Visions. Part 7

Paige took a quick glance at the woman again, then licked her lips and turned away. She could dream, couldn't she? No. She couldn't. There was no reason to be tempted by the fine exhibit of walking s.e.x. She already knew the outcome.

She spotted several kids playing dodge ball and went to join them. Kids were so much more fun than adults anyway. They were innocent and carefree and still had the ability to just live. They had no clue how bad this big ol' world could be yet.

An hour later, Paige was slick with sweat and running out of go-go juice when a delivery truck pulled into the park. She didn't recall herself or Samantha placing an order. Maybe they were in the wrong place.

As if mentally summoned, Samantha glanced her way and shrugged.

Paige followed her to the truck. Footsteps fell in rhythm beside her and she glanced over to see the butch walking beside her. d.a.m.n, did she have to look so hot? Didn't she know Paige was s.e.xually fragile?

The woman gave her a tight nod and Paige returned the gesture.

A man wearing a brown uniform jumped down and greeted Samantha. "Delivery from Miss Montgomery. Where would you like us to unload?"

Paige giggled. "Of course Ms. Fancy Pants would send a delivery. G.o.d forbid she actually get her nails dirty doing real work."

s.h.i.+t! She regretted that she'd let her inner thoughts slip out. The sarcasm made her sound ungrateful. She wasn't. Really. She just wished more people were prepared to get involved instead of merely throwing their money around as if there were an endless supply or as if there weren't thousands of children suffering in this world who could use a little of it.

Mayson fumed. Eric sucked in a startled breath from beside her, which only fueled the anger whipping through her. Did this measly a.s.s shaker seriously just say that? Who the h.e.l.l did she think she was? X or not, hot or not, she'd be d.a.m.ned if she was going to be disrespected. She'd worked too hard to get to where she was today, and nothing grated her nerves more than someone mocking her accomplishments.

Mayson turned completely to face her. "I don't recall you getting your nails dirty, either."

Eric backed up a step while the owner with her precious clipboard stepped forward.

The air tensed around them while X tightened her lips into a grim line. Dammit. Did she have to look so s.e.xy with the sweat trailing a "follow me" path down her neck and into perfect cleavage?

X propped her hands on her hips. "It doesn't take a master's in psychology to entertain children. This day is for them, after all."

"It does, however, take several master's to become a self-made billionaire."

X stepped forward, her chest out, her jaw tight. "Any loser can piggyback off the coattails of Mommy and Daddy."

Mayson mentally growled. She'd done no such thing. Quite the opposite, in fact. She'd earned every dime, without the help of her parents.

She took a step forward. Drawn, pushed, called-she didn't know. "This coming from a dancer whose idea of education is mastering the art of dry-humping a stripper pole?"

X's jaw flexed as she clenched her teeth.

d.a.m.n, she was s.e.xy as sin when she was mad.

Mayson stood her ground, chin lifted in defiance.

X slowly pushed her sungla.s.ses on top of her head, sweeping back that mane of loose hair caused by her frolic with the kids. The light danced along the color of green in her eyes, and a spark of recognition shot through Mayson.

She knew this woman. How?

X's gaze dropped down Mayson, agonizingly slow. "This coming from a woman whose idea of education is figuring out the mathematical equation to bench-press double her own weight?"

Eric chuckled and Mayson shot him a hostile glare. He cleared his throat and took another step backward.

The owner eased forward. "Paige. Don't..."

Paige.

The name echoed in Mayson's mind. She had put a face to X. Now she had put a name to her as well. Paige. She was too beautiful. Right now, that beauty was masked in the face of bubbling anger.

Mayson pushed out her hand in greeting, and a memory shot through her mind, of her extending her hand in invitation to her mystery woman years ago. Slick heat gathered between her thighs. Would that woman have been this feisty? This beautiful? "I'm Mayson Montgomery."

Paige tilted her head back, putting on a brave act in the face of this egotistical hunk of raw s.e.x. She was staring into the face of her tormentor, the b.i.t.c.h who had shoved her into that f.u.c.king fountain. Mayson didn't look anything like she imagined she would have after all these years. Maybe she should have kept up with the tabloids or watched a little more news. Lord knew Samantha kept up with every leading story in the newspapers. Had her hatred for Mayson dug in that deep? Was she that scared of getting a sneak peak of what Mayson looked like? Terrified she'd admire anything about her? Especially her looks? Just like she was doing at this exact moment in time? Jesus. Would you look at the woman Mayson had become. She'd buffed out. Grew her hair out into a s.e.xy mess. f.u.c.k!

Now she knew exactly what Samantha had meant by her comment. She was trying to tell Paige that Mayson Montgomery was here, in the flesh, at her charity, getting her nails dirty. It sucked to be wrong about a woman with enough money to buy the whole town of Galveston who was out here in the sun, in all her glorious tanned flesh, doing hard labor.

