“Business in what?”
“He hasn’t told you, huh?”
“Well, to be honest, no. We’ve been kind of playing this cat-and-mouse game, and I think he’s enjoying it more than I am. I’m just trying to find out what he does. Why would people know who he is unless he was someone—important?”
“And that bothers you,” he stated.
“Of course it bothers me. I’m an officer with the Coast Guard, I’m not a…a…” Her attention wandered to the casino floor where a woman dressed to the nines, coiffed to the tune of thousands strolled by. “Her. I’m working class, not a blue blood.”
“Ms. Viterra.” His voice lowered a notch. “I don’t think Steven would give a shit about that. But do I need to remind you that you are a best-selling author, and that does carry some weight, you know.”
“That’s nothing compared to my real job,” she said, waving the thought off with her hand. “Well, shit.” She ran her hand through her hair, she felt like pulling it out actually. “You’re not going to tell me either. In fact, that was Steven on phone when I ran up, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was. And no, I’m not going to tell you what he does. I’ll leave that up to him. I can tell you that he’s intrigued by you, and for him—that’s unique.”
“Why—?” She gazed at all the beautiful women that roamed around the casino. “Why…” The question died on her lips again.
“Why—doesn’t he have some woman hanging off him already?”
Her brows pulled together. “Yes.”
“Always did before,” he offered. “I would think that eventually he, like every man, wants someone who means something, not just fluff. I’ve known him for years, and he’s had it all, has it all, but the one thing he never did do was settle down. He’s never been married except to his business aspirations. And once he acquired what he wanted he was pretty well covered with women.” He paused. “Well, the guy’s always been covered by women to be honest, lucky bastard.” He chuckled.
“And what were those aspirations?” she asked, trying to get that one by.
Vince shook his head. “Sorry, Moira, I promised him I wouldn’t divulge.”
Frustrated, she knew she was getting nowhere with Vince. “Fine, guess I’ll just have to Google him. Where are the computers in this place?”
“We have a room for computer use toward the elevators for the suites.”
“Great, thank you. And it really was nice meeting you, even if I did drill you a little. I’m sorry, but he’s driving me crazy.”
“Wouldn’t you rather hear it from him? If you look him up you’re going to find him, and I think you’re going to misunderstand.”
“Misunderstand?”
“It’s important that he tell you. He will when he wants to, but until then—have fun.” He gave her a friendly smile and extended his hand. “It’s no wonder you write such good books. You’re a pretty zealous sleuth.”
“Comes with my other job, too,” she said, shaking his hand.
“Are you here by yourself?”
“No, I brought some off my officers for their first adventure to Vegas. The girls and I are all crammed into one room actually.”
“Well I think I can take care of that. How many are with you?”
“There are five of us.”
He nodded at her. “Go to the VIP check-in in a few minutes and it’ll be rearranged.”
“Thank you,” she said, still deliberating on his words of advice.
She spotted her crew, and gave a quick wave.
“Who was that?” Callie asked, as Vince walked away.
“That, my dear, was Mr. Las Vegas, Vince Laker.”
“What? No way,” Mandy said.
“I think we’re getting new room assignments. We have to go to check in in fifteen minutes.”
“What’s happening?” Sasha asked as she caught up to the group.
“I think he’s putting us in separate rooms,” Moira told her.
“Who?” Sasha asked, still not up-to-date.
“Vince Laker.”
“You know Vince Laker?” Sasha said, her eyes rounding. “Here we thought you were an impoverished government employee like the rest of us.”
“I don’t know him, Steven does,” Moira corrected.
“Never mind, the important thing is I get my own shower,” Callie said happily. “Now I don’t have to share with you counter hogs.”
“Hey,” Patti said, giving her a scowl. “We’re not the ones with a ton of makeup and so many creams it would make the Oil of Olay factory feel needy.”
