Chapter 8

Looking back, Paige could say with great certainty that things changed between her and Dylan the day he came and apologized for skipping out on their lunch date.

And not for the better.

Two weeks later, Paige felt the strain and knew he was feeling it too.

Their work schedules were crazy even though Ariel was back at work. Somehow Paige ended up taking on a lot more responsibility—more than usual—and Ariel’s latest idea was a big benefit concert. There was no way Paige was getting involved with that mess. Her temper was short, her nerves were frayed, and Dylan’s sudden obsession with his image and getting the band back in the public eye was making her want to scream.

At every Literacy Now event or function they went to, he managed to turn it into a self-promotion event for himself and his band. At first, Paige had to focus to realize what he was doing—like he was so smooth about it most people might not notice the plugs he managed to slide into his talks.

But she noticed.

And she didn’t particularly like it.

Not that she was against Dylan being excited about his work with Shaughnessy. She wasn’t. What she was against was Dylan using their time with Literacy Now to promote his music, and not literacy and the importance of reading.

Like right now, she thought, they were at a regional library outside of LA, and Dylan was supposed to talk about the different library programs and get the kids excited about them. But was he? No. Right now he was answering questions about life in a rock band. She could reason that he was building a relationship with the kids in the crowd, so when he did mention the library programs, they’d be willing to listen to him and take his advice. Looking at the clock, however, she knew they were almost out of time, and if he didn’t do an immediate change of subject, there was no way he’d get to the pertinent information.

It wasn’t easy to get his attention, but she managed to snag it for a second and held up the library brochure and waved it at him in hopes of him getting the message and leaving his riveting band talk in favor of his love of reading.

“So what I’m saying, kids, is you need to have an interest in the arts. Whether it’s playing an instrument or drawing or painting or writing, you need to find where your passion is and go for it,” Dylan was saying, and Paige started to relax.

“Like I did when I figured out that I wanted to play the guitar,” he went on, and she groaned, her head falling forward as she cursed him. Why now? Why, when they were so close to the entire campaign going national, did he have to go rogue? Seriously, why?

A loud round of applause burst out all around her, and she knew he’d missed giving out the real information. Jumping up, she ran to the front of the room before anyone could leave and immediately began talking as loud as she could.

“On your way out, please see Mrs. Duncan, the head librarian, at the front desk to get a schedule of the many programs they’ll be offering here over the next three months. From story time to reading tutors, there will be something for everyone!”

By the time she spoke the last word, the room was almost empty. She turned to Dylan and glared.

“Good group today,” he said with a grin as he grabbed his jacket and slipped it on.

“Are you for real?” she asked. “You do realize this was a promotional event for the library and not a press junket for Shaughnessy, don’t you?”

He looked at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You!” she cried. “You spent the majority of the time talking about yourself—again—and about the band—again—and never mentioned any of the library programs! Dammit, Dylan, that’s why we were here!”

“I did mention them,” he argued, his grin fading.

“No, you didn’t. Trust me. I was sitting here listening the entire time. You talked about world tours, Shaughnessy’s catalog of songs, and who your favorite superhero is! And you know what you didn’t talk about? Books! Any books!”

His expression hardened. “Okay, fine, so I went a little off script today. But don’t you think building a relationship with the kids is important too? Now when they see me on TV talking about the importance of reading, they’ll remember this day and how I was cool with them, and they’ll listen.”

“You’re impossible,” she murmured and gathered up her things. She was halfway to the door when Dylan caught up with her. She immediately spun out of his grasp. “What!”

Rather than say anything, he simply glared at her for a minute.

“We need to go. The library needs this room for another meeting,” Paige said and walked out of the room. Dylan was right behind her; they had driven together and as much as she wanted a little space right now, she knew she was stuck in the close confines of the car with him for at least an hour.

They were in his car, and the first fifteen minutes of the drive were spent in total silence.

“Look,” he began calmly, “I get that you’re passionate about your job and I respect that. But everything can’t go your way all the time, Paige. Sometimes you have to go with the flow. No one was harmed there because I didn’t talk books.”

“It’s why you were there,” she said wearily, her head turned away to look out the window.

He sighed, and she knew he was as frustrated as she was. “Even if I say I’m sorry, it’s not going to change anything. I can’t call all those people back and read from your script, so you need to move on.”

The urge to haul off and punch him was almost too great to ignore. “Move on,” she repeated. “Awesome. Thanks.”

Dylan briefly looked at her. “You can keep harping on me and bitching at me, but like I said, it’s not going to change anything. I’ll read from your damn script next time—word for word. And I’ll ignore any questions anyone has that doesn’t pertain to books and reading, okay?”

It was his tone that was pissing her off. So cocky. So arrogant. “Do whatever you want, Dylan. I think from this point on, you can go to these things without me.”

