Authors: Talyn Scott
Evan flicked an amused glance at Dylan’s fists. “That’s just it, one of us would be damned if we cock-blocked you. So it takes two to warn you dinner is served. In fact, you missed appetizers.”
“Your timing is impeccable.” The only appetizers Dylan wanted came in the form of the juicy redhead behind him. “Leave.”
“Seriously, you’d better get your ass in the dining room.” Evan picked up Payton’s dress, shaking it out, his black hair falling over his forehead.
Julian’s emerald eyes flashed mischievously. “You also missed Avery’s speech.”
Dylan reached behind him and weaved his fingers through Payton’s, discovering they’d gone cold. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Avery will understand.”
Julian snorted. “Really? Well, Avery seemed displeased when he couldn’t spot the two of you in his audience. Of course, he should be used to you taking care of -”
Dylan pointed his finger in Julian’s face. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
Julian backed away, though Evan couldn’t take his eyes off what he could see of Payton. “Shame on you, bro. I know a lady when I see one, and I wouldn’t treat a lady this way. Couldn’t you make the effort to find an available suite upstairs?”
“I’m a spontaneous kind of guy.” Dylan seethed. “Get out.”
Evan licked his lips, a flush moving across the planes of his face. He lifted his hand for Payton. “Come, here, sweetheart.”
Savage possessiveness surged through Dylan, and he wasn’t sharing her with Evan. “Say. Nothing. More.”
“Why?” Evan pressed, “I’ve never known you to be selfish.”
A sound of protest left Payton’s lips just as Dylan dropped her hand and snatched her dress from Evan’s grip. “Last warning, leave!” In their side reflection, Dylan could see her head was down. Her body trembling, she could barely stand in her heels, and her breasts were spilling over her arm, the nipples diamond hard. Attuned to women, he understood she was nearing tears, and who could blame her? “You’ve embarrassed her enough, but don’t think this is settled between us by any means.”
“Listen to Dylan,” Julian chastised Evan. “He’s possessive of her. Anyone can see that.” He looked at Dylan in wonderment. “We’ll wait outside. To smooth the chatter, we’ll walk in the dining room together as a family. Her reputation should stay intact. Notice I said should, she is with you after all.” Meaning she might be plastered all over the internet by dawn.
When the door slid closed, he turned around. “Sweet Payton, I want to apologize. Those two know what’s coming their way.”
Her sudden laughter was a cross between panic and hysteria. “Why, for my honor?”
“Of course.”
“I was ready for it, for you, but I acted like a…He said Avery was here,” she rambled, anxiously finger-combing her curls.
A light knock sounded, his brothers nagging them to hurry. “I’ll handle Avery. Trust me to take your worries.”
“I’m an adult. Handling my worries is the adult thing to do, not passing them to another.” She adjusted her thong and seized her dress from his hold.
“Adults accept help from time to time, some more than others.” If they were in a committed relationship, he would spank away her sauciness. His only consolation was he’d redden her luscious ass soon, and then fuck her until she lost her voice from screaming her pleasure. “I want to help you.”
She looked skeptical. “Avery said the same thing.”
“Avery’s a good man.” When she bent to step into her dress, he spied wisps of red hair curling around the elastic of her underwear. Knowing she was truly natural nearly unmanned him again, his semi surging back to a solid erection. He wanted to ejaculate all over her, smear it across her creamy skin and mark the hell out of her. “I’m also thinking Evan was right about a few things.” She glared at him with those gorgeous green eyes, but he went on unperturbed. “You are a lady and deserve better. In my defense, when I first brought you here, I didn’t intend for us to go this far. You deserved better, but my dick sucked the life out of my brain and all I could think about was connecting with you in the way nature intended.” He placed his hands on her trembling shoulders and spun her to the paneled wall, zipping her dress. “So, please, accept another apology. I hope this one is the last I have to make where you’re concerned.”
She shrugged, her eyes cast down in the way of a natural submissive when she turned. “I could have left anytime.”
“But where’s the fun in leaving?”
“Still,” she said, now looking at him squarely, “I should have left. You have no idea how far off the mark you are for me.”
He knew where this was going. “Because you believe everything you read?”
