One More Promise

by Samantha Chase

  “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 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 with relief. “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 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.

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

  When she felt 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 in 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 realized she’d been walking with them.

  Dammit.

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

&nbs
p; 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 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.

  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… 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 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, 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, 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 be 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 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
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 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 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 Paige hadn’t let go of him, he figured he was locked in until the end of the night. And the thought 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.”