And she was unable to help the soft moan that escaped her. The mental picture of that was too damn delicious. “Just one night,” Kylie murmured.
“Just one,” Cade agreed.
—
Kylie had to go back to work with her panties missing. It was an incredible distraction, because her skirt wasn’t tight. Every time someone walked past, she clutched at the hem in fear it’d blow up and show that she was completely bare to her waist. She stood up and repaired her hair and makeup in her mirror, trying to hide the puffiness of her lips. She sprayed perfume and dabbed it at her pulse points so no one would smell the musky scent of sex on her.
Mostly? She fidgeted.
Cade sat on the greenroom couch that was dragged along to every one of Daphne’s shows. True to his word, he paid not the slightest bit of attention to Kylie. Instead, he focused on his phone and sipped a whiskey he’d gotten from the bar.
At least she thought he was ignoring her. At one point, she ran to the bathroom because she could still feel her own dampness between her legs, and so she scrubbed herself as best she could and tried not to get aroused by the thought that Cade could drag her back to that janitor closet at any moment and prove to her that he could make her come in the blink of an eye.
The secret, naughty part of her rather hoped he would. She tried to shut that part of her mind down.
When she returned from the bathroom, though, her phone was back on her makeup table. Surprised, she picked it up and ran her fingers over the screen. She knew she’d left that in Cade’s room this morning by accident. Unlocking the screen, she gazed at the text message on top.
Cade: I have your panties. They’re wet still, and if I put my hand in my pocket, it comes out smelling like your pussy. It’s tempting to just shove my hand in there over and over again, mostly because I love your scent.
Lord have mercy, her nipples were hard. Kylie sucked in a breath and began to text back.
Kylie: Please let me have my panties back.
Cade: Convince me.
She licked her lips nervously, tasting the thick strawberry gloss she’d put on her mouth post-closet.
Kylie: How?
Cade: Get creative.
Kylie: I’ll . . . blow you in the limo once we get out of here.
She squeezed her thighs together tightly because just thinking about that made her wet again. Why did she like the thought of being on her knees before him so much? All he had to do was smile at her and she was practically reaching for his zipper.
Cade: Tempting, but I feel I need more incentive. These are very wet panties.
She smothered a groan of frustration and glanced over at him to see if he was looking in her direction. The bastard was lounging, his pose as casual as could be. Meanwhile here she was with hard nipples and getting wet between her legs all over again. And no damn underwear!
As she watched, his hand shifted, and then he imperceptibly touched his fingers just above his mouth.
Smelling them again. Smelling her.
God. She was going to be so wet between her legs she was going to need to head back to the restroom and mop up again in a minute.
Stop that, she texted.
Cade: Or what?
This new side of Cade was driving her insane. Driving her mad with need, but also driving her crazy.
I’ll . . . send you naked selfies, she offered.
Cade: That’s an enticing proposal. Tell you what. I’ll let you have the panties back once I receive the pictures.
Kylie gritted her teeth.
I’ll send you the selfies later. I need my panties back now.
“Who are you texting?” Ginger asked, appearing at her side.
Kylie jerked and nearly dropped her phone. “What? Huh?”
Ginger gave her another suspicious look. “What the fuck’s your problem? You’re as jumpy as Daphne.”
“Sorry,” Kylie said, putting a hand to her breasts. “You scared me.”
“I bet,” Ginger grumped. “You had this weird look on your face and you were texting like no tomorrow. Who you texting?”
That was nosy. Kylie forced herself to give Ginger an innocent smile. “Just an old friend from school. She’s trying to get tickets.”
“Uh-huh.” Ginger didn’t sound like she believed her, but she didn’t push. Instead, she showed Kylie one of Daphne’s silvery kimonos for one of her midshow numbers. “Look, she’s gotten purple lipstick on the collar of both of her backups and I can’t get it out. Do you know how to remove this shit from fabric? Or maybe you have a good makeup remover? I’ll try anything at this point, or I have to rip the collar out and redo it.”
