Chapter 5

Paige was running around the ballroom checking, double-checking, and triple-checking that everything was in order. Not that this was her event, but she knew how things could go wrong and thought it would be helpful if she checked the place cards and made sure all the brochures and literature were available.

It was a thankless job, but somebody had to do it.

Actually, Ariel’s assistant should have been doing it, but Paige hadn’t seen her around yet, and there was no point in waiting when she could handle it herself.

She spoke to the event coordinator and to the catering manager, and made sure the hors d’oeuvres would be passed around and not just placed on tables. Then she spoke to the bartenders to discuss how they would handle people who were drinking too much. Granted, that one was none of her business, but she was concerned. There was no way she wanted any drunken spectacles for this party.

And ironically, it wasn’t Dylan who came to mind.

No one specifically did, but with open bars, things could get out of control.

When she felt everything was in order, and to her liking, she decided to freshen up. Grabbing her purse from a nearby table, she was about to turn and go when Ariel stepped into the room.

Which was shocking since the event wasn’t due to start for almost an hour.

“Thank God I found you. It looks like I’m in time,” her sister said as she breezed toward Paige.

“Why? What’s the matter? Everything is under control here. I’ve talked to the caterer, the waitstaff—”

Ariel waved her off. “Please. That’s not important.”

“Not important?” Paige cried. “Are you crazy? Events like this don’t run themselves, Ariel! You need to follow up with these things!” She rolled her eyes in frustration. “Honestly, how could you not—”

“Okay, stop talking,” Ariel said firmly, grasping Paige by the shoulders. “The staff here is top-notch and doesn’t need you or me or anyone to babysit them.”

Now she was confused. “Then…then what’s the matter? Why are you here so early? Is something wrong?”

Ariel nodded solemnly. “Definitely.”

Paige braced herself. Was it their father? Had something happened to him? Their mother? Oh God! Had there been an accident? “Ariel, just tell me! What’s going on?”

Before Ariel could respond, three women came into the room and made a beeline for them. They stopped next to Ariel.

Paige suddenly got suspicious.

“Everything is set up, Mrs. Blake,” one of the women said. Paige looked at them and they reminded her of the snooty saleswomen from Pretty Woman—completely the type of people Ariel would hang out with. But when they all started eyeing her, Paige knew exactly what this was.

“Paige,” her sister began. “This is an important event, and I knew you weren’t going to be properly prepared for it. So…surprise!” she said with a smile. “Here’s your personal style squad! They have a room set up with dresses and shoes and…proper accessories.”

Paige frowned and looked at herself. She wore a standard black cocktail dress and…okay, the shoes were more sensible than stiletto, but they were comfortable! “There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing, Ariel. I appreciate you wanting to help but…”

But Ariel wasn’t listening. She took Paige gently by the elbow and started walking her toward the door, with her squad trailing behind her, murmuring about what they had to work with.

“They’re going to do your hair and makeup,” Ariel went on. “If we had more time, I’d insist on a manicure and pedicure but…” She sighed dramatically. “We’ll do what we can.”

Paige stepped out of her grasp. “No, we won’t do what we can!” she snapped. “I don’t need a manicure or pedicure! I don’t need my hair and makeup done. How many times do we have to keep going around and around about this? I’m not you! I don’t need to look and act and dress like you!”

With a long-suffering sigh, Ariel looked at her henchmen. “Do you see what I’m talking about? It’s like she doesn’t even care that she’s dressed like one of the waitstaff. Girls, please. Help me convince Paige how much better she’ll look and feel when you’re done.”

Everyone started talking at once and it wasn’t until they were in the elevator that Paige realized she’d been walking with them.

Dammit.

Turning, she tried to tell her sister one more time she didn’t need or want this, but Ariel was standing on the other side of the elevator doors as they were closing.

Double dammit!

“Now don’t worry,” glamor gal number one was saying. At some point, Paige was sure they’d introduced themselves, but she hadn’t been listening. “Your hair is in great shape but needs to be styled. We’re not going to cut it or anything, just use some rollers and irons to make it fabulous.”

Glamor gal number two stepped in front of her. “Are these glasses a necessity or do you have contacts?”

“Um…I have contacts. I was wearing them earlier, but they were bothering me so…I took them out.”

“Oh, they’re going to need to go back in,” she said. “We’re going to make your eyes look amazing, and we don’t want them hidden by these dark glasses.”

Paige groaned. “Fine.”

Then it was number three’s turn. “I have a dozen dresses with me for you to try on. They’ve all been approved by your sister, but you need to try each on so we can see which one looks and fits the best.”

“But what if I don’t like the one you pick?” Paige asked nervously and then watched as her squad looked at her as if she were crazy.

“Sweetheart, trust us when we say we know what’s best for you,” number three said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And if this is the style of…outfit you normally wear,” she went on, motioning to Paige’s current dress, “I don’t doubt you’ll have issues with what we picked. But like I said, we know what works and what doesn’t. And this dress you’re wearing? It doesn’t.”

The elevator doors opened and rather than fight it, Paige let herself be led along. It was pointless to argue.

She only hoped she wasn’t going to fall and make a fool out of herself when they tried to pass her off as some sophisticated debutante.

* * *

Dylan had texted Paige that he was heading down, but she hadn’t responded. He knew she was probably busy running around making sure everything was in order, so he wasn’t too concerned. He’d checked his reflection about a dozen times before leaving the suite. It had been a while since he’d dressed in anything except a T-shirt and jeans. Now, dressed in black slacks, a proper button-down shirt, and dress shoes, he felt…awkward.

