by Larkin Rose
Paige picked up her sandals and took one last glance at Mayson deep in slumber, her breathing steady. Their evening had been incredible. The sex had been all she’d ever wanted. So why was she dressing? Why was she on the verge of panic? And why was she still standing there?
With one final glance and a hint of indecision, Paige bit her bottom lip and left.
*
Mayson was jolted awake by the sound of loud banging on the front door. She scanned the bed for Paige, but the spot where she’d been lying was cold.
She grabbed her shorts from the side of the bed and finally found her shirt on the opposite side of the room. The bathroom light was out, and the rest of the house seemed to be bathed in darkness as well.
Where the hell was Paige? Had she left? Without as much as a good-bye?
Heavy banging on the door drove her into action once again. She pulled her shirt into place and darted for the front door.
Eric burst inside as soon as Mayson turned the knob. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours.”
Mayson scanned the room for her phone, long lost in the throes of passion. Memories stabbed with a fierce blow, and she had to look away from Eric to keep him from seeing the pain of need in her eyes.
“Get your ass dressed! Elena was upgraded to a Four earlier than predicted. She’s headed straight for Kingston. Due to make landfall in less than twenty-four hours.”
No. No. No! Not now.
Mayson shook her head. All she’d needed was one more day. A few more riddles, and Paige could have figured it out. Figured out the woman she’d fucked over and over last night was her living, breathing fantasy.
Her heart squeezed as she stared at Eric in disbelief.
That was it. That ache. It was love. She was in love with Paige.
Now it was over.
“Chop chop!” Eric commanded. “The cargo ship has been loaded with supplies already. It left port in the Dominican Republic an hour ago. The pilot is already with the plane in Houston. We have to get our ass in gear!”
His words galvanized Mayson into motion. This was who she was. Someone’s savior. Someone’s hero.
Eric followed as she dragged duffel bags and suitcases from the closet and tossed everything on the floor. “We’ll await word of clearance in Miami there, then fly to Santo Domingo. A helicopter will take us out to the barge.”
Mayson slung clothes over her shoulder from drawers and cabinets while Eric stuffed everything into her luggage as she raced from one side of the room to the other, driven by impulse alone.
“As long as we’re in the sky within the hour, we should be on target.”
Mayson barely heard him, only the important factors, that she was going to be whisked away to another country, and only God knew when she’d be able to contact Paige again.
Then again, Mayson didn’t know if she even wanted to be contacted again. Maybe tonight was all she wanted. Maybe sex, all hours of it, was all she was after. Mayson had seduced her, after all. Paige hadn’t chased her. If anything, she’d run in the opposite direction. Mayson had used every angle to lure her in. Used her quest for sex to lure her in.
Eric lugged her suitcases toward the front door while Mayson’s heart ached. She missed Paige already. Missed the game. Missed the feel and smell and sound of her.
Did Paige? Would she?
She spotted the phone designated for Paige and grabbed it up. There were no messages. No texts. Nothing.
She had one last riddle. One last plea for Paige to unveil her.
I wanted you where hopes go up and pennies come down. Unveil me…I beg you.
Eric yelled from the living room and Mayson shoved the phone in her pocket.
An hour later in her private jet, she was staring down over the Gulf Coast headed for Miami, missing Paige so badly it hurt, wishing she’d found the balls to tell Paige that the answers she was seeking had been there all along.
Chapter Fifteen
Paige gripped the pole while the music screamed around her. She circled the cold metal and whipped her head around, dropped to the floor, and then arched with her ass against the satin smooth steel while she rose.
She’d never been so edgy in her life. Not even the familiar routines of performance, dance rehearsal, or the music could drag her out of her funk.
Mayson hadn’t tried to contact her. Silence reigned everywhere. Other than another weird riddle from Vinden the morning after she left Mayson’s—I wanted you where hopes go up and pennies come down. Unveil me…I beg you—she hadn’t heard a word from her either.
Paige was frustrated with these rhymes and riddles. Frustrated with herself.
Her thoughts were consumed with Vinden. The feel of her at the theater. Again at the lingerie shop, with Vinden on her knees between her thighs.
Yet no matter how much she let those thoughts consume her, recalling the perfection, all the things that Paige craved, it was Mayson who wedged herself in Paige’s mind, the memories of their incredible sex squeezing Vinden to the edge.
Paige huffed and pushed off the pole. She stomped across the stage and yanked up a towel to wipe the sweat from her face.
She didn’t want to dance today. Tonight. Or even tomorrow.
What she really wanted to do was walk barefoot on the sand. Wanted to go to the park to play Frisbee with the kids. And ever since that riddle she had no desire to solve, she had an uncontrollable urge to throw a damn penny in that stupid fountain.
She wanted to be anywhere but here.
Instead, she was here, rehearsing all alone, while she imaged Mayson watching her from the audience, eating her alive in that calm, carnal stare.
Why had she run from Mayson? It was a question she’d been unable to answer from the minute she pulled away from her house, only stalling long enough for the gate to open before she floored it. Mayson hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she’d done everything perfectly right. So perfect that Paige felt ashamed for having treated her so poorly, for lashing out over a grudge. For allowing a grade school act to keep her locked inside hatred.
