She didn’t look—or act—like someone who was getting clean. And that made him worry all over again.
Daphne waved an irritated hand at him. “Quit hovering, damn it. I’m just tired. Being tired makes me moody.”
“Can I get you anything?” he asked politely. “Maybe a bottle of water or some cigarettes?”
“Snoopy’s got what I need,” Daphne retorted. “You’re being a mother hen.”
And that was more like the regular Daphne. He relaxed, stuffed his hand in his pocket . . . and froze when he touched the damp material there. He’d forgotten about Kylie’s panties, and now he didn’t want to take his hand out.
He noticed that Kylie stiffened, too. It was clear she was watching his movements.
“So,” he said to Daphne. “Tell me about the show. Two ovations, huh?”
Daphne gave him a tired smile, tugging one of her legs up in her chair and unlacing her platform boot. “You should have seen it, Cade. It’s like all of Vegas was out there tonight.”
He chuckled. “They probably were.”
—
They’re just friends, Kylie told herself as she reapplied Daphne’s makeup. Friends being friendly and hanging out together. That’s all it was. Cade had told Kylie that he was interested in just Kylie, and not Daphne. There was no reason to be jealous.
But no matter how many times she repeated this to herself, Kylie got a funny tightness in her stomach when she saw Daphne had pulled a second director’s chair next to hers for Cade to sit in. And that tightness returned every time the two of them bent their heads together and shared a joke or a laugh. And the tightness remained when Daphne insisted on dragging Cade around the room with her as she did meet and greets. He wanted to be with Kylie, didn’t he?
But . . . he sure didn’t look unhappy to be Daphne’s property all night, Kylie thought miserably.
She was relieved when the press thinned out and the staff started to head out. The dancers—all party animals—were hitting the open bar and getting their postshow party on. The rest of the crew—Daphne’s personnel, chef, assistant, wardrobe, etc.—usually headed back to the hotel if they weren’t sticking around for the party. When the first few people started to trickle out, Kylie was relieved.
She was tired, she was getting progressively crankier, and she just wanted to go home and curl up in a pair of pajamas and nurse her wounded feelings.
Except she wasn’t home, she was in Vegas.
And she couldn’t go home, because she had a husband.
And that husband was insisting she go home with him.
One thing was for sure, though—whatever Snoopy had given Daphne for her “headache” had cured Daphne’s erratic mood. She was at her best tonight: charming and funny, the life of the party. Everyone was laughing at Daphne’s jokes and she teased her favorite dancers, and erupted in giggles now and then. Snoopy wasn’t happy, though, but Snoopy was discreet, and if she didn’t like something Daphne was doing, she didn’t say a thing.
Kylie tried to watch Daphne as the night wore on. She tried to see if Daphne went out to smoke cigarettes repeatedly, like Cade said she would do when she was finished with drugs. But she didn’t see Daphne leave the room. She didn’t see her light up. She didn’t see her throwing up or clutching her stomach, or even looking the slightest bit sick.
Instead, Daphne looked happy . . . almost manically so.
She wondered if she should say something to Cade. Or would it come across as pettiness and jealousy instead of concern?
“We’re heading back to the hotel,” Ginger said, distracting Kylie. “You coming with?”
“No, uh, I think I’m just going to, you know, stay here for a bit.” To her vast embarrassment, her cheeks kept getting redder and redder.
“Uh-huh,” Ginger said, clearly not buying the lie. “See you tomorrow, then.”
“Right,” Kylie said vigorously. She gave her a thumbs-up. “See you then.”
Ginger just rolled her eyes, picked up her own bag, and headed out with the others. It left Kylie in a curious predicament. Exactly how would she sneak out without alerting Daphne, who was currently clinging to Kylie’s man?
And Jesus, what was wrong with Kylie that she was thinking of him as her man? He wasn’t even paying a lick of attention to her, standing across the room with Daphne’s posse. She doubted he’d notice if she exited and disappeared for the night, too.
He was probably bluffing about the panties thing, too, right?
Theoretically.
But even as she pondered making a swift escape, her cell phone buzzed. She checked the screen.
Cade: Go outside and head to the limo. My driver knows to expect you. I’ll follow in about five minutes. When I get in there, if you’re not there, I’m presenting Daphne with your still-wet panties.
God, he didn’t play fair. Even as she thought it, she felt a shiver of desire. Why was she so insanely attracted to this guy? Why was it that having sex with him and being around him was suddenly trumping all common sense? It was maddening.
She should man up and confess to Daphne that she’d slept with Cade. Twice. And she might have married him by accident. And then let him go down on her in the janitor closet. But no, they were done. Really and truly. And she didn’t want him, despite the fact that she’d promised to send him dirty selfies.
It would all be totally aboveboard if she just told Daphne, right? And maybe she wouldn’t get fired. Maybe Daphne would still be on her manic shit and she’d laugh it all off. Maybe the best time to tell Daphne something bad was when she was on whatever uppers she was on. Brightening, Kylie looked over at Daphne’s small group.