“For many reasons,” she offered vaguely.
“Mostly fear?” he prodded, grabbing her handbag. When she stayed quiet, he added, “When you let fear rule you, then you lose all objectivity.” Rummaging through her purse, he noted the birth control pills on his way to her compact and lipstick, he handed the makeup to her. “Here, fix your pretty mouth and none is the wiser.”
A small smile threatened to erupt, but she pushed it back. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay.”
“Nonsense, I believe you came here to score favor with Drake.”
“Another Easton spying on me, what a surprise.” She worked the lipstick left and right, and his thoughts went to spreading those lips wider while brushing the back of her throat with his pulsating head.
“I read up on your business, and when I saw you tonight, I put together that two and two.” He curled his arm around her waist and ushered her through the door, musing on his instant familiarity with her body.
“And I bet you’re going to tell me my efforts are pointless,” she whispered as Evan and Julian flanked them. All smiled for the cameras, as they turned left toward the main corridor leading to a wing of six ballrooms.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Well, you may need your golf course, but that’s nothing in the scheme of your worldwide business. My friends and I have dropped everything we have into the firehouse, everything.”
Her desperation pained him. “I’m going to commission a necklace for you with a hidden recording device, which will play on loop my promise from earlier: I will take your worries from you and handle them.” If she would agree to become his, he’d hand her his world. “Maybe it will reach your subconscious for me.”
She looked up at him. “I don’t understand why you want to take on such a burden.”
“Maybe I don’t either.” Leaning, he pressed his lips against her ear. “But when we shared our first kiss, I forgot about everything except us. And if you don’t feel me the way I feel you, then guess what? I’ll change your mind soon enough.”
Finally, they entered the main dining room, where three hundred smiling people dined with those they backstabbed in daily business affairs. Avery immediately spotted them and stood from a rectangular table sitting sixteen members of their family. His stride was as long as Dylan’s, and Avery was at her side fast enough to start tongues wagging.
“You look incredible, Payton.” Gently, he kissed her cheek. “This way.”
Obviously, Avery finagled the place cards so Payton could sit at their family table, a place many in the expanse of this ballroom would envy. Dylan, however, longed to have Payton alone, where he would feed her a private meal, kissing her between bites. Placing his food on her tender places, he would eat from her flesh, sucking and licking his way through the night. Snapping him out of his fantasy, he noticed his seat was positioned between Drake and Julian.
“Drake.”
“What?” He grabbed his linen napkin, wiping his mouth.
“Move over one.”
Immediately, Drake turned to Payton, gracing her with a smile he reserved for cameras and unsuspecting women. All the ladies loved Drake, but right now, he looked like a cobra readying to strike. “I see you’ve charmed Dylan.”
Payton was quick to answer, “Define charmed.”
When Drake opened his mouth, Dylan put a determined hand on his shoulder. This was more than enough. Tonight, Payton had been eyed as though she were a juicy T-bone in a junkyard dog war, so if Dylan had to punch his brother in front of God and every snob here, so be it. For Drake’s ears only, he leaned down and whispered, “This is Payton Calloway. The woman you and Trey have tortured legally and potentially illegally.”
Drake sounded bored. “I recognize her.”
“How shall I immortalize you on your tombstone?”
With a roll of his eyes, Drake moved next to Julian.
Dylan brought his attention back to Payton, the object of his sudden and startling obsession. Before dinner concluded, he intended on taking every opportunity in adjusting her to four hands instead of two. He only hoped Avery would work with him on this. But if he didn’t, Dylan had a surefire way of changing his step-cousin’s mind.
“I always wanted to go diving with sharks.” Payton peeled her eyes away from Drake’s smug expression, clearly realizing she was back to square one when Dylan put his big body between Payton and Drake. “The old adage rings true: Be careful what you wish for.”
Avery cupped her cheek. “Not all wishes are bad.”
“Really?” She nearly moaned at his touch. “Because tonight I was wishing I could talk to Drake outside a courtroom.” Her heart hammering, Payton couldn’t believe she nearly lost her virginity tonight with none other than Dylan Easton. When Avery pulled his hand away she kept glancing down, examining herself to see if any telltale signs were evident. Were her seams straight, her hair sex mussed? Was she walking funny? Surely everyone in this room could see her heart pounding all over her body, that deep-seated ache between her legs begging for relief.
