When they finally located the room, they found the maid hadn’t left yet. From the sound of her voice, mumbling fiercely in Spanish, the “preparing for guests” involved a good deal more than changing the sheets.
“Let’s wait by the pool,” Rhys said, gesturing to some tables just inside the gate. “It should be more comfortable than hanging out here.”
Inside the gate, Trae went straight for the first table, but before she could sit, Rhys stepped up to pull out the chair for her. Again, he did it so effortlessly, so seamlessly, she could tell that this was how he acted with every female, yet somehow he still managed to make her feel special.
As she sat, he grabbed the arms of her chair and slid it into the table. Momentarily held captive, Trae was intensely aware of his warmth behind her, the controlled power in the arms surrounding her own. She kept seeing him as he’d been in Lucie’s bedroom, slowly stripping off his shirt, and she had the sudden, inexplicable urge to lean back into the solid warmth of his chest.
“While we’re waiting,” he said into her ear, “we can work out our strategy for finding Lucie.”
Appalled to be caught fantasizing while he was formulating their daily schedule, she couldn’t keep the irritation out of her tone. “Give it a rest, Paxton. It’s got to be after twelve and we’re both dead tired. Besides, nobody will be on location this late.”
“I know.” Moving away, he sat in the chair next to hers. “I meant tomorrow. We should get to the site by daybreak. We don’t want to take the chance of missing them again.” Leaning forward, he was a daunting few inches away from her face. “Here, let me look at those directions,” he said, holding out his hand.
And there it was, the excuse she needed to slide back her chair. “Yeah, right, I hand them over now, and when I wake in the morning, bingo! No more Rhys Paxton.”
“Where would I go?” Sitting straight, he looked surprised, maybe even hurt. “You’re the one with the car keys. Not to mention the money.”
“Which reminds me. Where’s my two hundred dollars?”
He looked at her as if she’d just spoken in Russian.
“The bet, Paxton. You lost. You used your connections to get us a room.”
He shook his head as if he were disappointed in her. “No, I was careful about that. If you’ll remember, Chad offered me nothing until I introduced you.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t seriously expect me to believe you set it up that way.”
“Didn’t have to. ‘For you, ma’am, I’ll definitely find something,’” Rhys mimicked, sounding eerily like Chad. “Let’s face it, Trae. Your flirting got us the room. Poor Chad never could resist a pretty face.”
“So, you’re content to skate by on a mere technicality?”
He shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. “Whatever it takes to win. Trust me, if I’d used my influence, we wouldn’t be out two-hundred-plus dollars. We wouldn’t have paid a cent at all.”
Glancing back over his shoulder, he shook his head with a rueful grin. “Besides, let’s not credit anyone with a victory yet. We haven’t seen this room.”
Good point, and even more valid when they finally entered it fifteen minutes later. Trae gaped as her suspicions about Chad’s use for it were confirmed. From the red satin quilt to the subdued lighting and half-dozen mirrors strategically placed on the ceiling and walls, the place screamed out male fantasy. All that was missing was the low, seductive music. Not that she’d put it past Chad to have a stereo socked away somewhere.
“Ouch,” Rhys said as he eyed the bed. “Almost makes me grateful I’ll be spending the night on a cot.”
She knew he was trying to be the gentleman again. “Don’t be ridiculous, you won’t fit. I’ll take the rollaway. If they ever deliver it.”
He shook his head. “You did all the driving. You paid for the room. It’s only fair you get the bed.”
Annoyed by his stubbornness, Trae crossed the room and flopped down to stretch out on the soft, red satin. “Hmm, not bad. I could curl up and go to sleep right now.”
She glanced up, her smile meant to taunt, but the intensity of his gaze caused the teasing words to stick in her throat.
Disconcerted, she looked away, but everywhere she turned she found another mirror. There she was, her flushed face staring back at her, just as she must appear to him. Hair spilling around her shoulders as she luxuriated on the satin, she could as easily have been saying, “Here, come and get it.”