He gave a snort of disgust as he wove through the late afternoon traffic. “Wow, so I finally graduated to not needing a babysitter. Thanks.”

It was right then and there that she knew any other exchange of words would be pointless. She was upset, he was defensive, and they were simply at an impasse. It was sweet relief when he seemed to come to the same conclusion and turned on the radio.

When they pulled into the PRW parking garage, Paige couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. Dylan parked and she was surprised—she figured he’d pull up to the door and let her out. When she climbed from the car, he did the same. She certainly didn’t want a confrontation here in the middle of the garage, but if that’s what it was, she’d deal with it.

He came around the front of the car and stood in front of her. “I’m sorry,” he said solemnly.

She let out a slow breath. In the moment, she knew she had been right to be upset, but Dylan had also been right—him going off script hadn’t been the end of the world. “Me too.”

He wrapped her in his arms and held her. Dropping her purse on the ground, she wound her arms around his waist and held him too.

And they stayed locked like that for a long time.

* * *

Music was flowing. The words, the melodies, everything. Dylan couldn’t remember a time when he was this creative musically, and he was loving the hell out of it. It was giving him a sense of purpose again, and on top of it, he felt great.

Healthy—mentally and physically.

Everywhere he turned, people were praising him. Mick lined up several interviews for him with different media outlets—Rolling Stone magazine was one and Savannah Shaughnessy’s former employer Rock the World. Then he had one television interview with a major network. They were all scheduled for after his completion with Literacy Now, so he could focus on finishing that up along with his community service hours. Mick thought it would be a good angle for the interviews because it would show that he took his commitments seriously.

And he did.

Like right now, he was committed to writing this song that he was anxious to share with the guys. The record label had given him access to one of the studios to record some demos for use once Shaughnessy was officially back from their hiatus, and it felt good to know he’d be making a major contribution to the band for the first time since their early days together.

Yeah, it was an amazing feeling.

Professionally, he felt like he was back on top.

Personally, he was floundering, and he knew it. This thing with Paige had been so good, so perfect for him…and now? Now he knew he had let her down. It had seriously been all downhill since that damn lunch day. It pissed him off because he felt, on some level, that she was still holding it against him, like no matter how hard he tried or apologized, she wasn’t fully willing to let it go.

But he also had to accept the fact that he had screwed up, and since that point, he’d also been very distracted. They weren’t spending the time together like they had in the beginning, and he missed that. Missed her. But this was how life was, right? They both had demanding jobs and they couldn’t spend every day in each other’s pockets. That wasn’t good either, right?

Questions like this swirled in his brain a lot lately. Relationships were never his thing, and he had never given them much thought. But for some reason, Paige made him think—about her, about them, about…a future.

And it scared the heck out of him.

When this all started, he figured it would be casual and fun and then…over. He never saw them lasting beyond working together. But now, when things weren’t going great, he wanted to try to make it better.

He just didn’t know how.

Putting down his guitar, he got up and walked across the room to get something to drink. Bottle of water in hand, he walked onto his balcony and looked out at the city. Between rehab and now, this was the longest he’d stayed in one place. Granted, rehab was in Colorado and this was LA, but normally he didn’t stay in any one place for very long. The road was always calling—in the past, a trip to get away and party had always been calling, but now it was just the music that was calling to him.

And Paige.

Sighing, he opened the bottle and took a long drink.

Her life was here in LA and he couldn’t imagine her being away from her family, no matter how much he thought that would be the best thing for her. And on top of that, could she handle dealing with him once the band did get back together and went into the studio to record and then on tour? Would she be willing to understand that he couldn’t stick to her schedules and timetables?

And would he be able to stand having that argument over and over and over?

Probably not.

This was why he never did relationships—he was too wrapped up in himself and what he wanted to care about anybody else and their needs and wants. The last two months with Paige had opened his eyes to how good it could be to care about someone beyond the physical and be cared for in return in that same way. But was he feeling like that because he was feeling like that or because there was nothing else going on in his life?

He needed help. He needed direction. He needed a friend to talk to.

He could call Matt, but he wanted a face-to-face conversation with someone. Riley was a good option. Last Dylan heard, he and Savannah were in town but…their relationship was always solid. Even when they were broken up in the beginning of their relationship, everyone knew they’d work it out because Riley was a commitment kind of guy.

Walking into the suite, he picked up his phone and called Mick.

“Hey, Dylan,” Mick said distractedly. “I’m getting ready to board a flight to New York. You okay?”

“Oh, um…yeah. Yeah, sure. Everything’s good. I just hadn’t talked with you in a while and wanted to catch up.”

Mick chuckled. “How about one night next week? I’ll be back on Tuesday, so any night after that should work.”