“Let me see,” Kylie said, sliding her phone carefully into her purse and locking the screen again so no one could see the filthy texts she was sharing with Cade. Her fingers shook as she took the fabric from Ginger. “I do have a cream lip-stain remover that we could always try.” She set the fabric down and began digging through her box of makeup removers.
Getting the stains out of the stage costumes provided a distraction for the rest of the show, and by the time the audience roared their way through the encore, Kylie was ready with Daphne’s press makeup. She wasn’t even thinking about Cade . . . much.
Okay, so she was, but she was under control now at least.
When Daphne tripped down the stairs in her platform heels, she took one look in her greenroom, squealed, and ripped off her bright pink wig. “Cade! Baby! You’re here!”
Kylie watched as the billionaire stood up and Daphne launched herself into Cade’s arms—into Kylie’s husband’s arms—and began to smother his face with kisses.
Kylie might have snapped the eye pencil she was holding, too. But she told herself that it was brittle and probably needed to be replaced, and stuck it back in one of her makeup totes. Goddamn cheap cosmetics. She fussed with her things, trying not to pay attention to Daphne and Cade. After all, she didn’t care if they kissed or got chummy, right? She was going with Cade tonight, but only because he was blackmailing her.
It’d be just one night.
Then she could convince him of the annulment and they could both be on their way.
—
The only reason Cade let Daphne kiss his cheeks was because he loved seeing the mutinous expression cross Kylie’s face. She might have been trying to hide their relationship from the world, but one only had to look at her aghast expression to see how pissed she was at Daphne’s actions.
And really, Daphne was just being Daphne. Exuberant, silly, and charming.
She planted another smacking kiss on his cheek. “Look at you! Mister Sexy. Nice suit.” Daphne grinned, wiping at a smear of pink lipstick she left on his collar. Then she shrugged and threw her arms around his neck again. “I missed you! About time you came to see me again.”
Daphne was beaming so happily, her mood good. And Kylie was glaring, tossing makeup into one of her big containers as if it were full of poison. It made him feel curiously gleeful to see Kylie get moody and jealous for a change. She was the one that didn’t want to say anything to Daphne, after all. And because she didn’t, he had to continue the farce that he was here for Daphne, when he was only here for his new wife. So he put a fake smile on his face. “Yep. How was the show?”
“Didn’t you watch? I got two ovations.” She pouted and then flung herself off of him. “I need a towel, too. I’m fucking bathing in sweat here.”
“Do you want to take your makeup off?” Kylie asked, her voice so carefully neutral that it made Cade grin, because he knew she was seething inside.
“Soon, Fat Marilyn. My boo here doesn’t mind if I’m a little sweaty, right, babe?” And she winked at Cade.
Fuck. There was that Fat Marilyn comment again. “Daphne, that name’s not appropriate and you know it.”
“Boo?” She tilted her head at him. Before he could correct her, he watched as her face suddenly crumpled and she began to sob.
Kylie shot him an alarmed look, and Snoopy rus
hed to Daphne’s side. The entire greenroom got quiet.
Everyone waited, tense, as Daphne scrubbed at her face, weeping. No one knew what to do. It was completely out of the blue. And everyone hesitated, because they were afraid that one wrong word would turn Daphne’s crying into a firestorm of rage.
Eventually, her assistant stepped forward. “What is it?” Snoopy asked, putting a hand to Daphne’s forehead. “Do you feel okay?”
Daphne shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’m not okay at all.”
Alarmed looks were exchanged. “What is it?” Snoopy asked.
“I’m just really tired,” Daphne sobbed. She clung to Snoopy’s hand. “I need some headache medicine. Can you get it for me?” She gave her assistant a plaintive look.
The assistant hesitated and exchanged a look with another person hovering nearby—someone that Cade assumed was the tour manager. He didn’t like that look, either.
“Yeah, I’ll go get your . . . headache meds,” Snoopy said after a moment. “Be right back.”
“Double dose,” Daphne called after her, sniffling.
Quietly, Kylie handed her a face cloth and Daphne began to wipe makeup free from her sweaty face. Kylie shot him a worried look and tilted her head as if to say See? See? This is why we don’t say anything.
