The Gideon Affair

by Halliday, Suzanne

  He shrugged and took a second swig of water. “Long enough.”

  Okay, then. “Wanna talk about it?” Seemed best just to cut to the chase.

  More waves crashed along the shoreline. Gulls squawked overhead. Far off near the horizon, she made out the shape of a container ship. Two surfers ran ashore, laughing and high-fiving each other.

  Paige sat there, squishing her toes in the warm sand, and waited him out.

  Finally, his head swiveled toward her.

  “Lose the sunglasses.”

  Edward felt her presence practically the second Paige appeared in the house, and he didn’t question how that happened to be. It just was. Somehow, he always knew when she was nearby.

  Was it comfort he felt—knowing she was with him?

  Pfft. Being honest might help. Comfort was the least of it. There was so much pleasure in his relationship with the feisty brunette that he couldn’t define but half.

  Going still, his eyes drifted shut when a wave of serenity briefly washed over him. It didn’t last long—perfect moments never seemed to stick around—but it was enough to shut down the agitation threatening to choke the life out of him.

  She did that. Just thinking about her and especially when in her presence, Paige acted like a bypass circuit for whatever was messing with him.

  With a relieved sigh, he shifted position, stretching his legs out. Crossing his ankles, he then leaned back on hands he’d dug firmly in the sand. Tilting his head back, Edward inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth and brightness of the sun on his upturned face.

  Knowing she wouldn’t rush out and start giving him the third degree was part of Paige’s allure and a big reason why he’d quickly calmed down.

  Completely the opposite of Caro’s devoted puppy shtick, his faithful assistant managed to keep the mockery to a simmer most of the time. But they both knew and laughed about how unimpressed she was with the whole sexed-up celebrity thing. She kept his ego in check, called him out on his macho bullshit, and never failed to snicker, just loud enough for him to hear, at the most inopportune times.

  Paige also possessed an uncanny ability to hover on the periphery of things while actually being right in the middle.

  Her energy, fiercely protective and totally focused on him, was a balm for his soul. Edward needed that more than he wanted to admit. He needed Paige in a way that messed with his head.

  He’d have to tell her, of course, and not just about Dave and the gotcha interview. They’d have to talk, seriously talk about the sex tape fiasco, something that made him big time nervous…and also about the real possibility of Joann interjecting herself into the scandal, re-igniting the whole thing and triggering a cavalcade of bullshit that might very well derail his career.

  Their career. Gideon Shaw was as much her creation as it was his.

  Thinking back to when the gossip rags started tittering endlessly about a mysterious tape circulating and the moment when that shit exploded right on top of them made him squirm in the sand. Next to the disappointment in his mother’s eyes, the blazing fury Paige put off when the story broke nearly eviscerated him. She’d been hurt by the salacious accusation of his so-called debauchery even though she’d never fucking admit to it, and he’d beaten himself up over it ever since.

  Hurting Paige was a deal-breaker. Especially when there were so many other things he’d rather make her feel. Things that robbed him of sleep.

  Edward had a favorite fantasy; one he’d been working on for some time. A remarkably detailed visual, loaded with sensory cues that awakened some powerful urges.

  Urges. Hmm. Needs might be a better way of putting it. He had a fucking urge to eat his way through a BBQ festival—the point being that Edward would survive if that never happened.

  But need—now that was an entirely different story. Needs were more necessary than urges. Essential to life, deprivation of certain needs could chip away at a man’s satisfaction toward a lot of other things.

  So … aware of the invisible line in the sand that kept him from acting on his needs, Edward visited his Paige fantasy with brow-raising regularity.

  It started the same way every time. He’d touch her face and run his fingers across her brow line down to her ear. She had cute ears and most of the time wore delicate earrings that never failed to grab his attention.

  Enjoying the telltale shiver his touch wrung from her, he’d gently finger the little spot where the rim of her ear joined her face.