“Sounds great. I’ll call you when you get back.”

When they hung up, he decided to call Julian, not that he was holding out much hope there. Julian was reclusive on a good day and not one to talk about anything other than music. But…he decided to give it a try.

The main thing with Julian was… Well, Dylan loved him like a brother, but he was also in complete awe of him too. Julian was intense and brilliant and…always in control.

Bottom line, they were complete opposites.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

“Screw it,” he murmured and hit Julian’s number before he could second-guess himself any more than he already was.

An hour later, they were sitting opposite one another in Dylan’s suite over a chessboard. For whatever reason, talking over a game of chess was easier than having a regular conversation.

“Can I ask you something?” Dylan began.

“Sure.”

“What was it about Dena that made you want to…you know…make it a thing?”

Julian lifted his head and quirked a brow at him. And that was another thing about Julian—he was intimidating as hell, built like a linebacker, eyes so dark they were almost black, and hair so black it was almost blue. Dylan was always glad they never clashed over anything because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Julian could crush him with minimal effort.

“A thing?”

Oh, and his voice was scary too—deep and gravelly and always so unbelievably serious.

“Yeah. You know, like that you wanted to marry her.”

“But I haven’t married her.” He moved his rook, scratched his stubbled chin, and let out a sigh that was almost a growl. “Why?”

“You met Paige.”

Nodding, Julian stared at the board. “She’s nice.”

“I know. Almost too nice for a guy like me and yet…”

This time Julian did look up. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t pull that ‘aw shucks, I don’t deserve to be happy’ crap. It makes you sound ridiculous. And annoying.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Dude, how long have you known me?”

“Too long.”

“And have you ever seen nice girls come around me? Ever see me date one?”

Julian chuckled. “All kinds of girls come around you. You’ve just never been interested in the good girls. You always needed someone who was willing to be wild with you. You scared the nice ones away.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe. But…I didn’t scare Paige away. If anything, she was the aggressor in the relationship.”

Another quirked brow. “Nice.”

And Dylan couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “Yeah, it was. But two months ago, I had nothing. I was barely leaving the house, and now? Now I’m starting to engage in life. Our schedules are crazy, our personalities are opposites, and yet…”

“And yet you still want her,” Julian finished for him. “So? What’s the problem?”

“This is all foreign to me, man. Like seriously foreign. Am I latching on to her because it’s convenient? Or because she’s safe?”

“How is she safe?”

Dylan moved his pawn and sighed. “She didn’t know me before,” he said gruffly. “Don’t get me wrong, she knows what I was like—she researched me when I tried to sign on for the campaign—but she didn’t know me then. With her, I almost have a clean slate.”

“D, if this thing the two of you have is solid, then your slate shouldn’t matter. Clean, dirty, shattered, none of it. Is she harping on you about staying sober?”

Dylan shook his head.

“Does she throw your past back in your face?”

He shook his head again.

“Then what’s the holdup? Is it her, or is it you?”

“That’s just it… Right now, I feel like it’s both of us. Like we’re drifting and I don’t know if I’m supposed to keep fighting for it.”

Julian looked down at the board again and moved his knight. “Yeah. I get that.”

“Which brings me back to my original question—you and Dena.”

With a curse, Julian reached for the can of soda Dylan had given him earlier and took a drink. He put the can down, but Dylan could almost feel the rage vibrating off him. “In the beginning, it was all lust. I know that now. I was so hot for her, and the things she did with me? Man, it was like living in a fantasy.”

Settling in his chair, Dylan waited to hear the rest.

“Then she started talking about music and how she was interested in it—all aspects of it. And I found we had a lot in common. So here was this beautiful woman who was my every fantasy in bed and who also held my attention with intelligent conversation out of it. It was a heady combination.”

“I’m sure,” Dylan said, doing his best not to sound too jaded. None of the guys in the band liked Dena. None of them. They all felt she was using Julian, and everyone saw it—except Julian.

“Then she tried making a go of a music career for herself as we were finishing the tour. I had been working with her on it, but as soon as she knew I was going to have time off, she decided to up her game and record an album, and she wanted me to give it to Mick and the label and…” He raked a hand through his hair. “I hated it. I hated being put in the middle, and the thing is, she wasn’t very good. I did everything I could to polish that project—I wrote the music, the lyrics, I played on the demo, but she’s not a strong performer, and I could tell no one was interested. That’s when things got really bad.”

It was on the tip of Dylan’s tongue to remind Julian how bad it was long before then, but again, he kept it to himself.

“She started using sex as a bargaining chip. She began flaunting her relationships with other guys in the music industry, and I was blown away by who she was becoming. And not in a good way. But we’d been together for so long that I thought we could overcome all of it. So I proposed, thinking it was what she wanted. She liked the ring. She liked the attention and the thought of a million-dollar wedding. It was me she didn’t like.”