Dammit! Why couldn't Paige keep her d.a.m.n mouth shut?

And why the f.u.c.k did Mayson have to look so good? Had she all those years ago?

Maybe Paige could cut her some slack? That act of bullying was years ago. Sam was right. Mayson had been a dumba.s.s spoiled kid who needed to show off in front of her sn.o.bby friends. Right? Yes. And would you look at how nicely she'd grown into her skin. Tight biceps, tall, so f.u.c.king delicious.

Paige mentally shook her head. h.e.l.l no! No way she was letting Ms. High and Mighty get off that easy. She wasn't impressed with her money. Impressed with those worked-out thighs, absolutely. But not her d.a.m.n money. Money couldn't buy respect, and for years, she'd shown this charity anything but respect. Her donations were nothing more than a tax write-off.

Paige took another step forward, leaving the offered hand hanging and only a breath's distance between them. "I don't master the art of drydhumping a stripper pole. I ch.o.r.eograph them. Paige Burton, by the way. Owner of Visions, those stripper poles, and the cla.s.sy women who grind on them."

With her p.u.s.s.y on fire, Paige spun around, took several steps, and then turned back to Mayson. "I almost forgot. You owe me a diary."

She turned around and started walking, but not before she spotted the shocked realization in Mayson's eyes.

Oh, how she loved that moment. She'd been waiting a long time to see that exact expression.

Eat your heart out, Mayson Montgomery.

Chapter Six.

"I still can't believe you told off Mayson Montgomery." Samantha faced Paige across the table at Applebee's. She dipped a chip into the spinach and artichoke dip, a scowl distorting her face. "You're about as sharp as a box of tacks."

Paige tugged the bowl away from Sam and used a large chip to scoop up a generous helping. She should have known her attempt to talk about the mystery woman who had kissed her into complete submission would turn into Sam browbeating her about the incident at the park. About Mayson Montgomery, of all people.

Was this what mothers did? Or was this what they were supposed to do?

Paige wasn't sure. She'd never really had a mother. Not the mother that gave birth to her, anyway. She barely remembered the woman who had disowned her. That person had taken off with her boy toy and glove box full of drugs and never looked back. Paige wondered about her sometimes, wondered what kind of heartless mother could abandon her only child like she had. Were her drugs so important that they trumped motherly love? Had she ever possessed that trait at all, or had the drugs turned her into a heartless creature? Either way, Paige couldn't miss what she barely knew.

Once or twice, she'd pondered who her father could be. She liked to think he was rich, an actor, who lived the grand life in the Hollywood Hills without a care in the world other than flying to one shoot or another. But that only reminded her how money turned people, how it made them automatically tip their heads back and walk higher than everyone else. So she opted to think he was just an ordinary guy, with an ordinary life, with ordinary goals. Then reality would sink in and she'd remind herself that more than likely she was the prodigy of a drug deal gone bad and thank her lucky stars her grandmother had been willing to give up her entire life for Paige.

That was a real mother. Paige missed her like crazy. She was the one who taught Paige how to be a lady, how to always go after her goals, to never throw the first punch, but to come back like a caged animal when someone else did. Paige could throw a right hook like a champ. She'd only had to once. On Tommy Peahuff, in high school, when she'd finally reached her peak of putting up with the rich bullies. Thanks to Mayson Montgomery, and her grandmother, she'd found her b.a.l.l.s and wasn't afraid to use them when necessary.

"Are you going to yell at me through my entire lunch?"

Samantha arched a brow. "Of course I am. I always yell at senile people who make an a.s.s out of themselves to the billionaires who contribute to their charity."

Paige rolled her eyes. "Look, that witch owes me."

"For pus.h.i.+ng you in a d.a.m.n fountain when you were, what, eight or something? All kids do stupid c.r.a.p like that. It's part of growing up. Part of trying to be a cool kid." She barely paused for a breath. "Get over yourself and stop acting like the whole world was out to get you because you couldn't afford Sperry's or steak for dinner."

Paige dipped another chip and crunched with her mouth open to annoy Sam.

"You're such a child." Sam shook her head.

Paige winked at her.

"Seriously, Paige. I'm freaked out right now. We've worked hard to get this charity to where it is, to get it recognized. If we don't have enough funds for the next event, we can hang it all up." Sam leaned forward. "You need to call her, beg, plead, I don't care how you do it, but you need to apologize to that woman before she pulls the only stable donation we have."

"I won't do it. I have nothing to apologize for."

"Paige!"

"Can we talk about my mystery woman now?"

Sam huffed and folded her arms against the table. "You're impossible. Fine. She kissed you in the dressing room, wearing a mask, left you a wet icky mess, a fact you will never repeat to me again, and vanished. What else, besides bodily fluids, would you like to discuss about her?"

"Is it completely insane that I get that turned on by someone wearing a mask?"

"Yes. Incredibly and stupidly insane. Next question."

