by Scott, Talyn
Libby phoned and explained that she was waiting with the engine running by the service entrance. She shoved her phone back in her purse. Walking outside into the morning light, the glittery beads of the borrowed dress clacked around her legs. She blushed a little, hoping no one would notice, but that was impossible. Wrought iron bistros sized romantically for two chairs lined a frescoed alleyway, splitting the tower and main cafe of the hotel’s west wing. Patrons were staring, some men lifting their espresso cups in salute.
“Aren’t you an attention getter,” the walking wall muttered down at her.
Any woman dressed this way between sunrise and sunset would garner some sort of attention. “Hey,” she asked him, “what’s your name?”
“Michael.”
She spotted Libby’s car wedged between two green dumpsters, hardly inconspicuous. “Only Michael?”
He searched over his glasses and zeroed in on Libby’s car, shaking his head slightly. “Michael is sufficient.”
“So, last night, you just found me and tucked me in all nice and tight.”
“Let’s just say, I was called to the scene.” Marching right to Libby’s car, he opened the passenger side door. “Ms. Calloway,” he said flatly with a mocking half bow, letting her know he'd gone through her purse and eyeballed her driver's license, “let’s not make our meeting a habit.”
“Not a problem.” Payton shouldered past Michael and dropped in the empty seat. When he closed the door, Libby wasted no time in driving away. She turned left on a private gravel road leading to the firehouse.
“Who was that?”
“Security,” Payton answered, clicking her seatbelt. “You’re going to snap that steering wheel in two, stop your white-knuckling.” Briefly, she closed her eyes to fight her rising nerves.
“I can’t believe you spent the night there. When I said we should negotiate with the enemy, I didn’t mean either of use should fraternize or frolic!”
No, but maybe she’d thought about fornicating. “I didn’t fraternize or frolic,” she shot back, recalling Dylan Easton with his arctic eyes blazing down at her. His erection pressed against her bone soft flesh. Instantly, her underwear grew damp against her flesh, molding to her body. What would she do to be undone by Dylan, abandoning all personal will and honor?
Just about anything.
“I told you and told you to stop drinking!” Libby slapped her hand on the steering wheel. “I reminded you of your lightweight status. You’ve never held your alcohol, and you’ve had a lot of practice.”
“I know. I agree.” Why argue with her brain pounding through her skull? “I was immature and let you down. But just so you know, I was damn close to an Easton.” She pinched her thumb and index finger together. “This close, Lib.”
“To Dylan Easton?”
“Yeah, gave him a hard-on and everything.” Or maybe his erection was lingering from the blonde who took off in a huff.
Libby gaped. “You…were that close?”
“He wouldn’t listen to what I came there to say, or maybe I jumbled everything, but his lips found mine…his hard body. I sure can’t forget that part, though I’ve forgotten everything thereafter.”
“It’s all right. This fight isn’t over.” Libby patted Payton’s knee sympathetically. “And of course you gave him a stiffy! After all, you’re gorgeous. Dylan Easton would be a fool not to want you.” She cleared her throat to fill the awkward silence that came whenever they discussed Payton’s lack of a sex life. “You just need a little experience, that’s all.”
“If this is you giving me the lecture about hiring your hands-on, sex-pert friend, give it a rest.”
“Thomas is a professional sex therapist, a very hot one. If we hadn’t grown up together, and he didn’t feel like my brother.” Libby sighed, allowing her thoughts to simmer while pulling her Porsche against the side of their renovated firehouse. Since the parking lot and main entrance had been blocked off recently, courtesy of The Easton Company, they weren’t allowed more than three parking spaces though they actually had room for one hundred.
“Drop it, Lib. I’m getting better with the sex stuff.”
“I would believe that if you weren’t still a virgin.” Libby got out of the car and Payton followed.
Was a big V flickering across her forehead? “Am I still that obvious?”
“Not the virgin part, but as far as lack of trust goes, it’s smeared all over your face every time Noah looks at you longingly,” Libby answered quietly. “Your answer is to run away from him, to run away from any guy who shows the least amount of interest past warm fuzzy friendship.”
