might be fun.”

She made a sound that Dylan would have to say sounded like a snort, but he couldn’t be sure. Either way, it was enough to signify her disbelief.

“C’mon, Paige, admit it. It might be fun.”

“It’s a waste of time and money!” she cried. “We could be using those funds for something else to help the foundation! We don’t need a ridiculous cocktail party! I swear, it’s like she totally doesn’t understand what the point of this campaign is!”

“If the client didn’t want it, I’m sure they’d say something,” Dylan pointed out.

“I think they’re dazzled by the celebrity guest list,” she muttered. “I thought I knew these people well, but they are easily swayed by the thought of rubbing elbows with the rich and famous.”

“And you’re not?” he said, poking her because he knew she wasn’t, but he liked getting her riled up a bit.

“Of course not! How could you even ask that? I’m more concerned with raising money for reading programs. I don’t need to have crab puffs with…with…Elton John! That’s not going to give me a reading program at the local library.”

“Elton’s going to be there?”

“No, he’s not going to be there! I was making a point. Something like this is frivolous and not necessary and—”

“I think you’re wrong,” he said lightly and sat and waited for her outrage.

“Excuse me?” He could almost picture those big eyes going wide.

“Look, here’s what this is about—you have a cocktail party and you invite a ton of people who have money. You introduce them to the cause, and if they are not directly involved with the campaign, you give them enough of a push to convince them to donate. So if you think about it, it’s a great idea. With any luck, you’ll cover the cost of the party and have a sizeable donation to make to Literacy Now. See? Not frivolous.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was racking her brain for some comeback.

“Either way, count me in. I’ll be moving in Friday night, and the party is Saturday night, so I’ll have time to come.”

“Oh…well…good. That’s great,” she said, but there was something in her voice…a hesitation. She sounded uncertain about something.

“Was there something else you needed, Paige?”

“Um…”

“Because it sounds like you’ve got something else on your mind.”

“Fine. Please don’t get mad at me for this.”

Dylan let out a weary sigh. All his good vibes from playing music seemed to fade away. Someone was still concerned about him and what he’d do in a public setting. “It’s all right. I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to have to stand guard and make sure I don’t do anything to make a scene or make a spectacle of myself, right?”

“Um…sort of. Just…there was some concern about you being in that setting and how it might be…rough for you, that’s all. So it’s not that anyone’s afraid of what you’ll do to embarrass anyone or anything like that. It’s truly concern for your well-being. I swear, Dylan.”

Well, that wasn’t so bad, he guessed. Still not great—people thinking he still couldn’t control himself yet—but there were worse things in life, he guessed.

“It’s okay, Paige. Really. It’s not a big deal.” He paused. “So I guess you’re stuck with me as your date,” he said playfully.

“Date? What? I mean… No. No! It’s not like that. I swear. I don’t expect you to date me! I mean, that would be crazy. Insane! You don’t date women like me…pfft… That’s just… I’m certainly no supermodel or anything so…really… It’s no big deal.”

Okay. Wow. That was not the reaction he had expected from the normally cool and collected Paige. Should he comment on it?

She cleared her throat and went completely quiet, and Dylan figured by bringing any more attention to her little…outburst, he’d embarrass her. So he let it go.

“I appreciate everyone’s concern and I’ll plan on seeing you Saturday night, okay?”

“Sure,” she replied, sounding relieved.

“We don’t have anything else planned for this week, do we?”

“No. It was the photo shoot today. And I want to thank you for all you did.”

“Me? I don’t think I did anything except smile for the camera.”

Paige laughed softly. “You were prompt, you brought me lunch, and you kept everyone talking and engaged in between shoots. So thank you. You were a big help.”

Well, damn. That was probably the first time anyone had ever thanked him for acting…normal. The thought of it made him smile. “I’m glad I could help. And don’t hesitate to ask for help at any of these other…stops. I really don’t mind. I’d rather be useful than just stand around.”

“I appreciate it, and again, thanks.” She paused. “So…um…I guess that’s it.”

“I guess so.” Funny, he felt reluctant to end the conversation.

“Yeah.”

Hmm… “What are you doing tonight? Anything exciting? Not working late, I hope.”

She laughed again. “No. Not working. I’m home with my feet up and playing Scrabble on the computer.”

“Really? People do that?” he teased.

“Well, I do. You got me thinking about board games today, and since you obviously can’t play them alone, I got on my computer to see what I could find. And you’re right. It’s very relaxing.”

“Glad I could help. I think there’s virtual chess. You know…if you’re interested.”

“Really? I’ll have to look that up.”

