One More Promise

by Samantha Chase

  Now he was starting to piss her off. She knew she was uptight about a lot of things and her recent behavior certainly didn’t help her case, but it didn’t mean she was so rigid or such a snob that she’d…she’d… What? What was she thinking? At first, it was a kiss to prove a point, but now it was more.

  A lot more.

  Like, Why can’t I be someone Dylan Anders can sleep with and then walk away?

  Wait…was that something she wanted?

  Looking up at him—the vulnerability in his eyes, the sexy way his dress shirt was opened at the collar and the sleeves were rolled up…and that wasn’t even considering the whole erection thing. Right. Who was she kidding? That was like the giant, shiny, red bow on the whole package.

  All her life, Paige played things by the rules, always wanting to be safe, and where had it gotten her? She was a nobody at work, no one took her seriously as a leader and, dammit, she was tired of being forced to follow. Right now she wanted to take the lead and be brave and break the rules.

  All of them.

  With Dylan.

  “What if I said I wouldn’t mind dealing with all of it?” she asked, praying she sounded confident and not at all nervous.

  The intense look on his face told her she’d struck a nerve and it made her bold.

  “What if I said I want you to kiss me and…you wouldn’t have to pursue me to convince me to sleep with you?” She let out a nervous laugh. “I’m already in your bed.”

  He stood as still as stone.

  “Dylan, I…”

  But she never got to finish because he turned and walked out the door, gently closing it behind him.

  Chapter 6

  She was maddening.

  A week later, Dylan found himself hiding out behind a green screen and praying he could have five minutes to get himself together. He was sweating, his heart was racing, and he was hard as a rock. Not that that particular effect was new—he’d been in a heightened state of arousal since the cocktail party.

  He’d done the right thing by not kissing Paige. He knew that.

  But apparently, Paige didn’t agree.

  Over the course of his life—particularly from the age of fifteen on—Dylan had been pursued by a lot of women. Something about playing in a rock band seemed to make women wild. He’d been pursued by groupies, models, actresses; he’d come home to find naked women in his bed; and on the road, he’d find them in his hotel room and numerous other places. They were obvious in their pursuit, brazen.

  Not Paige.

  It was a touch that was innocent enough but lingered.

  It was a throaty laugh at something funny he said.

  It was the way her wardrobe seemed to get a lot less layered and a lot more…sexy. But not in an obvious way. She still wore her sassy, little skirts with tights and boots, but gone were the scarves and sweaters and instead were silky blouses or clingy tees. Gone were the clips or bands to hold her hair back; now it was loose and curly and smelled so damn good that being near her made his mouth water.

  He was seriously losing it.

  To anyone observing them, nothing was out of the ordinary. Paige was handling everything for the campaign that she had to—and a lot that she didn’t have to—and she kept everyone in line. Every promotional appointment—photo shoots, speaking engagements, group interviews about the campaign—was run with military precision, and she wasn’t showing him any preferential treatment.

  At least not to someone who wasn’t aware of what had transpired between them.

  For his part, he tried to keep everything as normal as possible. He brought her lunch when he was getting some for himself; he made sure he was on time for things or lent a hand where it was needed. But when she thanked him, her eyes seemed to…well, they seemed to be saying a lot more than thank you.

  And it was such a turn-on that it was making him crazy.

  Oh, and then there was the morning after.

  Hell, he wished it was that kind of morning after, but it wasn’t. Either way, Dylan had congratulated himself for leaving the bedroom that night without doing anything more than letting her touch his hard-on. All night long, he thought about that simple touch and how he should be given a medal for walking away and staying on the living-room side of the door. And how did she thank him? By getting up bright and early and walking across the living room in nothing but his damn shirt. She was all legs and mussed up hair and sleepy eyes, and when she smiled at him, he had to sit on his hands to keep from reaching out for her.

  A call to the concierge desk and she had new clothes delivered to the room so she wouldn’t have to put her dress or heels on. And wouldn’t you know it, the simple, black yoga pants and Beverly Hills Hotel shirt and hot-pink flip-flops looked sexier than her cocktail party ensemble.

  Peeking around the screen, he looked at her and frowned. She was talking to her father and… Wait. Was that Mick?

  Leaving the security of his hiding spot, he stalked over to where the three of them were. “What’s going on?”

  Mick held up a tabloid newspaper, and Dylan took it and read.

  DYLAN ANDERS OFF THE WAGON! WILD NIGHT OUT WITH SUPERSONIC! HAS HE RETURNED TO HIS PARTYING WAYS?

  “What the hell?” he cried. “What is this about?”

  Roberts Walters looked at him. “If you’d read beyond the headline, you’ll see they’re talking about your little…excursion Saturday night after the launch party.”

  As much as he didn’t want to, Dylan forced himself to read the story. Not one word of it was true. According to their “source”—whom he knew was Morgan—Dylan had hit the hotel bar with Morgan and Steve and then drove around LA drinking and partying until the wee hours of the morning. The article ended with: “Shaughnessy’s bad boy is back!”