Everything fit him perfectly, but he still felt as if he were a kid playing dress-up.

And he hated it.

In the elevator, he reminded himself how he didn’t have to stay long and how everyone would be dressed similarly.

That was the chant he kept playing all the way to the ballroom.

Stepping through the doors, he saw there was already a good amount of people present. Clearly, he had managed to be fashionably late and commended himself. He made it ten feet into the room before he started scanning for Paige.

Off in a corner, he spotted her father talking to a group of people. The stylish woman next to him was obviously his wife. He saw how Ariel favored their mother but couldn’t quite see who Paige resembled. As he tried to imagine the Walters family standing together, he would almost say that Paige didn’t look like any of them.

She was just…Paige.

Speaking of…where was she?

Scanning the room, he spotted Ariel, several of the other artists who were part of the campaign, and a couple of other familiar faces from the entertainment world and the media, but still no sign of Paige.

A waiter approached and offered him a glass of champagne, but Dylan instantly declined. He’d get to the bar and get a club soda or a bottle of water eventually, but right now he wanted to find out where Paige was. Was it possible she wasn’t here yet? That didn’t seem like her at all.

“Dylan! Hi!”

Turning, he saw Daisy walking toward him. She smiled brightly but seemed a bit shy about approaching.

“Hey, Daisy,” he said, smiling at her. “How are you?”

She giggled softly. “I’m fine, thanks. And you?”

He nodded. “I’m doing well, thanks for asking. Um…have you seen Paige? I can’t find her.”

“Really?” Daisy asked, seeming confused. “She was by the door a minute ago.” She looked past him toward the entry and nodded. “Yup. There she is. You must have walked right by her.”

Dylan turned around and looked toward the door, but he didn’t see Paige. He spotted a staff member talking to one of the—

Ho-ly… Words escaped him.

He blinked hard and then focused again and swore his eyes were deceiving him.

“She looks great, huh?” Daisy said from beside him. “But don’t tell her that. When I said it earlier she nearly bit my head off.”

“Wait, she… What?” He turned his head to look at Daisy and found her nodding.

“It’s true. She got ambushed by Ariel and her glam squad or something like that, and they gave her a makeover. I think she looks amazing, but she doesn’t want to hear that. Maybe her Spanx are a little too snug.”

“Her… What the hell are Spanx?” he asked, but at this point, he didn’t care. He wanted to go over and talk to her.

He needed a minute to…get his head in check.

The dress she was wearing looked like it was made for her. It showcased all her curves. With all her layered dressing, Dylan never would have imagined she was hiding a body like this. All lush curves and a tiny waist and… Wow. He felt himself starting to sweat. He was already struggling with the erotic dreams of her where he had no idea what was underneath her layered wardrobe. But now that he’d seen her like this?

Yeah…he’d be wise never to close his eyes again.

“That burgundy color looks amazing on her. That’s what I told her,” Daisy was saying beside him. “It brings out her eyes. And that’s another thing—her contacts! She never wears them because she says they’re a pain, but look at her face without those glasses! Her eyes are naturally huge. All this time I thought they were getting magnified from the glasses, but they’re not. Go figure. And look at her hair…it’s like something out of a shampoo commercial! Why does she wear it in a ponytail if it can look like that?”

“I gotta go,” he murmured and made his way toward Paige, feeling as if some invisible force was pulling him forward.

His eyes scanned her from head to toe and the stilettos on her feet were the stuff of fantasies—super-high, super-skinny heels and tiny straps and… Dylan groaned. He needed to focus on something else before he reached her; otherwise, everyone would know what kind of thoughts he was having. Seriously, he was already getting hard, and the closer he got, the worse it was getting.

Baseball stats.

Guitar tuning.

Chess.

All these things were innocuous thoughts, and yet somehow, his mind had managed to turn them dirty.

Baseball had him thinking of all the bases he’d like to reach with her.

Guitar tuning had him imagining playing her the way he’d play a guitar.

And naked chess.

He was screwed.

“So, if someone could make sure we have some of the Literacy Now cards on the serving trays, I think it would be very helpful,” he overheard Paige saying. When she spotted him, she smiled nervously. “Excuse me.”

Paige stepped away from the uniformed hotel employee she’d been speaking to and slowly made her way toward him. He couldn’t help but smile because she looked like Bambi had when he was learning to walk. Walking in stilettos was clearly not her thing and when she reached him, she instantly hooked her arm through his.

“You okay?” he asked, studying her face.

Her eyes—which were done up in a smoky look—slowly met his. “If you promise to let me hold on to you for the rest of the night, I should be.” She straightened and looked around the room. “What are the odds of me being able to kick these shoes off and sit for the rest of the night?”

“Slim to none,” he said, grinning. “Not because it isn’t allowed, but because it will make you crazy to sit here and watch what’s going on and not be able to fix things or supervise.”

“I know,” she murmured. “Dammit.”

The pout on her face was adorable and sexy at the same time, and with her curvy body pressed against his, Dylan knew he needed to find a distraction. Fast.

“Everything looks great,” he said, taking his eyes off her and looking around the room. Honestly, the room looked like your average, run-of-the-mill banquet rooms, but he figured it would be rude to mention it. “And everyone is smiling so…good job.”

She scoffed beside him. “It looks nothing like what I had planned.”

Okay, letting her bitch would also work for keeping him distracted so… “What would you have done differently?” He began to stroll slowly around the room, keeping to the perimeter so no one else could hear her words.