Dylan couldn’t help but smile at her excitement. “So you and your grandfather used to play, huh?”

“All the time. We used to have the best conversations during our games. It was our special time together.” She let out a wistful sigh. “I miss him so much, and even though it’s been, like, fourteen years, I still remember how much those games meant to me.”

“Like I said earlier, it’s a great memory to have.”

“Mmm,” she said, and it sounded far sexier than it should have.

“I should probably go. I’m starving, and I need to find something to eat.”

“You haven’t had dinner yet?”

“Nope. I was tuning and playing guitar and lost track of time.” He looked at the clock and saw it was almost eight. Not terribly late, but it seemed like lunch was a lifetime ago.

“Well…go find something and I’ll see you on Saturday night.”

“Yeah, okay. Great. I’ll see you then.”

“Have a good night, Dylan,” she said.

“You too.”

* * *

Three days later, Dylan tossed his jacket on the hotel room bed and sighed.

He’d done it.

He’d walked away from the home he’d owned for the past eight years.

He kept waiting to feel…something. The Realtor had done a final walk-through with him and kept saying things like “I’m sure you’re going to miss this” and “This must be hard for you,” but in truth, he wasn’t and it wasn’t. The house was the last major tie he had to his life prior to rehab.

There was still the band and Mick, but the house held the most bad memories for him. From this point on, he knew Riley, Matt, Julian, and Mick would be there to encourage him to stay the course. And it felt damn good.

As he walked around, he noted how it was going to be strange going from living full-time in a 7,500-square-foot house to an 800-square-foot hotel room. Lucky for him, Shaughnessy had spent so much time on the road that hotel living wasn’t going be a total shock. It wasn’t ideal, but it also wasn’t permanent. He’d lucked out in scoring one of the recently refurbished suites. It was modern with a hint of vintage glamor, which he found he liked.

The furniture was oak and had touches of mohair and leather, and the room offered an amazing view of LA. He moved from the living room into the bedroom and knew he’d made the right choice. A standard room would have been fine, but with the two-room setup, he would have plenty of space to relax. He ran a hand over the king-size bed and smiled. The rest of the furnishings were nice to look at, and he was sure they were comfortable, but his main requirement had been a king-size bed. He enjoyed sprawling out, and should he decide to invite someone up to join him for the night, he knew they’d appreciate the extra space.

Paige’s face immediately came to mind, and he cursed himself. Maybe he needed to find someone to hook up with—and soon. He had to stop envisioning Paige in these scenarios because that wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t. And the sooner he distracted himself from that fantasy, the better.

He kept on moving and checked out the luxurious marble bathroom. There was a shower and a Jacuzzi.

And there were images of Paige naked in both of them.

“Dammit,” he hissed.

Yeah, he definitely needed to find a distraction because this was starting to get out of hand. Hopefully at the cocktail party tomorrow night, he’d be able to find someone he was attracted to and could get over this drought he was in. Memories of his last failed attempt at getting laid played in his mind, and more than anything, it pissed him off.

“I used to be able to have sex with little more than the crook of a finger,” he murmured as he walked out of the bathroom. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”

Speaking of hard… Yeah. The image of Paige in the shower was instantly replaced with the image of her in his bed. Walking quickly, he went out to the living room, where it wasn’t hard to imagine her bent over the sofa.

His cell phone rang and he reached for it like a lifeline. “Hello!”

“Hey, buddy! You sound a little frantic. You okay?”

It was Riley. Thank God. If ever there was someone to put him on level ground, it was Riley Shaughnessy. Sitting down on the sofa, Dylan kicked off his shoes and relaxed. “I’m good. I’m good. The phone startled me. I moved into the Beverly today and was checking the room out.”

“Right. Mick told me you were doing that. You know you could have come and stayed with us, Dylan. We have a guest room. The door’s always open here.”

“And I appreciate it, but I know you and Savannah are busy with your own things and your daughter. Also, I figured Savannah might not appreciate another kid under her roof.”

Riley laughed. “Maybe. But I want you to know if you get tired of hotel living, you’re more than welcome here.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Really. So what’s going on?”

“Not much. I got your message the other day and finally had some time to sit down and call you. How’s the community-service gig going?”

Dylan told him all about what he’d been up to and about the party tomorrow night.

“Cocktail party, huh?” Riley asked. “You sure you’re ready for that?”

If anyone else had asked, Dylan probably would have been offended. But Riley knew him almost better than anyone else. “In my mind I am,” he answered honestly. “But I’m never going to know until I try. The good thing is it’s right here in the hotel, so if I’m uncomfortable, I can leave and go to my suite. And Paige knows my situation, so she won’t be put-off if I bail in the middle of it.”

