Sarasota Sin (14 page)

 She palmed the back of her tense neck, rubbing away the freaky conversation. “I guess I should have asked that uppity bastard where the damned bathroom is.”

“It’s this way,” Libby was suddenly next to her, tugging at her elbow.  She had the presence of mind to keep her mouth closed during their two-minute jot down the next corridor, this one more sedate with ebony hardwoods and low-lying floral arrangements wrapped around pillar candles minus the colorful plumes.   They found the nearest bathroom, a fancy number with one stall and gilded sinks.

 Payton damped several paper towels and ran them across the back of her neck.  Her thoughts drifted to yesterday, when Avery had backed her against the countertop.  The way his body fit against hers, his scent, and the strength in his arms as he held her made Payton feel almost delicate, certainly treasured. Was this her inexperience showing? Is that why she was completely overwhelmed by Avery’s attentions only to nearly loose her virginity at the hands of his cousin?

So what was she to do?

“You’re up,” Libby said, emerging from the stall.

“I’m good.” Her thoughts were racing. “Well, that’s a lie.”

“I saw them.”

“Them?” Payton squeaked.

“Yeah, I already knew Avery was after you.” She put her phone in front of Payton. “But then Noah texted me this. He missed his gig. His drummer wrecked his bike on the way to the appointed club and dislocated his shoulder.”

“Aaron?” Payton ran a finger over the phone’s screen, enlarging it.

“Yeah, they won’t be able to preform for a while.”

Nearly shocked speechless, Payton couldn’t believe what she was seeing. A picture of Dylan and the blonde from the tower posing at a Washington D.C. function with the caption reading: “Dylan Easton leaves Sarasota Florida socialite Caroline Roslyn for mystery redhead.  Oh, my…” The next picture was an evening shot of Payton walking into the tower wearing the flapper dress.  The one after that portrayed her walk of shame, her early morning escort via security while still in said flapper dress.  Then, most surprisingly of all, the last picture showed Dylan escorting her inside the room behind the elevators, his hand possessively branding her lower back.  “They have a clear shot of my face! It’s only a matter of minutes before they splatter my name all over the internet.” Her mother had been embarrassed enough over her father’s fall from grace, but this would finish her off. “Mom’s fought so hard to regain her mental stability and her dignity. And you know how these things get twisted around.  I’ll forever be known as the slut who slept with Dylan Easton to save my firehouse, and we didn’t even go through with it.” Only because they were interrupted, she reminded herself.

“If they only knew the real you, and the way you’ve guarded your virginity, they wouldn’t accuse you of such nonsense.” Libby rubbed her shoulder sympathetically. “Where was that last one taken, somewhere in this hotel’s lobby?”

“Behind the elevators,” her voice broke.

“It’s going to be okay.”

        Payton had so many things to tell Libby that she didn’t know where to start, so she blurted out. “Trey Easton has offered to buy me out for three times my investment, he wants to buy Noah’s interest as well, but you would stay a partner.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “What do you make of all that?”

      Libby gaped. “I don’t know what to make of it at all.”

      Payton’s phone buzzed. “Neither do I.  It’s ludicrous and he refuses to tell me his reasons.” She took the incoming call. “Hey, Noah, I’m sorry to hear about Aaron.” Noah was more concerned about her and the internet crap. “I’m fine. Yeah, we’ll be home sooner than later, with me crawling out of here wearing a paper sack over my head. Don’t dare drive down here!”

      “We’re leaving now, Noah,” Libby said, snatching the phone. “She’s tougher than this.” She looked at Payton. “He wants to know if he can munch on your French gift basket.”

      “Tell him to have at it.”

      “Enjoy and we’ll see you in a few.” She slid her finger across the screen and handed Payton her phone. “He sounds hurt. You know – the way he sounded when you got those flowers, and then the basket.  He’s jealous.”

      Noah wasn’t comparable to the way Dylan or Avery made her feel. “Did you see all those claw marks and love bites on Noah recently?”

      “He’s always wearing the remnants of wild sex.” She rolled her eyes and washed away Payton’s mascara streaks. “Noah doesn’t turn them away. What else is new?”

      “I’ll never give him the opportunity to hurt me, and as sincere as he seems; I know he’ll never stay faithful.”

      Libby looked at her appraisingly, nodding with satisfaction. “I was hopeful for you two, since you’re such good friends. But I won’t push him on you any longer. He needs to grow up.”

      Payton frowned. “The gift basket.”

      “What about it?” Libby grabbed the door handle, waiting.