“I had envisioned themes,” she said quietly. “One section of the room would be done up in science fiction decor, another section would have a more romantic setting. A Victorian look would be over there,” she went on, pointing to a far corner with a sigh. “I pictured costumed characters walking around talking about literature and it all being a little more…”

“Cultured?”

Paige looked up at him with a sad smile. “Exactly.” Shrugging, they kept walking. “This is all fine but…this looks like every cocktail party at every hotel I’ve ever been to. There’s nothing here other than the banners to let you know what the event is for.”

Dylan never paid much attention to parties like this having a theme—well, unless it was a costume party or something—but after listening to Paige’s description of what she’d planned, he was disappointed it wasn’t happening.

He leaned down a bit as they walked—even in her stilettos, he towered over her—and said, “For what it’s worth, I think your party would have kicked this party’s ass.”

She laughed. “I’m sure there’s no need for anything like that, but thanks.”

For the next hour, they mingled. Paige introduced him to so many people that his head began to spin. For the life of him, he couldn’t believe she could keep track of all the people they were talking to—authors, investors, publishers, librarians, booksellers, on and on it went. The only thing that kept him focused on anything was her arm looped through his.

Still.

That in and of itself was odd.

Actually, the entire evening was odd.

This was the first time Dylan had attended something social sober. It felt weird and unsettling, and he was thankful for Paige’s distraction; otherwise, he was pretty sure he’d be having a panic attack by now. He had no idea how long he was supposed to mingle. Another hour? Two? Until it ended? Considering Paige hadn’t let go of him, he figured he was locked in until the end of the night. And the thought wasn’t all that unpleasant.

Go figure.

“Have you ever considered writing a book?”

Dylan blinked a few times before he realized this particular group of people were all looking at him expectantly.

“Um…what?”

Paige’s arm tightened around his. “Thomas was wondering if you’d ever considered writing a biography.”

His eyes went wide as he looked at her and then at the small group that had surrounded them. “Seriously? Who would want to read about my life?”

“I would imagine a lot of people,” Thomas—who was an editor with a prominent publishing house—replied. “People are fascinated by the rock-and-roll lifestyle, and you’ve led a very colorful life, Mr. Anders. And now here you are all cleaned up after hitting rock bottom. Your story could be very inspirational.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Dylan murmured.

“Trust me. The majority of your story would be sensationalized—the sex, the drugs, the name-dropping. It’s what the people want. The fact that you cleaned up after a stint in rehab for almost killing those people…”

“None of their injuries were life threatening,” he countered defensively.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Paige interrupted with a smile. “Thomas, I’m sure if you have a card you could give to Dylan, he’d be more than happy to talk to you about this in a more appropriate setting.”

Thomas pulled out a card and handed it to Dylan. “I’d love to talk to you about it, Dylan. I can already see the cover in my mind—the bad-boy rock star back-to-back with the cleaned-up choirboy. People will eat it up!”

It suddenly felt too hot in the room, his suit too tight. With his free hand, Dylan tugged at his collar a bit and cleared his throat before sliding the business card into his pocket. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll have to excuse us,” Paige said with her smile still in place. “We’re getting ready to do our presentation. Enjoy your night.” She led him away and it took every ounce of strength not to pull free and tell her how there was no way he would consider doing a book like Thomas had described.

Ever.

But he didn’t. Instead he walked silently beside her, knowing he was only doing it because she feared falling and breaking her ankles in those damn shoes. As they walked up to the front of the room where her father, sister, and Daisy were standing, he wondered if she did need to do a presentation. He’d thought she was getting them away from what was becoming an awkward situation.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” her father said, taking Paige’s hands in his and kissing her cheek. Paige had to disengage from Dylan’s arm to make that happen and Dylan found he missed the feel of her immediately. He gave Dylan a mild stare before saying, “We’re getting ready to hit the stage.”

“I’m ready for it,” Paige said with confidence. “I spent all last night perfecting my pitch, and I think…”

“Um, Paige…sweetheart…Ariel is doing the presentation,” her father said, and Dylan noted how the man at least had the decency to look uncomfortable.

“What?” she said, her tone hushed and…hurt. “But…I wrote… I had planned…”

“Paige, Ariel’s heading up the campaign, and it’s only right that she do the presentation,” Robert went on. “We’re all going to be up onstage with her—me, you, and all the members of PRW who are involved in the project—but Ariel is the only one speaking. I thought you knew that.”

She didn’t say a word. She simply nodded, and Dylan had a feeling he was the only one to notice the quiet sniff.

Dammit.

As if on cue, they all turned and started to make their way to the stage, but Dylan reached out and touched Paige’s arm. She turned, and her eyes were the slightest bit shiny with unshed tears.

He cursed slow and profane. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to go up there, you know,” he said. “We can leave right now. You can kick off your shoes and we’ll sprint out of here if that’s what you want.”

She looked at him oddly. “I…I can’t.”

For a minute, he thought she was going to agree with him. He let out a weary sigh. “Dammit, Paige, that was… It was bullshit!”

She immediately shushed him and moved in close. “You need to keep it down,” she hissed. “People are starting to stare.”

It didn’t matter to him but he played along. With his head bent low, he tucked a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. “I don’t care what people are looking at, okay? What happened here? What I just witnessed? That was wrong on so many levels. Why do you put up with it?”

“It’s my job, Dylan,” she said with resignation. “It’s what I do. Even when I don’t want to. I do what I’m told and…and…make the best of it.”

