“Where’s Solara?”
Paxton was unceremoniously throwing my luggage into the back of a rented SUV. “She missed her flight.”
My plane had landed in Denver just before noon, and when my phone could be turned on, I’d seen a text from her: Meet Paxton outside level 4, black SUV, grumpy face.
“What do you mean ‘she missed her flight’?”
Paxton pushed the button to automatically shut the hatch and turned to me, squinting his eyes. “I know you’re a smart girl, Charlotte.”
Then he turned and went around to the driver’s side, getting in while I scurried to catch up. I opened the passenger door to get into the oversized vehicle. I’d barely shut the door and put my seatbelt on before he pulled away from the curb, following the signs to the airport exit.
“I mean, I know what it means to miss a flight, but I could’ve taken an Uber.”
“We have things to do today, and we need to get you ready for tomorrow. The show starts at four, and then it will run all day Friday and Saturday. We’ll fly back to Phoenix on Sunday morning.”
“Are all the shows this long?”
“Not usually, but there aren’t a whole lot of cities up in this part of the States that can support more than one show. We make this one regional, and we run it longer than the others.”
His driving was erratic but controlled. It made me a little nervous when he took his eyes off the road to stare at me.
“Can you slow down just a little? And keep your eyes on the road.” I put my hand on the dash when we abruptly came to a red light just outside the airport.
Now that we were stopped, he rested his arm over the steering wheel and turned to me. “Solara is incredibly good at math, and she’s a semi-good instructor. But she is horrible at time management.” He rolled his eyes heavenward as he spoke. “Honestly, I was a little surprised she had the two of you on such early flights. Solara seems to show up when she wants to.”
I blushed, thinking maybe Solara had done it intentionally.
“Why are you turning pink?”
I glanced out the window, grateful that the light turned green so he would stop looking at me. Then, a little too haughtily, I responded, “A gentleman wouldn’t call a lady out on that.”
“I’ve never pretended to be a gentleman.”
I noticed, and was oddly flattered, that he didn’t correct my comment about being a lady. I tried to steer the conversation to safer ground: business. “What’s the plan for the day?”
As we drove from the airport into downtown Denver, he shared that we were going directly to the venue, where he would walk me through my job.
“I apologize that you won’t have any kind of formal training. But you’ve already competed, so you know how the first-timers will feel. You’ve also seen how backstage works, so really, you’re already halfway there. When we get back to Phoenix, Story will walk you through everything in more detail. We have an event next weekend in Phoenix, so you’ll have a little time to breathe and get settled.”
“Thank you. This all happened so fast. I, I’m not really sure what I’m doing.” I blushed again, realizing my mistake in admitting this when he briefly glanced at my engagement ring.
“What does your fiancé think of you running off for a couple of months?” He was staring out the front window, but his knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
I couldn’t look at him when I responded, “He’s not happy.”
I twisted the ring on my finger. It felt wrong to remove it so soon after I told Mark it was over—and I needed armor around Paxton. I didn’t intend to lie to him; I just didn’t want to tell him the truth about calling off the wedding—yet. Paxton was too much. Too big, too sexy, too invasive. And he was now my boss.
All he did was grunt under his breath.
Maneuvering his way through the downtown streets, he parked in a lot across from the Paramount Theatre, paid the attendant, and then guided me across the street.
“This is a lot fancier than the Houston location.”
“Like I said, two and a half days, and a regional competition.”
He held the front door to the theatre open and ushered me through with his hand at my back.
A portly man with a handlebar mustache greeted us in the lobby. With his hand extended, he exuded joviality and western graciousness. “Mr. Crown, Ms. Crown. Nice to meet you. I’m here to get you settled for your pole dancing event this weekend.”
Paxton winced at the gentleman’s lecherous enthusiasm, but he shook his hand anyway. “Thank you, sir. And this is Ms. Chase. Ms. Crown will be here tomorrow.”
With a southern drawl that even I, coming from Texas, didn’t have, he said, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, and welcome to Denver. Let me show you around the stage, and then we’ll get you settled in one of our conference rooms.”
Pulling my lips in between my teeth, I tried not to laugh. Paxton looked at me in warning.
Following the gentleman through a side stage door, we went down a dimly lit hall. He showed us the dressing rooms and how we could access the side stage.
While he was showing Paxton the back entrance where we could bring in the rigging, lights, and poles, I wandered out onto the stage. When I stepped out from behind the curtain, I gasped and then let out a breath.
The theatre was exquisite, and thoughts of performing in it raced through my mind. I wouldn’t be, of course, but just pretending felt magical. The red velvet seats and the gold leafing on the walls reminded me of the roaring 1920s and old burlesque shows.