Had she sheltered her rage out of jealousy? Because she always longed for what Mayson had? What she’d never had? Had she been that shallow her entire life?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why couldn’t she get that woman out of her head? Out of her mind? Out of her jumbled thoughts?
Heat fluttered between her thighs as a memory stabbed. Of Mayson pushing inside her, everywhere, deep, over and over. Why did a woman she’d hated for so long have to be the one to meet all of her sexual needs and fantasies?
Why her? Why now?
Dammit. Why did it have to be Mayson Montgomery?
Worse, Mayson hadn’t tried to contact her. That infuriated Paige even more. Had she taken Paige’s departure as a fuck-off? Had her NASCAR getaway said all there was to say? Had Mayson formed her own conclusion that Paige wanted nothing to do with her? Did Paige want something more to do with her? Did she?
Fuck. Maybe she should have taken a more mature approach, like leaving a note? Or waking her up and saying good-bye? No, she couldn’t have. Hadn’t she tried that only to find herself pinned down beneath Mayson again?
Or had Mayson gotten what she wanted and moved on to her next sexual quest? Had her silence been Paige’s fuck-off?
Paige growled and slung the towel back on the floor. She stalked toward the pole, grabbed it with both hands, then twirled and bowed and arched until she reached the point of breathless exhaustion. She slumped to the floor, sweat rolling along her neck and trickling down her body.
Still, Mayson’s image was there. Her virtual reality like a torture chamber in Paige’s mind.
That’s it! Paige hit the remote to silence the music, rose, and grabbed the towel, then stormed toward her office. She fell into the chair in front of the computer with a huff only to stare blankly at her desktop.
Maybe she should call Mayson to give her an explanation. But what explanation would that be? That she didn’t want
an ever after? That she was more than content to have a happily ever fuck? That if she did reconsider, it wouldn’t be with a billionaire. Wouldn’t be with Mayson.
Right?
She fingered the candy necklace lying on the desk that should have been thrown away days ago. The thing was a disgusting sticky mess thanks to Mayson yanking her into the ocean.
The thought made her smile. Mayson wasn’t afraid to put Paige in her place. Wasn’t afraid to take the lead. God, how well she took the lead.
Once again, Paige found herself in pain. She squeezed her legs together and slammed back in the chair.
She picked up the phone Vinden had given her. Nothing. Nada. What the hell was up with her? Paige couldn’t figure out why she was so reluctant to inquire. Wouldn’t it be easy to shoot her a text to say hi, how are you, what the hell is up with the riddles, when are you going to fuck me again?
Paige tossed the phone back down. No. She wouldn’t do that. She’d be damned if she chased sex. Ever again.
Not now, when she’d found it out from behind the mask.
Dear God. The sex with Mayson had been…unforgettable. Everything she craved. It’d been all she’d ever searched for. All she’d ever longed for after leaving New Orleans. She’d hunted for it, begged for it. Why did it have to be Mayson?
Sam darted into her office. “Did you see?” Without waiting for Paige’s response, she grabbed the TV remote off the edge of her desk. “She’s all over the damn news.”
Paige slid the candy necklace back and forth with the tip of her finger while the sounds of a reporter’s voice filled the room.
“The National Hurricane Center reports that Hurricane Elena—a Category Four storm when it devastated parts of Jamaica five days ago—has turned toward open water and is losing strength. Damage reports, however, are still coming in…” The Weather Channel anchor glanced off screen and touched the intercom bud in his ear. “We have Trish O’Conner, from our affiliate News Channel Seven, reporting live from Kingston. Trish? What can you tell us about the damage there?”
Seconds ticked by while a bedraggled blonde pressed her ear bud deeper and nodded as she listened to the question delayed by technology. “Tom, I can tell you that the authorities are officially reporting twenty-two fatalities, but I personally saw twice that many bodies in the temporary morgue yesterday, and rescue teams are still digging through the devastation in a search for hundreds reported missing.” She waved toward a collapsed building behind her.
“This building behind me was one of the more reasonably priced resorts and was fully booked when the storm hit. Until they can dig down to the lobby level and find the guest registry, they have no idea how many people might still be buried in the wreckage.” The reporter gestured again, and the cameraman panned slowly to the left.
The roadway was blocked by huge, uprooted palms in a tangle of power lines. “The situation is no better outside the hotel district. Entire residential areas have been leveled. I’m told that only twenty percent of the island has power, and most people still don’t have access to basic necessities such as food, water, and restroom facilities. Rescue efforts have been delayed because the storm covered such a wide area and moved so slowly through the islands. In fact, the only help that has arrived is the private rescue effort my crew was allowed to join.”
The report flashed back to the studio and the anchor turned toward a huge monitor behind him as it filled the television screen. “This is footage your team shot earlier. Can you explain what’s going on here?”
Activity swarmed the commercial wharf around a huge barge anchored where cruise ships usually docked. A crane was off-loading temporary toilets, and forklifts shuttled pallets stacked high with boxes.