“Are you all right, Daphne?” Cade asked, approaching his old friend again. He moved forward and put a hand on her shoulder, noticing that she was thin under the padding of her costume, and that when she removed her makeup, her face looked hollow and pale, with a fresh breakout of acne on her forehead.
She didn’t look—or act—like someone who was getting clean. And that made him worry all over again.
Daphne waved an irritated hand at him. “Quit hovering, damn it. I’m just tired. Being tired makes me moody.”
“Can I get you anything?” he asked politely. “Maybe a bottle of water or some cigarettes?”
“Snoopy’s got what I need,” Daphne retorted. “You’re being a mother hen.”
And that was more like the regular Daphne. He relaxed, stuffed his hand in his pocket . . . and froze when he touched the damp material there. He’d forgotten about Kylie’s panties, and now he didn’t want to take his hand out.
He noticed that Kylie stiffened, too. It was clear she was watching his movements.
“So,” he said to Daphne. “Tell me about the show. Two ovations, huh?”
Daphne gave him a tired smile, tugging one of her legs up in her chair and unlacing her platform boot. “You should have seen it, Cade. It’s like all of Vegas was out there tonight.”
He chuckled. “They probably were.”
—
They’re just friends, Kylie told herself as she reapplied Daphne’s makeup. Friends being friendly and hanging out together. That’s all it was. Cade had told Kylie that he was interested in just Kylie, and not Daphne. There was no reason to be jealous.
But no matter how many times she repeated this to herself, Kylie got a funny tightness in her stomach when she saw Daphne had pulled a second director’s chair next to hers for Cade to sit in. And that tightness returned every time the two of them bent their heads together and shared a joke or a laugh. And the tightness remained when Daphne insisted on dragging Cade around the room with her as she did meet and greets. He wanted to be with Kylie, didn’t he?
But . . . he sure didn’t look unhappy to be Daphne’s property all night, Kylie thought miserably.
She was relieved when the press thinned out and the staff started to head out. The dancers—all party animals—were hitting the open bar and getting their postshow party on. The rest of the crew—Daphne’s personnel, chef, assistant, wardrobe, etc.—usually headed back to the hotel if they weren’t sticking around for the party. When the first few people started to trickle out, Kylie was relieved.
She was tired, she was getting progressively crankier, and she just wanted to go home and curl up in a pair of pajamas and nurse her wounded feelings.
Except she wasn’t home, she was in Vegas.
And she couldn’t go home, because she had a husband.
And that husband was insisting she go home with him.
One thing was for sure, though—whatever Snoopy had given Daphne for her “headache” had cured Daphne’s erratic mood. She was at her best tonight: charming and funny, the life of the party. Everyone was laughing at Daphne’s jokes and she teased her favorite dancers, and erupted in giggles now and then. Snoopy wasn’t happy, though, but Snoopy was discreet, and if she didn’t like something Daphne was doing, she didn’t say a thing.
Kylie tried to watch Daphne as the night wore on. She tried to see if Daphne went out to smoke cigarettes repeatedly, like Cade said she would do when she was finished with drugs. But she didn’t see Daphne leave the room. She didn’t see her light up. She didn’t see her throwing up or clutching her stomach, or even looking the slightest bit sick.
Instead, Daphne looked happy . . . almost manically so.
She wondered if she should say something to Cade. Or would it come across as pettiness and jealousy instead of concern?
“We’re heading back to the hotel,” Ginger said, distracting Kylie. “You coming with?”
“No, uh, I think I’m just going to, you know, stay here for a bit.” To her vast embarrassment, her cheeks kept getting redder and redder.
“Uh-huh,” Ginger said, clearly not buying the lie. “See you tomorrow, then.”
“Right,” Kylie said vigorously. She gave her a thumbs-up. “See you then.”
Ginger just rolled her eyes, picked up her own bag, and headed out with the others. It left Kylie in a curious predicament. Exactly how would she sneak out without alerting Daphne, who was currently clinging to Kylie’s man?