I struck a coquettish pose and put my hand to my chest as if to say, Who? Me? I giggled and did a pirouette across the stage. Then, practicing a move Dani had taught me, I stopped, bent over at the waist, and seductively trailed my hand up my leg. Flipping my hair, I winked at the fictional audience.
“Let’s go.”
I stood abruptly, this time putting my hand to my chest to calm my heart. “Christ, Paxton! Do you ever not announce yourself like a drill sergeant?”
He gave me a sweet smile. “C’mon, Gypsy Rose, you can dance later. We have work to do.”
He walked off, and I had to run to catch up with him. We walked back down the hall and up a flight of stairs to the offices.
Our lascivious host left us at the entrance to a large conference room. He told us to find him when we were ready to leave, so he could let us out.
Paxton entered first and put his bag down at the head of the table. His commanding presence was fascinating; he assumed that place at a table so comfortably. He was so unlike my previous employer in outward appearances, yet the authoritative role was exactly the same.
He looked up and caught me staring at him. “What?”
“Nothing.” It was difficult not to smile at him.
Slowing his movements, he removed his hands from the files he’d put on the table and stood to his full height. His eyes never wavered from mine. Stepping around the chair, he took a few steps closer to me.
My lips parted. He glanced at them, briefly licked his, and then let out a heavy sigh.
“Charlotte.” He said my name on a low growl. “Solara and Story are glad you’re here,” He paused. “but I can’t touch you now.”
He lowered his head, so his mouth was inches from my cheek. “I can’t kiss you or touch you, and it’s making me crazy.” His breath was on my cheek, warm and feather-soft. I closed my eyes, allowing his words to flow over me. “You’ve made this really difficult for us, and—as much as I want to—I can’t make love with you now.”
“Why not?” I couldn’t believe the breathy voice that came out of my mouth was actually mine.
He stood straight and stepped back a foot. With both hands, he reached up and clasped his fingers behind his head. Lowering his head, he rubbed the back of his head and then dropped his arms. “Because you work for me.”
His hair was now mussed.
He had just turned back toward his chair when I said, “Just say something cheeky, like ‘I don’t usually fuck my employees, but I could make an exception for you.’”
Anger flashed in his eyes, and he came back toward me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me up close to him. “Don’t tempt me, Charlotte. You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“Paxton, you’re hurting me.” He wasn’t really, but something needed to be said to diffuse the tension between us. And I was embarrassed that I’d actually repeated his words back to him. I’d turned it into a joke. I could see now that it wasn’t funny.
The tension on my arm lessened. When he stepped back, he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Gah, this is such a bad idea.”
He shook his head and put his hands down on the table. “Charlotte, there are things—
He paused and continued without looking up at me. “There are things you don’t know.”
“I understand.”
He laughed sardonically. “No, you don’t. But I appreciate you saying that.”
“No, you’re right, I don’t. But… but I do work for you. And I can appreciate that.” I swallowed my pride with my next words and shifted uncomfortably. “This is a new industry for me, and I wouldn’t have taken the job if I didn’t want to succeed. I’m very talented with marketing campaigns, as you know, and I hope you can use my talents elsewhere.”
He raised his eyebrow and smiled.
I added, “For your business.”
“Should we start over?”
“If you want to, but it really isn’t necessary. I have a feeling you’ll slip somewhere along the way and say something inappropriate or crass. Let’s just move forward.”
He gestured to the seat next to him and said kindly, “Sit.”
I took that as his olive branch and calmly sat down next to him, waiting for his instruction.
When he was seated, he immediately launched into the schedule for the event. He slid a schedule over to me and asked, “Did you read over everything Sol sent you?”
“Yes, on the plane this morning.”
“Good. You remember the headset Erin was wearing and what she was doing? Checking everyone in? Getting their starting positions?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Everyone will switch roles every three to four hours. It’s exhausting to have to stay in one place. You’ll start at the check-in desk, give the competitors their welcome bags, and then hand them off to an escort.”
“Why am I the only one here right now?”
“Because you are the only one who hasn’t done this before.”
I dumbly responded, “Oh.”
He continued. “Then you’ll escort, then you’ll stage monitor. If you need a break, call on the headset, and we’ll send a runner to relieve you. The runner will show up for your scheduled break so you can eat lunch.”
My head was spinning. “Where’s lunch?”
“Here, in this room.”
“Where will you be?”
“Here, or in the sound booth, or with the judges. Wherever I’m needed.”
My eyes were blurring a little as I read the schedule, and I suddenly felt like I hit a wall. “Paxton, I’m ready to work this weekend, I am. But I’ll be honest, I’ve had a pretty hectic three days—six, really—and I could use a rest.” I rushed on. “I don’t mean to be high maintenance or anything, but do you think we could head back to the hotel and then maybe go over it again at dinner?”
“Are we going to dinner?”
I blushed again. “Aren’t we? I just assumed.”
