Part 20 (2/2)

Eric burst inside as soon as Mayson turned the k.n.o.b. ”Where the h.e.l.l have you been? I've been calling you for hours.”

Mayson scanned the room for her phone, long lost in the throes of pa.s.sion. Memories stabbed with a fierce blow, and she had to look away from Eric to keep him from seeing the pain of need in her eyes.

”Get your a.s.s dressed! Elena was upgraded to a Four earlier than predicted. She's headed straight for Kingston. Due to make landfall in less than twenty-four hours.”

No. No. No! Not now.

Mayson shook her head. All she'd needed was one more day. A few more riddles, and Paige could have figured it out. Figured out the woman she'd f.u.c.ked over and over last night was her living, breathing fantasy.

Her heart squeezed as she stared at Eric in disbelief.

That was it. That ache. It was love. She was in love with Paige.

Now it was over.

”Chop chop!” Eric commanded. ”The cargo s.h.i.+p has been loaded with supplies already. It left port in the Dominican Republic an hour ago. The pilot is already with the plane in Houston. We have to get our a.s.s in gear!”

His words galvanized Mayson into motion. This was who she was. Someone's savior. Someone's hero.

Eric followed as she dragged duffel bags and suitcases from the closet and tossed everything on the floor. ”We'll await word of clearance in Miami there, then fly to Santo Domingo. A helicopter will take us out to the barge.”

Mayson slung clothes over her shoulder from drawers and cabinets while Eric stuffed everything into her luggage as she raced from one side of the room to the other, driven by impulse alone.

”As long as we're in the sky within the hour, we should be on target.”

Mayson barely heard him, only the important factors, that she was going to be whisked away to another country, and only G.o.d knew when she'd be able to contact Paige again.

Then again, Mayson didn't know if she even wanted to be contacted again. Maybe tonight was all she wanted. Maybe s.e.x, all hours of it, was all she was after. Mayson had seduced her, after all. Paige hadn't chased her. If anything, she'd run in the opposite direction. Mayson had used every angle to lure her in. Used her quest for s.e.x to lure her in.

Eric lugged her suitcases toward the front door while Mayson's heart ached. She missed Paige already. Missed the game. Missed the feel and smell and sound of her.

Did Paige? Would she?

She spotted the phone designated for Paige and grabbed it up. There were no messages. No texts. Nothing.

She had one last riddle. One last plea for Paige to unveil her.

I wanted you where hopes go up and pennies come down. Unveil me...I beg you.

Eric yelled from the living room and Mayson shoved the phone in her pocket.

An hour later in her private jet, she was staring down over the Gulf Coast headed for Miami, missing Paige so badly it hurt, wis.h.i.+ng she'd found the b.a.l.l.s to tell Paige that the answers she was seeking had been there all along.

Chapter Fifteen.

Paige gripped the pole while the music screamed around her. She circled the cold metal and whipped her head around, dropped to the floor, and then arched with her a.s.s against the satin smooth steel while she rose.

She'd never been so edgy in her life. Not even the familiar routines of performance, dance rehearsal, or the music could drag her out of her funk.

Mayson hadn't tried to contact her. Silence reigned everywhere. Other than another weird riddle from Vinden the morning after she left Mayson's-I wanted you where hopes go up and pennies come down. Unveil me...I beg you-she hadn't heard a word from her either.

Paige was frustrated with these rhymes and riddles. Frustrated with herself.

Her thoughts were consumed with Vinden. The feel of her at the theater. Again at the lingerie shop, with Vinden on her knees between her thighs.

Yet no matter how much she let those thoughts consume her, recalling the perfection, all the things that Paige craved, it was Mayson who wedged herself in Paige's mind, the memories of their incredible s.e.x squeezing Vinden to the edge.

Paige huffed and pushed off the pole. She stomped across the stage and yanked up a towel to wipe the sweat from her face.

She didn't want to dance today. Tonight. Or even tomorrow.

What she really wanted to do was walk barefoot on the sand. Wanted to go to the park to play Frisbee with the kids. And ever since that riddle she had no desire to solve, she had an uncontrollable urge to throw a d.a.m.n penny in that stupid fountain.

She wanted to be anywhere but here.

Instead, she was here, rehearsing all alone, while she imaged Mayson watching her from the audience, eating her alive in that calm, carnal stare.

Why had she run from Mayson? It was a question she'd been unable to answer from the minute she pulled away from her house, only stalling long enough for the gate to open before she floored it. Mayson hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, she'd done everything perfectly right. So perfect that Paige felt ashamed for having treated her so poorly, for las.h.i.+ng out over a grudge. For allowing a grade school act to keep her locked inside hatred.

Had she sheltered her rage out of jealousy? Because she always longed for what Mayson had? What she'd never had? Had she been that shallow her entire life?

f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k! Why couldn't she get that woman out of her head? Out of her mind? Out of her jumbled thoughts?

Heat fluttered between her thighs as a memory stabbed. Of Mayson pus.h.i.+ng inside her, everywhere, deep, over and over. Why did a woman she'd hated for so long have to be the one to meet all of her s.e.xual needs and fantasies?

Why her? Why now?

Dammit. Why did it have to be Mayson Montgomery?

Worse, Mayson hadn't tried to contact her. That infuriated Paige even more. Had she taken Paige's departure as a f.u.c.k-off? Had her NASCAR getaway said all there was to say? Had Mayson formed her own conclusion that Paige wanted nothing to do with her? Did Paige want something more to do with her? Did she?

f.u.c.k. Maybe she should have taken a more mature approach, like leaving a note? Or waking her up and saying good-bye? No, she couldn't have. Hadn't she tried that only to find herself pinned down beneath Mayson again?

Or had Mayson gotten what she wanted and moved on to her next s.e.xual quest? Had her silence been Paige's f.u.c.k-off?

Paige growled and slung the towel back on the floor. She stalked toward the pole, grabbed it with both hands, then twirled and bowed and arched until she reached the point of breathless exhaustion. She slumped to the floor, sweat rolling along her neck and trickling down her body.

Still, Mayson's image was there. Her virtual reality like a torture chamber in Paige's mind.

That's it! Paige hit the remote to silence the music, rose, and grabbed the towel, then stormed toward her office. She fell into the chair in front of the computer with a huff only to stare blankly at her desktop.

Maybe she should call Mayson to give her an explanation. But what explanation would that be? That she didn't want an ever after? That she was more than content to have a happily ever f.u.c.k? That if she did reconsider, it wouldn't be with a billionaire. Wouldn't be with Mayson.

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