  Her skin would be soft and responsive to his caress. Maybe she’d angle her head to give him complete access—an invitation to explore her neck. Fan the flames of desire.

  Edward could go on and on about Paige’s neck. Almost as fascinated with that patch of real estate as he was with her tits, he’d spent many an unsatisfied night longing to lick and suckle the skin that he felt sure would taste delicious.

  Shifting his hips in the sand as his sex pulsed to life so swiftly the tightness in his pants threatened damage, he let out a strangled groan that immediately became lost in the sound of the surf. Usually, this was the moment when he’d reach for his cock. But since it was broad daylight and he was on a public beach instead of naked in his bed, he’d have to suffer through a spontaneous hard-on that could not be satisfied.

  Out of nowhere, an enormous burst of laughter rolled out of him. Thinking about the delicious Paige Turner and her ridiculously soft skin had vanquished the anxiety he’d been nursing.

  Nobody and nothing else had ever done that for him. No amount of random, high-intensity fucking, top shelf alcohol, or any other number of available recreational substances had ever so quickly or so efficiently reset his mood. More reminders that this woman, so essential to every facet of his double life, was inside him in a way that was making him stop. And think.

  A sensation at the back of his neck briefly scattered all thoughts. Shutting his eyes so he could concentrate on the tingling feeling as it spread across his shoulders, Edward let a welcome calm fill him up. She was coming to him, and he didn’t need to turn around to confirm with his eyes what his body already knew.

  With a mocking glance at the anatomy lesson his aroused body was going to make, he chuckled in resignation.

  Yeah, whatever!

  He was beyond being able to hide his response to her anymore, and if she’d noticed, she hadn’t said anything so far. Damn shame too ‘cause he’d gladly explain in excruciating detail how much she turned him on.

  Ugh. He needed her to hurry and almost jumped up and rushed at her. Good lord, he thought, I’m worse than a lonely puppy.

  The need and anticipation eventually won out. Sharply swiveling his head, his eyes scanned the beach until he found her coming around a short rise in the sand, walking straight for him.

  Should he be alarmed that just seeing her triggered an instant Zen? The feeling was like a large dose of euphoria.

  Paige Turner was his bliss.

  But why the hell did she have to be dressed like that? Edward’s fierce battle to rein in his desires fractured as he took in the vision walking toward him.

  If his assistant imagined for one second that being completely natural and at ease was not a ferocious turn on for him, she was fucking delusional. Nobody had legs like Paige. They really did seem to go on forever. Long, toned, and tanned, she had this charmingly tomboyish swagger that sent shards of pleasure straight to his groin.

  Barefoot—he’d have to check out her toenail color—she was rocking a pair of cutoffs that rode her slim hips, exposing her belly button and several tantalizing inches of skin between the waistband and the hem of a gauzy, see-through crop top.

  As she got closer, he could easily make out the teal colored halter of a bathing suit under the gauzy top. She was trying to kill him, right?

  My god. He wanted her so bad right then that staying seated and doing nothing became an agony.

  Marching straight up to him, she stopped next to his shoulder and just stood quietly.

  Fuck. Even though the bree
ze off the ocean was brisk, he’d picked up her scent the moment she got close. Fresh, clean, sexy as shit. Oh yeah, and with just a hint of wintergreen.

  He almost missed her passing a water bottle off to him when the desire to claim her mouth to see if she tasted like the speckled mints she obsessed over brutally tightened his sex.

  Grasping the frigid water bottle, Edward hastily poured a stream of ice water down his throat hoping to douse the inferno of desire that was burning him up on the inside.

  She just stood there. Having those lithe, sexy bare legs inches from his face was fucking with his head. Big time. It did not help at all that in his mind’s eye, he effortlessly visualized putting his mouth on the soft flesh of her inner thigh for a nibble. And a lick. Maybe a bite.

  Goddammit. And just like that, he was pissed off and grumpy as fuck.

  “Took you long enough.”