And that’s when it hit him—he was part of her job. She was told to babysit him, and she was. Maybe they weren’t becoming friends like he thought they were, maybe she was just doing her job.

Great.

Now he was even more pissed than he had been a minute ago.

“I need to go,” she said quietly, and when she turned to walk away, he let her.

Around the room, people were taking seats at their tables. Dylan had no idea if he even had a table—hadn’t bothered to check—and right now he didn’t care to find out. He wanted to leave. He’d put in an appearance, and he should be free to go. Eight months ago, he would have walked over to the open bar and had a field day, but now he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

Knowing he couldn’t stay standing in front of the stage, he turned and made his way toward the back of the room. He had no idea what he’d do there, but it was better than standing here like an idiot. The lights dimmed a little as Ariel and company weaved around the tables and took the stage. Dylan made it to the back wall and found a spot where he could watch Paige. She stood at the end of the line of eight people—far away from her father and sister.

Ariel started speaking, and Dylan instantly zoned out. He knew her type—polished and sophisticated but shallow. It was obvious she wasn’t passionate about this cause like Paige was; she knew how to schmooze and get more funding for it. Not a bad business tactic, but he loathed the way she went about doing it.

Stepping on her own sister.

In his book, that was beyond low.

He watched as Robert Walters beamed with pride as his daughter spoke, and it made Dylan wonder if he would have looked the same if it were Paige at the podium. Would he be standing there with a smile, or would he be more stoic? Why these were his thoughts, he had no idea, but it was a good way to kill time—figuring out the dynamics of the clearly dysfunctional Walters family.

She droned on and on in all her polished glory, and when Dylan looked at his watch and saw only fifteen minutes had gone by, he began to wonder if the rest of the room was as bored as he was.

“Ugh, don’t you hate these things?”

Dylan turned and found a beautiful woman leaning against the wall beside him. He gave her a small smile and then hesitated. Right now, he wasn’t looking to make any more small talk and was simply biding his time until Paige was done with whatever it was she was doing up on the stage with her family. The woman sighed, and he wondered if he should at least acknowledge her comment.

As if reading his mind, she smiled and held out her hand. “Morgan Lewis,” she said. “We met last year in New York. My boyfriend, Steve, plays drums with Supersonic. You jammed with them on a couple of their tour dates.”

His mind was fuzzy on that, but he shook her hand and smiled. “Right. How are you?”

“Bored,” she said with a small pout. Dylan noticed the glass of champagne in her hand and wished he had a bottle of water or some club soda right about now. “I know this is a good cause and all, but would it kill them to put on some decent music and maybe have a bigger variety at the bar?”

Yeah, the last time she had seen him, he would have been thinking the same thing. But it wasn’t something he was looking to get into right now, so he opted to focus on why they were both here.

“So you’re here to support Literacy Now?” he asked.

Beside him, Morgan let out a delicate—and slightly tipsy—laugh. “Hardly. I read Vogue when I’m bored but other than that…”

“Then why are you here?”

She looked at him for a moment as if he’d suddenly started speaking Greek. “It’s a celebrity event. The press is here. It’s good exposure.” She paused and looked around. “Steve’s around here someplace. I think he went out to the hotel bar to get us something better to drink.”

“Is the press here? I didn’t notice them,” Dylan said mildly, and turned his attention to the stage.

“C’mon, let’s go find Steve,” Morgan said, hooking her arm through his and giving a small tug. “We’ll go grab something to drink at the hotel bar because this one sucks, and then we’ll go out and be seen. You haven’t been around in so long, I’m sure you’re dying to get out and party! With one phone call, Steve can get the guys together and we can hit a club or two and put on an impromptu show.”

Was this woman for real? Did she have any idea why he hadn’t been around?

“Um…look, Morgan, I’m not interested in…”

Then she turned her body and effectively blocked his view of the stage as she pressed up against him from head to toe. Her breasts were pressed up snuggly against him as they spilled over the top of her strapless cocktail dress and Dylan felt…

Nothing.

And that pissed him off too.

Even if he had no interest in this woman personally, as a man, shouldn’t he feel at least some appreciation for the female form? A stirring of arousal for her effort?

“Please, Dylan,” she purred, running one perfectly manicured finger along his jaw. “We had so much fun in New York. Don’t you want to have fun with me again? Steve won’t mind.” And somehow, she pressed in closer, her breath hot against his ear even though she wasn’t whispering. “It can be our little secret.”

He was about to respond when the whole room erupted in applause. Putting some distance between them, Dylan began to clap—thankful for something to do rather than acknowledge what Morgan had just said. All around them, people started to get up and walk around, and he saw that Paige was no longer onstage with her colleagues.

Where in the world was she?

Craning his neck to see beyond Morgan, Dylan tried to remember if Paige had seen where he’d walked off to.

And then he remembered… “It’s my job. It’s what I do.”

Right.

“So what do you say, Dylan? We’ll grab Steve and blow this lame party.”

“What are we blowing?” Dylan turned at the sound of a male voice and found Steve Bladen standing beside them with a big grin on his face. “Dylan! Holy shit, man! It’s good to see you!”

With no other choice, Dylan shook his hand and then had to stand there while the guy rambled on and on and on about how much fun they’d had together last year. Even if Dylan could have remembered, he highly doubted it was quite as spectacular as Steve was making it sound.

Just when he thought he’d lose his mind listening to the story, Steve switched gears. “So what do you say? Me, you, Morgan? I’ve got a limo outside. Let’s go have some fun like we used to.”

There was a soft gasp, and he knew that it didn’t belong to Morgan.