      “Avery didn’t send the gift basket and champagne. I asked him at dinner.”  The color drained from Libby’s face. “What is it, Lib?”

      “I phoned Dad right before we went in for appetizers, thanking him for buying our plates.  He said he didn’t buy them.” She adjusted her dress.  “That the price was fifteen thousand per plate and he refused to shell out forty-five thousand dollars more for our dilemma.”

      “How did the tickets arrive?”

      “A messenger left them in the downstairs office by the main gallery. There wasn’t a card, but Dad often forgoes notes and such, so I assumed they were from him.”

      Payton knew Avery hadn’t sent the tickets, either, due to the fact he was surprised to see her tonight. “There wasn’t a card on that basket, either.”

      “We’ve got a lot to figure out,” Libby said, opening the bathroom door and waving Payton ahead of her.

      Payton groaned, “Let’s get home.”  Right as Payton walked into the corridor, a determined hand gripped her arm with gentle steel.

      “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Dylan,” Payton whispered through clenched teeth, “let go of me. Everyone’s staring.”

       “And they’re going to keep on staring so why don’t you smile,” he urged.
       Her mouth curved. “The internet has -”

       Dylan cut her off, “We were alerted.” He had his phone to his ear. “I’ve got her.  South parking garage, put Drake on it then.” Staring down at Libby, he greeted her with his charming playboy smile, “I am Dylan Easton. You must be Elizabeth Bailey. It’s a pleasure.”

       “Is it?” Libby frowned, speaking just as quietly. “My best friend is all over the internet as your newest conquest.” She jabbed him with her finger. “I’m not happy about that.”

       “Neither am I,” he countered without dropping his smile. “Find your valet ticket.” With a sigh, she produced it from her purse, handing it over with a scowl. “L3246,” he read into the phone before hitting end. “Elizabeth, my brother Drake will safely escort you to my private section of Hytel Plume’s garage. Your car will be waiting there the second you arrive.”

       “Drake Easton is going to escort me?” Her lip curled in anticipation. “The man who threatened to take me to trial?  Well, hot damn. I’ll be happy to chat his ear off on the way to your garage.” She tried to tug Payton’s arm from his grasp. “Where is he?”

       Dylan kept his eyes locked with Payton’s, his voice low with intent, “Tell your friend goodnight.”

       “Don’t tell me what to do.” Though the steel in his voice wound through her, stirring that delicious ache he’d left earlier.

       “You’re forcing my hand.  There are more reporters than I can shake a stick at roaming all sides of this hotel. You will walk through the lobby with me, out the front doors, and into my awaiting car as the lady you are.”

       “Everyone will think I’m your…” She didn’t know the proper word to use. Girlfriend sounded silly for a man such as him. He didn’t look like the girlfriend type.

       “My woman? Well you sure as hell won’t be labeled my conquest.” He shook his blond head. “I won’t stand for it. So there’s no hiding us. I refuse to sneak you out the back way as if I’m ashamed of our relationship.”

       “What relationship are you referring to?” Libby was fuming. “Is this all to clear your conscience?” she asked as Drake showed up, carrying both of their wraps. “Or do you always drag virgins into secret rooms of your hotel?”

       “Libby,” Payton whispered, “how could you?”

       Drake’s mouth dropped, but he regained his composure relatively quickly. “Miss Bailey, Payton is in good hands.” He inclined his head to a set of doors, offering Libby the crook of his arm and Payton her wrap. “If you will, this way.”

       Libby ignored Drake’s arm. “Pay, I’m sorry…I was so angry.”

       Payton’s eyes dropped to the floor as she twirled the black silk over one arm. If she could only fall in a deep hole somewhere.  “I’m all right, just go home.”

       “Keep your phone on,” Libby said as she followed Drake.

       “I will.” Dylan stayed quiet for what felt like an eternity, as though he had an internal debate going on inside his head, his grip on her arm unfaltering. Reluctantly, Payton suggested, “Shouldn’t we go.” A small flash went off to her left. “People are snapping pictures of us.”

       Though his smile remained, his jaw set stubbornly. “Keep your chin up, literally.” Dylan’s voice was encouraging yet unyielding.  Without saying another word, he switched hands, placing one on the small of her back, with the other reaching around her waist and securing her wrist in a firm and comforting grip. 

       When they turned the next corner, Julian and Evan greeted them with unwavering smiles; Gilda Easton walking between them blew Payton an adorable kiss. They had their cool composures and camera-ready smiles at the ready. The high ceilings echoed conversations droning on, the chatter increasing when they walked through the main lobby beneath a blistering chandelier. Or maybe she was blinded by strobes going off in every direction.

