Wayward Dreams by Gail McFarland Read Free Book Online

want to. He was fine just chasing women and drinking and partying. Alin and his kind were nothing like him. He , KPayne, was destined for The Big Time, and he needed money to get there.
    KPayne’s face tightened as he stared out the window, fixed on the problem at hand and the money involved. In front of him, stretching from floor to ceiling, the penthouse-level wall of glass led onto a narrow balcony and afforded him a long view of the city’s east side. In fact, if the day was clear and he had a mind to pay the vista any attention, he could see all the way to Stone Mountain from where he stood. But this morning the natural granite mass, swathed in pale lilac and pink fog, made no impression on him.
    His concern was money. Who knew that a real robbery would disrupt his plans? Who knew that somebody willing to work harder to steal than to earn a living would step into the mix and that Bianca’s little business would take the hit? And now he had to find a way to pay it back because he knew that Buoy Mann didn’t play—unforeseen circumstances be damned. And that was going to be a problem because KPayne already knew that there was no undetectable way to slide more money out of the trust fund he’d been raiding for the past couple of years.
    Payne ignored the thin line of sweat glazing his upper lip and watched a lithe, statuesque woman slip into the room. Barefoot and barely covered by the midnight-black lace teddy she’d worn under something he couldn’t recall from the night before, she padded close enough to brush her lips against his cheek. Fresh breath, he noted. She must travel ready-roll. Carries her own toothbrush and toiletries. If I’m going to pick ’em up, that’s the way I like ’em.
    She turned gracefully and danced slowly toward the chair where Alin sprawled, still clutching the champagne bottle. KPayne admired the curves of her body and the suggestive hip-driven rhythm of her slinky strut—yeah, he liked that about her, too. Even if he couldn’t remember her name. Was it Mona? Maybe not, but Mona was the best he could come up with.
    Reaching Alin’s chair, Mona planted her hands on the arms and bent to kiss him. KPayne’s lips tightened and thinned at the display, but he didn’t look away. No class , he thought. No class at all.
    Mona dropped her sassy hip to the arm of Alin’s chair. Her finger traced the foil still wrapped around the bottle’s neck. “Is that champagne? Orange juice and glasses,” she murmured. Standing gracefully, she tipped across the parquet floor, toward the kitchen. “I’ll find something to eat, and then we’ll have mimosas. I love mimosas.”
    â€œMimosa is a sissy drink,” KPayne said flatly. “Bianca used to like mimosas.”
    Alin sat up, holding the unopened champagne bottle between his knees. “Maybe orange juice and champagne is just the preferred drink of beautiful women.”
    â€œBeautiful, stupid women.”
    â€œTrue, that.” Alin raised the bottle in agreement, and then lowered it to swing between his knees. He sat silent for a minute, listening to Mona moving around the kitchen and the sound of the group they’d listened to last night pulsing through the room.
    KPayne’s eyes had gone back to the window and his thoughts clearly beyond that. Alin knew that silence was the best thing, but he couldn’t help himself—inquiring minds, and all that. “What if she can’t, man?”
    â€œCan’t what?”
    â€œPay it back.”
    Alin felt the cold snap of Payne’s green eyes. “She doesn’t pay it back on her own, then I’ll have to get original.”
    Alin watched his eyes move back to the window and wondered what might constitute originality. The pictures his mind drew weren’t pretty or pleasant and he hoped he was wrong. KPayne was a soft rich boy playing hard. On his own, he wouldn’t hurt