Chapter 9

With Joseph assisting a very inebriated Kate off the elevator, Xavier hoisted a tipsy Peyton closer to his side and followed. She staggered and he nearly went down, but caught them both in time.

Outside the gals' respective apartments, Joseph glanced between the two doors as if torn. "Let me get her inside and I'll be right back."

"Take your time. I'll be with her." Xavier nudged his chin at Peyton.

Kate giggled and buried her face in Joseph's chest. "You're not staying?"

He glanced at the top of her auburn head. "Not while you're three sheets, Red. Another time, definitely."

Both women laughed and swayed. Peyton pointed at Joseph. "He's got a thing for redheads. He told me so."

Xavier ran his tongue over his teeth and glanced at his bodyguard. "At least they're happy drunks."

"Rodger that."

Somehow, Xavier managed to dig Peyton's keys from her purse and unlock the door, while Joseph did the same with Kate's.

Peyton halted over the threshold. "How did these get here?" Her head swiveled, gaze following the cluster of balloons and the million floral arrangements from her office now littering her living room.

"I brought them by on my way to the bar."

A dreamy sigh passed her lips. "You're so nice. You know that, X?"

"Yep." He was a real saint.

Cinching her closer to his side, he kicked the door shut and walked her toward her bedroom, flicking on a living room lamp along the way.

She stopped abruptly. "Wait. I have to take out my contacts first. I can't sleep in them. I got an eye infection last time."

"All right." Understanding completely, he pivoted and stepped with her into the bathroom, where she sat on the toilet lid. She'd only had two drinks and wasn't nearly as sloshed as Kate, but he questioned her ability to do something as elemental as walking, never mind a bedtime routine. She had zero tolerance, it seemed. "Can you take your lenses out by yourself?"

"Yes." She poked herself in the eye. "Ow."

That would be a no. Laughingbecause, mercy, he'd never seen her tipsyhe rooted around in her mirrored cabinet to find her supplies. Now he knew why she only accepted one glass of champagne at work events. Finding what he needed, he poured solution into her case and glanced around.

Her bathroom was smaller than a postage stamp. Mint green walls, white cabinets, and a leaf-pattern shower curtain. Not a lot of room to maneuver. Since the toilet faced the bathtub and they were nearly on top of one another, he sat in front of her on the tub edge.

"Hold still. I've never taken anyone else's contacts out before."

She offered a serious nod, which only made him grin wider. Damn, but she was adorable.

Gently, he held her lower and upper lid open. "Blink." She complied, and the lens popped onto his fingertip. He did the same with the other eye and closed her case, setting it next to a candle on her vanity.

When he turned back, she was attempting to find the zipper on her boots. "I remember these being easier to get off than on."

Shaking his head, he reclaimed the spot in front of her and set her foot in his lap. Then, he got caught up in the way her skinny jeans molded to her toned legs and how the boots had screwed with his head half the night. Well, that and her open-back shirt. And her hair falling around her shoulders.

"Don't you like them?" She blinked. "You have that worry line of concentration" she pressed a finger between his brows "right here. That's the X is frustrated face." Her red lips mockingly pouted.

"I like them." He loved them, actually. So much, he got a whole slew of fantasies in mind that would send him straight to hell. Focusing on the task, he released the zipper and tugged off the boot. Underneath, she on had pink socks with little hearts on them.

"Oh, don't look at my socks. They don't match my outfit."

A laugh huffed from his chest. "Consider my eyes averted." He removed her other boot and set them aside. "Anything else?"

She tilted her head and looked at him through sleepy eyes. "Do I still have on makeup? Kate decided I needed to look like a hooker. I figured, it's my birthday, why not?" She paused. "Do I look like a hooker?"

"No to the hooker and yes to the makeup." She had on more cosmetics than her norm, and yes, she looked amazing. But slutty? Hell, she could make a burlap sack classy.

"There's remover pads in the vanity."

Whatever those were. Standing, he fished through the cabinet and found aspirin. He put two in his hand and filled a glass with water. "Here."

Blink. "Those aren't to remove makeup."

"Take them. You'll thank me in the morning."

A shrug, and she downed the medicine.

He rooted in her cabinet again, sifting through the contents. The intimacy wasn't lost on him. No matter how long a period he'd dated someone, he'd never done something so personal.

