Chapter Nine

An hour before they were supposed to be at the breast cancer awareness fundraiser, Xavier glanced at the note taped to Peyton’s apartment door and frowned. What the hell was she doing on the roof?

Turning for the stairs, he checked his phone. Nothing. Shouldn’t she be getting ready?

They’d had a hellacious week, and even though his new receptionist was working out, orientating Jackie took time. And the press was still a nightmare. Plus, he and Peyton had been forced to fill out police reports and statements. He was still pissed she’d dropped the assault charge. She’d been convinced Fern would walk away and leave them alone. Xavier wasn’t as confident. He kept a bodyguard on her when she went to and from work, but conceded to stopping overnights.

Reaching the door to the roof, he shoved through and halted at the female grunt that raked his ears. Panicked, he walked around a ventilation unit and found Peyton pinned to the ground, Joseph on top of her with a… Fuck him. A gun at her head.

“What in the hell are you doing?” He stormed forward, but Peyton shook her head.

“Stay back, X.” A warrior cry, and she kicked her leg, wrapping it around Joseph’s neck. One hand shoved the gun, the other Joseph’s arm, and in three beats, she had him pinned under her and the gun on him. “Yeah. Suck it, bad guy.”

While Xavier stood like an idiot wondering what was happening, Joseph let out a rip-roaring laugh and smacked… Her. Ass.

“Good work, blondie. Now get up. I need a shower.”

It was then Xavier realized the two of them were in workout clothes. Hers were so skintight the spit in his mouth dried. “You’re teaching her self defense?”

“Yep. For the past couple months. The gun’s not loaded, by the way.” Joseph rolled to his feet. “She learned quicker than you, too.”

“Because I’m awesome.” Her wide gaze scanned Xavier, his tuxedo. “Oh crap. What time is it?” She vaulted over to him, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it to read his watch. “Joseph, you jerkface. We have less than an hour to get ready. Now we really do need to shower together.” She raced through the door.

What to the what? Xavier pinned Joseph with a look bordering on homicidal.

His bodyguard held up a hand. “Relax. She’s kidding.”

Swear to God, Xavier couldn’t take any more shit this week. He just couldn’t. It was bad enough he had to throw on a tux and play nice for the next however many hours, but to watch Joseph and Peyton flirt would be the gigabyte that broke the geek’s back.

They followed Peyton inside and found her back on her floor, standing with Kate outside her door.

“You,” Peyton pointed to Joseph, “shower at her place. You,” she pointed to Xavier, “come in here. I’m going to do the fastest prep in the history of womankind.”

He’d no sooner shut the door behind them in her apartment and she was gone. The shower ran. Curses were muttered. Cabinets slammed. Joseph returned in a suit as Peyton’s hairdryer kicked on with a whir. Xavier stayed by the door, too frightened to step deeper into the unit with her on a tear.

“Someone come zip me,” she shouted from what he assumed was the bedroom.

Joseph raised his hands in surrender. “Not it.”

Xavier shook his head and made his way to her room, only to stop dead over the threshold. He absolutely needed to quit picking out evening dresses that put him in a constant state of asthma simply by looking at her.

Pale pink silk molded to her ample breasts and slim waist, the hem skimming her bare toes. She held the material across her chest with an arm to apparently keep it from slipping while she put in an earring. Her champagne hair fell around her shoulders and she was sans the glasses.

“Well, come on, X.”

Right. He closed in behind her and fingered the tab, doing everything possible not to swallow his tongue while he pulled up the zipper. Jesus, her skin was pure buttermilk. And she was wearing that perfume that wrapped around his windpipe and squeezed.

She passed him a pair of silver heels. “Take these.” And she was gone.

Back in the living room, she tossed a small case at Joseph. “Carry that. I’ll have to do makeup in the car. Let’s go.” She snatched a purse off the end table that matched her shoes and rushed out. She tapped Kate’s door with her palm as she breezed by. “Bye, Kate. Love you.”

Apparently, the elevator was too slow. She pushed through the fire exit staircase.

“She should work for NASCAR,” Joseph muttered as they trailed her down five—count that, five—flights of stairs and to the curb.