Callie turned to her coworker with her hands on her hips. “Maybe you should have tried some and you wouldn’t be all wrinkly at thirty.”
Patti gazed at Mandy for help. “Can I kill her now? The staffing cut wouldn’t be that bad.”
“Callie, I hate to tell you this, but you’re gonna get all wrinkly one day, too,” Mandy said.
They all laughed as they watched Callie stomp toward an empty slot machine.
“Was I that naive at twenty-one?” Mandy asked.
“Nah, you were like a little old lady already,” Moira confided.
“Thanks, ma’am.”
“Don’t mention it. So, should we go have a drink while we wait?” Moira suggested.
“Sounds good,” Sasha said, leading the way. “The one thing I can always do, is drink.”
Moira let the other women walk ahead, then grabbed Mandy’s arm to stop her.
“What’s wrong, Moira?” Mandy asked, reading her face.
“Mandy, Steven is coming back to get me for lunch. I don’t think I should go.” She twisted her hands together.
“Why not? It’s just lunch with a gorgeous guy.”
“Mandy, you’ve seen him. Why would he want to take me out for lunch? Besides, he knows Vince Laker, personally. Steven is not just some regular working stiff. He drives an ultra expensive car, he knows people like Laker. And when Steven introduced us Vince knew who I was.”
“Moira, you’re starting to sound paranoid. Of course people know who you are. You wrote a bunch of best sellers, duh.”
“Fine, maybe, but Steven doesn’t make sense.”
“Okay” She stared at her.
“Okay what?”
Mandy wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “I know you never take advice. You never listen to anything except those inner demons of yours, but for once hear me out.”
She nodded for Mandy to go on.
“Life doesn’t end with a crappy marriage. You’ve had one, and I’ve had one, but you don’t see me rolling over and dying.”
“I didn’t roll over and die.”
“No, you just holed yourself up at work or in front of your computer, and now you’re living your life through that.”
“You know why I do that.”
“You can’t possibly believe that’s true.”
“Really, an earthquake strikes, and I almost slip to my death.”
“Moira, it’s coincidence.”
“Maybe it is, but I don’t need anything more than work and my hobby.”
“I guess you’re missing my point.”
She shrugged.
“This is Las Vegas. You are an attractive woman in the prime of your life, and a blistering-hot man has asked you for lunch.”
“A blistering-hot man who won’t tell me who he is. What if he’s some kind of syndicate boss, a hit man, or a drug lord?”
“Shit, woman, no wonder you write books. Give your head a shake, Moira. Stop making him into something bad. You never know.” She paused. “Maybe he’s someone very good, or better yet, very good at something if you catch my drift.”
She swallowed hard. “Ah…”
Mandy grinned at her discomfort. “I’ll say it the way you can understand it. Take that over-the-top, sizzling body of his, and screw his bloody brains out the first chance you get.”
“Mandy!”
“Oh don’t Mandy me. Just listen to me for a ch
ange. The man practically stripped down naked in the cave. You can’t tell me you weren’t attracted to that?”
“May–Maybe,” she stuttered.
Chapter Six
Moira collected her things from the room and said au revoir to the girls as she headed to the elevator. She didn’t realize she was on the top floor until she got into the elevator. She pushed the floor number a couple times, but it wouldn’t light up. A man in a neatly tailored pinstriped suit pointed out she had to use her card to select the floor.
“Thanks.” She slipped her card through a slot and pushed the number.
“Don’t mention it,” he said.
Moira slid her keycard into the door and pushed it open. Her jaw dropped. “Holy God in heaven,” she said, flabbergasted, as the door slammed shut in her face. She couldn’t believe it.
She opened the door again slowly and stepped inside, rolling her carry-on bag behind her. This wasn’t a room. It was a palace. She felt like she should take her shoes off, and left them by the door before carefully walking inside. She half expected a loud alarm to go off, detecting she didn’t belong.