“I stand corrected.” Avery ushered her away from Dylan and Drake. “Even so, you don’t need to be nervous or scared.”
“Disappointed is the word I’d use.”
“I promised to help you and I am.” His gaze shifted. “Ah, my mother is coming back our way. I want you to meet her.”
“Is she friendlier than Drake?” From her research, Payton knew Gilda Easton had remained unmarried and biologically childless, yet eventually she adopted and reared several needy teens from the community. All were grown with the youngest now at twenty-one.
“Absolutely,” he said with a grin. “Yes, Mom is a tough disciplinarian who transformed unwanted and surly children into honorable citizens and unsurpassed tycoons” - he wagged his brows - “but she has a bottomless heart.”
“Obviously.” Could he smell any better? Could Avery take her back to the secret room and finish what Dylan had started? She chewed her lip until she tasted blood. What was she thinking?
“However, Mom hasn’t been the same since she lost her brother and sister-n-law in the tower fire.”
“They were Dylan’s parents, right?” Payton kept her eyes away from his scars. She wanted to ask, but understood Tower Amore’s fire wasn’t any of her business.
“Right.” Dylan was back at her side, placing his hand on her lower back and walking with them to the end of the table. She glanced at Avery, wondering what he thought of Dylan’s hand but he didn’t seem to notice. Maybe he didn’t care.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Payton knew a mere fraction of Dylan’s plight, her relationship with her parents estranged.
“Years have passed, and I’m doing fine.” He smiled down at her, his eyes searing a path across her cleavage. That’s when Payton realized by his great height he had a good glimpse of the goods — for that matter, so did Avery. “Surprisingly, this night feels like a new beginning for me.”
Avery raised an inquisitive brow, then brightened with they reached his mother. “Mom, I want to introduce Payton Calloway.” He pressed a kiss to Gilda Easton’s cheek, her formal evening attire in shades of bronze, her dyed-black hair perfectly coiffed in tight layers around her head, and her jewelry tasteful though the few pieces she wore were museum worthy. “Payton, this is my mother Gilda Easton.”
Payton took her outstretched hand, clasping it warmly. “Miss Easton, I am honored to meet you.”
“You always called me Aunt G,” Gilda said, her face going pale. “What's this Miss Easton business?”
Payton remembered Libby labeling Miss Easton eccentric, so with Avery’s explanation of her behavior over her family’s loss explained away her eccentricity. “I… um.”
Dylan cut in, “Aunt Gilda, you know the love affair I have with lamb chops.” The servers were delivering steaming plates of lamb chops in cilantro puree with a side of rutabaga and pumpkin mash. Not that Payton was familiar with these dishes but simply heard a server explaining the offerings to a nearby woman. “So we’ll be taking our seats now.”
“Helen,” Gilda said with a trembling lip, “I’m so glad your back.” She released Payton’s hand with a tender pat.
Payton forced a smile, unknowing whether to correct her or pretend she was Helen. She decided on the latter, when Avery gently tugged her. “Enjoy your dinner. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, dear.”
“Sorry about that,” Avery offered.
She gave him a sidelong glance, keeping her smile in place. Avery appeared far more disturbed than reasonable. When she looked at Dylan, she spied a matching expression. She took her seat at the table, giving a small wave across the room to a smiling Libby. “I think she’s genuinely nice.”
“Where’s Trey?” Julian asked as Dylan pushed in Payton’s chair.
Avery settled next to Payton, picking up his knife and fork to cut his meat. “I saw him step out after my speech.”
“He went home for the night.” Drake spoke over the rim of his glass, his eyes landing straight on Libby, who was perched four tables over. Though, fortunately, her attention was filled with two handsome men. “Trey mentioned the lights bothered him.”
Payton knew Trey was the main instigator of their legal woes. He operated the resort division of The Easton Company, yet not a single image of him could be found on the internet. If Trey wasn’t here and Drake refused to be reasonable, then nothing had changed for their firehouse. But when Dylan explained quietly that Trey was legally blind, compassion unsettled her. “Was he born that way?”
