“You can’t cry,” Kylie told her, taking a determined tone and offering Daphne a box of Kleenex. “Your face is going to be on all kinds of magazines tomorrow and you want to look your best, don’t you?”
“I don’t care about magazines. I just want a nap. Why is Marco hiding from me?”
Kylie gave her a helpless look. “I suppose I could go look for him—” She stopped that train of thought when Snoopy showed up in the corner of her eye and gave her a silent shake of her head and a throat-cutting motion. Okay. So Marco was “hiding” deliberately. They probably didn’t want Daphne on something when she went on stage. Poor thing. She stroked Daphne’s hair, feeling sorry for her. She should be excited to start a tour, not miserable. “You know what? I think there’s a coffee place up the street. I could go run and get you something to pep you up before it’s time for makeup?”
Daphne’s tearstained face lit up. “Really? You’d do that for me, Fat Marilyn?”
“Yup,” she said. Anything to make Daphne stop crying. “How about an espresso?”
Daphne clapped her hands. “I need an extra-large iced coffee with a quad-shot of espresso. Heavy on the sugar, heavy on the cream.”
“That sounds awful,” Kylie said with a small laugh. “But it does sound like it’ll wake you up.”
“Short of them grinding the beans into the ice cubes, yup.” Daphne actually looked happy. “Thank you so much. Coffee sounds awesome. I’m thinking about adding it to my goddamn rider, not that anyone reads the fucking thing.” She bellowed the last part and gave Snoopy a glare.
“I’ll just run and get that coffee,” Kylie said, grabbing her wallet and running for the door.
“Flee while you can,” Snoopy told her, and it sounded like good advice to Kylie.
—
Parked in front of the coffee shop was a hot pink Lyons roadster that made Kylie drool with want. She was so busy admiring it and staring that she automatically reached for the door to the cafe . . . and ended up grabbing at someone’s belt buckle and the fabric below.
And possibly some junk. Possibly.
“Oh!” She jerked backward, shocked. Of all the humiliating things to do. She looked up . . . and immediately felt flustered.
Kylie had to admit her instincts had great taste, though. If she had to grab anyone’s junk, at least it was this guy’s. Because good lord, he was gorgeous. Blond tousled hair, a gray business suit, and a pair of smiling blue eyes crinkled with amusement at her.
“Oh, my God, I am so, so sorry,” Kylie told him. “I thought you were the door.”
“I can safely say that’s probably the first time I’ve heard that from a beautiful woman.” He grinned at her and opened the door—the real one—for her. “After you?”
Humiliation burned her cheeks, and she ducked her head and stepped into the coffee shop, hoping that he wouldn’t follow her in.
No such luck—the handsome man was two steps behind her as she went inside. She bit her lip, wondering if she needed to apologize again. Say something clever, funny. Something. Anything. Steeling herself, she turned around to face him. “I don’t normally grab men when I head into a coffee shop,” she told him. “But since I did, I feel like I should buy you a drink.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “What sort of groping do I endure for a bagel?”
“Bagels are cheap,” she found herself teasing back. “No more than a quick squeeze for one of those.”
“Not even if I ask for lox?” His eyes were so blue, surrounded by thick lashes. He looked like an angel. A very naughty, flirty angel.
“Not even,” she told him, a smile tugging at her mouth. Then she offered him her hand. “Kylie.”
“Cade,” he told her, shaking her hand. As he held her fingers, he leaned in. “And I can buy my own bagels, truly. I just wanted to see what was on the menu.”
Was he flirting with her or just being polite? When he gestured that she should step in front of him at the counter, she decided that it was simply politeness. He was just a nice guy having a little fun at the coffee shop. She smiled awkwardly at the man behind the counter. “I need a small black coffee, regular blend, and an extra-large iced coffee with a quad-shot of espresso. Loads of sugar and cream.”
Cade chuckled. “Is all that sugar for you?”
She shook her head and held out a twenty to the cashier. “Mine’s the black. I can’t drink all that sugar.”