* * *

Could this night be any worse? Paige asked herself as she tried to hide her horrified reaction to what she’d overheard.

She was gone for all of ten minutes and Dylan was making plans to go out and party like he used to.

Unbelievable.

And yet…believable.

She looked at the woman standing beside him in her tight, strapless gown and wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. Just because Dylan had been the epitome of a gentleman all night with her didn’t change the fact that under the right circumstances—or in this case, the questionable ones—he was still a man. Still a bad-boy rock star who slept with supermodels.

Looking at herself, Paige loathed her forced choice of apparel even more. With a stammered “excuse me,” she turned to walk away.

But the stupid heels did her in.

She felt her ankle turn in an almost unnatural way and she knew she was going down and willed herself not to cry.

Strong arms came around her immediately and prevented her from face-planting on the carpet. All the breath whooshed out of her as Paige found herself pressed against Dylan’s chest.

Even though all she wanted to do was cling to him and linger, she gave Dylan a shove to put some distance between them.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

Honestly? She wasn’t. Her ankle was killing her, and she was embarrassed and annoyed at her sister’s presentation and had hoped she could lean on Dylan while she cried about how unfair it all was.

Seeing him with this bedazzled, blond nightmare and one of his cronies, Paige realized Dylan was only nice to her because he had to be. She was the key to his staying on this campaign and completing his community service. Nothing more.

And that bothered her.

More than she had thought it would.

She had been seeing them as becoming friends. She enjoyed talking to him and spending time with him and in all those times together, she had started to forget who he was.

Witnessing this little encounter brought it all back.

And she hated it.

“I’m fine,” she lied with a mirthless laugh. “I knew these shoes would do me in.”

Dylan gave her a smile—one she usually liked looking at—and Paige had to force herself to look away. Clearing her throat, she went on, “So I’m going to throw in the towel and kick them off and call it a night. I appreciate you coming and supporting the cause.”

He frowned at her. “You’re leaving?”

She let out a sigh. “I wasn’t needed here, was I? I mean, I didn’t have to give a presentation, and I was left out of the speech altogether so…” She shrugged. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it sounds like you have plans and I think I need some ice.”

He reached for her—she knew he did—but with her head held high, she walked away. Every step hurt like crazy, but she didn’t stop. With her eyes focused on the exit, she did the one thing she’d never done before.

She shirked her responsibilities and didn’t care.

It was a first for her. She took her position seriously and knew how important it was to present the happy family–united front image. Well, not tonight! Tonight she was going to kick off her shoes as soon as she found a quiet spot outside of the banquet room and drive herself home barefoot.

Click-clack-click-clack—her heels made that annoying sound with every step she took. People were out in the halls and she smiled but kept up her determined stride until she made it to the lobby. There she found an upholstered bench against the wall—which luckily was bookended by large potted plants—and gently took the shoes off. Her right ankle was already starting to swell, and she knew driving was going to be painful.

“I have to get home and then I can ice it and everything will be all right,” she said to herself. Gingerly, she got to her feet and instantly winced.

She managed to walk all of two steps when Dylan stepped in front of her. She gasped and looked up at his face.

His very angry face.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded.

“Me?” she cried. “What are you talking about?”

“You just walked out of the event you planned! People were calling after you and you didn’t even slow down!”

Had they? She hadn’t noticed.

“I was done,” she said simply. “I’m tired, and now my ankle hurts, and as I said a few minutes ago, I wasn’t needed. I didn’t think it was a big deal to leave.”

The look Dylan gave her showed he didn’t believe her one bit. “Really?” he asked sarcastically. “Paige, if there is one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that everything is a big deal to you—especially this literacy thing. So don’t bullshit me, okay? If you’re pissed about your sister stealing your thunder, then say so. I’m not gonna argue with you on that one. I think it was a rotten thing for her to do.”

Part of her melted a little at his words, but she already knew he was on her side where that was concerned. And rather than feel good about it, she forced herself to remember that he had plans of his own—with people who were more suited for someone like him.

“Don’t you have a limo waiting for you?” she asked mildly.

“A limo?” he repeated. “Why would I have a limo? I have a room upstairs.”

Right. Because why wait to party in a limo when he could have a party of his own in three minutes in the privacy of his suite.

God, how she hated this!

“Yeah, okay. Whatever,” she murmured and went to move around him. “I need to go.” In the back of her mind, Paige was prepared to make a glorious exit with her dignity intact.

Her ankle, however, had other plans.

One step. It took one stupid step to make her cry out in pain.

Before she knew it, Dylan scooped her up in his arms and made his way toward the elevator. “Wait! What are you doing?” she demanded, wiggling against him. “My car is that way!” Pointing at the entrance to the hotel for emphasis, she tried to get out of his grasp. “I need to get my valet ticket and…”

The elevator dinged its arrival.

Dylan stepped inside and hit a button, and Paige hit him in the shoulder.

“Ow! Seriously, what the hell, Paige? What’s gotten into you?”

“I am not going up to your room, Dylan!”

“Why not?” he shouted at her.

“Because I’m not into partying with your friends or threesomes, that’s why!”

You could have heard a pin drop.

Slowly, Dylan lowered her to her feet, and this time she was prepared and babied her ankle when her foot hit the carpet.

“Um…excuse me?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.

Hands on her hips, she knew she would emerge victorious here. “I don’t party.” There. She’d said it.

He nodded. “Um…yeah. I get that. But what was that other…um…thing you mentioned?”

“Threesomes. I’m not into them.”

“And…who’s having a threesome?”