Horrified, she scrambled to her feet. Unfortunately, her impetus landed her in front of Rhys. Still watching her every move, he dominated the tight space between them, taller and more in command than ever. She felt paralyzed, unable to look away, trapped like some wild creature snared by unexpected headlights. She wished he’d stop staring at her like that. She wished…
Quite frankly, overwhelmed by the strange longing now welling up in her chest, Trae no longer knew what she wanted.
It’s this room, she thought frantically. Chad’s tacky ode-to-lust hideaway was putting silly ideas in her head.
Rhys stepped closer, gently brushing at her hair. “A leaf,” he said hoarsely, never taking his gaze off her face. “Must’ve gotten stuck there out by the pool.” Mere inches away, he continued to stare down at her with a perplexed, almost hungry expression.
Trae felt a funny fluttering in her chest. “I need air,” she blurted out. “Let’s go out for a while.”
Brushing past him to the door, she heard his quick intake of air behind her. “Wait, where are you going?”
“We should look for Lucie,” she said, grasping for straws. “For all we know, she might be staying at the Snake Pit.”
“But what’s the sudden hurry? I thought we decided to wait until morning.”
She ignored him, racing out the door. She knew she’d startled him and no doubt he deserved an explanation, but really, how could she admit the reason for her panicked flight?
That would mean having to admit the real cause of it to herself.
Following Trae to the lobby, Rhys knew he, too, should be in a rush to find Lucie, but he could no longer summon up the same sense of urgency. Yes, he was eager to make sure she was safe and sound, but the rest of it, the happily-ever-after part, suddenly seemed to require more careful consideration.Not that he suffered any doubts about his upcoming marriage. Lucie had formed such a large part of his future for as long as he could remember, a major cog in his Grand Plan, and it was hard to imagine a life without her in it.
But do you love her?
As if she’d mouthed the words, he again heard Trae asking the question. Up until now, his response would have been an automatic “of course,” but for the first time since he’d known Lucie, he felt the doubts slipping in. There was no disputing that he cared about her, wanted the best for her and would protect her with his life.
But do you love her?
He felt confused and didn’t like it. It was all Trae’s fault, putting these questions into his head. He’d made a promise to Lucie. Whatever else, he couldn’t go back on his word. Misgivings or not, he was going to marry the girl, and that was the end of it.
So why these sudden, unexpected urges to touch Trae?
Blame that moment in the car, he decided firmly, when he imagined he saw her vulnerability. Obviously, he was so tired he could no longer think straight. Must be exhaustion. An overload of the senses. Those mirrors, all the red satin, her soft, enticing scent. No wonder he’d fantasized about snuggling up with Trae on what Chad had so optimistically labeled a queen-size bed.
Before they went looking for Lucie, he suddenly decided, he had to make sure housekeeping delivered that cot.
Catching up with Trae in the lobby, he asked her to give him a minute while he went to the desk. Strolling over to have a chat with Lisa, he was somewhat mollified by the horrified look on her face. Apologizing profusely, she got on the phone immediately, chewing out some poor soul named Juan, before assuring Rhys that the rollaway would be in the room shortly.
&n
bsp; That should take care of it, he thought with satisfaction as he found Trae and ushered her out the door.
Saying nothing, Trae walked briskly beside him, her wide-eyed gaze taking in the sights around them. He came to Vegas often, but seeing it through her eyes, he decided it was like going to the circus. In ring one you could watch dancing fountains, a squealing roller coaster, a laser beam reaching for the sky. In ring two you found mumbling panhandlers and fast-talking pitchmen handing out cards for adult entertainment. But in the center ring, the main attraction, were the thousands of hapless tourists, milling from one casino to the other in a desperate quest to blow all their money.
Having seen it all countless times, Rhys found himself focusing on the woman beside him. Her hair blew in the warm desert breeze, taunting him and making him want to run his fingers through it. It was all he could do not to lean down and touch the strands.
“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” she said as they neared their destination. “A penny for your thoughts?”
As if he’d divulge what he’d been thinking for a mere penny. “Don’t mind me, I feel like a fish out of water here. Can’t say I’m much of a fan.”
