Cade,
Thanks for last night. Hope you find what you’re looking for.
XO,
Kylie
PSI slept in the wet spot. You’re welcome.
That was it. No phone number, no call me. Nothing. It was absolutely a one-night stand. She wasn’t asking for more.
And damn it, that just sat all wrong with him. Cade wasn’t the kind of guy to drag a girl into his bed with empty promises and deliver nothing. He’d done that with Kylie, and she deserved better than that. She deserved someone to give her all the attention in the world, to treat her like a princess and make love to her for hours, not a drunk that stabbed at her with whiskey dick and then passed out.
He should call her and apologize.
He searched through the nightstand and his phone wasn’t there. Okay, it was in his jacket somewhere. Or still in his trousers. He got up and headed across the room to where his clothing was thrown, and noticed with grim amusement that his socks were still on his feet. He was naked . . . except for his socks. What must Kylie think of his smooth moves? He snorted and scooped up his pants. His phone was still in one pocket.
So was his wallet, where he kept an emergency condom.
His mouth went dry. Cade ran a hand over his chin and pulled out his wallet, half afraid of opening it. What if he hadn’t used a condom last night? Jesus, what if he’d gotten Kylie pregnant on a drunken hookup? She’d hate him forever. Wincing, he cracked open his wallet . . . and recoiled at the sight of the condom still sitting there in its bright purple packaging.
“Fuuuuuuck me.”
That did it. He needed to talk to Kylie. If nothing else, to apologize. To explain. To see if she was clean, to see if she was pregnant. To see if she hated him.
Hell, all of the above.
Cade’s phone didn’t have Kylie’s phone number, though. This was just getting worse and worse. Nor did he recall a last name. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, but the only image he had was of her pretty, smiling face, the way her hair danced on her shoulders as she moved, the way her breasts heaved and bounced as his cock pounded into her
He scrubbed a hand down his face and willed his morning wood to go away. Thinking about naked, moaning Kylie wasn’t helping his control.
He couldn’t call Daphne, though. What on earth could he possibly say to her? Hey, are you busy? Remember how last night I showed up to give you a car and talk with you and you ignored me? What’s the full name of your cute makeup assistant? I drunk-fucked her bareback and I’d really like to make sure everything’s cool. Hope you don’t mind.
Because he knew Daphne, and he knew she’d mind. Daphne was many things, but open-minded wasn’t one of them. She was a jealous sort, and that extended to her friends. If everyone wasn’t dancing to her tune, it’d upset her.
And he didn’t need to unbalance her more than she already was.
Cade threw his phone down and stormed off to the bathroom to take a shower.
By the time he emerged, he had a game plan. He called his personal assistant, Jerome. Unlike his friends, he wasn’t keen on using an assistant to do basic things that he could do himself, like take his clothes to the cleaners or return a DVD rental. As it was, Jerome tended to have it easier than most, and Reese’s wife, Audrey, had laughingly told Cade several times that he needed to hand off more things.
Well, now was his chance.
“What’s up, boss?” Jerome said, answering immediately.
“I hate to bother you”
“No bother. You pay my mortgage.” Jerome sounded amused at Cade’s apology. “Least I can do is answer when you call.”
“I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
He looked at the clock. One in the afternoonDaphne’s tour would already be on its way to the next city. “Can you tell me where Daphne Petty’s next tour stop is?”
A pause. “I can, but there is this neat little thing called ‘the Internet.’”
“Just pretend I’m a helpless man with tons of money and an inability to do things for myself.”
“Pretending real hard right now,” Jerome teased, but Cade could hear him typing on the other side of the line. “Looks like her next stop is tomorrow night in Des Moines.”
“Okay. Get me tickets. And backstage passes.”
“I’m probably being presumptuous, but can’t Daphne get those for you?” Jerome had worked for Cade for a long time and knew about his mixed-up relationship with the pop star.
“It’s . . . complicated.”
“Try me.”
So he told Jerome about his night, and how it was part wonderful and part awful. And how he wanted to contact Kylie now without getting Daphne involved.