She snorted with disgust. “Right. Because the blond with the limo isn’t up here, right? You left her and her…her…offer to come chase after me? Somehow I doubt it.”

He didn’t say a word. For the life of her, she seriously thought he’d argue with her. That he’d demand to know why she would think that or he’d tell her she was crazy because no man could turn down an offer to go out on the town with a supermodel.

But he didn’t.

When the elevator came to a stop, he wrapped an arm around her waist and gently led her from it and down the hall toward his room. She wanted to argue that she didn’t want to go, but she was in pain and wanted some ice and maybe some ibuprofen.

He slid the key card into the slot and then opened the door and helped her inside. Paige braced herself to see a naked woman on the bed, and had to admit, she was confused when she didn’t see the blond from downstairs.

Or anyone.

She was about to comment on it when Dylan helped her onto the couch and then arranged some throw pillows for her to put her foot up on. Then he walked over to the phone, and she heard him call the front desk. Her head was pounding as she let it roll back on the sofa. She closed her eyes and wanted to die of embarrassment.

No supermodel.

No party.

No threesome.

And she’d made a complete fool of herself in front of him.

Great.

Her craptastic night was complete.

She could hear Dylan moving around in the suite but couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes to see what he was doing. He was quiet—like he was in stealth mode—and yet all she could do was pray she was having a nightmare and eventually she’d wake up.

A few minutes later there was a soft knock on the door, and she braced herself for what was coming. Was it room service? Concierge? The supermodel?

Dylan’s soft footsteps walked across the room, and she heard him thank whoever was at the door and then…she opened her eyes and turned her head and stared.

“Paige, this is Dr. Solanki. She’s the hotel’s concierge doctor. She’s here to look at your ankle.”

He’d called for a doctor? Seriously?

“Um…I’m sure it’s fine,” Paige said nervously, hating how now she’d have to add showing her fear of doctors to her repertoire of embarrassments for the evening. “I just twisted it. A little ice and some ibuprofen and it will be fine. Really.” And then to try to prove her point, she stood.

And cried out.

Dammit, why didn’t she learn?

“Okay, okay, let’s take a look,” the doctor said as she stepped forward. Paige had to admit, she didn’t seem all that intimidating—she looked close to Paige’s age and had big, brown eyes and a calm voice. All in all, very different from Paige’s own family physician—old and grouchy, like Yosemite Sam.

For the next several minutes, Paige answered questions about how she twisted it, what hurt and what didn’t as the doctor gently moved her foot this way and that. When she finally stood, she looked down at Paige and smiled.

“You twisted it pretty good, but I agree with your earlier observation—ice it, ibuprofen, and rest. And you should stay off it for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Thank you,” both Dylan and Paige said at the same time. Paige looked at him but noticed he wasn’t smiling—probably trying to figure out how to get her home if she wasn’t supposed to walk.

With a wave and a wish for a good night, Dr. Solanki left as room service appeared. She noticed Dylan accepting the two buckets of ice and what looked like a bag or pack to put it in. When he closed the door, he walked into the suite and went about fixing her an ice pack before coming over and putting it on her foot for her.

All without a word.

Then he handed her a bottle of water and a couple of ibuprofen tablets.

Without a word.

Okay, what was she supposed to say? She’d jumped to conclusions and said some stupid things and acted like a brat. Maybe she should just…

Dylan was setting up a chessboard on the sofa and then sat. He made the first move and then waited.

This was it? He wasn’t going to talk? They were supposed to play chess? Fine. She’d play along—literally and figuratively.

She moved.

Then Dylan moved.

And she moved again.

The silence was maddening.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” she finally blurted out. “I…shouldn’t have accused you of bringing me up here for…well…you know. It was ridiculous.” When she finally forced herself to look at him, she saw sadness in his eyes.

Wait…sad? Why?

“I know you would never do that with me,” she went on. “Especially not with me. But that doesn’t give me the right to pass judgment. So…I’m sorry.”

Dylan’s expression went from sad to angry and she was even more confused than she’d been five seconds ago.

“What did you mean by that?” he asked, his voice deadly calm, but Paige could tell his teeth were clenched.

“By…by what?”

“Especially not with you. What was that supposed to mean?”

Groaning, her head fell on the couch. Seriously? Hadn’t she been through enough tonight? With a sigh of resignation, she faced him—and the music. “Look, I’m not blind, Dylan. I know who I am and what I look like and what kind of man I attract. I’m certainly not a supermodel, and I have never invited anyone to get naked in a limo.”

“Jesus, Paige.”

“No…no…it’s okay. I’m okay with it. Really. I told you when we first met that I had looked you up online, so I know the kind of women you…you’re…well, that you spend time with. So the thought of you bringing me up here to…you know…was crazy on my part. And stupid. And ridiculous,” she added because she couldn’t make herself stop talking. “And…”

Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a very long breath before he looked at her. “In the spirit of honesty, let me start by agreeing with you—you’re crazy.”

She couldn’t help the gasp that came out.

“But not for the reasons you seem to think,” he quickly added. “That woman you saw talking to me downstairs? She’s been dating that guy, Steve, who was standing there with us. If memory serves, they’ve been together for years. The offer was to go out and party, yes. But it was also to go out and jam somewhere. That’s it.”

The eye roll she gave him also couldn’t be helped.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…believe what you want, but I’m telling you the truth. When Morgan came up to me and introduced herself…” He shrugged. “There was nothing she was going to offer, her or Steve, that held any appeal to me. That part of my life is over and… I don’t know. I’m not willing to tempt fate and put myself in situations like that. At least not yet.”