That wasn’t what happened last night. “Just keep your voice down,” Payton whispered and searched for Noah. Usually he wasn't home this time of morning, but she couldn’t take any chances. “Noah and I need to stay friends, particularly since we’ve invested in this place together.” They walked up the flight of steps leading to their three-bedroom loft, a sixteen hundred square foot palace compared to what it was before renovations. “Partners shouldn’t have sex with one another.” This was part of the reason she wouldn’t date Noah. “It could ruin everything.”
Libby shoved her key in the door, opening it. “I’m determined that nothing will be ruined. At a steal, Dad bought up this place for a hundred grand.” She motioned for Payton to follow, needing to get her out of the beaded gown. “You and Noah sunk in twenty-five grand each, which, might I remind you, was money necessary to complete your bachelors’ degrees. How can I allow this ship to sink?”
“It won’t sink.” Yes, Noah and Payton had taken their chances, gambling on their futures to follow their dreams. Their families weren’t wealthy as Libby’s was and if her and Noah’s investments didn’t pan out, they’d be working crazily to get through school. Libby would be okay, but even her family couldn’t hang their hats with the Easton family, so eventually she’d be cut off from her father’s wallet.
Catching something in the corner of her eyes, Payton spun to the unique dining table the three had tiled together. “Whoa!” Atop the cleverly melded colors of the ocean, gleaming between silver dyed grout, stood a flower arrangement rivaling those she’d seen gracing the tables last night. However, this one was clearly unique, the colors and textures amazing. “It’s huge.”
Libby nodded. “Grandiose, I’d say, coming from a narcissistic mind who wanted undivided attention.”
“No,” Payton disagreed, “just beautiful.” She walked over, breathing in the lush fragrance of… “Ebony Vandal Orchids, purple tinted sage, and blue violet freesia, hundreds of stems are here.” All nestled inside murano glass. She trailed her finger down the hefty vase. “It’s real, Lib. The murano is genuine.”
“Uh, yeah, it was a private delivery from The Easton Hotel,” Libby said mystified. “It's a good thing I caught the delivery before Noah was disturbed. He looked like hell.”
Payton brushed her nose against the sage, inhaling. “After a gig, he doesn’t crawl in here until well after the sun rises. I'm surprised he's here now.”
Libby lifted a thin box from behind the flowers, waving it under Payton’s nose. Payton took the box from her hands and lifted the lid. Nestled inside, she found a simple custom mask. It was cream, made for a man, and stroked something familiar. “This is a vague memory,” she recalled, “but I can’t patch it together.” She flipped the mask over, studying the elegant script written in an arrogant slant. “Payton Calloway,” she read, her fingers slightly trembling at the use of her name, “be ready for me. Without our masks, there is nowhere to hide.” She swallowed against sudden dryness. “Signed, A.”
“Yes, I know.” Libby had the decency to appear repentant. “I read it.”
“I’ll let it slide this time,” Paytond teased, carrying the mask to her room. “I have no idea what this mask is about.” She stood next to her dresser, hooked it on the upper corner of her mirror, and put her efforts into removing her sweetheartry. “I have to admit that I felt like Cinderella f
or a while.”
“You may have looked like a sexier version of her, but we don’t believe in fairy tales right?” Libby went to work on the flapper dress, unzipping carefully, maneuvering the studded and swinging beads so they wouldn’t be caught in the zipper. “But I’m intrigued about that damn mask.”
“Well, it makes me uneasy.” She placed the second glittering earring in its velvet box for the short jot back to Libby’s room.
The dress was off and Libby immediately wrapped it in tissue paper, before easing it into a silken garment bag. “Of course you’re uneasy.” She gave her a duh look. “You don’t remember your masked man, but it’ll come back to you later, maybe after you’ve eaten.” She eyed the elastic bandages used to squeeze Payton’s breasts in the costume as Payton removed them. “You’re going to be sore after sleeping in those. Sorry I couldn’t find anything fitting for the costume party in your size.”
“It’s not your fault I wear an eighteen.”
