“Rosa won’t be going back with you, Ty. Tom wants her to remain with him. I arranged it with the director today, and Rosa agreed. She’ll be staying at The Oasis now.”
He arched a brow. “Well, that makes the situation all the more interesting now, doesn’t it?”
Monica jutted her chin. “Then I’ll make it a whole lot less interesting. I’m checking back into the Skylofts.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “My place is comfortable, and it’s free. What’s the real problem, Monica? Afraid you’ll succumb to temptation again?”
“Hardly. I got the sexual frustration out of my system last night. I shouldn’t need another fix for weeks.”
“Weeks, eh? I was better than I thought.”
“Don’t get too pumped up about it,” she rebutted. “I won’t say I didn’t enjoy it, but you were really nothing more than a means to an end, Ty. Any port in a storm, right?”
“That so?” The gleam in his eye told her he didn’t believe a word. “We’ll just see about that, won’t we? Now, c’mon.” He snatched the carton out of her hands. “Let’s get out of here and get some real food.”
Ty didn’t know what possessed him to offer her dinner when he’d sworn off Monica Brandt. Maybe he couldn’t stand the guilt of seeing her eating cold noodles out of a take-out carton while sitting on a luggage trolley. It was a shitty thing to lock her out like he had without notice. She deserved better than what he’d dished out to her.
Instead of hitting a burger joint and heading west out of town to his place, as he’d originally intended, he drove her up The Strip, pointing out all the best sights—the Eiffel Tower at Paris Las Vegas, Caesar’s, the dancing fountains of the Bellagio—all the while trying to defrost her, but she remained beside him in a stony, lip-locked silence.
Shit. This wasn’t any good at all. They needed to get back on level ground . . . or maybe not. Suddenly inspired, he asked, “How are you with heights?”
“Heights?” she repeated blankly.
“Yeah, you aren’t acrophobic, are you?”
“Not at all. As a matter of fact, I love rock climbing and zip lining.”
Her remark took him aback. “You?”
“Yes, me. There’s a lot we don’t know about each other, Ty.”
“There’s an easy remedy for that, you know.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s called conversation,” he quipped, watching her out of the corner of his eye. “You should try it sometime.”
Her mouth twitched. A small triumph, but at least he’d cracked the outer layer. It was enough encouragement to move forward with his idea. He whipped out his phone. She watched him with a scowl as he made the call.
“John? Hey! It’s Ty Morgan. I need a table for two. Can you squeeze me in? I’m ten minutes out. Yeah? Great. Thanks, buddy. I owe you big.” He stashed the phone and turned off Las Vegas Boulevard at the Stratosphere.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I like zip lining, Ty. I never said anything about jumping off eight-hundred-foot skyscrapers.”
“The amusement rides are not why I brought you here, but if you change your mind after dinner, knock yourself out.”
“Dinner? Oh.”
“Yeah, this place has a revolving restaurant that offers the second-best view in the whole Las Vegas Valley.”
“Only the second best? Don’t I rate high enough to get the best?”
“The place with the very best view is a closely guarded secret, Ms. Brandt, but if you can stay on your good behavior tonight, maybe I’ll show you that one, too.”
“Friends in high places?”
“A few,” he remarked. “Or at least in the right places. I generally try to cultivate more friends than enemies.”
“I know someone who could take a few lessons from that playbook,” Monica said dryly.
“Yeah? Who’s that?”
“My ex-fiancé,” she replied. “He has a great deal of influence in New York, but mostly because people are afraid of him.”
“We have plenty of that kind out here, too. The city was built by the Mob.” He slanted another sidelong glance at her. “I find it hard to believe you were involved with someone like that.”
“He’s not a mobster! Evan’s more of a corporate raider type.”
“Is there really much difference?” Ty grinned back at her as he put the truck in PARK. “I think you’re splitting hairs.” He actually got a full blown laugh out of her that time. Score another for Ty.
“Maybe so.” Her smile suddenly faded, replaced by a frown.
“Something on your mind?” he asked.
“Yes, actually. I got a text from him earlier. He’s in Vegas.”