She cupped Archie’s cheeks as his driver held the limousine door for them. “Drive it like it’s stolen. We’re running late.”

A craggy laugh, and the old man’s cocoa skin blushed. “Yes, ma’am.”

On the road, she swiveled in the seat next to Xavier and put her feet in his lap. “You, shoe duty. Joseph, cosmetic bag.”

Joseph tossed her the case he’d been ordered to bring and rolled his lips over his teeth to hide a grin.

Xavier gave him a thanks-no-thanks glare and eyed her shoes. They seemed simple enough. A little buckle or something. He fiddled with it while she opened a compact mirror thing and added charcoal or whatever to her eyes. She had both lids done before he’d gotten one shoe on her delicate foot. She applied lipstick and Xavier got the other shoe on as the limo rolled to a stop.

“Time?” she barked as Archie opened the door.

Xavier glanced at his watch. “Seven fifty-five.”

“Yes. Five minutes to spare.” She beamed a three-hundred megawatt smile at Xavier. “I’m ready.”

He shared a holy-shit look with Joseph as his bodyguard stepped onto the curb, eyed the street in front of the art museum, and nodded an okay.

Xavier climbed out and held his hand for Peyton. She clasped it and exited the limo. Drawing a deep breath, she blew out what appeared to be any frazzled nerves from her system.

“The tickets?” He lifted a brow.

“As if the whole of society doesn’t know you. It’s not like they’d turn Xavier Gaines away.” She reached into the breast pocket of his tuxedo and extracted two tickets.

“I don’t want to know how those got there.” They walked up the front steps, her hand in the crook of his arm, and a bellman held the door for them. “You look lovely, by the way.”

That earned another grin. “Thank you.” She turned to the bellman. “And thank you, kind sir.”

Admiration inflated his chest. Not only did he get to attend these nerve-wracking events with her, but she made it a point to address everyone, no matter their status, as if they were royalty. Once they got inside, there wouldn’t be a face she didn’t know or some quirk of hers to make him comfortable. She was seriously one in a million.

Photographers snapped pictures and flashes filled the small entryway. Joseph jerked his chin, indicating he’d wait for them along the far wall in the lobby.

Hand low on her back, Xavier guided her to the left and into the showroom. Stark white walls and thick pillars were met with splashes of color via framed contemporary art. To the left was a bar, to the right, an orchestra. Several waiters milled about with trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne. Pink bow ties and dresses socialized.

He looked at Peyton. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Not right now. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” She brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

“Why?” And she’d gone head-to-head with Joseph without sustenance? “Never mind.” He stopped a passing waiter, loaded a few canapés and sushi rolls on a plate, and gave it to her.

“I’m not that hungry, actually.” She eyed the food and nibbled.

She did seem rather pale, even for her fair complexion. He ushered her to a far corner. “Are you coming down with something? We can leave.”

“No, it’s just…” A wrinkle formed between her brows. “Don’t go all Xavier on me, but I haven’t been sleeping or eating much since what happened with Fern. I know she won’t come after me, but I just can’t get the guilt out of my stomach. Every time I close my eyes, I see the anger on her face or hear her voice—”

“Stay at the mansion with me tonight.”

“No.” She waved him off. “I’m just being silly.” She bit into a sushi roll as if to make a point.

“You need a good night’s sleep and you were coming over tomorrow to prep me for the press conference, anyway.”

She didn’t respond, other than to give him a polite smile.

Chest aching, he took in the slight shadows beneath her eyes and the remnants of bruising on her temple. He’d been so busy in the aftermath, he hadn’t paid much attention to her. She’d been running herself ragged, too. The thought of her scared and alone at night tore a fissure through him.

He waited until she’d eaten what he’d given her and took the plate. “Wait here. I’ll get you something with juice in it.” Dropping a kiss to her hair, he stepped toward the bar and relieved himself of the dish. Returning to her with a pineapple, orange juice, and club soda combo, he passed it over. “Tell people it’s a fuzzy navel or something.”

