Holiday Spice

by Samantha Chase

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

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

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

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

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

  Baseball stats.

  Guitar tuning.

  Chess.

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

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

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

  And naked chess.

  He was screwed.

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

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

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

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

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

  “I know,” she murmured. “Dammit.”

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

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

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

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

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

  “Cultured?”

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

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

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

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

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

  Still.

  That in and of itself was odd.

  Actually, the entire evening was odd.

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

  Go figure.

  “Have you ever considered writing a book?”

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

  “Um…what?”

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

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

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

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Dylan murmured.

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

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

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

  Thomas pulled out a card and handed it to Dylan. “I’d love to talk to you about it, Dylan. I can already see the cover in my mind—the bad-boy rockstar 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—myself, 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 just… 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.

  All 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. Weaving around the tables and the people, the room dimmed a little as Ariel and company 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 a little 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 a little 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 even closer, her breath hot against his ear even t
hough she wasn’t whispering. “It can be our little secret.”

  He was about to respond when the whole room erupted in applause. Putting a little 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 it, 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 just 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.