One More Promise

by Samantha Chase

  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 fee
l 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.”