“What’s not to like? All the lights. The action.” She gestured at the flashing signs, the hordes scrambling across the multilane highway from one casino to the next. “The fun.”
“Gambling, fun? Me, I don’t get it. Can’t these people see the odds are against them? That they stand to lose far more than they can ever win?”
She shook her head. “Not everybody bets the farm, Paxton. Most come prepared to wager a set amount, the same money you’d put aside for the ballet, or opera, or any other form of entertainment. For them, that’s all it is. Entertainment.”
“Losing money is hardly a hoot.”
“Yeah, and I bet you still have the first dime you inherited.”
He was getting fed up with her cracks about his wealth. “I take my profits and invest them wisely. Which is why I have the resources to find Lucie.”
“What resources? Last time I checked, I’m the one funding our little expedition.”
And she missed no chance to toss it in his face. “Until tomorrow when we find her,” he reminded her, doubly annoyed. “And let’s face it, you can’t have much money left. After the hotel bill, I bet you don’t have enough left to pay up once I win our wager.”
“Another bet, Paxton?” She came to a halt, placing her hands on her hips as she faced him. “Hypocrite. If you’re so dead set against gambling, how can you be so eager to challenge me?”
“That isn’t gambling. Gambling implies risk. I know full well I’ll win.”
She pursed her lips. “Okay, then let’s make it triple or nothing.”
He had to school his features to hide his surprise. Had to hand it to her, she didn’t back down from a challenge. “Fine. You’re on,” he said, offering his hand to shake on it. “But do you have the cash to cover it?”
The color drained from her features. “Don’t worry about me,” she told him tightly, clasping his hand.
“Good. Then this should prove interesting.”
He held her hand a trifle longer than necessary. He tried to tell himself it was to keep her flustered, but deep inside, he wondered if he was merely indulging himself. He liked the feel of her grasp, he realized. It made him feel warm. Connected.
She yanked free, nodding behind her. “Here we are, the Snake Pit Casino.”
Looking up, Rhys saw the bright pink-and-orange neon depicting a writhing serpent. Certainly made the place distinctive. That, and the suggestive pictures of the scantily dressed dealers inside.
“We should split up,” Trae added quickly, as if hoping to forestall his objections. “You check the front desk while I case the casino.”
Rhys looked up, uncertain. The Snake Pit was even seedier than he remembered, with its darkly lit lobby and aggressive hawkers luring customers—mostly men—inside. “I don’t know,” he started, only to realize she’d left him no choice. Already at the door, Trae was fast disappearing with the crowd into the casino.
So much for being connected.
Funny, she could drive him up the wall with her outrageous ideas and incessant chatter, but take her out of his line of vision for one minute and all of a sudden, he felt at a loss.
Fighting a strong need to go after her, he strode briskly into the hotel. At the front desk, he learned there was no Lucie Beckwith registered there, and no Robert Boudreaux, either. As for Mr. Carino, he just missed him. The boss had left for home late this evening.
And wasn’t Lou in for a big surprise, Rhys thought as he pictured Josh trying to get the house cleaned—and all the girls out—before his father arrived on the scene.
Anxious to tell Trae what he’d learned—which, in essence, was nothing—Rhys hurried into the casino. They needed to compare notes, he told himself. It had nothing to do with a sudden, unexpected need to see the woman herself.
Caught in a hell of deafening noise, flashing lights and a haze of cigarette smoke, he combed the casino with the logical side of his mind on hold. The other side, the heretofore less explored emotional part, kept insisting that he’d been crazy to let Trae out of his sight.
All these conventioneers on the prowl, chugging down drinks and saying “see-ya-bye” to their inhibitions. Trae, alone and oblivious, would be too busy searching for Lucie to watch out for herself. As he imagined beefy hands pawing her in some dark corner, he quickened his pace.