He reached for my hand and held it gently, rubbing his thumb along the backs of my fingers. “I was just teasing, Charlotte. Yes, we can have dinner together.”
We both looked at our hands. Heat rushed through my body. He slowly released my fingers and looked back down at his stack of papers.
Without looking at me, he started putting his files back into his bag. One of his files fell to the floor, and I bent to get it for him.
I tried not to look, but the papers were court summons for Paxton with a Mr. and Mrs. Something-or-Other as the plaintiffs, and it was hard to look away. I shuffled the pages back into the folder and handed them to him.
“Thanks.”
He didn’t make eye contact with me as he stuffed the file back in with the rest.
I waited expectantly for him to say something else. The only thing he said when he stood and put the bag over his shoulder was, “Ready?”
The mood between us had shifted. He had retreated back into his own private world. Ushering me out to the car, he actually held the passenger door for me and waited until I was situated before gently shutting it.
The ride to the hotel took less than three minutes. I was suitably impressed when he pulled into valet at the Brown Palace hotel. “Do you always stay in hotels that are this nice?”
“No, but we usually only need a place for one night. We’ll be here until Sunday. I thought it would be a nice change.”
A concierge came out to meet us. “Welcome back, Mr. Crown. Can I help the lady with her bags?”
“Yes, please,” Paxton looked at the gentleman’s name tag. “Mr. Ralston. Thank you. The lady’s in room 417.”
“I have a room already?”
He glanced at me briefly as he handed a twenty and the car’s keys to the man. His hand at the small of my back, he ushered me into the lobby. “Are you hungry?”
I was caught off guard by the opulence and elegance of the hotel. The nine-story, open atrium lobby was reminiscent of an era when travelers would have afternoon tea.
Paxton took me to a set of settees and comfortable chairs. As soon as we were seated, a waitress came over with small menus.
“Good afternoon. We only have small plates on the menu until four o’clock. Can I get you something from the bar?”
She was clearly swooning over Paxton. So, because I was tired and feeling feisty, I put my left hand on his knee, making sure my engagement ring glittered up at her. “What do you think, darling, a Manhattan?”
He smiled broadly, keeping his eyes on me a moment longer than comfortable. Then he leaned forward, picked up my hand, and kissed my palm.
“Sounds delightful.”
Then he looked back at the waitress, who looked properly chastised.
“Two Manhattans, please, and a soft pretzel.”
When she walked away, Paxton laughed and drew an imaginary line all around him. “You just marked everything around me.”
“That was petty, I know. She was just so blatantly fawning over you.”
“And she’s entitled to do so.”
He was right, and I was obviously jealous. Sadly.
I was twirling my engagement ring around and around on my finger.
“When’s the wedding?”
My twirling stopped, and I looked down at my hands.
“I, um, I called it off.”
I was afraid to look at him. I expected to see a look of self-righteousness, maybe even a smug grin. Instead of laughter or passion, his eyes drooped in sadness. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
My eyes stung. I blinked a few times to ward off the tears. “It was actually coming for a while. On my end, anyway. I think, in time, he’ll see that too. We just want different things.”
“What do you want, Charlotte?”
The waitress appeared with our drinks and the pretzel. “Mr. and Mrs. Crown, your drinks. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”
I stopped her. “Wait, we aren’t married. We’re just,” I paused. “We’re just friends. He’s single if you’re interested.”
She shifted on her feet, her eyes darting between the two of us, and Paxton tried to contain his laughter. She said (in a voice she might have used to calm a crazy child), “Okay, thanks.”
Paxton acknowledged her and thanked her for the drinks.
I reached for mine and took an unladylike gulp.
“You’re goofy.”
He shook his head as he sipped on his drink.
A comfortable silence sat between us as we sipped our drinks and pulled at the pretzel. In the corner, a pianist was playing lively afternoon music. The day finally caught up with me, and I relaxed back into the sofa.
Paxton interrupted my mindlessness, reminding me that I hadn’t answered his last question. “Why are you still wearing the ring?”
“I don’t have an honest answer for you. Forgot. Too busy. Denial. I don’t know, Paxton, I guess I just am.”
He nodded and didn’t press for anything else.
My eyes started to close. The combination of the alcohol and the comfortable couch had relaxed me so much that I drifted off.
The couch depressed next to me, and I lifted my head, momentarily disoriented.
“Did I just fall asleep?”
“You did.” He reached in his pocket and handed me a key. “I checked you in before I picked you up today. Meet me down here at seven for dinner?”
I nodded dumbly and stood from the couch, my brain foggy as I mumbled, “Seven. Down here for dinner?”
“Do I need to call and wake you up?” He was smiling at me.
I grabbed my bag and blinked him into focus. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Have a nice nap, Charlotte.”
Nodding once again, I headed toward the elevator and a nap.