A Hot Mess Read online

  Dylan ignored it all in his impatience to reach Cait’s side. He could not believe that dick, Simon, had brought her all the way to Vegas and then ran off with another woman. It was a good thing Simon had taken his bags and left. Dylan was tempted to find him and beat some sense into him. What sort of man abandoned his fiancée the day he proposed to her?

  If she were his…

  Dylan cut off the thought before it even finished. That was the problem; Cait was not his. She would never be his.

  Cait had made that more than evident in the twenty-nine years they’d known each other. She treated him like an old friend, maybe even like a brother. There had been one incident way back in college, when he’d suspected she may have thought about him in a sexual way, but then she had started dating a football linebacker, and that had been the end of it.

  The elevator that arrived after he pressed the UP button was empty. Dylan stepped inside and pressed the number for Cait’s floor. He recognized the tinny melody of a popular eighties love song and chuckled to himself. It was one of Cait’s favorites, and a memory came to him of her participating in a talent show in junior high decked out with high, teased bangs and bangle bracelets.

  Sadly, Cait couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. But what she lacked in talent, she made up for in enthusiasm.

  The elevator doors dinged open. The eighth floor appeared deserted as Dylan stepped out and headed for room eight nineteen. He reached it and paused to brace himself before he got ready to knock.

  He did not know what to expect. Cait was a dramatic person, so she could either be wallowing in self-pity in her room with alcohol and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s or living it up downstairs in the nightclub. Who knew with her?

  Dylan shifted the bag on his shoulder and lifted his hand to knock on the door. It was wrenched open as soon as his knuckles contacted the wood, and a bleary, raccoon-eyed Cait peered up at him.

  Dylan gave an inward groan. Self-pity was the apparent winner. “Hey, beautiful.”

  He didn’t know how she did it, but Cait managed to narrow her eyes and roll them at the same time. “I hate men.”

  He forced himself not to grin. It was always like this with Cait. She would reel from the break-up for about a week, and then she would have a new boyfriend quicker than he could blink. “Can I come in?”

  Cait moved aside, and Dylan dropped his bag near the door. The scent of Cait’s perfume wafted toward him, but it was tempered by the odor of rum. He scanned the room, noting several discarded mini bottles, and moved his gaze back to Cait. “Have you eaten?”

  “Nope.” She appeared unsteady on her feet as she swirled around and flounced toward the bed. She stumbled over a pair of heels lying on the floor, but she gained her balance and continued walking.

  Dylan admired her as she did so. Her short skirt revealed pale, creamy thighs, and a bright pink tube top exposed Cait’s back tat. She’d gotten the tribal markings in college and claimed it was one of the biggest mistakes of her life.

  Dylan thought it was pretty sexy even though he loved to tease her about her “tramp stamp.” He felt a stirring in his jeans and willed his erection to subside. Now was not the time.

  Cait flopped backward onto the bed. The hem of her skirt flipped up, but she brushed it down with a careless swipe of her hand. “I want ice cream, an entire gallon of it.”

  The side of Dylan’s mouth kicked up in a smile. His Cait was a demanding tyrant when she drank. “Where’s the menu?”

  Cait lifted a hand and waved in the general direction of a desk against one wall. Dylan went to it and picked up the guest guide. He flipped to the room-service page and scanned the list. Cait needed food with substance, not a sugary snack.

  “How about a veggie omelet?”

  “Ice cream,” she replied pertly.

  Dylan gave her a stern look even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Food, Cait.”

  “Fine, have it your way then.” Cait flung out her arms. Her tube top drew up and exposed the bottom edge of her bra.

  Dylan wrenched his gaze from the erotic image she unknowingly presented and dialed the room service number printed in bold font on the menu. He ordered two omelets for Cait, and a burger for himself. He hadn’t had supper yet and wouldn’t mind a bite to eat.

  He hung up the phone and turned back to her. “The food will be here in about twenty minutes.”