There. A small, round jar markedimagine thatmakeup remover pads. He handed her the container, but she stared blankly at it.

Right. Sitting in front of her, he unscrewed the lid and pried a wipe from the stack. Okay, this wasn't rocket science, but he assumed he just...what? Wiped her face with the thing? He read the directions on the jar.

"Uh, close your eyes." After she complied, he gently swiped the pad across her eyelid. Except it smeared, giving her raccoon shadows.

Perhaps this was too complicated. He kept at it until all the gray charcoal whatever was gone. Tossing the wipe, he grabbed another and did the other eye, then repeated the process with her lips.

And...man. If he thought digging through her vanity was intimate, doing this was akin to watching her undress. Slowly, the party Peyton disappeared and the natural her emerged. He'd only seen her without cosmetics a handful of times because she usually wore it for work. The few exceptions had been early in the morning while traveling for something company related. Seeing her in this moment felt different. Like he was privy to something private.

He set the container on the vanity. Her eyes opened, and she studied him, her expression unreadable.

He took in her pretty face, and his heartbeat picked up rhythm. For two years, he'd acknowledged her beauty, if only to himself, and accepted his attraction. The pull had never really been a factor while working closely with her. He'd kept it safely tucked away in a file labeled in-your-dreams.

But lately, it seemed like the magnetism had been amplified, and he had no clue why or what had changed. And she'd given off subtle vibes, as well. He'd swear to all that was holy, he was delusional and misreading her. Yet, even right now, those baby blues were staring at him with...

Christ, he couldn't go there. Not with her.

He dropped his focus to her necklace. Not helpful. Because he'd given her that particular piece and his mind kept shoving at him the memory of her teary eyes, her body pressed to his when she'd hugged him. Her scent. Her soft skin.

Damn it. What happened to all the air?

"What's wrong?" Her breathy voice grabbed him by the short hairs. "You haven't done that in a long time. Do I make you nervous?"

He cleared the sand from his throat. "Done what?" She was one of four people on planet Earth he was comfortable around. Thus, the sudden tension in his shoulders and the fact she noticed his nervousness, even while intoxicated, could not be a good omen.

"You're picking a focus point and staring." She fingered the charm, and his gaze flew to hers. "You only do that if I'm not in sight or if you're uncomfortable. I'm right here."

As if he didn't know that with every atom in his body. "I'm fine. Did you have a good birthday?"

Her features relaxed into a sweet smile. "The best." Then she knocked him straight into cardiac malfunction by cupping his cheeks and resting her forehead against his. Her breath smelled faintly of fruit and bathed his face. "I loved my present. That necklace and bracelet and..." She moaned. "No one's ever done anything so considerate for me before."

There wasn't a solitary soul he'd encountered who wasn't completely enamored by her charm or her wit or her infectious personality. Ergo, he very much doubted her claim. And if she didn't stop touching him, he was going to lose it. Just the sound of her breathing was killing him.

"Oh, X. That cupcake? I couldn't even bring myself to eat it. I..." Her eyes filled.

Save him. Not tears. Please.

Gently, he gripped her wrists and lowered her hands. Speaking of cupcakes... "What did you wish for when you blew out the candle?" Kate's comment about Peyton never asking for anything for herself had stayed with him. It was just like her, too. Who else, in this day and age, would do something so selfless as to

"I made a wish for you." She squeezed his fingers and offered a sleepy smile. "Don't tell anyone or it won't come true."

"Okay." Except his brain misfired and his heart stuttered. Because hadn't she just said she'd... "You made a wish on my behalf?" What would possess her to do that? He had his health, a great family, a thriving company, and enough money to buy the state of Delaware.

She hummedthat sexy as hell sound which rendered breathing impossibleand pressed her cheek to his. "For love. You are noble and kind and smart. I wished for you to find a woman you could be yourself around and who doesn't play games or have an agenda."

Damn her to oblivion and back. He almost said she'd just described herself, but she turned her head and...have mercy, put their lips a breathy whisper apart.

His lungs emptied. "Peyton, honey. What are you doing?" He shook with restraint, trying everything in his arsenal not seal the millimeter of distance, and closed his eyes. Her sensual perfume wasn't helping an iota.