“Dylan, come on. I’m not a moron. Drinking aside, you had to at least have some interest in hanging out with them. He’s a fellow musician, she’s gorgeous, and…”

He shook his head. “And shallow and vain and someone who likes being in the tabloids. Like I said, not interested.”

Who was Paige to argue with that? He sounded pretty earnest, so she didn’t have a choice but to believe him.

“However,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, “the reason I think you’re crazy is because you’re not seeing what everyone else is seeing where you’re concerned.”

She frowned at him. “Excuse me?”

He nodded. “You are this amazing woman—you’re smart and funny and talented…”

Oh God, here it comes, she thought. The whole “you’re a good friend” speech.

“And you’re beautiful.”

Wait…what?

When her wide eyes stared at him, Dylan nodded again. “It’s true, Paige. You are a beautiful woman. Why don’t you see that?”

And then it hit her, the whole glam-squad-makeover thing.

Stupid beauty fairies. She’d like to kick their well-toned asses right about now.

“I get it,” she said. “This whole get-up tonight… Yeah. Everyone thought I looked great. But you know what? I hate it. This isn’t a dress I would ever wear, and I think we can both agree on why I shouldn’t wear stilettos. And all this makeup? I feel like I’m wearing a mask! So great, everyone thought I looked beautiful tonight, and that pisses me off!” she cried.

And then felt herself almost starting to cry.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said soothingly, wiping away the stray tear rolling down her cheek. “That’s not what I meant, Paige. It wasn’t only about tonight.”

“Right,” she scoffed. “You, Dylan Anders, who’s dated some of the most glamorous women in the world, finds me attractive. I’m sure.”

“Why is that so hard for you to believe?” he asked, and she could tell he was seriously confused by her reaction.

“You know what? It’s nothing. Never mind.” She looked down at the chessboard. “I believe it’s your move.”

Honestly, she thought he’d put up more of a fight. But he didn’t. Instead, for the next thirty minutes, they played chess.

In total silence.

Until he clearly couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why can’t you accept that you’re beautiful even when you don’t have all this?” He waved to indicate her dress and hair and makeup.

“Why can’t we let this go?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” he countered.

“Exactly! Which is why we need to move on.” She made her move and immediately realized she’d made it possible for Dylan to win.

But he wasn’t looking at the board; he was looking at her. “It’s ridiculous because for such a smart woman, you’re being obtuse.”

“Obtuse?” she parroted. “You’re calling me obtuse?”

“I am.”

She needed to call his bluff and shut him up. And remarkably, her suggestion was out before she had a chance to think about it. “Kiss me.”

Dylan’s eyes went wide and his back straightened. “What?”

Paige gave him a knowing smirk. “Kiss me. If I’m so beautiful…if I’m so attractive, prove it. Kiss me.”

“I’m not going to kiss you, Paige.”

And darn it, she didn’t want to be disappointed, but she was. It was a stupid idea and yet…she’d wanted him to kiss her—even if it was just to prove a point.

Rather than show how upset she was, she continued with her point. Whatever it was. “Exactly. Because you don’t find me attractive. And that’s why you wouldn’t bring me up here for…you know.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Paige, it’s threesome! You can say threesome. You shouted it at me in the elevator.”

“I don’t need to say…it,” she replied. “It’s not important.”

“Then why do you keep bringing it up?” he said with a grin.

Great. Now he wanted to discuss threesomes with her? Why wasn’t this ice working? Why couldn’t she go home?

“I’m done bringing it up,” she said after a long moment. “Actually, I’d like to go home.” Flexing her foot, she couldn’t help but wince.

“You know you can’t drive like that.”

“I don’t have a choice. Although I guess I can call for a cab or an Uber or something.”

“Just…stay here tonight. I’m sure by the morning your foot will feel better.”

Stay here? In his room? Was he serious? Which is exactly what she asked him.

“I’m a bit wired from the party. It was the first time I’ve gone to something like that since rehab. It felt weird, and my mind’s been racing, so I’m probably not going to sleep tonight. You can take the bed. I’m going to end up watching TV all night anyway.”

If she were honest, she’d tell him she was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to deal with cabs or Uber or even getting from point A to point B.

But she didn’t.

“I shouldn’t, Dylan. I think tonight has been weird for us both. And besides, the thought of sleeping in this ridiculous dress is enough to make me want to cry.” That part was the truth. She was so Spanx-ed into the ridiculous thing that breathing hadn’t been easy all night.

He stood and walked into the bedroom. Two minutes later he came back. “There’s a shirt and a robe on the bed, and I pulled the comforter down for you. Get comfortable and I’ll refresh this ice pack for you.”

“Dylan…”

“Don’t argue. For once. Please.”

A small nod was her only response. Dylan helped her to her feet and to the bedroom. He left her sitting at the foot of the bed and then closed the door behind him to give her some privacy.

She hated how much of a gentleman he could be at times.

Peeling the dress off was a combination of pain and pleasure. It felt good to breathe again, but she had to wrestle her way out of it more than she cared to admit. And knowing she’d have to put it on tomorrow to get home was already making her want to scream. Once it was off, she tossed it onto a chair and reached for the shirt Dylan had taken out for her—it was a simple black T-shirt. She smiled because it was almost exactly like what she wore at home. Slipping it over her head, she smiled at how it smelled like him.

It was like winning a sad second place prize in a competition she didn’t realize she wanted to participate in.