But if he’d entertained any visions of slaying a dragon on her behalf, he was doomed to disappointment. The only evil-doer threatening Trae was of the one-armed variety. Coming up behind her, he found her stuffing coins into a rather large and noisy slot machine. So fierce and total was her concentration, she didn’t notice he was there.
“You don’t seem to be doing so well,” he said, startling her so badly she actually jumped. “Maybe it’s time to call it a night.”
“Not now,” she hissed, not bothering to glance at him.
“You have limited funds, Trae,” he advised gently. “Don’t you want to save what’s left for emergencies?”
This time she looked back, giving him a glare that could have frozen a rock. “If you have to be such a buzz-kill, can you kindly do it somewhere else?”
Rhys held up his hands in mock surrender. Not that she noticed. She was too busy donating her cash to the casino.
Stepping up beside her, Rhys watched as she rapidly went through the bucket of quarters, her enthusiasm waning with each lost coin. He missed seeing her dimples, he realized, that cute, little upturn of her lips, the gleam in her eyes. When Trae was laughing, she had spark enough to light all the neon in Vegas.
All at once, it became vitally important to put the smile back on her face.
He took the bucket from her hands. To his surprise, she didn’t argue, or even try to regain it. “Maybe you were right,” she said, shoulders slumping. “Looks like all I’ve done is make everything worse.”
“Sorry, I must have the wrong person. I thought I was talking to Trae ‘I’ll-never-give-up’ Andrelini.”
She shrugged. “Now that it’s too late, I might as well admit that all I had left was thirty dollars, which will barely buy breakfast in this town. I figured, what the heck, maybe I can put the money to better use. As you can see,” she added with a heavy sigh, nodding at the pitiful pile in the bucket, “my plan failed miserably.”
Snatching up the bucket, Rhys walked to another machine. “What are you doing?” she asked, grabbing his arm. “That’s all the money we have left.”
He grinned. “If you’re going be a buzz-kill, can you kindly get lost?”
“I’m serious. After that’s gone, we’re dead broke.”
“Then we really have nothing to lose, do we? I say, let’s go for it.”
And there it was, the reappearance of her dimples. Lucie was right, Rhys decided. It was like the sun had come out and now it was time to play.
“And her
e we thought I was the impetuous one,” she said with a grin. “All right, Paxton, let’s see what you can do.”
Rhys shook his head, holding out a quarter. “Ladies first.”
“Okay, but we take turns,” she insisted as she took the coin from him. Crossing the fingers of one hand, she stuffed the quarter in the slot with the other. After a great deal of clanging, during which Rhys discovered he was holding his breath, all the machine had to offer was a shamrock a cherry, and a better-luck-next-time.
“You try,” she said, nudging closer. “You’ve got to be luckier than me.”
Apparently not. Yet as they took turns dropping coins into the various machines, losing quarter after quarter, Rhys realized he was enjoying himself immensely. So this was life on the edge.
Logically, he might know that a single call home could resolve their financial crisis, but logic wasn’t governing his actions this evening. He was running on sheer emotion and he was amazed—no, enthralled—by the rush of exhilaration it gave him. In fact, he wished it could go on all night.
Unfortunately, they reached the end of their quarters all too soon. Looking down at Trae, he held out their last coin to her. “Okay, this is it.”
She nodded solemnly. “Just do it. Get it over with.”
He was stunned by a sudden strong urge to kiss the concern off her features. “If we lose, don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I’ll make sure you get home safe and sound.”
“Even if it means losing our bet?”
“Even if.”
She tilted her head, as if taking his measure, before smiling with what seemed like approval. “Okay then, we’re in this together. How about showing this machine who’s in charge?”
Rubbing the coin with his thumb for good luck, Rhys dropped it in the slot. He didn’t look at the symbols as he yanked the lever, focusing instead on Trae’s pale hand, digging deep into his arm, making marks that would still be there in the morning.
She squeezed, increasing the pressure for an interminable moment, until all at once, she released her grip with a squeal. “I don’t believe it,” she cried out to the accompaniment of a million bells and whistles. “Paxton, you lucky devil. You did it!”
The Tycoon Meets His Match Page 9