“Accident.” Dylan glanced at the chandeliers, chewing his food thoughtfully before he said to Drake, “The lighting is as I requested, same as always.”
Drake gave him a look. “You’ll have to take his word for it. He said the lights bothered him, so they did.”
Dylan traced a thumb across her knuckles before he cut another bite. “All right.”
“I had no idea you were coming tonight,” Avery spoke softly, discreetly lifting the correct fork when she’d chosen the wrong one.
She smiled her thanks and exchanged forks. “Nor did I, but Lib’s father surprised us with last-minute tickets; I mean plates.”
“I’m thrilled to see you.” Avery placed a gentle hand on her forearm, the simple action sending waves of heat through her. “I was going to call you later tonight,” he offered apologetically. “Work was…complicated.” He stared hard at Drake before looking back to her. “And there was no shortcut to be had.”
“I stayed busy.” A phone call or text would have taken five minutes or less, but she had no wish to express her newly discovered neediness. And after Avery heard about her making out with Dylan, whatever had barely started between them would be over in a flash. “Noah and I finished a tiling project, which took most of the day.” Immediately she felt tension coil beneath his skin.
“What about you and Noah, Payton?”
The way Avery was looking at her now, she hadn’t a doubt he was still interested. “Noah is my friend and business partner.” And he wants more without taming his wayward dick.
Dylan leaned over. “Eat, sweetheart, you’ll need your strength for later.”
She couldn’t believe Dylan said that in front of Avery, and she refused to respond. Her eyes dropped to her plate, her mind concentrating on her meal so she wouldn’t spontaneously combust. Cutting her meat, she reminded herself at one time or the other, Payton had tasted everything offered on her small dish separately, so how different could this mixture taste? Nevertheless, when she bit into the lamb combined with cilantro, a shard of lemon zest watered her eyes. It might as well have been bleach for all its effectiveness on her palate.
Dylan was quick to offer white wine and a comforting smile. “Drink this.”
“Thank you.” After her first sip, Payton nearly gulped the rest. It was refreshingly delicious, and she was beyond thirsty after her private encounter with the infamous Dylan Easton.
“Ah, you enjoy muscadet, too.” Slowly, Dylan snaked his fingertips down her arm, sliding left and right, and then taking the nearly empty glass from her hold.
“French?” Payton questioned as Dylan’s hand disappeared under the tablecloth, finding her thigh for a gentle squeeze, though his eyes were anything but gentle. She felt her chin drop, but quickly composed herself.
“Yes, muscadet is French.” Avery’s eyes drifted from Payton to Dylan, his pupils expanding with heated interest. “Dylan spends much of his time in France, overseeing our hotel lines there. A few of his excursions include visiting our vineyards and choosing his favorite blends for our hotels and restaurants.”
Dylan picked at a dinner roll, keeping his eyes on her. “We’re opening another location in Southeastern France. I take advantage of any free time I find when there, and the winery visits are by choice. Micro-managing isn’t required of me,” he spoke in low tones, his fingers dipping between her thighs. Her dress was too tight to allow him access without unzipping, yet his teasing caresses heated her just as thoroughly. “However, recently, I’ve found a certain hands-on area too enticing to resist,” he added with another pointed fondle, and she couldn’t help but squirm.
“Speaking of French wine, I want to thank you for the generous gift, Avery, but I can’t accept it.”
“What generous gift?”
“The champagne,” she reminded, “delivered in a basket filled with oodles of French goodies. It was over-the-top amazing, but far too expensive for my comfort zone.”
Avery shook his head, his dark hair gleaming under the chandeliers. “Apart from the flowers, I’ve sent you nothing else.” His hand landed on her opposite thigh.
“Excuse me,” Payton said. This was too much, too confusing. Avery’s hand bumped right into Dylan’s fingers. She nearly knocked her chair over when she stood. “Uh, I need a powder room.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Avery offered.
“So will I,” Dylan said, eyeing her heatedly.
She could feel her entire body shaking as she grabbed her purse. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” Turning on her heel, she made for the nearest exit, spotting Libby’s eyes on her.
