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.

A pink balloon rose and bounced against her face. Surprised, Kylie pushed it aside, and it floated up another foot before bouncing again and stopping. The balloon's ribbon was tied to a note and what looked like . . . breakfast.

"Um . . . is that a waffle?" the girl asked as Kylie tugged the note free. "Attached to a balloon?"

Kylie didn't answer. She was too busy scanning the note.

Dearest Kylie, I know you called off our date, but I can't stop thinking about you. You say you're busy, but I'll only take five minutes of your time. Truly. Meet me outside the hotel so we can talk.

Cade PS-If you don't come outside in five minutes, I have a marching band out here ready to start playing, and fireworks that will spell out KYLIE GO OUT WITH CADE. Just FYI.

PPS-Wasn't kidding about the five minutes.

Eyes wide, she crumpled the note in her hand.

"Why's someone sending you a waffle, if you don't mind me asking?" the girl at the front desk asked again.

"Because he's insane," Kylie replied. "Just flat-out insane." She reached over the counter, grabbed the scissors, popped the balloon viciously, and then stormed out to see why Cade was outside. He thought he could strong-arm her? She'd let him have a piece of her mind.

But all of that outrage disappeared when she went outside and saw the limo pulled up in front of the hotel. Cade leaned against the door, a flowerpot tucked under one arm. She looked around but she didn't see a marching band anywhere. In fact, there was no one outside except for Kylie . . . and Cade.

He grinned at the sight of her, uncrossing his legs and standing a bit straighter. "I take it you got my waffle?"

"Where's the marching band?" she asked, hands on her hips as she strode out to confront him. "Where's the fireworks?"

"Marching band got the sniffles," Cade said. "And I lied about the fireworks." He held the potted plant out to her. "For you."

She paused and took the plant from him, baffled. "What's this for?"

"I wanted to give you a present," he said. "I thought about a pet, since you'd mentioned that you wanted one and couldn't have one, but I couldn't think of anything that would travel well and didn't require walks. Except maybe Sea-Monkeys."

Kylie bit back her smile.

"So I thought maybe a nice violet would do. I'm told they're very hard to kill. And I wanted you to have company. It was either this or a Chia Pet." His mouth quirked in a lopsided grin. "And you will not believe how many stores are out of Chia Pets at the moment."

She gazed down at the violet and then sighed at him. "I'm trying to be mad at you."

His smile widened, flashing a dimple at her. "I know, and I'm not sure what I did to encourage it, so I'm doing my best to be appealing."

"You're far too good at it," she grumbled. "But, really Cade, you should go."

"Go? Why?" He reached forward and brushed a lock of hair off of her shoulder. "I just got here and I've barely had a chance to look at you."

"Someone will see you here," she told him. "You need to leave."

"Not before you tell me what I did wrong." Cade's eyes were so somber as he gazed at her. "Tell me what I did to mess things up and I won't bother you any longer."

Kylie hugged the potted plant close. Part of her wanted to storm off in a fury. To declare you know what you did and let him stew. But that would be childish. Adults had conversations, and she was an adult, darn it. "You should have told me you were dating Daphne."

He tilted his head, studying her. "That's a fair point. And I would have told you . . . if I was actually dating her. But I'm not. Where did you get that idea?"

"From the magazines? The tabloids? And every other word out of Daphne's mouth about how she's staying clean because you want her that way?"

His brows drew together, and for a moment he looked really, really confused. "But where are they getting that information? I'm not dating Daphne. I haven't even seen her since last week. She's texted me a few times, but I've spent all of my time talking to you." He raised his brows. "You probably see her more than I do."

"She texted you, huh?" Kylie asked, then wanted to bite back the words. They sounded jealous as hell.

"We've texted in the past," Cade said. "But the only one filling up my phone with love notes this last week was you."

Kylie snorted, feeling defensive. "Mine weren't love notes."

"A guy can dream, can't he?" He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and began to thumb through a few things. Then he offered it to her. "Here. Take a look."

She knew she shouldn't be as suspicious as that. She knew she should just turn it down and say she trusted him and let it go. But because she was small and petty and couldn't really believe that a guy like Cade preferred her to megastar Daphne, she took the phone and peeked through his text history. He wasn't lying; everything was from her. There were a few short messages to Daphne, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that screamed "we're dating." And because she was nosy, she swiped over to his phone records. Daphne's number wasn't in the last couple of weeks.

"Find anything good?" Cade asked, grinning.

She handed the phone back to him. "No. I'm sorry if I got all suspicious. But, Cade, you know that we shouldn't go out."

"Actually, I don't know anything of the sort," he told her, moving a little closer. Heavens, he was standing so close she could smell his aftershave, and he smelled amazing. He leaned in and murmured, "Why not go out with me? Just tonight. We'll go to dinner, have a glass of wine, see if we still click. If we do, great. If we don't, I'll leave you alone."

He made it sound so simple. Kylie hesitated, then glanced down at her feet. She wiggled her toes in her green flip-flops. She could use her clothes as an excuse to get out of this. "I'm not really dressed to go out."

"Then we'll keep it someplace casual," he said, turning and opening the limo door.

"I should go upstairs and change," Kylie hedged.

"Absolutely not. You're not getting out of my sight again until we have a date," he said, and gestured at the open-and-waiting limo door.

It was like he could read her mind. Instead of being annoyed, though, she was amused. She paused for only a moment longer.

"Someone might see you out here with me," Cade teased. "It's safer in the car."

"Damn it," Kylie said with a laugh. Then, clutching her potted flower, she crawled into the limo.

No sooner had she sat down than Cade got in behind her. The look he gave her was an intense one, and he gazed at her up and down. "You look great."

Like a silly girl, she put a hand to her hair and tried to finger-comb it. She was wearing old jeans, a faded T-shirt, and her hair was a mess. Her roots were even starting to show. It wasn't like she'd planned on going out, of course. Jesus, she was even wearing granny panties. But now that she was here with him, it seemed silly to put up a fight. "Thanks. You look pretty good, too. I'm sorry I canceled on you."

"I'm sorry you canceled on me, too," he said, grinning to take the sting out of his words. "Any place in particular you want to go tonight?"

"You pick," she told him. She didn't care where they went as long as it was private and she could spend time talking to him. Heck, she didn't mind if he did all the talking and she just got to stare at him. He was so gorgeous she didn't even care.

"Well, this is Vegas," he said. "There's bound to be someplace open." He was smiling at her, and her heart pitter-patted at the sight.

"Let's go someplace quiet and low-key," she told him. She knew Daphne's crew was hitting the town and the last thing she wanted was to run into them at one of the better-known nightspots.

"All right. Do you like . . . seafood? I know a great place that has an amazing wine list."

An "amazing wine list" sounded fancy. In jeans and flip-flops, she wasn't prepared for that. "Think more casual."

"Do you like . . ." He thought for a minute. "Fondue?"

"Never had it," she told him.

"Then that's what we'll have. Fondue."

"And what exactly is fondue?"

"Cheese and little pots?" He shrugged. "I don't know. It was the first thing that came up in my list of the area's restaurants . . . after the seafood place."

She laughed. "You googled the area? Don't you know Vegas?"

"Not as well as you'd think. My friend Reese knows it better than me. I'm afraid that I know more about the area hospitals and medical companies than the night life."

"Sounds . . . exciting."

"Oh, there's nothing more exciting than talking about the materials of a particularly revolutionary colostomy bag, let me tell you."