by Larkin Rose
“What are you doing in my dressing room?” Paige narrowed her eyes at Sam.
Sam blew Paige a kiss and pushed Mayson into the room. “Behave!” She closed the door behind her.
Paige imagined all the tactful ways she could seek revenge on her best friend. All the tactful ways she would seek revenge. Sam hadn’t heard the last of this.
“We have a date. Remember?”
“No, I didn’t forget. But it doesn’t start in my dressing room. Get out.”
That crooked smile swept across Mayson’s mouth, and that fucking dimple appeared like a magician’s trick. She started walking toward Paige.
Paige thought about taking a step back. Then thought better of it. She’d never been one to falter in the face of danger. Not even when she faced Mayson and her bullying posse. Mayson wouldn’t dare invade her territory again. She had once. Never again.
With her heart sputtering, Paige lifted her chin.
Mayson continued her slow steps, closing the space between them until they were nothing more than a breath apart. “Think you could get dressed? It’s hard to be a gentleman when you’re half-naked.”
“Get out, Mayson.” Paige could hear the words, but not a single one sounded convincing.
Mayson fingered the candy necklace Paige refused to take off. With her gaze focused on Paige, she slowly lifted it with her index finger.
Paige held her breath, unsure if this was really happening. Yes, as a matter of fact, it was. Worse, heat was crawling through her insides like a slow-burning fuse.
When Mayson ducked, Paige held her breath. Mayson wouldn’t. No way this woman was going to kiss her. Fuck. Paige wanted her to. She wanted to feel Mayson’s lips against her own.
Mayson bypassed her lips and bit off a piece of the candy.
Oh hell no, she didn’t!
Startled, Paige slapped her hand away, took several steps backward, and covered her precious gift. “That does it! Get out!”
Mayson threw her a wink and checked her watch. “Our date started six minutes ago. You’re late.”
Paige ground her teeth, hating herself for wanting that kiss. Hating Mayson even more for teasing her with the thought of it. “Get…out.”
“Don’t keep me waiting.” With another casual inspection of Paige, Mayson started across the room. “I have a present for you.”
Paige stood in immobilized confusion for several minutes. What the hell was that? Where had that heated reaction come from? Had she seriously wanted Mayson Fucking Montgomery to kiss her? To taste her?
Yes. Yes, she had.
It was confirmed. She was mentally disturbed.
Chapter Eleven
As threatened, Mayson was waiting for Paige outside the nightclub. Her foot was kicked back on a light pole, her arms crossed in all her suave glory, and a black backpack was at her feet beside a brown paper bag. How did she do that? How did she look so edible in such a slouchy posture? She looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. Or was that a pose?
Paige glanced along the sidewalk and spotted a group of women staring at Mayson, their flirtatious giggles like a cauldron of bubbles in the night. Ahh. So this was how she did it. Pretended not to notice the pretty ladies. Women wanted to be noticed. They wanted to be approached and courted and wowed. Especially by someone as fine as Mayson. Her natural swagger would lure them, and Mayson knew that fact.
Mayson glanced up and spotted Paige. If she had noticed the women, it didn’t show on her expression.
That glorious smile lit her face as she reached inside the bag, and she pushed off the pole. She held out a six-pack of Corona like a peace offering. “Truce?”
Paige glanced back at the women. Their smiles faltered. For some reason, it gave Paige a sick thrill. Mayson Montgomery, who was indeed a major catch, and one hell of an eligible bachelor, had eyes for Paige and Paige alone at this second in time. Or at least that was the show she was putting on for their heated stares. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want her?
Good thing that Paige wasn’t in her right mind. She hadn’t been in her right state of mind since a masked stranger crawled over her in a hotel room. Those women could have Mayson. Right now, as a matter of fact, if they asked nicely enough. Hell, they didn’t even have to ask. Just take her ass. Paige would rather be home, curled up, naked, in bed, with the new cell phone pressed against her ear to catch every sexual command by Vinden.