"You've never called me that before. Honey."

Yeah, well, the endearment described her with precision. Sweet as sin and able to cause a sticky situation if allowed in direct contact.

"I'm..." Hard as granite and aching something fierce. "Confused." Yeah, that, on top of a plethora of other things. He couldn't grab reality if he attempted the task with both hands.

"Sorry. I forgot you don't like to be touched." Yet, she brushed her nose with his and didn't pull away.

"That's..." Not true. "I do like to be touched." Specifically, by her. But she was tipsy on alcohol and he was drunk on her. She was the one woman off limits to him. He needed the strength to

The front door closed, and he jerked away from her. He rose, grabbed the countertop as dots invaded his peripheral, and sucked oxygen like a man starved.

"Knock, knock." Joseph's footsteps padded in the hallway.

"In here." Xavier swiped a hand down his face. Shook from the inside out. Adjusted his erection.

"Everything kosher? Did she get sick?" Joseph leaned against the doorjamb.

"No, she's fine." But he wasn't. He cast a glance her way, and her eyes were closed as if sleeping upright. "Help her to bed, would you? I have to go." He eased around his bodyguard and down the hallway.

"Hold on. With no security, I should walk you out."

Xavier shook his head. "The limo's waiting out front. I'll ride back to the house. Just...stay with her. Please."

"Are you okay?" Joseph frowned. "You're pale."

"I'm fine."

After Joseph went into the bathroom, Xavier waited in the hallway a moment, listening to their muted voices, then he stopped in her living room on the way out. The urge to go battled with a need to stay.

Unsure what had come over him, he glanced around. It had been a few months since he'd been here. They didn't hang out at her place often. Usually, they wound up at his house or the hidden apartment attached to his office when not on company time.

Her salary at Gaines Industries was high. Beyond competitive. He'd made sure of that, along with other amenities. Yet, she lived in a one bedroom apartment roughly seven-hundred square feet. Her cream-colored missionary furniture was relatively new, as were the bare oak tables. Her walls were a pale yellow, and she had a multi-tone red and orange rug on the hardwood floor. A too-small twenty-inch plasma was perched on a corner cabinet. She had magazines and books on an abundance of available flat surfaces.

The decor matched her personalitywarm and inviting. But why the hell she wouldn't buy a house or move to a larger place was beyond him. The utter lack of security had been a bone of contention for him for over two years.

Her kitchenlaughable, thatwas separated from the living room by a half-wall. She probably had to hold her breath just to turn in the space. Two-burner stove, white countertops, honey maple cabinets. She'd added splashes of her personality, like a Swedish Chef cookie jar and magnets with crazy sayings.

With a sigh, his gaze landed on several floating wall shelves by the TV, and he stepped closer. There were quite a few pictures of her and Kateone from many years ago when Peyton's hair had been short. He preferred it long, but it was cute either way. A full family photo from before her parents had died, and more of her and Brian, occupied a shelf. She and Joseph smiled at the camera in another shot. It looked like a selfie taken in her office.

There were two of Xavier and her together. One was from a benefit where she wore a long navy dress, him in a tux. In the other, they were posed near the vineyard at his folks' place in Napa.

Taking the latter picture off the shelf, he studied it. All of his professional images were unsmiling, and the ones from the media at charity events or press conferences had him in a polite grin. Thanks to her, he was more comfortable with crowds. Before she'd joined the company, he couldn't remember a single shot where he didn't look like he'd been blackmailed to attend.

But the photo in Napa? His parents had snapped it two years ago when Xavier and Peyton had visited for the weekend to discuss the Fallen Veterans benefit. Or, that's how the trip had begun. Very little planning for his charity had actually been conquered. It was the first time she'd met his folks and, swear to God, they'd adored her more than unicorns, rainbows, or raindrops on damn roses. Still did.

In jeans and a t-shirt, he stood next to her, head turned mid-laugh and hands in his back pockets. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what she'd spouted that had been so hilarious. She had her head tilted and a I-didn't-do-it grin on her face while the sun caught her white sundress. His family was his comfort zone, but he hated having his picture taken. Thus, it was rare to catch him off-guard and relaxed. Certainly not this...happy.

He flinched. When was the last time he could recall being happy?