       “Dylan,” she pleaded, her smile slipping. She felt Evan or maybe Julian at her side. But who knew since she couldn’t see anything?

       Dylan pressed his lips against her ear, his hold on her rock steady. “Remember what I said: chin up.”

       A mocking voice asked, “Mr. Easton, out with the old, in with the new?” Flash. Snap. Flash. Payton covered her eyes with the palm of her hand.  “What?  No comment? Are you kidding me?”

        Payton gasped. “I think my retinas are burned.”  Appreciative laughter answered her, and she couldn’t believe these vultures thought she was joking.  Her eyes were killing her, and she couldn’t see a thing.  A sense of being corralled was what she felt, as though she were a circus animal loading on a train for the next stop.

       Dylan answered a few inquiries about an upcoming resort in South Beach, but ignored questions about Payton. When the night air moved over her skin, she realized they were outside, and she heard the hum of a very expensive engine running next to her.  The door of the car must have been open, since she felt cool air hitting her side.  A kiss touched her cheek and then she recognized Evan’s voice whispering in her ear.  “You’re home free, beautiful girl. Oh, and if you get bored with them, I can make your life interesting.”

       She blinked a few times and her vision returned. “I think it’s interesting enough, but thanks for the offer.” 

       When Dylan made to help her in the low riding car, which resembled a black Lamborghini - but she was too ignorant about cars to make a guess, a dreaded comment stopped all bustling activity. The night vultures surrounding them went stock still with anticipation. 

       “Payton Calloway,” a woman called out from the back, “It appears negotiation tactics are your specialty. Sleeping with the enemy should roll things in favor for our locally upcoming Sarasota Firehouse.  What’s your comment?”

       Chatter picked up, cameras flashing in order to capture Payton’s utter humiliation. She opened her mouth to tell that bitch exactly what she thought of her. Then Dylan stepped in front of Payton, half-shielding her from this nasty side of his high-society world.

       With a firm, smooth-as-whiskey voice, Dylan demanded, “You will direct all your questions to me.”

       “Has litigation stalled, Mr. Easton?”

       “You can phone Drake or Trey Easton’s office for any inquiries on that subject. They handle our resort division.”

       “Yet you’re handling negotiations.”

       His body stiffened, the heat of his back seeping into Payton’s chest.  She reveled in his warmth, needed it about now. “As a woman yourself,” Dylan responded, “I’m sure you’re not proposing that another woman has to leave her brain at home and deign to use her body in conducting modern-day business.”

       To Payton’s surprise, the woman laughed. “I wouldn’t assume that, but we are talking about you, Mr. Easton.  Miss Calloway is tailing a long line of your conquests and that speaks for itself.”

       Payton pressed her hand against his back, when she heard a low rumble leave his chest. The needed to leave, but what happened next was shocking.

       “Payton Calloway is a respected member of the community.” Dylan reached around and brought her forward, wrapping his big arms around her shoulders. “I would appreciate all of you showing respect for my future wife.” He dipped her then, in an old-Hollywood-movie swoop, threading his tongue in her mouth easily since she’d gasped her last breath and parted her lips wide. Snap. Flash. Snap. Question after question after question buzzed all around her head. 

       When finally he relinquished his claiming kiss, he hovered above her lips, still holding her over the ground with her back arched and red hair sliding over his tuxedo-clad arm. She flashed him a mega-watt smile, murmuring against his mouth, “I’m going to kill you.”

       He laughed at that, sliding his mouth across her cheekbone until it landed on her ear. “That’s not the first time I’ve been threated by an angry woman, but it’ll be the last. So you see, I’m not too worried.”  In an impressive hustling move, he had her in the passenger’s seat of his car all buckled in. He waved at the vultures with well-practiced ease while he walked around the front, tipping his lips in his patented playboy smile. “Goodnight, ladies and gentlemen, we have a wedding to plan.”

       Payton’s heart was beating all wrong, skipping and thumping all over the place. She said nothing when he slid his big body behind the steering wheel, wrapped those long sexy fingers over the gearshift and glided from the buzzing vultures nest.  A massive black SUV drove in front of them, with an identical one pulling up the rear.

       “Are you always flanked by this much security?”  She waved her arms back and forth between the large vehicles, calculating the price tag on Dylan Easton driving wherever he needed to go. It was astounding.

       “On bad hair days,” he said, running his free hand through his golden halo, the other tapping out a beat on the steering wheel. She huffed, but then he qualified, “After that mess you just encountered, can you blame me? That was nothing compared to what it could have been.”

