Cade: That’s too bad. Anything I can help with?
Cade: Or did you want to meet after the show on Thursday?
Cade: Kylie?
Kylie: Busy. Can’t talk.
Cade: Can you talk later?
Kylie: Nope, gotta go!
All right, what the hell had happened? Cade stared down at his phone, frowning.
Kyliesweet, laughing Kyliehad given him the brush-off. Had he said something? Done something? Heck, he hadn’t even been around for the last week or so. Was something new going on with Daphne?
Instead of texting, he tried calling Kylie. She didn’t pick up. Frustrated, he stared down at his phone, and then texted someone who knew a few things about women.
Cade: What would you think if you ask a woman out, she accepts, and then a day later, she declines?
Reese: Who is this?
Cade: Very funny. I’m being serious.
Reese: Man, you must be serious if you can’t even laugh at my joke. This isn’t a Daphne question, is it? Please tell me it’s not.
Cade: Not Daphne. Done w/her. Daph’s makeup artist.
Reese: That’s bad news, too. I would keep my dick far away from anyone or anything involved with her.
Cade: Kylie’s different. Trust me.
Reese: Okay.
Cade: And help me. We already slept together. Flirted all week. Agreed to go out tomorrow night, and she just texted me 5 minutes ago and said she’s busy.
Reese: Ouch.
Cade: You’re not helping.
Reese: It’s clear one of her friends got to her.
Cade: It is?
Reese: Yep. Unless you gave her something?
Cade: Gave her something?
Reese: You know, the kind of gift that keeps on giving and requires a doctor visit and medication?
Cade: Jesus. I didn’t give her an STD! Why do I even ask you?
Reese: Because you know I’m right. If it’s not that, then one of her friends convinced her you are a bad deal.
Cade: So how do I change her mind?
Reese: Convince her otherwise.
Cade: How? She won’t talk to me.
Reese: Do things that don’t involve talking.
Cade: I’m sorry I asked.
Reese: I don’t mean that in a filthy way (though that works, too). I mean if she won’t see you, send her presents. Or get her to come to the presents. She probably wants proof that you’re into her.
Cade: Such as?
Reese: Jewelry?
Cade: I don’t know if she’s the type.
Reese: Audrey isn’t. Jewelry types are much easier to buy for. So what does she like?
Cade: Makeup?
Reese: Jesus, I’m no help there.
Cade: All right, I’ll think of something. So basically flush her out and shower her with presents?
Reese: Bingo. And then, you know, fuck her silly. Make it impossible for her to brush you off again. Fuck the senses out of her.
Cade: I’m going now.
TEN
“Delivery for Daphne Petty’s makeup artist,” the girl at the hotel front desk told Kylie over the phone. “That’s all it says on the box. I called a few of the other people in the show and they said I should call you. Do I have the wrong person?”
“No,” Kylie said, frowning at the walls in her small room. “Does it say who it’s from?”
“Nope. Maybe a vendor of some kind? It looks like a shipment or a delivery of supplies or something.”
“Huh. I’ll be right down.” Kylie slipped on a pair of flip-flops, turned off the TV, and headed down to the elevator on her floor. She wasn’t expecting a package, but makeup samples from big-name companies sometimes found their way to Daphne’s people. And, hey, she never turned down free goods, because she was broke and cheap. As long as it wasn’t a shipment of drugs that Daphne wanted her to hide, she was cool with whatever it was.
Part of her wondered if it was Cade, and her heart gave a traitorous little thump of excitement that she squashed.
Yawning, Kylie got out of the elevator and headed toward the lobby desk. Since it was Vegas, it was still fairly busy in the lobby despite the late hour. She went to the counter and waited her turn. When the clerk smiled at her, she pulled out her tour badge and showed it. “I’m Daphne’s makeup artist. You have something for me?”
“Yes, actually.” The clerk smiled at Kylie and retrieved a large box from behind the counter. “It’s rather light.” The look the attendant gave her was interested, and so Kylie examined the box there at the desk. The return address was one she didn’t recognize, and it had been sent airmail. Huh. “Got scissors?”
The attendant handed a pair to her and peered over the counter. “From a secret admirer?”
“God, I hope not,” Kylie said, but there went that traitorous thump in her heart again. She took the scissors, slit the packing tape, and peeled the flaps of the box back to peer inside.