Paige stopped in front of Mayson and plucked out one of the bottles, obvious that she wasn’t going to beg out of this stupid date and a little let down that her gift was nothing more than cheap beer. Where was the Pinot Grigio or Dom Perignon?
“It’s a start.” Paige took the beer.
Mayson lifted Paige’s free hand to her mouth and placed a delicate kiss on the back. “You look stunning, Paige. The sundress is perfect for our plans.”
Wow. Mayson was good. Not to mention she was making Paige feel like a prize under that heated stare. She was showing those women exactly what they were missing.
“What exactly are the plans?” Paige pulled her hand away though a bit slower than she normally would have.
“We’re going to the beach.” Mayson smiled like walking on the beach was every woman’s dream date. Sucked that she was right. Paige would rather stroll along the edge of the ocean than have a candlelit dinner any day of the week.
“Shall we begin, my lady?” Mayson asked, though the words sounded more like a plea than a request.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“You touching me. Do it again, the date is over.”
Mayson laughed, and Paige found herself drawn into the rich, hearty sound. She took a step closer to Paige and stroked the material close to her cleavage. “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“It is.” Paige could hear the non-convincing tone ringing back on her ears.
Mayson must have heard it as well. She smiled that Mayson smile once again.
Paige shifted. Okay, this wasn’t going as planned. Mayson wasn’t supposed to strike this yearning. Paige wasn’t supposed to be attracted to the devil.
“Come on, beautiful.” Mayson plucked the backpack off the concrete, took a step, and seemed to notice the women for the first time. “Just so you know, I’m going to touch you again. Right now.”
Paige opened her mouth to protest when Mayson wrapped her arm around Paige’s waist and tugged her into the crook of her arm, then nodded toward the women still watching intently. “Wouldn’t want our audience to think we’re having a lover’s quarrel, now would we?”
Mayson led the way directly toward the group.
Paige held her head high. Why, she didn’t know. Mayson might be a catch, but she wasn’t Paige’s catch. Yet she didn’t pull out of Mayson’s tight embrace, despite her threat to the contrary, as they stepped around the women.
Mayson tipped her head to the group. “Ladies.”
Heat spiked as Mayson’s firm grip held Paige in place. Something about Mayson’s charisma was causing discomfort between her thighs. This wasn’t normal. This was Mayson, Mayson Montgomery, whose name was recognized far and wide, the rich bitch who had disrespected her, who still hadn’t taken the initiative to say she was sorry. And this damn store-bought beer wouldn’t do the trick either.
Paige didn’t care how old they had been, or how many years passed between them, she deserved to hear those words. She deserved to hear Mayson say I’m sorry.
That alone was the reason she shouldn’t be turned on right now. She had nothing in common with this woman. Absolutely nothing. Not to mention, she didn’t even like her.
“How long have you been dancing?” Mayson loved the feel of Paige against her side. If luck was with her tonight, she was going to break Paige down. She was going to make Paige like her. The real Mayson.
A memory flashed. Paige coming around her fingers in that pink-shaded hotel room. The comfort of their sweaty skin against each other.
Her stomach
rolled. How, why, had they found each other again? Was it a miracle? Was something far greater than the both of them at work here? Was she strong enough to ignore this silent calling if Paige continued to reject her?
“Long enough,” Paige said. “And you can let me go now.” She pulled out of Mayson’s embrace.
“Are you afraid of me, Paige?”
“Pfft. No,” Paige said. But she was. She was afraid of this heat, this yearning. She didn’t want to feel anything for Mayson. She didn’t want to like her, admire her, or be intrigued with her.
She wanted this night, this date, over with as soon as possible so she could get home to her bed and phone sex with Vinden. That’s all she cared about. She truly wasn’t interested in anything Mayson had to say to her. Mayson not only thought Paige could be bought, she thought she could be bought with a cheap beer and a casual stroll. The rest of the women who flocked to her might swoon over her attention, but not Paige. And it aggravated her that Mayson considered her so cheap.