       “Do you deal with this every day?”

       “No.” He stopped at a red light, peering over at her. “They’ve found a story in us.”

       “Why would you say we’re marrying?” She wanted to scratch his pretty, pretty face. “The media sniffs out lies, and it will be obvious how big of a whopper the one you just told was.”

       He shifted after the light changed, gliding them into traffic. “I know that must have been shocking for you, but it doesn’t have to be.”

       “Shocking?” The whole night had been shocking, and she wondered where Avery was, but now wasn’t the time to ask. “If you’d pulled a gun on me, it wouldn’t have shocked me more.” Then she caught hold of the last part of his declaration. “What do you mean, it doesn’t have to be?”

       “Let’s get married.”

       Payton didn’t find anything about this amusing, yet she started laughing at the absurdity of it all.

       “That was a shitty proposal.” He winced. “I get it.”

       She banged her head on the soft, leather headrest. “Not that I’m taking you seriously, but we just met.”

       “People just meet in Vegas all the time, marry a few hours later.”  He looked over at her again, delivering a panty-scorching smile. “I have a jet always waiting on the tarmac.  I’ll buy you the whitest wedding dress a virgin ever wore.” He raised a pointed eyebrow at her, letting her know the virginity conversation was coming soon. “And you’ll wear the largest, flawless diamond I can get my hands on.  All I have to do is take another left at this next light.”

       Her hands fisted on her lap. “Don’t take that left, then.”

       He wasn’t deterred. “I own a beautiful resort there in Vegas that holds weddings on the grounds. You could be Mrs. Dylan Easton by morning.”

       She was beginning to think he was serious. “If you have an Elvis impersonator to officiate, then count me in.”

       His face screwed up. “I don’t have Elvis impersonators at my hotel.  I’ve got to draw the line somewhere, sweetheart.”

       “Speaking of drawing the line, enough with this line of conversation.” They were passing the Unconditional Surrender statue, an enormous, three-dimensional replica of The Kiss photograph, which was taken in Times Square after World War II had ended. “No matter how many times I drive by that gigantic statue, it always seems to pop up out of nowhere.” And it hit her heart with that achy sort of sensation. The sailor had the nurse in his arms, swooping her in the way Dylan had Payton only moments ago, kissing her just as deeply, hungrily. “They’re always celebrating,” she mused, “frozen in time.”

       “A lot of people around here don’t see it that way,” he said, taking the next right. “I’ve privately donated to keep that statue right where it is, in the heart of Sarasota where it belongs.”

       She’d heard of this. “War protesters? I don’t see a celebration of war in that statue. I see a celebration of peace and…”

       “Love,” he finished, “at first sight.”

       “Well, that wasn’t their story, was it?” She shot a text to Libby, telling her she was okay. “I don’t think the sailor was in love with the woman, but the idea of it.”

       “So you’re a cynic?”

       “What are you driving at?”

       “I’m going to marry you, Payton, so it’d be easier if you accepted it.”

       She was assaulted with sudden, cold sweats. “Nothing you say makes sense.” After her conversation with Trey, she figured nonsense ran in the family.

       “It doesn’t make sense to you yet, but you’ll settle in with it. After holding you, tasting you…I’m on board with keeping you forever.  I want a legally binding agreement between us.  One that says your mine and you can’t one day walk away.” He passed another car, his security detail easily keeping pace with him. “We’ll aptly name it the unconditional surrender.”

     “People walk away all the time.” She thought of her parents. “It’s called divorce.”

     He snorted. “I would never break a commitment to you, Payton. Never.”

    “Where is this coming from?”

   “Me,” he said simply.  “Just me.”

They drove in silence for another ten minutes, and Payton couldn’t wrap her head around this powerful man wanting to marry her, wasn’t sure how serious he was. “Avery,” she muttered under her breath, leaning her head against the cool glass.

“He’s waiting for us at a family residence in The Easton.”  Dylan drove through a short tunnel, the lights flickering over his face like an old black and white movie.

When they emerged from the tunnel, she stared out the window, catching the expanse of The Easton Hotel in all its pompous, old-world charm.  The structure’s lights magnificent in the night, the gaslights flickering over sidewalks where lovers currently strolled.  “Avery lives at the hotel?”

“We both do, though it’s temporary.  We just moved back a couple weeks or so from New York.”  They entered a parking garage, and he easily maneuvered them into a private space.  “I’m hoping to set up permanent residence in my father’s old estate.” He switched off the car, cupping her face with both hands. “You’ll have fun decorating it.”