It was just too sublime for words. They must have made a mistake, she thought, twirling around. The windows ran from ceiling to floor giving an unimpeded view of the strip. A full-size living room, kitchen, and bar designed with opulence in mind surrounded her. She walked to the right and found a bathroom that was larger than some apartments. An enormous round tub sat in the center, and huge windows filled the room with natural light. The bedroom was to die for, with an oversized king bed and satin sheets. Big puffy pillows, layered three deep, nestled near the headboard.
She walked to the phone and dialed the front desk, but there had been no mistake. Mr. Laker requested she have the room. She laughed when she looked at her small, roughed-up single piece of luggage sitting in the middle of the luxurious suite.
She realized what Little Orphan Annie must have felt like. Then she ran, maybe more like sprinted to the bathroom, and turned on the tub. Tearing her sweaty clothes off, she left them in a heap on the floor and dumped in the bath crystals. It took forever for the tub to fill. She lay back, thinking she’d died and gone to heaven as the exotic aroma of the bath salts surrounded her.
She lingered there for longer than she should have. After the water cooled, she forced herself out, and wrapped herself in a silk robe. Sitting on the couch, she let her attention wander down the colorful and chaotic strip. Even in daylight, it was daunting. She could sit here for the rest of her life, she thought, but a glass of wine might not hurt either.
Wondering how many thousands of dollars it would cost to rob it of its treasures, she stood in front of the bar. Well, the room was on the house, she might as well enjoy the rest. She uncorked a bottle of sparkling wine and poured it into a crystal goblet.
Here she sat in a premium suite simply because of Steven or because of her books or maybe the merging of the two. Steven’s attention, and their heated moments in the desert, didn’t make sense. Steven Porter was more than just a businessman, she was sure of it. But besides that, he was the upper crust of gorgeous. Most men didn’t even give her a twinge of excitement, and her industry was laden with them.
The guys who most women drooled over didn’t do a thing for her. The Pitts and Cruises of the world had no sparking material for her. For some reason Steven Porter was the elusive shark amongst a sea of fleshy fish, and he created unsettled waters inside of her.
She didn’t want spark, though. She wanted to be alone. She needed her life to be simple. Steven Porter complicated it. He belonged on the guest list of the Playboy Mansion, not taking a shower and coming back to get her for lunch. This wasn’t right, and instead of falling into some kind of wicked scenario that she knew she shouldn’t be involved in, she should thank him for the tour and tell him to go on his way.
“Ms. Viterra,” Steven greeted with a sensual invitation in his voice when she picked up the phone.
God, she wished he didn’t sound like that. The timbre of his voice weakened her resolve instantly, igniting something inside of her she didn’t understand.
“Are you coming down or am I coming up?” he asked with meaning.
“Steven, it was really nice that you took my brood to the park this morning—”
“So I’m coming up,” he interrupted.
“No.”
“Then get down here, Ms. Viterra, two minutes.” His command left no room for a rebuttal.
* * * *
He put the courtesy phone down and took a breath, turning so he wouldn’t miss her when she came from the elevators. He waited, leaning against a bank of slot machines with his arms crossed.
A couple of young women walked past him, not bothering to hide the look of lust in their eyes. One was a brunette, the other a blonde. Both of them skinny, and both with their paid-for breasts popping out of their tops, slowed then stopped, in front of him.
He observed them with what he hoped was cold disinterest. He wished he had a buck for every time he’d seen that look in a woman’s eyes, and what was about to follow.
“Hey,” the blonde said, moistening her predatory red lips. “I think I know you.”
She shoved her hands in the back pockets of her too-tight jeans, pushing her chest out. Swaying her hips in an exaggerated way, she approached him. She was the farthest thing away from sexy to him. They weren’t hookers, but they might as well have been. It didn’t matter whether he was in Las Vegas or Hollywood. Every wannabe showgirl or actress with no talent tried to make up for it with sex.