  Cait faced him and propped herself on one elbow. “What’s wrong with me, Dylan?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He pulled out the chair from the desk, turned it to face Cait, and sat. He did not trust himself to sit on the bed with her. He only had so much restraint.

  Cait swiped a hand down her face, smearing her mascara farther. “There must be! Why can’t I keep a guy?”

  “They’re not worth keeping, Cait, if they can’t see the good thing they’ve found in you.”

  Her self-pitying expression faded a bit. “You’re sweet.”

  “No, I’m not.” If she only knew exactly how sweet he wasn’t, she would run away screaming. His thoughts about her were definitely X-rated.

  “Yes, you are.” Cait jabbed a finger in his direction. “Why can’t I find a guy like you, a nice guy with an exciting job who wouldn’t cheat on me with the Mandys of the world?”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say she could have all of that, all she had to do was say the word, but he bit his tongue. Again he told himself it was not the time. He would not add to her troubles by making a move on her when she was still reeling from a bad break-up.

  “Maybe I’m not nice either,” he pointed out.

  “Yes, you are. I may be drunk, but I know you’re a nice guy despite your bad-boy image.”

  Dylan chuckled. “I have a bad-boy image?”

  Cait tilted her head to one side as if she were pondering the idea. “Yes, I do believe so. Bad boy turned hometown hero. You’re quite a catch, in case you didn’t know. What are you doing here with a loser like me?”

  “You are not a loser.” Dylan wished he could find fucking Simon and beat him to a pulp for making Cait suffer. “You’re beautiful and kind. You’re the catch, not me.”

  Laughter exploded from Cait. “You’re a riot. Do you know that?”

  Dylan wished Cait could see herself through his eyes. He saw beyond the awkward, chubby, pig-tailed girl she’d once been when they’d grown up next door to each other. Cait’s family had been middle-class, and their modest home was overshadowed by the more expensive houses on their street. Cait had grown into a tomboy adolescent and finally a ravishing beauty, once admitting to Dylan that she felt she never quite fit in. He’d hated the fact that his family had so much, while the Myers struggled to make ends meet.

  He rose out of the chair. “I should go book a room.”

  Cait sat up in a sudden motion. Her red hair was mussed, and it was not hard for Dylan’s imagination to make the leap to what she would look like after a night of sex.

  Cait shook her head, mussing her hair even more. “No. You can stay here.”

  It would be torture to share a room with her. “I don’t think…”

  Cait didn’t let him finish the sentence. “You’re only here on my account. There’s no reason for you to get a separate room.”

  Dylan lifted a brow as he sat back down. “Cait, we’re not kids anymore. Sleepovers aren’t a good idea as adults, remember?”

  Cait threw back her head, and a husky laugh escaped her. “Oh, my God! Are you serious, Dylan? Like anything would happen between us.”

  “Go ahead and prick my wounded male ego, Cait.”

  She lowered her chin and gave him an amused look. “As if you need me to fawn over you, Dylan. Women throw themselves at you constantly. Need I remind you of that, Mister Eligible Bachelor of the Year?”

  Dylan held up his hands in exasperation. Cait got a kick out of the fact he’d been picked as one of Atlanta’s eligible bachelors. His career as a photographer had taken off after he shot nude pics of a n
ow-famous actress while he was in college. Five years after he’d opened his studio, he’d been named Bachelor of the Year for a popular magazine.

  He’d enjoyed success from the attention the article gained, so he couldn’t complain, but it was still embarrassing when his friends brought it up. His mom had framed the magazine and hung it above the mantel. She showed it off at every bridge game, charity event, or dinner the Russells hosted. There was no hiding from it, he was afraid.

  “Wait until the bachelorette of the year is named; I am so going to nomin…”

  Dylan’s voice trailed off as he realized what he’d been about to say. It was his normal rejoinder to her, but Cait had just been dumped the day before her wedding.

  “Oh man, Cait. I’m sorry.”

  Cait’s red-rimmed green eyes lost their twinkle of amusement. She shrugged. “It’s okay, Dylan. I’m going to have to get used to it. I’m single again. It won’t be so bad.”