Her laugh puffed like smoke. “Thank you.” Her pretty blue gaze scanned the room. “We should mingle.” She subtly tilted her head toward an elder couple. “The Van-Heusens, if you recall. He’s in investment banking and she heads this fundraiser. Ask her how her daughter, Eloise, is doing since chemotherapy. She was diagnosed four years ago with stage three breast cancer. It came back six months ago. We sent flowers to the hospital room.”

He didn’t remember the couple, had no clue their daughter was ill, and he could do little more than stare in awe at Peyton’s skill.

Without further ado, she led him toward the couple and made nice about Mrs. Van-Heusen’s dress.

At a pause in conversation, Xavier cleared his throat. “How is Eloise doing since treatment?”

“Oh, very well, thank you.” Mrs. Van-Heusen patted her chest. “Thank goodness she’s done with chemo. And that arrangement you sent,” she grabbed Peyton’s forearm, “was just gorgeous. Everyone said so.”

“I hope it brightened her day.” Peyton smiled. “Mr. Gaines picked it out himself.”

The little liar. He smiled and shook hands before they moved on. “Out of curiosity, what flowers did I pick out?”

“Gardenias, freesia, and lavender.” She took a sip of her drink and glanced past him. “Shoot. Put your arm around me like we just climbed out of the sack. Michael Petri is headed our way. Producer and very handsy with women. He grabbed my ass at the Governor’s Ball. Distract him by enquiring about his new action flick with Tom Cruise.”

Before he could process what she’d said, she slipped a hand between his tux jacket and his shirt, sending his pulse into hyperactive.

“Michael, good to see you again.” Her smile belied none of her discomfort, but Xavier didn’t care for the tightness around her lips.

To her credit, the guy was staring right at her chest. Mid-forties, he had a paunch and a ring on every finger. Birds could’ve nested in his wiry salt and pepper hair. Or his eyebrows.

Irritation pounded his temples. Doing as she instructed, Xavier put his arm around her and his hand low on her hip, the position implying she was his. “How’s filming going? I hear Cruise can be fun to work with.”

“Actors. They’re all divas.” Michael sipped champagne, gaze sliding over Peyton’s body like an unwanted touch. “Ravishing as always, Miss Smoke.”

When Xavier stiffened, she rose on her toes and spoke quietly in his ear. “Breathe. Look to your left and pretend to see someone we must talk to.”

He brought his lips to her ear. “You should’ve told me at the ball he’d touched you. He’d be minus a hand. And I do not care for the way he’s undressing you with those beady eyes like he’s planning to have you for dessert.”

“Then walk away with me or show him you already ate me.”

“Sweet Christ, Peyton.” His fingers tightened on her hip and fire licked under his skin. Visuals, so many visuals, shoved to mind, he couldn’t draw air.

She grinned as if to say, good job for understanding. “Michael, do forgive us. I spot someone we must see. Have a wonderful time.”

Xavier pulled her to the center of the room and released her. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he glared at her as he attempted to undo the tendrils of lust she’d wound around him. In a crowded room at a benefit, no less.

Finally, he unhinged his jaw. “As my employee and my plus one, I expect to be told if someone does something inappropriate with you so it can be dealt with. I don’t want to learn about it months after the fact.”

Anger flared in her eyes, turning all that blue to ice. “Well, since I’m your insubordinate, you should be aware it happens quite often and I handle it all by my withering, incapable self. I simply run to the nearest strong, able male, bat my lashes, and fall upon their good graces to defend my honor.”

Damn her. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You shouldn’t be treated like some piece of tail and no one has the right to touch you.”

She stepped closer and spoke through her teeth. “You can’t have it both ways. For months during our first appearances, we dispelled the rumors about us being a couple. If you go all caveman every time a guy hits on me, it’ll send the wrong message. I am a single woman, I am your employee, and I am nothing more than your plus one.”

The hell she… He glanced away, grinding his molars.

Every atom in his body wanted to argue her point. But she was right. He’d stood in his apartment not five days ago and told her their attraction couldn’t be acted upon. Yet, his damn protective beast couldn’t be caged, not with her, and for months, he’d been rattling the chains of restraint, roaring to get free. He was this close to saying screw common sense.