Okay, this time he couldn’t stay quiet. “So if you know that, why do you keep trying?”

“Honestly? I hate admitting defeat.” He let out a mirthless laugh. “I’m convinced she’s going to come to her senses and realize she’s been screwing with me for no reason and we can get back to where we used to be. That’s the couple I want to be.”

For a minute, Dylan could only stare. Had he really thought Julian was closed off and unwilling to talk about stuff? This was almost more than he even wanted to know. It was one thing to go along and think that his friend was clueless and being taken advantage of; it was another to know he was willingly torturing himself with a crappy relationship.

Damn.

“So…you’re just going to wait her out and hope she comes to her senses?”

Julian shrugged. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Jules, come on!” Dylan cried. “That’s ridiculous. Do you know how many women out there would kill to be in Dena’s shoes? Do you have any idea how much time and energy you’ve put into this relationship and it all might be for nothing? You’re wasting your life on something that maybe isn’t even meant to be.”

Another shrug. “I think it could be—that in the end, she’ll see I’m what she wants. And I think it’s something worth fighting for.”

Well, that was…insane. Dylan knew he had feelings for Paige and he enjoyed standing up for her and working for what they had. But it hadn’t been work, and he hadn’t done all that much standing up for her.

Basically, he was a slacker.

Could he possibly do all the things Julian was doing? Was he willing to put in that kind of time and energy into a relationship?

He looked over at Julian, who was studying the board, and almost felt sorry for him. Dylan missed out on a lot of living because he was drunk to the point of oblivion most of the time. Maybe missing out wasn’t the right term, but he hadn’t appreciated his life. He was living, but he was living dangerously. But Julian? Julian was alive, but he wasn’t living. He was in a constant state of limbo, and Dena was the one playing with the height of the bar.

He hated that bitch.

All that being said, it brought him back to the same question—was he willing to put the time and energy into a relationship, especially now that he was living his life cleanly and clearly for the first time since he was a teenager?

“Your move, man,” Julian said.

Unfortunately, it was. He hadn’t been paying close enough attention to Julian’s moves, and there was no way for him to win now.

Julian laughed quietly. “Yeah, man. You’re screwed.”

Yeah, he was. And not only on the board.

* * *

The next night, Dylan showed up at Paige’s with Chinese food. They’d talked earlier in the day and made the plans, and at the time, he’d been excited by the thought of seeing her. Now, as he stood at the door, he felt more than a little nervous.

Actually, he felt like nothing about this whole thing was natural anymore.

He had to think about what to do, what to say, how to act. Maybe it was just him putting pressure on himself and overthinking everything. Like now that the thought had been put in his head that you have to work toward making a relationship…work, he felt he couldn’t relax and be himself.

“Totally overthinking this,” he muttered and knocked on the door.

Paige opened it and he relaxed. She smiled at him as he walked in, and he stopped and kissed her—not their usual over-the-top, frantic kisses, but a soft one that lingered a little. She had amazing lips and that simple act put him back on even ground.

Stepping around him, Paige led the way to the kitchen, where she had the table set and ready for the food. She was dressed casually—barefoot and in cropped yoga pants with a plain white T-shirt—and though they clung to her and showed all of her amazing curves, he found he missed the sight of her in her skirt and boots. “How did the studio work go today? Did you work on anything good?”

As they worked together to serve up the takeout, Dylan talked about the different songs he’d played on and how he’d gotten a couple of hours to himself in a studio to lay down some tracks he was hoping to use with Shaughnessy.

“Do you guys have a timeline for when you’re going to get back in the studio?”

“Not yet,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t want to nag everyone. I know it’s going to be at least another couple of months until Matt’s ready. He wants to be close to home and ready to travel with Vivienne to all her gallery shows.”

“That’s so sweet,” Paige said with a wistfulness he’d never heard in her voice before. He was going to question it, but she spoke up first. “And all her shows are on the East Coast, right?”

He nodded. “So let’s say, in my mind, it’s going to be three months for him to be ready. Then we’ll be dealing with Riley and Savannah and them expecting a baby. The studio is close to home for him, but he’s not going to be as focused with that going on. So we’ll add another couple of months to that.”

“Realistically, it could be at least six months before you guys even start,” she said, reading his thoughts. “Wow. That is a long time. Will studio work be enough for you in the meantime? I mean, creatively?”

He shrugged and realized he liked this—liked how she took an interest in his music and that they could talk about it.

Just like Julian and Dena…

Okay, that wasn’t something he wanted to deal with or even think about. Paige was nothing like Dena. This relationship wasn’t batshit crazy like Julian and Dena’s.