  “Just think what you have to look forward to. You will get to date again,” Dylan teased in a gentle manner.

  Cait smiled, but it was not as bright as usual. “That’s true.”

  If Dylan had his way, he would be the man Cait wanted to be with. He did not want to be the rebound guy, but he had to face it. With Cait, pretty much anytime would be rebound time. She was a serial dater, bouncing from one wrong guy to another.

  She had scared him this time. She’d almost married that bastard, Simon. So now was the time to strike while he had the chance. He couldn’t risk losing her again.

  He wouldn’t say anything yet. He would give her tonight, but tomorrow all bets were off.

  What better place to gamble his heart than Vegas on Valentine’s Day?

  * * * *

  Cait groaned and rolled over. She lay there on her back and refused to open her eyes. Maybe if she didn’t get out of bed, the memory of the evening before would go away.

  A tiny hammer beat a rhythm against her skull. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her head, hoping to shut out the world for a few more minutes. She needed more time before she had to face the day.

  She should’ve known Dylan would not allow her to sulk.

  The blanket was wrenched from her fingers and tossed below her waist. She cracked open her eyes and winced at the glare of light streaming through the window. “What time is it? I’m not ready to get up.”

  “It’s almost eight.” Dylan held out his hand. Two small white pills rested on his palm. “Here, take these.”

  Cait squinted at them. “What are they?”

  “Aspirin. Now take them.”

  “Yes, doctor.” Cait sat up and plucked the pills from his hand. She tossed them back and swallowed with a sip from the glass of water he handed to her next. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. How do you feel?”

  She sat up and put a hand to her forehead. “I feel like I was run over by a Mack truck.”

  “That’s what twelve mini bottles of rum will do to you.”

  She grimaced and peeped up at him. “Twelve?”

  Dylan nodded and motioned to the trash can. “I counted the bottles as I threw them away.”

  “I’m sorry. I missed the trash.” She grimaced again. “Several times.”

  Dylan waved aside her apology. “No problem. So, what do you want to do today?”

  Cait’s hand fell to her lap. “Umm, I thought we were flying home?”

  “See, I’ve been thinking about that.” Dylan sat down on the edge of the bed and pivoted to face her. “Since we’re already here, why not enjoy the sights? You’ve never been here, and I haven’t been in years. Let’s enjoy the rest of your vacation.”

  Flabbergasted would be the closest adjective she could think of to describe her reaction to his offer. “I dunno, Dylan. I am not the best company right now.”

  “But you can be.” Dylan reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Come on, Cait. What do you say? I can take you out to dinner and maybe a show. It’ll be fun. I promise we can go home as soon as you’re ready.”

  “What about work? You don’t have some fancy photo shoot to run off to?”

  Dylan shook his head. “Nope, I’m free all week.”

  Cait tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin. “No nude models, no famous actresses, no playmates?”

  “Do I detect a note of jealousy?” Dylan’s lips quirked upward.

  Jealous? Of the women who spent time with Dylan?

  Cait thought nothing could be further from the truth, but she hesitated. Maybe she was, a little. It was true she was possessive of Dylan, just as he was protective of her. She wasn’t sure if she would go so far as to say she was jealous though.

  She ignored his question. “You do realize it’s Valentine’s Day, right?”

  Dylan shrugged. “What about it?”

  If he didn’t care, neither did Cait. Dylan’s idea to stay in Vegas sounded pretty fun actually.

  “I must warn you. I don’t have anything to wear but this get-up.” Cait pinched the elastic material of her tube top. It snapped against her skin with a loud noise when she let it go.

  Dylan’s eyes flitted to her top and then came back to meet her gaze. “Aren’t there shops downstairs?”

  Cait widened her eyes. “I don’t have my debit card, and my credit card is expired, remember?”

  Dylan shrugged. “I’ll pay.”

  “I can’t let you do that.” Cait hated feeling like a charity case. She was already making him pay for the change to her plane ticket home. Anything else seemed like overkill.