  What the hell was wrong with him? He shouldn’t bitch at her—not when seconds earlier he’d been thanking the angels for her presence in his life.

  Grabbing hold of her wrist, he gave a sturdy yank that sent her tumbling onto the sand at his side. Her startled cry and the way she chided him for the playful attack was the perfect reminder of how lucky he was to have such a remarkable friendship with her.

  When she teased him and asked how long he knew she’d been lurking and if he wanted to talk, a thousand details of his shitty day came into focus.

  Yeah. He wanted to talk, but he would have to see her eyes. She couldn’t hide her feelings from him. He wasn’t sure if she understood how easily he read her, but he needed to look at her, really look at her, if they were going to have a serious conversation.

  “Lose the sunglasses,” he drawled after a long pause.

  The changing vibes coming off Edward made Paige proceed with caution.

  That and her own wildly careening impulses prompted the yellow flags of warning in her mind. It was all she could do to remain still when he was so close and she could feel his tension. This compelling need to protect and comfort the man at her side made her want things she shouldn’t entertain.

  Things like touching him and not a slap on the shoulder or a wink-wink nudge either. No, she wanted a full-on tactile exploration. The sort that would leave them breathing heavy and hanging by the slimmest thread of self-control.

  His gruff voice interrupted her thoughts just in time.

  Stroking her wrist with the briefest of touches, he commented, “What happened to the fitness tech?”

  She huffed out a, “Hmph,” and shook her head. Displaying the wrist that was now naked, she bluntly snapped, “Too much information.”

  Edward’s good-natured laugh was a reminder of how he’d teased her endlessly about obsessing over stuff like fitness, insisting she was the most active person he’d ever known—something Paige seriously doubted.

  Crossing her legs, she leaned forward and played with the shifting sands, grumpily admitting what a mistake the device had been.

  “Yeah, well … being in shape is all well and good, but I seriously did not need that thing monitoring my sleep pattern or registering every nighttime heart rate increase.” Oh, my god. What had made her say that?

  Please, please, please let that comment pass. PLEASE.

  Without warning, Edward flung his arm around her neck and dragged her half onto his lap for a merciless noogie administered to the top of her head.

  Laughing gleefully, he teased, “Y’know, it’s the same for guys. Sleepless night? Simple solution. A quick moonlit tug and off to dreamland.”

  Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Leave it to Edward to identify the real meaning of her off-hand remark.

  Struggling upright in the vain hope of retaining her dignity, she firmly stated, “I have no idea what you mean,” in a bitchy voice that her inner librarian would find amusing.

  Nudging her so hard she nearly tipped over, Edward kept up the playful kidding around.

  “Hmph, so maybe tug isn’t the right word.”

  She peeked from the corner of her eyes and found him biting his lip with amusement.

  “Edward,” she warned. “Drop it.”

  The salacious look he turned on her was almost Paige’s undoing.

  “Too late,” he growled. “Got a full visual going on inside my dirty mind, babe.”

  His gaze went to her feet then quickly journeyed to her hands. “Pink toes. Mmm, I like very much by the way.”

  Pooh. Did she have spare undies in her backpack ‘cause with one growl and a look, she was embarrassingly wet. How did he manage to do that so damn easily?

  “But the matching manicure? Shit, Paige. Thinking about those beautiful fingers sliding along your …”

  “Shut up!” Her frantic screech drowned out the sound of the seagulls overhead and made Edward boom with laughter.

  Breaking out into the happy dance almost happened right there on the beach because Paige’s accidental admission to a bit of self-pleasuring was exactly what his dick wanted to hear.

  Dick … you’re being a dick. Down, Dick, down.

  Almost worked too until the naughty Jane to his single-minded Dick tried to act as if she were above such things.

  Ha!

  Her unplanned confession told him two crucial things. One—that the lady slept alone, and two—that she wasn’t adverse to …

  STOP! his mind shouted. Stop that thought right fucking now.