“Tom, my crew was lucky enough to ride over on a special emergency barge designed and equipped by Montgomery Enterprises. It’s amazing, actually. It was so fully loaded with emergency food, water, equipment, and some innovative temporary housing units, that there was barely room for the passengers—my crew, a medical team, and an engineering team to assist in restoring power and other services.”
The camera zoomed in on a small group of people handing out boxes of supplies to a desperate crowd.
Paige sucked in a breath and her heart stuttered. There was Mayson standing on the very top of a pallet stacked high with crates. Her arms bulged as she heaved boxes down to another worker. She was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt, and Paige could think of nothing other than climbing atop with her, capturing another kiss before working her tongue over Mayson’s sweaty neck.
Fuck. Women weren’t supposed to look that yummy with dirt and grime marking their face and arms, or fatigue written all over their expressions. She looked tired despite her fast pace.
Paige wanted to call her. Wanted to hear her voice.
“All of this has been made possible by one person, Mayson Montgomery, the CEO of Montgomery Enterprises. She’s the woman you see here unloading boxes filled with fresh water and food rations, right alongside her employees.”
The scene changed to a split screen that showed both Trish and the studio anchor.
“I’ve got to tell you, Tom, that the boat ride over here was really scary. Mayson Montgomery launched her rescue effort even though the Red Cross and FEMA officials delayed their response teams because of the high seas and horrific storm. Every member of her team is a volunteer because of that risk.”
Tom nodded solemnly as Trish was replaced by a full shot of the studio with Mayson’s company logo, double Ms, one upside down over the other, in the top corner. “Thank you, Trish. A noble effort, indeed. Something rarely, if ever, seen from the private sector. We’ll be returning later with updates from Kingston.” He glanced down and shuffled some papers. “On the international front, leaders of seven countries have gathered in London to discuss…”
Paige stared in disbelief. Was that where Mayson always disappeared to? To another country? To some disaster or another? To be a fucking hero?
Had Paige been that terribly wrong about her?
The TV screen, the sight of Mayson working, getting her nails dirty, proved Paige was a complete bitch. That Mayson was indeed one in a million. One in a billion.
“Guess you guys aren’t so different after all,” Sam announced with a smirk, then strolled from the room without cutting off the TV.
A longing swayed through Paige, and her stomach tightened as the camera zoom fell back on Mayson. She looked edible even in a ball cap. The sight made Paige miss her all the more. How could she miss her? She’d barely spent any time with her. Yet the time she had, it had been laughter, getting to know her, and then that amazing sex.
Damn. She did. She missed Mayson. She wanted Mayson to call her. To ask her on a date, for a walk on the beach, for a morning after. A real morning after.
The thought made Paige mentally gasp. Never in her entire adult life had she wanted to wake up with another woman beside her. Morning breath, hair in disarray, wasn’t her style. But damn, she did. She wanted to wake up in Mayson Montgomery’s tight embrace, wanted to kiss her when she opened her eyes.
Frustrated with her emotions, with her thoughts, Paige opened her blog. She needed to let off a little steam.
Talk to me. I’m irritated and there’s no vibrator in sight.
X
Paige sat back and waited for the responses to flood in. She read over the array of comments. Some offering to help ease her frustrations, others telling her to run to her nearest sex toy shop.
Usually, the comments made her feel better, made her smile, but not this time. This time, only one response would lift this mood. Not that she would get that one. Mayson didn’t know a damn thing about her blog.
But Vinden did. So where was she? Why wasn’t she responding? And why was Paige waiting with bated breath for either woman to contact her? More important, Mayson?
The lack of any contact left Paige more aggravated than before she posted the blog. Seemed Vinden was done with their game. If so, Paige
would never know who she was. Would never see her face. Never know her name.
Paige shook her head. Since when had she wanted to know anything about Vinden other than what time and place? Now that Vinden had apparently vanished, it had stripped away the excitement of following the convoluted clues and any hope Paige had of the sexual bliss that was her reward.
Though she’d found it, in living color, with Mayson.
Dear God, how she’d found it. Mayson was the embodiment of all her sexual fantasies, but she wouldn’t give up on Vinden yet.
Paige picked up the phone again and scanned back over the riddles. She hadn’t cared much about them before now, thought them ridiculous. Now they seemed to mean everything.
Vinden Gudinna.
Paige wanted to know who she was. She typed in her name in the white pages, but it came up as no such name available, to reenter and try again. Paige did, careful to make sure her spelling was right. Again, no such name found, nor a phone number.
“Who are you, Vinden?” Paige strummed her nails on the chair while she rolled through their text messages. She thought about the notes Vinden had left her in the lingerie shop as well.
I loved you 366 miles away.
Paige wanted to bang her head against the desk. What the fuck did all of this mean? Why couldn’t she figure it out? It appeared Vinden was trying to tell Paige who she was, how to find her, how to take off her mask.
She continued reading, reaching for the answer.
Do you believe in fate, Fedora?
Triple beginnings are our common denominator.
Next bite is mine. Good night, Fedora.
The necklace came to mind. How hot Vinden’s words had been while Paige sucked the sweet candy into her mouth, knowing Vinden had been watching her. But not near as hot as Mayson had been leaning down into Paige and taking a bite.