Paige’s hand touched his, and he looked up to see concern on her face. “Are you all right?”

“Um…yeah. Why?”

“You got this weird look on your face, like you were going to be sick.”

Shaking his head to clear it, he replied, “No. No, I’m good. Sorry.” He took a bite of one of the dumplings on his plate. “So, yeah. Waiting is going to suck, no doubt. But I’m hoping during that time we’ll all manage to get together and talk and jam and plan, so that when we do get into the studio, we’ll be so prepared that it will be a no-brainer.”

“Is that even possible?” she asked, nibbling on her own dumpling.

“Yeah, definitely. Our third album was like that. We had been touring for so long and working things out on the road that when we finally got home and into the studio, we were able to lay everything down in ten days. We were pumped and knew exactly what everything was going to sound like, and we got it done.”

“That sounds awesome.”

“It was.”

She studied him. “But…?”

He laughed softly—she knew him well. “But…I love the time in the studio. Sometimes working stuff through is amazing because you end up with so much more—more music, more ideas. I love when we have to talk it out and try new stuff. If we go in with everything done in our minds, it’s just…”

“I get it. You like putting the puzzle together with them,” she said simply.

Yeah, she got him.

And damn if that wasn’t a turn-on in and of itself.

“Exactly.”

They talked about music while they ate and how he’d like to see the next Shaughnessy album go, and she asked all the right questions and seemed so genuinely interested that he had to ask: “You’re not looking into doing anything in the music business, are you?”

She looked at him quizzically. “Like what?”

“Like…making a record yourself or anything like that, right?”

She laughed out loud—actually snorted at one point—before she put down her fork and looked at him. “Are you out of your mind?” she asked around another round of laughter. “You’ve heard me sing, right?”

He had, and now he laughed with her. “You’re right, you’re right. Sorry.”

Paige was still chuckling as she picked up her drink and asked him, “Why would you even ask such a thing?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Tonight you had a lot of questions about the music and the process, and well…it seemed like you were a lot more interested than usual.”

“Dylan, I’m interested because it’s what you do for a living. I’m curious. I want to know what you do and understand it so we can talk about it and so I don’t sound like an idiot when we do.”

And that was so like Paige—considerate in everything she did. He didn’t deserve her—he knew that.

“You do the same with me,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.

“I do?”

She nodded. “Those first two weeks of us working together? You asked me, like, a million questions!” Smiling, she reached out and caressed his cheek before going on. “At first I thought you were being annoying, but then I realized that’s how you are—you like to figure out how things work. It’s probably why you’re the way you are about time in the studio. You like the whole learning process and I think it’s really cool.”

All Dylan could do was blink at her because she put it all in a way that completely made sense to him and managed to make him feel…worthy. He wasn’t a selfish prick. He was someone who put in an effort, just not in the way most people did. And what was wrong with that? Nothing.

Suddenly he felt lighter, happier than he thought possible. This could all work! He and Paige? They could work because…they already were. That wasn’t to say there weren’t going to be times when they’d get pissy with each other or fight, but they’d done that already too and look at them—here they were, having dinner and talking and wanting to learn more about each other.

Pretty. Freaking. Cool.

“Are you okay?” she asked for the second time in a matter of minutes.

Reaching for her hand, Dylan took it in his and brought it to his lips and kissed it. “Yeah. I’m good.”

And he really was.

* * *

For the life of her, Paige didn’t know what had suddenly changed with Dylan, but things were definitely different.

Better.

At some point over dinner, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Things had been a little strained between them as of late, and she knew part of it was due to their different schedules and pressure from her job, but whatever it was that happened, she was enjoying the benefits of it.

They were cleaning up the dinner dishes and he was touching her and kissing her every time he got near her. It was sweet and playful and so much everything she loved about him.

A small gasp escaped and she froze in her tracks.

She loved him.

She absolutely loved him.

Swallowing hard, she looked over her shoulder to where he was standing and putting the leftover Chinese food away in the refrigerator, and her heart began to race.

This tattooed, dirty-talking bass player—the kind of man she never in a million years thought she’d find attractive—was the sexiest, most caring and considerate man she’d ever known. He understood her, he challenged her, and he made her want to go out and…and do things! Lately, she was so dissatisfied with her life—the life she’d chosen for so darn long. He’d taken her out to new restaurants and concerts and clubs, and it was obvious she had been living such a boring, sheltered, and structured life before he came along.

And while she knew they never talked about it, the original plan was for them to be a couple until the end of the campaign. But she knew this was never about appearances for the press for her. It was always about how she felt.

“Dylan?” she asked cautiously and waited for him to shut the refrigerator door and turn around. He smiled at her and everything in her melted like it always did. “Do you remember the day I came to your hotel room?”