  “Yes, you can.” Dylan gave her a stern look.

  “I can pay you back when we get home,” Cait offered.

  “Relax, Cait. I can afford it. Think of it as a belated Christmas gift.”

  She narrowed her eyes and shook her finger at him. “You sent me a bracelet for Christmas. A diamond bracelet at that!”

  Dylan’s expression turned sheepish, but it was ruined by the grin that broke out on his face. “An early birthday present then.”

  Cait made a face. “Ugh, don’t remind me of my birthday. I’m going to be thirty soon.”

  “You don’t look a day over twenty-five,” Dylan responded without blinking an eye.

  He reached over to smack the side of her hip. “Now come on, lazy, and go get in the shower. I will run downstairs and buy you some clothes. What size do you wear?”

  “Uhh … no.” Cait sliced her hand through the air for emphasis. “If you think I’m telling you my size, you are seriously deluded. That would be like telling you how much I weigh.”

  “One hundred and thirty-four,” Dylan answered with no hesitation.

  Cait’s mouth dropped open and then snapped shut with an audible click. “How do you know that?”

  “You told me last night.”

  Her mouth fell open again. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yep, you did,” Dylan confirmed with a nod.

  “Oh, Lord.” She buried her face in her hands and then peeped between her fingers at him. “What else did I tell you?”

  “Nothing bad, Cait. Quit worrying. Now tell me your size.”

  She kicked free of the blanket and slid over to sit beside him. She leaned in close, so she could whisper. “I wear a size eight.”

  “Cait,” Dylan said in a loud mock whisper. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She rolled her eyes. “So speaks the man who only photographs size zeroes.”

  “I will photograph you anytime you want, Cait. Just say the word.” He gave her a wicked grin. “You can pose nude if you prefer.”

  Cait drew back with a disgusted face. “Like anyone wants to see that! Now, do you need my bra size as well?”

  “Thirty-six D.” Dylan held up a hand. “And before you ask, no, you didn’t tell me. This is just an educated guess.”

  “Well, you’re right.” Cait made a shooing motion with her hands. “Now get out of here, so I can take a shower and pee.”

  Dylan laughed. “Yo
u can’t pee with me in here?”

  “Well if you don’t leave soon, I may pee on you, so consider yourself forewarned.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m going.” Dylan got to his feet. His ass was right at Cait’s eye level.

  Whoa. Cait tilted her head and gave his butt a considering look. Who knew Dylan had such a cute tushie?

  She couldn’t help herself. She reached out and gave it a tiny pinch. It was just as firm as it appeared.

  Dylan turned his head and glanced down at her. “Did you just pinch my ass?”

  “Maybe.” She laughed and swatted his butt. “Go on, and get out of here before I do it again.”

  He flexed for her. “Buns of steel, baby. Buns of steel.”

  Dylan strode from the room and shut the door behind him while Cait was still consumed by giggles. Leave it to Dylan to cheer her up.

  Cait headed for the bathroom, where she finally could unclench her thighs without fear of wetting herself. She peed for what felt like hours and decided to take a quick shower instead of soaking in the Jacuzzi tub.

  She turned on the taps to the right temperature and then stripped, leaving her hooker clothes in a pile near the door. She stepped into the shower, moaning in delight as the warm water washed over her.

  Cait grabbed the soap and scrubbed and scrubbed, as if by washing she could cleanse herself of all that had happened the day before. She wanted to wash the memory of yesterday and Simon right down the drain.

  As she washed her hair, her thoughts turned toward today. She considered what she and Dylan could do while in Vegas. She’d always wanted to go to the Stratosphere. She wouldn’t mind seeing the fountains at Bellagio either.

  A jaunty whistle came to her lips as she mentally made a list of things to see and do. She was actually happy. It was hard to believe that a little more than fourteen hours ago, she’d been jilted by her fiancé.

  Cait turned off the taps and got out of the shower. She toweled dry and then combed her hair. She leaned over the counter to peer at her reflection. The face looking back at her from the steamed mirror looked much better than it had the day before.