  “It’s a lie,” Dylan said defiantly, shoving the paper at Mick. “None of that happened.”

  “Dylan—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “None of this happened!”

  “So you’re saying you didn’t see these people at the party?” Robert asked with more than a hint of disbelief. “Because there’s a picture of the three of you right there.”

  “Yeah, I saw them and I talked to them for a few minutes, but I did not leave with them.”

  “Dylan,” Mick said solemnly. “I’m not going to lie—this isn’t good. You’re not supposed to be drinking and, well, the rest of it…”

  “There is no rest of it!” Dylan shouted. “Nothing in this article beyond talking to Morgan and Steve is true!”

  “It’s your word against theirs,” Robert said. “And the Literacy Now people are not amused. This is not the publicity they wanted.” He paused. “I think it’s best if—”

  “Wait!” Paige cried. “Dylan’s telling you this article is false and libelous. Why is he being punished for this?”

  Mick looked at her and gave her a small smile. “It’s their word against his, and unfortunately, more people are going to believe theirs. Especially with the picture.”

  “But…why? I mean, all that picture shows is three people talking. And from a distance. How is that enough to condemn him?” Paige asked.

  “I don’t like it either,” Mick said slowly. “But still, with Dylan’s history, the press is going to believe this. They have no reason not to. And he’s got his community service he needs to finish, and we can’t have this turning into a big thing. We need to find him something else to fulfill his commitment.”

  “As I said,” Robert began patiently, “our people with Literacy Now feel—”

  “Dylan wasn’t with Morgan and Steve!” Paige said with frustration.

  “Paige, sweetheart,” her father said and then patted her on the arm, “I understand that you feel bad. After all, he’s been your responsibility—”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” she snapped before Dylan had a chance t
o respond. “I was with Dylan Saturday night. All night. So I know he wasn’t with those people or doing any of the things they implied and that this story is a lie.”

  All three men looked at her like she was crazy. Dylan wasn’t sure if he was grateful or pissed off.

  Robert cleared his throat, and Mick studied his shoes, and Dylan just…waited.

  “They’re lying, and as a PR firm, I am confident we can clear this whole thing up quickly and quietly without it becoming some media circus,” she went on. “Dylan is not the same person that article described. You ask anyone at the event, Father. He was by my side the entire night except for when I was up on the stage. When I went to find him, he was talking to the two of them, but we left together. It sounds to me like they were being spiteful because he turned down an offer to get some publicity with them. I’ll bet if you checked with the hotel’s security cameras you’d find that they left on their own. And you’ll also see…” Paige paused and moved closer to Dylan. “You’ll see Dylan carrying me to the elevators and that I didn’t leave until the next morning.”

  Yeah, Dylan was pretty sure Robert Walters was going to lose his shit if the bulging vein in his forehead was anything to go by.

  “I see,” was all he said.

  Dylan cursed himself. He had done everything he could to keep something like this from happening and yet it had anyway. And what was worse, it was uglier because of the circumstances. He’d have loved to get his hands on Steve and strangle him for putting him and Paige in this predicament.

  Paige let out a sigh. “So now what?” But she didn’t wait for an answer. “I say we pull the tapes to confirm our story. We don’t need to offer an excuse or an explanation as to why those two chose to sell out someone they claim to be a friend. Let the press draw their own conclusions.” She shrugged. “Seems to me the best thing to do is not make a big deal out of this and not give them the attention they crave.”

  Dylan nearly choked trying to hide a laugh.

  “I’ll handle it, Paige,” her father said. “However…”

  Here it comes, Dylan thought.

  “To make this look a lot less…scandalous, we’re going to say that you and Mr. Anders are involved romantically and have been for some time—even before the campaign.”

  “Fine,” she said.

  “No,” Dylan said at the same time.

  Paige turned and looked at him. “Dylan, this will solve everything. You won’t have to look for another way to do your community service. It will be a public acknowledgment that you’re not drinking again and that you’re not the man this article,” she said with disdain, “painted you to be.”

  “But it’s not right, Paige. This is exactly the kind of thing I mentioned to you the other night. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

  “And yet I already am,” she said with a smile.

  A sweet smile.

  One of those smiles that meant more than what it appeared to.

  “Look, Dylan,” Mick chimed in, “they’re right. It’s all in your favor and would be a great boost to the image we want people to start having of you. From now till the end of the campaign, you and Paige play the part of a happy couple. You’re already spending a lot of time together, so it’s not like you have to do anything different.”

  He had a point, Dylan thought. “I… I don’t like this,” he sighed. “Paige shouldn’t have to pay for something she didn’t do.”

  “Like Mick said,” Paige explained, “we’re already spending a lot of time together. No big deal. Nothing has to change.”

  It was the impish grin and gleam in her eye that told him she had more on her mind than what she was sharing.