And Jesus, what was wrong with Kylie that she was thinking of him as her man? He wasn’t even paying a lick of attention to her, standing across the room with Daphne’s posse. She doubted he’d notice if she exited and disappeared for the night, too.
He was probably bluffing about the panties thing, too, right?
Theoretically.
But even as she pondered making a swift escape, her cell phone buzzed. She checked the screen.
Cade: Go outside and head to the limo. My driver knows to expect you. I’ll follow in about five minutes. When I get in there, if you’re not there, I’m presenting Daphne with your still-wet panties.
God, he didn’t play fair. Even as she thought it, she felt a shiver of desire. Why was she so insanely attracted to this guy? Why was it that having sex with him and being around him was suddenly trumping all common sense? It was maddening.
She should man up and confess to Daphne that she’d slept with Cade. Twice. And she might have married him by accident. And then let him go down on her in the janitor closet. But no, they were done. Really and truly. And she didn’t want him, despite the fact that she’d promised to send him dirty selfies.
It would all be totally aboveboard if she just told Daphne, right? And maybe she wouldn’t get fired. Maybe Daphne would still be on her manic shit and she’d laugh it all off. Maybe the best time to tell Daphne something bad was when she was on whatever uppers she was on. Brightening, Kylie looked over at Daphne’s small group.
As she did, Daphne knocked a drink out of someone’s hand and shot him the bird. “Get out of my party, asshole.”
Everyone around her looked shocked. The room got quiet again, a sure sign that Daphne was lashing out unexpectedly.
Kylie swallowed. Okay. Maybe now was not the time after all.
As she watched, Cade leaned in and murmured something in Daphne’s ear. His gaze caught Kylie’s from across the room, and he oh-so-subtly pointed at the door.
Yeah, okay. For now, she’d go and have fabulous forbidden sex with the sexy rich guy. Like that was a hardship. She just wouldn’t think about the bad things that could happen, like sending a junkie into a downward spiral . . . or losing her job and her senile Nana getting kicked out of her nursing home.
r /> Not that Cade, Mr. Money himself, would let that happen. He’d probably swoop in and try and pay all her bills to rescue Kylie. But damn, she would be a horrible person if she just rolled over and let him. If she just threw her hands up and allowed herself to be a burden to him.
She didn’t need rescuing; she needed to make better choices in life.
Besides, if she did let him swoop in and pay for everything, what was to stop him from holding that stuff over her head? Bad enough he had her panties. And then what? Throw the money in her face every time they disagreed? Remind her constantly that she owed him?
That she was a burden? And then when he was tired of “supporting” her, would he toss her out on the street, too, leaving her humiliated and alone?
No, it was best if Cade didn’t know about her Nana and wasn’t involved, no matter how “easy” it might be to confess her money woes to him and let him handle things.
So she quietly slipped out of the room and headed to the front of the concert hall.
As was becoming familiar to see, a stretch limo waited at the curb in front of the building. The driver was leaning against the car and he straightened as Kylie headed toward him.
“I’m with Mr. Archer,” she told the man.
He gave her a surprised look, and Kylie felt a flare of annoyance. What, a fatty like her didn’t deserve a hot, wealthy guy? She hated seeing that expression on people’s faces. Maybe that was why she was pushing so hard against Cade as he tried to get closer to her. At what point was he going to up and realize, Oh, Kylie’s not all that attractive, and dump her? Everyone else seemed to be waiting for him to wise up, so why not her?
She got in the limo in a sour mood. It didn’t help that her phone didn’t have a single new text lighting it up. Maybe he’d changed his mind and decided to hang with Daphne after all. Even if he wasn’t interested in her romantically, Daphne still had to be more fun than “Fat Marilyn,” right? Maybe he was regretting his pushiness toward her. He could have anyone. Why was he working so hard to get her?
Kylie stewed for a few minutes, staring at her phone, wanting a text to appear. As five minutes dragged into ten, and then twenty, she contemplated texting him a snotty little remember me? sort of text.