“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 wer
e 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.
One More Promise Page 13