They approached the bridge that led down to the beach. Mayson stalled to remove her shoes and socks. She rolled up her pant legs while Paige removed her pumps.
Paige started down the steps and felt the light pressure of Mayson’s hand at the small of her back. God almighty damn. What was it about that simple contact that made her want to drop to her knees in complete submission? Where had her morals vanished to? Never mind. She’d left them back in New Orleans, right beside a masked stranger who had fucked her into a semi-coma. And then again in a theater with yet another masked stranger. God, what was wrong with her?
They stepped down onto the sand and Mayson left her hand on Paige’s waist. “I can’t remember the last time I put my feet in the sand.”
Paige stared up at Mayson’s profile. The moonlight looked nice against her tanned skin. “That’s hilarious coming from a woman who owns a tropical island.”
Mayson turned to look down at her and Paige had to look away. Her eyes were so penetrating even in the dim moonlight. “You shouldn’t hang your boa on the rumor mill, Paige. Can’t believe everything you hear.”
“Well, isn’t it true?” Paige had assumed every rich rumor to be true about Mayson. What reason did she have not to? Every detail screamed money.
Mayson chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint you. I admit I own a jet, a helicopter, for business reasons, and several getaway homes, but no islands.”
Paige studied her for several seconds. “Hmm.”
Mayson led the way to the edge of the soft sand. She plucked a blanket from her bag, spread it out, and sat down. She patted the spot beside her. “Join me.”
Paige obliged. She, too, couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the beach. Especially at night, when the beach was empty of tourists and squealing children.
They both finished their first beer in silence, listening to the lazy lap of water.
“I told you one of my secrets. Tell me one of yours.” Mayson exchanged their bottles for full ones.
Paige thought about what facts she wanted to reveal. She could admit something nice about herself, but that was boring. She couldn’t think of anything nice she’d done other than rescuing Damien from Dumpster hell. She could tell Mayson that she’d had sex with a masked stranger, but that wasn’t any of her business. Nor could she say it without getting flustered with need. She could just go ahead and scare Mayson off with the truth. Billionaires surely wouldn’t want to be caught dead with an ex-stripper.
“I used to be a stripper. A bare-naked stripper.”
“Cool. There are way worse jobs I can think of.”
Paige hadn’t expected her confession to be dismissed so easily. She’d expected Mayson to be appalled. Instead, she hadn’t even broken a breath.
“I’ve stripped for hundreds, thousands. Paid my way through college with every dropped piece of clothing.”
Mayson studied her for several seconds. “I can’t tell if your words are meant to attack, or if you’re just that proud.”
Paige wasn’t sure either. Had she meant them as an attack, or simply letting her voice show that she wasn’t ashamed? That she wouldn’t let someone like Mayson look down on her. “Both, I guess.”
“Would it offend you if I said I used to date a stripper?”
“No. Actually, it doesn’t surprise me at all.”
“Why is that?”
Paige considered not admitting what was on the tip of her tongue, but why stop now when she was positive this night wasn’t going to end well anyway. Not to mention she was in a hurry to get to Vinden’s hot whispers. At least she’d get everything off her chest before Mayson ripped away their yearly donation. “Because people like you think that people like me can be bought.”
There, she’d said it. Bite that, billionaire!
“Ouch. That one hurt.”
Paige turned up the beer with the ring of hurt in Mayson’s voice. She hadn’t expected to hear the sting, or for it to be so genuine. But the sound had been loud and clear in Mayson’s voice.
But Paige couldn’t take it back now. Nor did she want to. It was true. Or so it’d been for her. She’d been prompted by the deep-pocketed businessmen, even women, on several occasions. Some went as far as to offer her apartments and pricey cars. To be their mistress.
All she had to do to earn the lifestyle of the rich and famous was be on her back when they decided to give her the time of day, when they could sneak away from their families. Their wives and children.