She chewed her lip. “Mrs. Atherton is coming our way. Widow, chairman of the garden society, and just had her first grandchild. A girl. I’m going to run to the restroom. Ask her to see pictures of the baby. It’ll keep her occupied while I’m gone.” She went to step around him. “And remember to smile, Mr. Gaines.”

Her barb at addressing him formally hit its mark. Napalm right to the chest. To avoid a nervous tick or fidget, he fisted the coin in his left pocket and rubbed his thumb over the engraving as a woman approached.

Shit. What was her name? He couldn’t recall, but he held out his hand. “You’re looking beautiful this evening. I hear congratulations are in order. Do you happen to have any pictures of your new addition?”

Two grueling hours later, Xavier dismissed Joseph once they were at the limousine and sent him home. Though she hadn’t outright agreed, Peyton would be staying at Xavier’s place tonight, and the mansion had more than enough security. As Archie wound the vehicle through the streets, her eyes grew heavier by the city block until, finally, she closed them altogether.

From the seat across from hers, he watched her sleep—the play of light and shadow on her face, her angelic features—and his throat pinched. He’d always admired her beautiful heart, her intellect, her damn adorable charm, and her ability to do her job above all else. But the sheer, utter longing inside him was beginning to consume.

He’d had no connection to previous lovers other than a physical interest. Hell, half of them he couldn’t even spout a solitary personality trait. But, Peyton? He knew every expression, each mannerism and its meaning. She had upwards of thirty variations of her smile, and he could give a detailed account of all of them, could write a book of code describing them.

No woman had ever made him want like she did. Ache. To the point of agony.

The limo drove over the hills San Francisco was known for and eventually turned into his gated driveway. Maples lined the long path, interspersed with lampposts. Archie would’ve alerted the butler, Sam, that they were coming, and proved Xavier correct when they pulled up to his federal colonial style home and found the lights were glowing.

Xavier knelt in front of Peyton and brushed his knuckles over her arm. “Hey, we’re here.” She didn’t stir. Not even a flutter of her lashes. He glanced at Archie, the open door between them. “Let Sam know we’re headed inside.”

With a nod, his driver turned and climbed the brick stairs to the wide double front doors.

Xavier tried once more to wake her and gave up. She was, no doubt, exhausted. He stripped out of his coat, loosened his tie, and set the items on the seat.

Carefully, he slid an arm around her back and under her legs, lifting her from the vehicle. Cinching her snug against his chest, he glanced down at her. Dark lashes fanned her cheeks and her red lips were slightly parted, her breathing deep and even. With her cheek on his bicep and her hair cascading everywhere, his knees nearly buckled.

“You sure know how to stop a man’s heart, honey,” he whispered.

The door opened at the top of the stairs and Sam stood next to Archie in blue striped sleepwear. Normally, Xavier didn’t require Sam’s services after eight and he felt terrible for summoning him. Archie and Sam were brothers, both with light cocoa skin and graying hair cropped close to their heads. And both gentlemen had worry lines creasing their foreheads as Xavier climbed the stairs, Peyton in his arms.

“You can go, Archie. Thank you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is Miss Peyton all right, sir?” Sam followed him inside and shut the door.

“She’s fine. Just tired.” Xavier glanced up the long, winding staircase and thought about asking if the guestroom was made up. “You can go back to sleep. I’ve got her.”

Sam nodded and headed toward the kitchen, where the entrance to the staff quarters were located.

Climbing the stairs, Xavier tried not to jar her. At the top, he glanced left at the guest accommodations, then turned right. Unsure what the hell he was doing, he wove down the long corridor, past several other rooms, and entered his bedroom suite. He set her in a chair so he could turn down the bed, then froze, staring at her.

Have mercy, but she was in his bedroom, where no other woman had been, and she looked so damn...right. Perfect.

She didn’t have her glasses on, which meant he’d have to wake her anyway so she could take out her contacts. He figured she wouldn’t want to sleep in a gown, either. Crouching in front of her, he wondered if she was still pissed off at him. She had every right.

“Peyton.” He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Peyton, honey. Wake up.”