"Sam, I'm trying to have an adult conversation."

"In order to do that, there would need to be two adults sitting at this table. Last I checked I was the only adult present."

Paige laughed, mainly to tone the mood down. Sam was really p.i.s.sed about her outburst with Mayson. With good reason. She was right. Mayson was the only donation they could count on every year, the one they didn't have to beg for. Without worry, it was always there. "Okay, let's call a truce. If I call Mayson to say I'm sorry will you not wear that expression ever again?"

"That's impossible. I work with you, remember?" Sam leaned back. "But I'm listening." She gave Paige that look that said she already didn't believe a word she was about to hear.

"I'll call her one day next week and-"

"No. Today."

"Sam, I have a thousand things to do..."

Sam shook her head. She was so cute and stubborn when she thought she was in charge.

For theatrical pleasure, Paige grumbled in defeat. She had no intention of saying a d.a.m.n thing to Mayson Montgomery. She'd rather crawl through hot gla.s.s topped with steel spikes than tell that egotistical, bullying hottie she was sorry for anything. She'd said all there was to say at the park.

However, if telling Samantha a lie would wipe that scowl off her face and get the conversation to where she really wanted it, on a kiss that had scalded her to the quick, she'd say anything. "Fine. I'll call her today."

"In person."

"What? No h.e.l.l way."

"Yes h.e.l.l way. You told her off in person; you'll fix it in person." Sam leaned on her elbows. "Or I can cash in on my vacation days." She wiggled her brow.

Paige gasped. "You wouldn't."

The daring look on Samantha's face said oh yes, she would. That look said she would enjoy making Paige's life a living nightmare. She could, too. She'd once called out of work for a week and sent Paige into a downward spiral. Sure, she could run things if she wanted. Her major in business and her double minor in theatrical production and philosophy said as much. But that was the problem. She didn't want to. Dancing was all she wanted to do. Charity work and playing with those cute kids. Not sitting behind a computer screen in a stuffy office doing math or schedules or order forms. That's what she paid a manager to do. What she paid Samantha to do.

"You're evil."

Sam grinned.

f.u.c.k. Paige was going to do it. She was going to face Mayson Montgomery. Whether she liked it or not. d.a.m.n Sam and her secret weapon.

"Fine, I'll do it. But I won't like it even a little bit. And you'll never hear the end of my whining."

"It gives me great pleasure to know you'll be miserable the whole time." Sam gave a wicked grin. "Okay, now let's talk about this d.a.m.n mystery woman."

For the next hour, Paige found herself unleas.h.i.+ng six years' worth of pent-up emotions. She unlocked her memories and secrets and shared them all with Sam. Even the fact that she was the notorious X. It felt great to unveil them, to allow those secrets out of hiding. Hearing the words a.s.sured her that New Orleans had been real. That her mystery woman had been real.

"You're beautiful, Paige. Why can't you find a normal person?"

Of course she could find a normal person. They were a dime a dozen. But could that normal person rock her world, give her s.e.x that she would never forget?

Every woman was so far beneath the mystery woman now. Every s.e.xual encounter was a slap in the face to what she could have. What she'd already had.

She didn't f.u.c.king want normal. She wanted to claw the walls in complete ecstasy. Needed to weep while she pumped and came and screamed.

Why couldn't she find that person? She had once. Why couldn't she again? Where was the person who could bring home the bacon, then f.u.c.k her to sleep? Or just f.u.c.k her to sleep; she wasn't too picky. Why, oh why, couldn't she find that person? Why, again, had she fallen in l.u.s.t with a masked stranger?

"Why should I settle for normal when I've already had pure rapture? I touched the twilight zone, Sam. I ran my hands over the Milky Way. I was taken..."

"Stop!" Sam shoved her fingers in her ears and started chanting. "La la la la la la la."

Paige took a sip of her drink to cool down the spark of fire those memories held, the spark ignited once again by yet another masked woman. "Maybe I'm cursed to live alone for the rest of my life. Me and my s.e.x toys and my thirty cats I can call by name. I'll become that crazy cat lady."

"That'll never happen. You hate the cat you have now. I see you more of an alligator keeper. Or a lion tamer."

Paige gave a fake chuckle. "Bite me."

The waitress refilled their gla.s.ses while Paige thought about her predicament. She was a bundle of hormonal nerves from simply thinking about her time in that hotel room. Why couldn't she stop thinking about her? It was years ago. Long gone now. Well, so she thought, until another stranger ignited those flames and cracked the portal all over again.

Her phone chirped the distinctive tone set for her blog. She dug it from her purse to inspect her newest comment. It was a private message. The sender was someone named Vinden Gudinna. She vaguely recognized the name as someone who'd sent comments to the blog before.

Vinden Gudinna: You up for a challenge, Fedora?

"Oh my G.o.d. It's her." Paige wagged her a.s.s in the booth. "I think she wants to meet."