“A perfect eighteen, Pay, men admire your curves,” she reminded. “I’ve seen them.”
Payton didn’t want to get into yet another discussion about her nonexistent sex life. After the last bandage came off, the blood rushed backed to her chest. “What a relief,” she admitted while rubbing her sore nipples. “I hope you’re not caught sneaking back the dress.” She shimmed out of the girdle, feeling her hips, stomach, and ass slowly coming alive again.
Lib was checking her messages. “Since the morning’s nearly over, my only hope is slipping it in between one and two. There aren’t any matinee’s this month and most will be out for lunch.”
“I’ll do it,” she offered, realizing she should skip her shower until after she completed her grueling day filled with repair work. “No point in you getting fired from the only job you’ve ever loved.” Libby worked the local theater, mostly as a production hand, but her dream was to one day be in the limelight, just small time, acting for the local audience while running the firehouse. Presently, her hours there coincided perfectly with what was needed in their business.
“I’ll be fine, and you’re needed here, installing that garbage disposal in apartment B.”
Payton slipped on her last clean bra, wincing when the fabric abraded her sore breasts. “Not to worry, Bill installed it three days ago.”
“It’s leaking, and he’s backed up.” She fixed the garment bag over her delicate shoulder. “You’re the only one here with plumbing experience besides Bill and Noah.”
Payton’s plumbing experience constituted plunging toilets and fixing one leaky faucet as well as replacing one broken sprinkler head. None of that made her an expert. “Is the box still there with the instructions?”
“Yes.” Slipping into the hall, she peeked over at Noah’s closed door and quietly added, “I smoothed them out on the kitchen counter. Maybe, you’ll have some luck. Oh,” she added as an afterthought, “don’t forget to flip the breaker before you start.”
“Yeah, I learned that lesson the last time.” Payton pulled a well-worn polo shirt over her head and finger-combed her long curls into a ponytail. When she located her cap, she slid it in one back pocket and her phone in the other.
“Did that burn ever scar?”
“Nope. I’m going to spend a few hours sealing the joints in the crown molding downstairs before I tackle the disposal.”
“Sounds great,” Libby said over her shoulder. “I’ll check in with you before I leave.”
Payton heard the door snick quietly behind Lib. After lacing up her ankle boots, she stood and scanned her reflection in the dresser’s mirror. “Where’s the woman I was last night?”
4
“Come on,” Payton growled through clenched teeth, twisting with all her might.
“How can I think straight with you growling like that?” Noah claimed the wrench and batted her hand away from the garbage disposal. “There’s only so much I can take, especially with you flat on your back and your knees spread wide.”
She held her breath as he scooted his head and broad shoulders underneath the sink, invading her with his man-scent, the very trigger that flipped her horny switch. If only she could hold her breath, Payton wouldn’t grow damp with need. “Try wiggling it back and forth again.”
Brushing his bare leg against her equally bare thigh, Noah decided now was the time to start his weekly debate. “Why don’t we have dinner out tonight, just the two of us? My band’s been playing at a ma-and-pa by the water, where they serve the best scampi you’ve ever tasted and Key lime pie with real meringue, not that whipped topping crap.”
Payton clamped a small, leaking hose parallel to the dishwasher. “Doesn’t sound like the typical club you ordinarily grace.”
“Money is money.” He shrugged. “We take what we can get.”
She snorted.
Noah reached for a pair of pliers, sliding his arm against her shoulder, grazing the side of her right breast. “What’s so funny?”
“You guys take what you can get,” she parroted, thinking about all the women who swarmed Noah when he sang, waiting for him to finish his set. His voice was husky, his range amazing. When coupled with his looks, he was a god among man. On top of that, he displayed complete confidence without the typical, accompanying arrogance one would expect when considering his overall package.
“If this is about the women,” he explained, purposefully brushing his thigh against hers again, “sure, they’re the main reason clubs ask us back, giving no consideration to our collective talent. We draw crowds, and crowds make money - Economics 101. But Payton, you have to realize that if I were seeing someone exclusively, you for example, I would be faithful. In turn, I would expect fidelity.”