She couldn’t be bought all those years ago when the offer was terribly tempting. She sure as fuck wouldn’t be bought now, when she wasn’t stripping to earn a goddamn dollar.
Mayson took a quick drink, then draped her forearms over her knees, her gaze straight ahead.
Paige could feel her anger. She mentally responded to it. Why, she didn’t know. Nor did she like the sudden urge to apologize. She didn’t like hurting people. But Mayson seemed to be an exception to that rule. She hadn’t thought twice about hurting Paige. So why did Paige feel the need to console her?
Dammit. What was Mayson doing to her? What was she trying achieve with this night of patrolling the sands?
“In a week’s time you’ve called me superficial, lazy, uneducated, and shallow,” Mayson said, staring out over the ocean. “Seems pretty callous coming from a woman who doesn’t know a damn thing about me.”
Paige turned up the beer again to strangle the need to say she was sorry, the urge to lean forward and press her lips against Mayson’s tight arm. She had no reason to feel bad. So why did she?
The reason was, Mayson was right. Paige didn’t know her. Not the woman she’d become, anyway.
“Tell me a secret, Mayson. Make me not think so callously about you.”
Mayson turned her gaze on Paige. Her sights flicked over Paige’s face for several intense seconds. “Will it change your opinion of me?”
Paige should tell her more than likely, it wouldn’t, but she was suddenly curious to hear what Mayson would say. “Give it a whirl.”
“Let’s walk.” Mayson stood and extended her hand for Paige, and suddenly, Paige was back in time, facing her masked butch at the edge of a bed. Then, and now, her insides tightened.
Without taking the hand, for fear the touch would make her do something incredibly stupid, like kiss her, Paige turned up the beer and downed the contents, welcoming the heat settling low in her belly.
Only then did she feel brave enough to touch Mayson. She reached for her hand and allowed Mayson to pull her from the blanket.
They stood close to each other for what felt like eternity.
Finally, Mayson released her hand and led them toward the edge of the water. The soft waves were cool around her feet, and Paige welcomed the relaxation. There was nothing like long walks on the beach, sand between her toes, and the tranquility the oceanic view offered, especially in the moonlight. She was a lucky girl to have a career she adored and the beach surrounding her with time to help those in need. What more could a
girl ask for?
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a late-night stroll. Or drank a beer. Or relaxed. This was kind of nice. Despite the tension between herself and Mayson.
“I worked at a dairy farm shoveling shit in college,” Mayson said.
Paige looked up at her. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie about walking through cow dung when there are so many more appealing jobs I could have made up?”
Paige stared in disbelief. “But you…you were raunchy rich.”
Mayson chuckled. Paige was beginning to like that sound. It was far better than the dead silence after her confession. “Raunchy rich? Never heard that one before. Has a sexy ring to it.” She stared down at Paige until Paige looked away. “However, I wasn’t rich. My parents were. If I wanted something, I had to work for it. Hence the need to shovel shit to pay for my extra classes.”
Dammit. Why was Mayson telling her these things? She didn’t want to be impressed with her childhood, her need to actually work her way through college, as Paige had had to do. She visualized a shovel and the aroma of cow shit and was happy to admit she would have rather been stripping for some old pervert.
“Your turn now,” Mayson said.
Without hesitation, Paige answered. “I don’t like you.”
Mayson turned up the beer. “No fair. I already knew that one. Try again.”
“I grew up wearing Salvation Army hand-me-downs. I was thirteen before I ever saw the inside of a mall.” Paige had no clue why those words flowed so easily. She had never felt the need to share her life history, let alone to a woman she didn’t even want to be near right now.
“The mall is overrated. And I used to shop the Salvation Army for parachute pants. My mom refused to buy them for me, said they were a disgrace to the fashion world.”
Paige cocked a brow at her. “Your mom was correct.”
“Hey. I rocked the parachute pants.”
Paige took a long swallow of her beer, enjoying the mellow effects. “If you say so. Your turn.”