  Although, if they were playing the part of a happy couple in public, he’d have an excuse to touch her too and share heated looks. He couldn’t act on them—wouldn’t allow himself to—but for a couple of hours a day, he could torture himself and pretend he was good enough for her.

  Every night since she’d slept in his bed, he’d smelled her on his pillow—she was becoming an obsession.

  Yeah, he was seriously losing it.

  And he wasn’t sure if this new turn of events was the solution or a potentially new problem.

  Within minutes, Robert said his goodbye and, along with Mick, promised that this whole situation would be resolved within twenty-four hours. Both he and Paige thanked them and watched them leave. When she turned and smiled at him, he had his answer.

  This was a new problem.

  And if he thought the last week had been an issue, it was nothing compared to the rest of the day.

  She smiled.

  He smiled.

  She touched.

  He touched.

  Big mistake.

  It was one thing to be touched; it was quite another to be the one touching.

  Dylan already knew what her skin felt like from when he’d caressed her cheek, but her hands were incredibly soft and so was her wrist. He discovered that her pulse beat like wild whenever he got close to her and found himself reaching out and caressing the sweet spot on her neck that he wanted to taste more than anything.

  “That’s it for today,” she said sometime later.

  He shook his head to clear it. “Um…what?”

  “We’re done here for today. You did great with your PSA.” Paige flipped through the pages in her planner. “And it looks like we are good until Tuesday. We have a meeting with the local library council to discuss scheduling for appearances. We don’t want to bring everyone involved to every event, so we have to coordinate everyone’s schedules and scatter you all out.” She looked up at him. “Does that make sense?”

  “So you mean while I’m talking at a library in Culver City, someone else will be talking that day or that week in Hollywood?”

  She smiled. “Exactly. I’m going to need a copy of your schedule to take with me.”

  “I thought I was going with you?” Wasn’t that the plan? Hadn’t she been saying “we”?

  “You could… Then you’d get first choice on dates and locations. But I don’t want it to look like I’m playing favorites with my boyfriend.”

  She said it all a little distractedly, and Dylan wondered if she realized the slip.

  He stepped in close and lowered his head, so his lips were a whisper away from her ear. “But you’re supposed to show everyone that I am your favorite, remember?” His tongue came out and swiped at the shell of her ear, and her soft intake of breath told him this was a spot he wanted to explore again.

  “Dylan…”

  “Good night, Paige! Good night, Dylan!” The camera crew headed for the door, and within minutes, they had the place to themselves.

  Bad idea! Bad idea!

  Looking around, he confirmed that everyone else was gone. When had that happened?

  “So,” Paige said as she leaned in closer to him, “would you like to get something to eat? Some dinner?”

  It was her tone.

  Alarm bells rang in his head, and he knew he had no one to blame but himself. It was safe—sort of—to play around with an audience. It took on a whole other meaning when they were alone, and licking her ear while they were alone was not playing. Taking a step back, he stuck his hands in his pocket and let out a huff of frustration.

  “Thanks, but…I’ve got plans,” he said.

  She blinked at him as if she didn’t understand what he was saying.

  “So Tuesday, right? I can have my schedule to you beforehand. I’ll email it to you and then…” He shrugged. “I think we don’t have to see each other until Thursday at that luncheon thing, right?” He knew he sounded like an idiot, but it was going to be hard enough pretending with her for two more months—no need to go out of his way to torture himself when escape was close by.

  With a shrug of her own, Paige turned her back on him and looked
over her calendar. “Um…yeah. Thursday. You need to be there by noon. You have the address.” Then she began to gather her things and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was talking to herself about all the things she had to do between now and then. He’d have said she was talking to him, but her voice was so low he couldn’t hear more than every fifth word.

  Cautiously, he stepped closer.

  “Like I don’t know what that is about,” she was murmuring, and Dylan realized that staying was only prolonging the inevitable.

  “Well, I guess I should go,” he said as he started backing away toward the door. The studio space didn’t belong to PRW, so he knew they weren’t responsible for locking up. He also knew there were offices down the hall and she’d be okay here by herself. Right now, he was more concerned with his own sanity. If he stayed, there was a really good chance of him taking her behind the green screen and kissing her and doing a hell of a lot more than licking her ear.

  “I’ll see you Thursday,” he called out.

  No response.

  Sighing, he turned and continued to walk toward the door and instantly stopped when she called his name.

  So close.

  Turning, he saw her walking toward him. He couldn’t read her expression—was she upset? Mad? What?

  “Paige…I…”

  “Shut up,” she said, her voice authoritative and…

  He couldn’t finish the thought because she cupped a hand around his neck and pulled him down and kissed him.

  * * *

  For the love of it… She had done everything except offer a naked limo ride and Dylan still hadn’t made a move!

  A girl could only wait so long.

  And boy, oh boy, was it worth the wait.

  Every inch of him was hard and muscled and felt so good wrapped around her. She wanted to climb him like a tree. Coupled with the softness of his lips and gentleness of his caress, Dylan Anders was every naughty fantasy she’d ever had—and all he’d done was kiss her!