In no time, her neck-breaker sandals were clacking on the tile inside another funky mirror-tiled corridor. She was upset and confused, even wondering if she should return to the dining room at all, when Payton grew disoriented. One door looked like a door, but in actuality was its reflection. She spun, pressing her hands across the next wall right when an image appeared behind her: The man with the cane who’d stared hard at Libby on the dance floor. And even with the cane, he was imposing. “Who’s there?” She backed away as he stepped forward, closing every inch of distance she took. “Who are you?”
“Trey Easton.”
She touched her chest, her breath whooshing out in one big rush. “You frightened me.”
“I should frighten your bank account, at least.” He moved in front of her, his wavy hair a deep chestnut. But his eyes were a startling green tourmaline. And by the intensity of them, they told a story all their own. The surprising thing was he appeared too young to be sporting that kind of chip on his shoulder. “You haven’t deep enough pockets to fight my company. I can take you to court as many times as necessary, draining you in the process.”
“You have other possible roadways to choose from, so why fight to tear down the firehouse?”
“Your firehouse is in the middle of my property. You haven’t any viable roadway accesses due to the property lines I own. And you realize, for parking purposes alone, your apartments slash hippie-hangout will never pass inspection.”
She felt a threat in there somewhere. And since this conversation was a waste of effort, Payton asked with exasperation, “Who in the county did you payoff to screw with our property lines?” Something underhanded had transpired in the county paperwork long after Libby’s father had invested in the firehouse for her, yet there wasn’t a paper trail to be had. Every document backed up The Easton Company owning a complete circle around the firehouse, which included their parking lot and roadway access.
Instead of answering her question, he offered, “We can resolve this right here.”
Deal with the devil flashed across her mind, but she nodded. “Go on.”
“I’ll buy you out.”
This suggestion wasn’t Payton’s first choice or her second, for that matter. She had taken a chance with the only money she’d received for college tuition to become a business owner alongside her friends, to meld with the community she grew up in and loved dearly. Pushing the hair from her eyes, Payton figured it would be just her luck for Trey Easton to dangle this golden carrot, forcing her hand to avoid a lengthy and costly court battle. “I don’t want you to buy me out. I want you to fix whatever you’ve illegally maneuvered behind the scenes at the county office.”
He didn’t bother to deny it. “Never.” Closing his eyes briefly, he winced in pain. “Normally, I wouldn’t have suggested a buyout. After all, you have Dylan and Avery eating out of your palms, which anyone would find suspicious given our upcoming litigation.” He pursed his lips, staring at her unnervingly. “But I realized, tonight, their attentions aren’t exactly your doing.”
She shook her head. “They’re not eating out of my palms.” Were they?
“Miss Calloway, you’re not feigning naiveté, are you?”
“No, Mr. Easton, but given time in your world I would certainly master it.”
A bark of laughter left him. “I’ll make it easy for you. You’ve invested twenty-five thousand and so has Noah Wyatt. I’ll buy both of you out at three times your investment. It’s a ridiculous offer but I’m feeling generous.”
“Not that I’m considering your offer.” A lie and they both knew it. “But there’s three of us,” she corrected. “And Libby’s father bought the firehouse at auction for one hundred thousand.”
Trey put his shoulder on the wall, leaning. “Elizabeth must maintain her investment. I would simply take over your and Mr. Wyatt’s” – a devilish smile flitted across lips – “positions.”
Payton blinked in total bewilderment. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” A determined clicking sounded at the end of the hall. He tilted his head as if he could identify someone by the cadence of his or her steps. “However, you’re in no shape to refuse my offer.” As the clicks drew closer, he pulled away from the wall and handed her a card. “I’ve written my personal number on the back.”
“The have and have nots,” she mused aloud, accepting his card. “The power the rich have over the poor, does money really buy happiness? Cause I’m telling you right now that you look miserable, and your misery has nothing to do with my firehouse, does it?”
“I don’t have a meek bone left in my body, nor do I care what you think of me. I want to hear from you and Mr. Wyatt by the end of the week.” Easily, he found an exit at his left and disappeared.