“So you’re dating the campaign chick? Do you think that’s smart?”

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not dating Paige. She’s sort of been assigned to keep an eye on me so I don’t screw up anything. Apparently my reputation has some people nervous. So she’s more like…a handler.”

“Ah. So…nothing’s going on between the two of you?”

“Why do people keep asking me that?”

Riley laughed. “Because it’s what you used to do! You dated our wardrobe chick, the PR chick, the intern from Mick’s office—”

“Thank God he never found out about that,” Dylan said.

“Please. Of course he found out about it. Why do you think we were suddenly doing those pop-up shows in the Midwest?”

Dylan sat straight up. “Are you kidding me? That’s why we were sent out on that damn tour?”

Riley laughed harder. “Man, you seriously didn’t know? We all wanted to kick your ass for getting us into that!”

“I had no frigging idea. I really thought Mick didn’t know!”

“That girl was something like his best friend’s daughter, dude! You’re lucky he didn’t string you up by the balls for it.”

Dylan groaned. “It was only a couple of hookups.”

“It was enough for him to find out and for her to start blabbing how you were dating.”

“I don’t even remember her name,” he murmured. “How crappy is that?”

“Very, but in your defense, it was at a time when you were partying particularly hard.”

He sighed. “Why didn’t anyone stop me? Why didn’t anyone smack me in the head and tell me what a mess I was making of my life?”

Riley was quiet for a moment. “We all tried, Dylan. At one time or another, we all tried. You didn’t want to listen. There were times when the three of us and Mick would sit and talk about forcing you into rehab or at least doing an intervention, but…” He paused and sighed. “We should have. You have no idea how much it killed me to know that if we had stepped in sooner, things could have been different. You still would have gone to rehab, but you would have been spared the accident and the charges that went with it.”

“Believe me, I wish I could have avoided that too, but it had to happen. I think that was what it took to make me open my eyes. I am thankful every day I didn’t kill anyone.”

“We all are.”

“You know what the hardest part of all this is?” he asked, going somber.

“What?”

“I made such an ass of myself that I’ve got this reputation now. No one’s going to let me forget how I was this party boy douchebag. People look at me differently. I need a handler so I don’t make a scene places. I hate it. I deserve it, don’t get me wrong, but I hate it.”

“It’s going to get better over time, Dylan. This is all so…new. And you’re just now going out and interacting with people again in public. You have to expect a certain amount of hesitation from them. Everyone’s waiting to see if you changed. So this is your chance to prove them wrong. Show them you’ve changed, that you’re not going to make a scene—you’re not that party boy douchebag anymore. Once they see you’ve reformed, they’ll move on. If you ask me, this campaign was perfect timing for you.”

“I don’t know about that, but it’s certainly not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Well, that’s something at least.”

“I guess.” Dylan realized Riley was right. This cocktail party was the perfect opportunity for him to prove how much he had changed. And if it all went well, he wouldn’t need a handler the next time around. He wouldn’t need Paige to…

Damn. Next time, there’d be no excuse for her to act as his date.

Something to think about at a later time.

Shaking his head to clear it, he put his feet up on the coffee table and said, “So I talked to Matt the other day, and we’re thinking of getting together the middle of next month and jamming. He said he’d fly over, and he thinks Julian might be up for it too. Nothing official, just the four of us hanging out and playing music for fun, like the old days. You in?”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been praying for this to happen!”

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I was waiting for you to be ready,” Riley replied. “I didn’t want to push, and I knew you had other things to deal with and didn’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“I appreciate that. I picked up a guitar for the first time a few days ago.”

“Really? You haven’t played?”

“Uh-uh. Not since before the accident.”

“Wow.”

“I know. It was sort of my own form of penance. I didn’t think I deserved to play.”

“Wow… I don’t know what to say.”

Dylan shrugged even though Riley couldn’t see him. “But I have to say, once I picked up a guitar and started playing?”

“It was pretty damn great, right? When I was struggling with the songs for my album, I avoided playing—especially when Savannah and I first met and she was interviewing me. Then one day, she handed the guitar to me and demanded that I play. Once I started? Oh…man…it was such an incredible rush.”

“Yes!” Dylan cried. “It was. I played for two hours straight, and after that, I started tuning each guitar up one at a time.”

“How many do you have now?” Riley asked with a chuckle.

“About twenty-five.”

Riley let out a low whistle. “Where are they? You can’t possible have them all with you at the Beverly.”