His smile fell a little as he thought about her words. “Which one?”

“Not the night of the gala but the next time,” she said slowly, cautiously.

And his smile was back. “Hell yeah. That particular visit is burned into my brain.”

With a soft laugh, she took a step toward him. “You know…” She paused and cleared her throat. “You know it had nothing to do with the press and the tabloids, right?”

Dylan’s head tilted ever so slightly as he studied her. “Of course I know that. Why? What’s this about?”

Taking another step toward him, Paige focused on looking at her feet rather than him because…well…she wasn’t sure how he was going to react to her little epiphany.

“It occurred to me that we got thrown into a situation together under one set of rules, so to speak, and then things…changed.”

Dylan stayed where he was and waited for her to look at him before he spoke. “Right…”

“And I was standing here thinking about all the things we’ve been doing together and how much I enjoy our time together, and now that the campaign is almost over…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I was wondering if this was all going to stop.”

Now his expression was like stone. She couldn’t read him, and one of the things she had learned about him since they’d become involved was how she could always tell what he was thinking.

“Do you want it to stop?” he asked, and his voice was borderline fierce.

She took a steadying breath and let it out as she shook her head. “No. No, I don’t want it to stop. But—”

He closed the distance between them. “Enough,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “Don’t say another word. There is no but. I’m here with you, Paige, because I want to be. This was never about the press. I know it was the push that put us both…here,” he added, pulling her in until her breasts were pressed firmly against his chest, “but I think we would have gotten here on our own eventually.”

Tears stung in her eyes as she nodded. “I’d like to think that too.”

“It’s true.” Caressing her cheek, his dark eyes scanned her face. “I’ll admit that I didn’t like you being assigned to babysit me in the beginning, but you never made it feel that way. You were the first person in a long time to treat me like me—Dylan—and not a celebrity. I enjoyed our talks and watching you work and…just being with you.”

“I feel the same way. I hate how I was such a snob to you in the beginning.”

“Well, to be fair, most people act that way when they first meet me. I’m the poster boy for bad behavior. You were seriously the first person in my career to see past the tattoos and the attitude and the reputation to see me.”

It was impossible to hide how pleased she was; her smile couldn’t be contained. “I like who you are, Dylan. I like how you make me stop taking myself so seriously and step away from my job and go out and experience new things.”

“So it sounds to me that we like each other,” he said softly.

“Yes, it does.”

Paige was certain he was going to kiss her, that he was going to dip his head and give her the kind of kiss that made her knees weak and her heart race.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he caressed her cheeks one more time before wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

And that’s when she knew it was more than just like for him too. As much as she wanted to scream out that she loved him, she didn’t. This moment was so good, so perfect, she didn’t want to change a thing.

When he stepped back a few minutes later, Paige looked around the kitchen and saw everything was clean and put away. Taking one of Dylan’s hands in hers, she led him straight to her bedroom.

They walked slowly and silently. Next to her bed, she turned and slid her hands under Dylan’s T-shirt and lifted it up. He took over and pulled it over his head. The sight of his tattoos did it for her every time—she loved to look at them, to touch them, to kiss them. And she knew he loved it when she did because every touch of her lips and hand had his breath going ragged.

One of his hands anchored in her hair and gripped it—not too hard, but with enough pressure that she knew he wanted her to keep doing what she was doing.

So many times they rushed this part—the exploring and the touching—but tonight, she wanted to take her time.

And hoped he’d want to do the same with her.

Her hands caressed his warm skin. Her lips kissed and explored all his ink. Her senses were on overload as she inhaled his clean scent. There wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t perfect to her.

“Paige?”

“Hmm?”

“I want to touch you.”

“I want that too.” Their words were like breathless whispers. “But I’m enjoying touching you too much to move right now.”

Dylan reached out and stilled her hands, and Paige looked up at him. “How about we crawl onto that bed two feet away and touch each other?”

Her lips curved up in a sexy grin. “I do like the sound of that.”

Before she could move, he reached down, grasped the hem of her shirt, and pulled it up and over her head, exposing the white lace bra. She held her breath as she waited for him to touch her, to cup her breasts with those magnificent hands.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he slid his hands into the waistband of her yoga pants and slid them down her legs. She stepped out of them and loved the look on his face when he saw the matching white thong she was wearing.

He muttered a curse before saying, “Get on the bed.” She took one step back toward it when he stopped her. “Uh-uh. I want you to crawl on the bed. I need to watch that sexy ass as you do it.”

Oh. My. Dirty talk was also something she didn’t know she loved until Dylan.

Turning, she did as she was told. Her moves were slow and deliberate, and she was rewarded with a growl from Dylan.