It took her a few minutes to wash all the makeup off and try to do something with her hair. She finger-combed it and shook it out and she looked like an ’80s video-vixen reject.

Ugh.

Stupid mirrors.

Limping over to the bed, she climbed in and sighed at how glorious it felt. The sheets were incredibly soft, and the mattress was the perfect level of firmness, and there were enough pillows to make her feel right at home.

If she’d been at home, she would have showered to wash the night off her, but her foot would have protested like it was now. Which was a shame since that was one of the most decadent bathrooms she had ever seen. Maybe if she was feeling better in the morning…

Dylan knocked and she called out for him to come in.

“I wasn’t sure how long—” he stopped when he looked at her and Paige figured he was trying to hide how horrified he was by her makeup-free appearance.

Might as well finish the night with a bang, she thought.

She arched a brow at him and waited for whatever it was he had to say.

Clearing his throat, Dylan walked over to the bed. He didn’t make eye contact with her but went about his task of propping her foot up and putting the ice pack on it. “I don’t think you should sleep with this on it all night, but you should let it stay on for as long as you can.” He straightened and walked into the bathroom. Two towels in hand, he came out. He placed one on the pillow under her foot and the other on the floor beside the bed. “You can…um…you can just drop that when you’re done.”

She figured he meant the ice pack, but it was humorous watching him.

Then he left the room and came back with a fresh bottle of water and the bottle of ibuprofen. “You know, in case you wake up and need some more in the middle of the night.” He turned his back to her and looked around the room. “There’s a remote for the TV on the table next to the bed, and if you’re hungry or need anything, you can holler for me or call room service or whatever and—”

“Dylan?”

“Hmm?”

She rolled her eyes because he didn’t turn around. “You know you’re proving my point, right?”

Now he turned. “What point?”

“That I’m not attractive,” she said and hated how it was clearly her who couldn’t let this go. “I took off my makeup, and you can’t even look at me.”

In a million years, she never could have predicted Dylan’s reaction to her words.

He moved like a ninja and had his hands braced on the mattress on either side of her as he was nose-to-nose with her. “I have been trying my hardest to be a good guy here, Paige. I am many things, but I’m not a liar.” He reached up with one hand and cupped her jaw—and he wasn’t exactly gentle. “Whether you want to believe it or not is on you, but I think you’re beautiful. When I walked in here, all I could think was how you take my breath away. Most women need all that…crap on their face to make them look good, but to me, you look so much better without it.”

She swallowed hard, unable to believe what she was hearing.

Dylan’s thumb caressed her cheek. “You don’t need all that because you, Paige, are naturally beautiful.”

She swallowed hard again. “Then why…?”

“Why wouldn’t I kiss you?” he whispered.

She nodded, unable to look away from his heated gaze.

“Because for the first time in my life I’m trying to get my shit together. And kissing you would be reverting to who I used to be. I was the guy who slept with PR people and assistants and women I shouldn’t.” He paused and rested his forehead against hers. “I know if I give in and kiss you, it won’t stop there. And I’ll pursue you until you agree to sleep with me. And then when it all falls apart—like it always does—everyone will look at me and see that I’m the same screwup I always was.”

“Dylan…” He placed a finger over her lips, and she almost groaned.

“So it’s not that I don’t find you attractive,” he said, his voice low and possessive and a little bit thrilling. He straightened and took one of her hands in his and placed it over the front of his pants, over his very impressive erection. “I do. But the last thing I want to do is drag you into the mess that my life is.”

“But…your life’s not like that anymore,” she argued softly.

He inhaled deeply, and Paige realized she was still touching him. “Trust me,” he said sadly. “It is.”

Unable to help herself, she gently rubbed him and let out a breathy sigh.

Dylan squeezed her hand ever so slightly before taking a step back. “You’re already stuck working with me. And even though I know we’ve come to be friends, the truth of the matter is I’m not someone you’d normally spend time with.”

“That’s not…”

“It is true, Paige. You know it and I know it.” There was no condemnation in his tone. Just a sad disappointment. “It’s one thing for me to have to deal with people passing judgment or reminding me of the mistakes I made. I’m sure there are some women out there who wouldn’t mind dealing with it for the sake of using me for their own gain. But that’s not you.”

Now he was starting to piss her off. She knew she was uptight about a lot of things and her recent behavior certainly didn’t help her case, but it didn’t mean she was so rigid or such a snob that she’d…she’d… What? What was she thinking? At first, it was a kiss to prove a point, but now it was more.

A lot more.

Like, Why can’t I be someone Dylan Anders can sleep with and then walk away?

Wait…was that something she wanted?

Looking up at him—the vulnerability in his eyes, the sexy way his dress shirt was opened at the collar and the sleeves were rolled up…and that wasn’t even considering the whole erection thing. Right. Who was she kidding? That was like the giant, shiny, red bow on the whole package.

All her life, Paige played things by the rules, always wanting to be safe, and where had it gotten her? She was a nobody at work, no one took her seriously as a leader and, dammit, she was tired of being forced to follow. Right now she wanted to take the lead and be brave and break the rules.

All of them.

With Dylan.

“What if I said I wouldn’t mind dealing with all of it?” she asked, praying she sounded confident and not at all nervous.

The intense look on his face told her she’d struck a nerve and it made her bold.

“What if I said I want you to kiss me and…you wouldn’t have to pursue me to convince me to sleep with you?” She let out a nervous laugh. “I’m already in your bed.”

He stood as still as stone.

“Dylan, I…”

But she never got to finish because he turned and walked out the door, gently closing it behind him.