  All of a sudden, she turned and shoved him with both hands. Hard. Man, she had some power behind the motion.

  “Don’t make fun of me.”

  Aww, her embarrassed pout was all sorts of cute.

  “Sorry. My bad.”

  He was going to let her have this one. Taking it any further was only going to expose things he should leave alone.

  She fished a small shell from the sand and tossed it toward the surf before drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms loosely around them.

  “I’m putting the sunglasses back on if you don’t start talking.”

  Snorting amusement, he saluted with a mocking grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Edward Gideon Banning,” she croaked, “unless you immediately cut to the chase, I’m getting your mother on the phone to tell her you’re disgracing the Shaw name.”

  Aargh. A harmless taunt, one she frequently used at the insistence of his mom, but today it hit a bit too close to home.

  When he, Paige, and Mickey had brainstormed for a professional name for Edward, his middle name won out with no problem, but finding a memorable last name had stumped them.

  Gideon, in all its three-syllable glory, needed something simple after. Something distinguished for a theater marquee. Banning was out—he wouldn’t even consider it; he’d been adamant that his personal life and family stay separate from the acting.

  Paige had asked what his mom’s maiden name was. When he’d said it was Shaw, the girl he’d just met and the agent who’d swooped in and shook up his life jumped up and high-fived with a chorus of enthusiastic approval.

  So, Gideon Shaw, it was.

  As his and Paige’s relationship grew and deepened, he’d let her into his private life, and well … she and his parents hit it off like vodka and ginger ale. Before he knew it, when she wanted to act all tough and business-like, it wasn’t unusual for her to break out the full name zinger, just as his mom would. The one that made every kid cringe and stop dead in their tracks. All that was missing was the ‘wait till your father gets home’ threat.

  “All right, all right,” he grumbled. Words left him in the lurch. All of a sudden, he didn’t know what to say. Where was the beginning, and what was the end? What a fucking mess.

  When he stayed silent way too long, she touched him on the back, rubbing little circles between his shoulder blades with her hand.

  “It’s okay, Edward. I’m always here for you.”

  “I hope you mean that,” he answered hastily. Eesh. He sounded more than a bit desperate.

  When her hand moved up to
his shoulder, she gave him a side hug that felt incredibly good. He was thrilled when she didn’t withdraw after that—keeping her arm around him and that soft hand of hers resting on the side of his neck.

  “Sweetie,” she murmured. “It can’t be that bad.”

  Oh, my god. He was scaring her with this bewildered, sullen silence and hesitation. This wasn’t like him at all. Whatever was going on wasn’t superficial noise—not judging by the way that he was acting. Something was eating away at him, and she’d be damned if that was okay.

  When he finally looked at her, she had to fight the urge to fall headfirst into his captivating eyes. The shocking blue and those thick black lashes called to her in ways that made her squirm.

  She wasn’t prepared when he asked, “Why do you put up with me, Paige? With all this?”

  Without pause, her heart answered. “I …”

  No. No! NO!

  NO!

  Ho-ly shitballz. Hearing the real concern in his voice, she had almost said ‘I love you’ to explain just why she, in fact, put up with all this crap.

  The words came far too easily. She excelled at having presence of mind. That ability to think on her feet was a big part of why people found her so capable. Thank god, it served her right now.

  “Well, sweetie,” she mockingly sneered. “I put up with your moldy ass because I love smog, pretention, PinkBerry, and a brutal drought. Next question?”

  Relief swept through her when Edward leaned in and put his forehead against hers.

  “Damn,” he muttered thickly. “And here I thought it was ‘cause you’re hopelessly in love with me.”

  He was joking. Right?

  With unerring accuracy, she dropped her arm from his shoulder and went straight for the water bottle planted in the sand at his side. One flick of a finger on the cap and it sprang open just as she upended the bottle and cold water drained down the back of his head, sliding down his neck and into this shirt.

  Jolted by complete surprise, he barked, “What the fuck!”