“Don’t think so,” he drawled. His gaze shifted to the quiet brunette who stood in the background wearing an impish smile. He wondered how many times they’d screwed a guy together.
“Aren’t you Steven Porter?” the blonde asked. “I think we were at a party together in LA.”
“Could be.” Not even his disinterested responses had an effect on the woman’s hungry eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of grace in her. She’d open her legs for absolutely anyone. Fuck, he was tired of that. Faces and bodies without depth.
The doors to the elevator opened and Moira stepped out. She walked down the aisle toward him. Unfurling his arms, he stepped away from the machines so she could see him. Warmth ricocheted through his body. She’d piled her hair on the top of her head with wisps of curls tickling her cheeks. Beautiful gold earrings dangled from her lobes.
Moira stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the two women in front of him. She did an about-face so fast he didn’t think a military man could have done a better job. Holy shit, she was going to bolt, he thought.
“Moira,” he called, even though he knew she wouldn’t stop. He put himself in front of her, threw his hands around her waist, and peered into her eyes.
Staring down at the floor instead of him, she said, “I think I forgot something in the room.”
He leaned to her ear and whispered, “Lunch is that way.” He slipped his hands to her bare shoulders. The tingle in his fingers radiated through him instantly. Suddenly, something else began to throb as well. “But if you would like to go back up to your room I think lunch would be just as enjoyable there.” He knew she would change direction immediately.
Slowly, her head rose. Her beautiful siren eyes called him closer. He made the few inches between them disappear. Seductively, he tempted her mouth with his tongue, and she responded—her lips melting against his.
A wave of hungry energy passed between them. He wanted to seduce her slowly, until she begged for him. He knew he was trying to climb a mountain he’d never be able to crest, because she wouldn’t ask him for anything. Her eyes remained closed as if she were happy to stay in their kiss when he pulled away from her. God, he loved when she did that.
“Fine,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Lunch and then—”
“And then we’ll figure something out,” he interrupted, turning her gently toward the door.
As they walked toward the exit, he saw the two wannabes wa
tching them. The blonde raised her brow. Her expression turning from surprise to a twisted snarl, she said loud enough for Moira to hear, “Oh, I get it. He likes the old ones so it makes him the prettiest one in the couple.”
He clenched Moira’s arm when he felt her bristle at the comment, forcing her to keep moving. He wouldn’t blame her if the words of a true sailor gurgled to the surface.
As soon as they hit the hot Nevada air, she twisted away from him. “Thank you. It was nice to meet you, and good-bye.” She abruptly headed for the strip.
He gave the valets an “I don’t know what’s gotten into her” look, and strode after her.
“Moira—stop,” he commanded. He was shocked because she actually did, right on the spot. She squared her shoulders as if preparing to spar. He walked up behind her and grasped her arms gently. “Tell me why you can’t go to lunch with me? You eat, I eat, why can’t we eat together?” He hadn’t even dared to tell her about the place he was taking her to. She was going to freak when she found out.
“Yes, I eat,” she said slowly looking into his eyes.
“Good, then get in the car and let’s go.”
“Tell me who you are.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Why do you need to know?”
She glared at him and nailed him with the truth. “Because I don’t belong with you. Those girls in there, regardless of their trailer-trash appearance—are correct.”
“Really? And what if I can prove otherwise?” Let’s see her argue her way out of this, he thought. Moira was intelligent, but he could turn people’s thoughts into pretzels if he wanted.
Her jaw clenched in obvious frustration. She turned it around on him. “Why, would you want to? You and I don’t fit.” Anger started to brew in her eyes.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Lunch—now, or I might start eating you, which, my beautiful Moira, we’ll get to.”
She understood how to take an order. What she didn’t know was that it was coming from his heart. She was sweet all right, but she had a core of steel running through her. She needed a man who could possess her gently, but keep her struggling for power, a man who knew when to give in to her, and when to overpower her. And he was about to take charge.
Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 8