“No. Most of them are in storage. I picked four of them and brought them with me. Although, it’s not like I can’t get to the others if I wanted them. These four just happen to be favorites, and I think they’ll work fine to keep me going for a while. I can’t believe how much I missed it.”

“It feels great to do it again, I’m sure. And now you’ll be in good shape when we all get together in a few weeks.”

“I can’t wait. You have no idea. I feel like I’m finally ready to engage in life again.”

“We missed you, buddy. Really. And you’re doing okay? Feeling good?” Riley asked.

“I am. I’ll admit I’m a little freaked out about this party tomorrow night. I wasn’t at first, but once other people started voicing their concerns, it got me thinking. What if I’m not ready? What if people tell me I can handle one drink and I believe them?”

“Damn. I have no idea, Dylan. I wish I did. Only you know your limits, but I would imagine you’re not supposed to drink at all. Am I right?”

“Yup. My counselor told me there might come a time when I can handle being in social situations without being tempted but…I don’t know. I don’t think I’m there yet.”

“So maybe this isn’t a great idea for you to go.”

“No. I have to. I’m going to have to take that first step eventually. And I think Paige is the perfect person to have with me to keep me in line.”

Riley laughed softly. “So…Paige. Why? What’s she like?”

Dylan didn’t even have to think about it. His mind instantly knew what to say. “She’s amazing—she’s serious and hardworking. She’s no-nonsense and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She knows all about me, and she was brutally honest about not liking me when we first met.”

“And now?”

“Now? Now I think we’re becoming friends. She works too hard, and I’m trying to get her to relax, and she’s been keeping me in line.”

“Have you needed to be kept in line?” Riley teased.

“Nah…but it’s cute how she thinks she has to hover sometimes. And we haven’t done a whole lot yet. But I catch her doing it—hovering, watching me, like she’s afraid I’m going to whip out a bottle of vodka and start jumping on the furniture or something.”

Riley laughed out loud. “She sounds like exactly what you need.”

“Yeah…she is,” Dylan said wistfully, and immediately an image of her leaning over him came to mind—leaning over him and wanting to kiss him. That was a favorite image. She’d be a little bossy—he bet she liked being in control in the bedroom too—and he’d gladly let her if given a chance.

“Oh…no,” Riley whined.

“What? What’s the matter?”

“You’re going to sleep with her, aren’t you?”

“No! Dammit, Riley. I already told you I’m not.”

“Yeah, but I can hear it in your voice. You’re thinking about it.”

Why deny it? “Okay, fine. I’m thinking about it, but I’m not going to act on it. I know how important it is not to screw up right now or give the press anything to worry about—or our PR people.”

“And how do you plan on doing that? If the two of you are working together for the next month or so, how are you going to keep from letting that happen? No offense, but you don’t have the best history in this particular category.”

“Hey! I know I used to be that way, but I’m more in control now! And the way I plan on dealing with it is finding…someone else to distract me. God! I hate saying it like that because it still makes me sound like a jerk.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m not trying to beat up on you, I swear. But I know you. And I can tell you’re into this woman.”

“It doesn’t matter. It can’t happen. I won’t let it. And it’s a moot point. Paige Walters is not the type of woman who would slum with someone like me,” Dylan said, and it hit him that it was probably true.

“Why? What’s wrong with you?”

“Let’s put it this way: her family is very…conservative. Hell, Paige is conservative. She took one look at my tats and cringed. I imagine her dating a…lawyer or an accountant. Some intellectual. Not a tatted rock star fresh out of rehab. She goes to book clubs, not concerts.”

He stopped when he realized how defensive he was starting to sound.

“And on top of that, she’s not like anyone I ever dated.”

“You mean besides her having a brain?” Riley joked.

“Very funny,” Dylan deadpanned. “No, she’s just… She’s different. Like she’s more hipster than high fashion. She’s so small next to me and…” He muttered a curse. “I’m thinking way too much about this, aren’t I?”

“A bit.”

“It’s all right. It’s proximity. I’ll go to this party, and my focus will be on making a good impression on everyone. I can’t get distracted by…Paige. I’ll mingle. I’ll do the whole social chitchat thing and move on. I’m getting good at keeping things under control these days. This shouldn’t be any different.”

On the other end of the phone, Riley sighed with relief. “Okay, so…you’re good. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone tomorrow night at the party and…get distracted. Not the worst plan in the world.”

No, it wasn’t.

And Dylan knew it was what he needed to do.

It just wasn’t what he wanted to do.

Or who he wanted to do.