Holiday Spice

by Samantha Chase

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

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

  “Well, that’s something at least.”

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

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

  Something to think about at a later time.

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

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

  “Why haven’t you said anything?”

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

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

  “Really? You haven’t played?”

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

  “Wow.”

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

  “Wow… I don’t even know what to say.”

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

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

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

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

  “About twenty-five.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “And now?”

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

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

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

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

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

  “Oh…no,” Riley whined.

  “What? What’s the matter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Why? What’s wrong with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

  “A bit.”

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

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

  No, it wasn’t.

  And Dylan knew it was what he needed to do.

  It just wasn’t what he wanted to do.

  Or who he wanted to do.

  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 a little 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.

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

  When she felt like 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 with 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 even realized she’d been walking with them.

  Dammit.

  Turning, she tried to tell her sister one more time that 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 little 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.