“You are such a good girl, listening to me like that,” he said gruffly.

She was on all fours in the middle of the bed when she turned and looked at him over her shoulder. “Should I lie down now?”

He was kicking off his shoes and unzipping his jeans as he said, “Fuck yeah.”

Dylan’s eyes never left hers as she stretched out on her back and waited for him. “Promise me something,” she whispered.

“Anything.”

“Promise you’re going to touch me now. That you’ll do it with your hands and your mouth.”

His boxer briefs hit the floor and he climbed on the bed, stretching out beside her. “Baby, I’m going to do all that and so much more.”

And he was true to his word.

For the rest of the night.

* * *

The next morning, Paige was getting ready for work as Dylan lay in bed watching her.

Something had changed last night. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there had been a point when he simply knew he didn’t want to leave and go back to his hotel alone. So here he was, in her bed, watching her scramble around the room. It was a favorite pastime of his—watching her. She was efficient in everything she did, but watching her get ready in the mornings was completely different.

For starters, it was a complete transformation—she went from soft and sleepy to composed businesswoman in thirty minutes.

It normally took him that long to get out of the bed.

He loved watching her come out of the shower wrapped up in nothing but a towel as she moved around grabbing articles of clothing, trying to figure out what to wear. He’d lost count of the amount of time he sat and silently prayed for the towel to fall.

It never did.

Once her outfit was picked, she’d slip on her underwear.

She could rival an entire Victoria’s Secret store with the selection she had. They’d been sleeping together for almost two months and he couldn’t remember seeing the same selection twice.

It was a complete turn-on.

Then, in nothing but a bra and panties and her hair wrapped up in a towel, she’d put on her makeup.

So. Damn. Sexy.

She’d be on her tiptoes to get closer to the vanity mirror as she put on mascara and then step back and study herself before going on to the next task. Hair. He remembered the exact day she stopped pulling it back in clips and combs and bands and let it hang loose and wavy. He loved her hair and watching her dry it was far more erotic than it should have been—mainly because she spent a lot of time bent over to dry the layers, so he was either getting a fantastic view of her ass or her cleavage.

Yeah, he made sure he was positioned perfectly on the bed to see it all.

And he had a feeling that Paige left the door open for his entertainment.

She was so perfect it was almost like it was too good to be true.

As if reading his mind, she turned and looked at him. Today’s lingerie was a deep shade of purple. The bra was sheer and the panties were too. Sitting up, he gave her a sexy leer. “How about going in late today?”

With a smile, she walked across the room to her closet and then… Holy hell. She bent over and slipped on a pair of stilettos. Dylan almost swallowed his tongue.

“Where…? When…?” he stammered. “Baby, why are you torturing me so early in the morning?”

“It’s almost nine and I didn’t think this was torture,” she replied, but he knew that tone. She was teasing him and loving it. Standing there in sheer lingerie and heels? Who was this vixen?

“Please, you’re almost preening over there. So what gives? Why the shoes?”

She shrugged and then turned toward the closet and pulled down a skirt. “Ariel keeps harping on me about my wardrobe so…I don’t know. I thought I’d try it her way.”

That’s it, he thought. Jumping up from the bed, he stormed across the room and spun her around to face him. “Take it off,” he growled. Paige misunderstood him and gave him a playful shove. “I’m serious, Paige. You’re not changing who you are because of anyone. There isn’t a damn thing wrong with you and how you dress. You don’t need to be your sister’s freaking clone!”

“That’s not what—”

“It’s exactly what you’re doing!” he yelled. “Take the shoes off, take the skirt off and…and…get rid of them. Burn them. Throw them out. I don’t care. But don’t you dare change who you are because of some nonsense Ariel’s throwing at you.”

Her eyes were wide and her expression was…well, more than a little shocked. “Dylan, I…I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Say you’ll get rid of this stuff,” he spat.

“Dylan, please. Not now,” she said wearily. “I need to present a certain image if anyone’s going to take me seriously. So if I have to dress in a power suit and heels, then I’m willing to try.”

“Paige,” he began as he pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself to calm down, “that is ridiculous. There isn’t anything wrong with your wardrobe that would make people not take you seriously.”

“Then why aren’t they?” she demanded. “I do everything right! I handle everything for everybody, and it’s not enough. So maybe, just maybe, I can try this and see if it works because I’m out of ideas, Dylan.”

He saw the tears in her eyes and cursed himself. Wrapping her in his arms, he held her tight and did his best to keep his opinion to himself. He hated this—hated what her family was doing to her. The way they made her doubt herself.

With a small shove, Paige stepped out of his embrace, and he saw the fire back in her expression. Fine. He’d take the heat. He’d be her sounding board or punching bag or whatever she wanted—after all, he’d opened Pandora’s box.