“It’s nothing personal, Noah,” she whispered, shoving the toolbox out of her way, “and I don’t want to continue this conversation.”
“Well, too bad. I have you alone for once, and we are continuing this conversation.” His body rigid, his tone sharpened to razor blades. “I’m nothing like your father was, and I can’t eradicate his sins any more than I can eradicate my mother’s lack of human decency and overall moral aptitude.”
A cold shiver went down her, at the reminder of her father’s demons, and she didn’t like them dancing inside her head. Yet at times, Noah was no different from her father or his mother. “No, you can’t eradicate anyone’s sins, nor should you try. But unlike you, right or wrong, I handle my issues less tangibly.” Not said openly: No matter what he claimed, Noah fucked faceless, nameless women often, never sticking with one longer than it took to throw his clothes back on after the deed was done. During those raw carnal moments, his motives weren’t operated purely by lust. But what drove him? She hadn’t a clue, and quite frankly, she didn’t want to dip a toe in those churning waters to find her answer. Some men were better left alone.
“My past molded me into the man I am, even so I suffer no delusions,” he answered too softly, his body bristling. “Do you?”
Every damn day she did, but that was her problem, not his. “I never judge you or others, just making an observation of our clear differences. You have to know that, in ways, I’m in awe of you. I hide behind the emotional garbage in which I’m forever entangled; you scrape it from the bottom of your boot and walk away.”
A few seconds ticked by, and then another purposeful swipe against her breast. “I don’t walk away as easily as you think.”
Maybe not, but two emotional disasters shouldn’t find common ground beneath the sheets, not when she would inevitably fall in love him. Then lose his friendship when he moved on to another. As inexperienced as she was, Payton was nobody’s fool. It would take only the slightest push before her heart would cling to Noah, fervently beating only for his touch and therefore dooming her to an eternity of pain.
This was not going to happen.
Switching her approach, she decided to joke around with him to ease her tension and his. “You’re too old for me.”
“You’re twenty-one,” he grunte
d, muscles and tendons in his forearms straining while working the tool back and forth. “I’ll be twenty-three next week, which not only means that you’re not to old, but that I have stamina. By the way, that was the lamest excuse yet. Either you’re exhausted or I’m getting to you. I’m pretending it’s the latter.”
She bit her tongue, shifting her eyes away from his long fingers. Friends or not, Noah was a temptation she fought often. With a healthy tan, muscular swimmer’s body, streaky blonde hair, and endless blue eyes, he looked like the epitome of a west coast surfer - all relaxed and ready for the next wave that decided to come along.
Grudgingly offering up some honesty, she countered, “I really enjoy your shows, listening to you sing, but after seeing those women screaming after you and what they easily hand out with no strings attached, I would be offering up my heart for total devastation.” There was only so many times a twenty-two year old man could say no to the pussy buffet. And if that man were wired the same as Noah, a monogamous relationship wouldn't deter him.
“Pay, listen.”
“No,” she argued bluntly, “you and I are just friends.”
Stopping his efforts, Noah took a deep breath and clearly resisted the urge to punch his fist through the cabinet. “God, this is frustrating, for so many reasons.” He turned his head, studying her, half his exquisite face glowing under the battery-operated work light. “Look at me, Pay.”
“I am.”
“Are you really?” he challenged, settling the wrench in the toolbox and then cupping the side of her face. “Will you ever see me as more than a crooning player using my band as a front to screw groupies?”
This had gone too far, their discussion dangling over the fires of a full-blown argument. “Noah, this isn’t a discussion we should have while under a crisis.”
“When are we not in a crisis here?” His hand left her face, finding her shoulder and squeezing warmly. “If I stop the groupies from following me to gigs, I’ve lost a chunk my fan base. This means a chunk of money, as well.” Two of his long fingers grazed the swell of her breast, her nipple pebbling an aching response. “Don’t penalize me for my life’s calling, because I love making music.” Moving his face impossibly closer, he brought his lips to her cheek, his breath rushing in and out. “Find your courage. Trust me not to touch the women.” His tongue flickered out, tasting her. “I want to touch you and you alone.”