“Do you think I want to do this?” she said hotly as she rummaged around for a blouse. “I had to go shopping and have people tell me what to get and what goes with what because this isn’t my style!”

He was about to remind her—again—that she didn’t have to do this.

“The quality of my work isn’t getting me anywhere. My punctuality and never missing a day’s work isn’t getting me anywhere. I’ve yet to prove my leadership skills because no one will let me lead! So if a skirt and shoes makes people take me seriously, then it’s what I have to do!”

“Paige, you have great leadership skills and people know it. Every event I’ve gone to with you, people say it. Every meeting I’ve sat in on, people listen to you,” he said soothingly. “You are great at what you do.”

“All those things—the events and meetings—have not been within PRW,” she countered. “I’ve got an office because I’m Robert Walters’s daughter. And on top of that, I have Ariel to compete with, who manages to outdo me in everything. She’s never come up with a campaign idea on her own. Don’t get me wrong. She comes up with stuff—like the way she changed the Literacy Now lineup—but she doesn’t follow through on it. She tosses out ideas and sees if they stick. She doesn’t work. She makes everyone else do the grunt work.”

Okay, now he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “That’s because she knows you’re going to do it!” he yelled with frustration. “Ariel knows you’re always going to be there to do the grunt work because you want the approval, the attention, the pat on the fucking head! Dammit, Paige, don’t you get it? This is like a sick game now! She keeps holding up the hoop and you keep jumping through it. And no matter how many times you jump or how high you jump, no one’s going to congratulate you. So if you’re waiting for that, if you’re waiting for your sister or your coworkers or your father to pat you on the head and say it, you’re wasting your damn time!”

“You’re one to talk,” she spat.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re no different than I am. You were desperate for your parents’ approval too!”

“Not the same thing,” he argued. “And we’ve been over this already. We both know our need for approval is destructive. I chose to numb myself to it and not give a damn anymore. But you just keep going back for more!”

“Oh, please,” she said with annoyance. “Don’t try and play armchair psychologist. I’m trying to do my job. That’s all.”

The entire time he spoke, she dressed. Navy-blue pencil skirt and nude-colored shoes and blouse. She stormed past him into the bathroom, and when she came out, her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail in a silver clip.

The sight pissed him off.

Without uttering a single word to him, Paige moved around the room and collected her things. If she was leaving, he knew he needed to go too.

As it was, he was beyond ticked off and was ready to storm out right now.

So he quickly got dressed and was pulling his shoes on when she left the room. Before he could go after her, he heard the front door slam closed.

With a muttered curse, he walked out to the living room and found his keys. He had his hand on the front door handle when it opened and nearly hit him in the face. Paige strode by, mumbling under her breath. “Forget something?” he asked snidely, figuring maybe she’d come in to tell him to leave.

“My tire’s flat again,” she said without looking at him. “I have the card with the dealership’s number on it somewhere in here. I forgot to program it on my phone.”

When he saw her with the business card in her hand, he let out a huff. “You can call them from the car. I’ll drive you to work so you’re not late.” Because God forbid she be late on her first day of dressing like a freaking Ariel clone.

They walked out of the house together, Paige already calling the car dealership about the tire. Apparently, it was the one they had replaced only a few months ago, and she was demanding someone come to the house to replace it. She was direct, and if he hadn’t been so annoyed with her, he’d have been seriously impressed with how she was firm while still polite.

Clearly, it was only him she felt comfortable enough to get ugly with.

And yeah, her words damn near killed him.

Not only because they were mean, but also because they were right.

But what did he expect? He’d hit her below the belt and she was returning the favor.

He sped out of her driveway and neighborhood and onto the highway. She slipped her phone into her purse after confirming the tire would be replaced before lunch. Again, he had to give her props for getting them to come and make a house call like that.

Traffic was a bitch, but that wasn’t anything new. He wove around where he could and was doing his best to get her to work because he wanted to be alone. His emotions were too raw, too close to the surface, and it was normally when he was angry about something that he drank. So yeah, right now he was dealing with that demon as well.

“You might want to slow down,” she murmured. “There’s no prize for getting me to the office in record time.”

“Wanna bet?” he said under his own breath. The prize was he’d get to have time to calm down and not have to look at her after having lost some respect for her.

He pulled off the highway at the exit to PRW and went through the light as it was turning red. Hitting the gas, he wove around the slow-driving Honda in front of them and got behind a Dodge pickup. They were at least doing the speed limit now, he thought to himself. Their turn was up ahead, and he moved to the left to the turn lane as the arrow turned green.

Almost there, he chanted in his head. He cut the wheel and could see the PRW building when his head hit the driver’s side window and the sound of Paige’s scream filled the air.

And then everything went deadly silent.