“Your ex is here?”
“Yes. Said he wants to see me.”
“He’s not some crazed stalker type, is he?”
“No, not a stalker,” she replied. “Just a bullying bastard.”
“You aren’t going to see him, are you?”
“I don’t know yet,” she replied, her gaze narrowing. “Why should you care?”
He shrugged. “It’s your life. You can see whoever you want. I just know exes can be a royal pain in the ass.”
“And how would you know that, Mr. I–Don’t-Do-Relationships?”
He reached for his door. “Perhaps you’ve heard the expression ‘Once bitten. twice shy,’ Ms. Brandt? Try getting bitten by a rattler. That’ll make you real damn shy.”
Ty’s bitterness rendered her speechless. He didn’t seem inclined to elaborate any further, and she didn’t press, but whatever it was in his past was obviously the reason he balked at anything even hinting at emotional intimacy.
He opened her door and handed her down from his truck, following with a light, guiding hand on the small of her back. It was the first time he’d touched her since last night, and her body responded with warm tingles that she wished she could ignore.
In addition to their undeniable physical chemistry, Ty really was a truly entertaining companion and too damned likable for Monica’s good. There was an easiness about him that allowed him to sneak effortlessly through her best defenses. He made her laugh despite her best attempts not to. She told herself there was no harm in enjoying dinner with him as long as they kept the tone light and friendly.
The Top of the World was much better than Monica had expected. Ty had made several recommendations, starting with the Tower Trio appetizer, a combination of foie gras with berry gastrique and roasted pears, the jumbo lump crab cake with green papaya salad, and seared sea scallops with southwestern spices, all surprisingly good. He’d also ordered a decent bottle of wine, all proving that her cowboy was far more cultured than his appearance let on.
“You aren’t having any wine?” she asked.
“Already had a couple of beers today. Two drinks is my limit.”
“Limit?” she looked her question. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that alcohol and I don’t always mix real well. A beer or two is fine or a couple of glasses of wine on occasion, but other than that I try to keep a tight rein on drinking.”
“Are you saying you’re an alcoholic, Ty?”
“Didn’t say that at all.” His jaw visibly tightened. “Just said booze and me don’t mix. How’s your soup?”
“Excellent, actually. I love lobster bisque. Want to try it?” She paused with her spoon halfway to her lips to offer it up to his instead.
“Sharing your spoon with me, Ms. Brandt?” He cocked a brow with a smirk.
She grinned back at him. “I figure we already swapped enough germs. A few more can’t hurt anything.”
“You know what it means if I accept this?”
“No, what?”
“It means you’ll have to let me feed you something.”
“Really? And what would that be?” Even as the words spilled from her mouth, Monica wished she could take them back.
Their gazes connected as the innuendo rose, electrifying the a
ir. Monica licked her lips and dropped her spoon.
“Full already?” he asked softly. “Or maybe you have an appetite for something else?”
“Stop it, Ty,” she hissed.
“Once more, I’m not the one who started it. You do that a lot, Monica.”
“What do you mean? I do what a lot?”
“Make a challenge and then panic when things get too hot for you to handle.”
“I do not!”
“Yes, you do. How about last night? You were a brazen seductress one minute and then got cold feet the next. And the day I was going to resign. You were all bluff then, too. When I called, you instantly folded. Don’t ever play poker, Sugar. You’d really suck at it.”
They sat in a sexually charged silence as the waiter brought the next course. Ty had told her when they were seated that the restaurant revolved every eighty minutes, offering a full three-hundred-sixty-degree vista of the entire Las Vegas Valley. At this rate, she didn’t think she’d last long enough to see it all. Grappling for safety, she changed the subject. “You never told me what brought you out here to Vegas, Ty.”
He took a sip of water, his lips hinting at a smile. “You never asked me.”
“I’m asking now.”
He slumped back in his chair. “It’s a long story that I don’t particularly like to tell.”
“Then how about just the short version?” she softly suggested. “I’d like to know you better, Ty. We really don’t know much about each other at all.”
“All right.” He considered her as if trying to decide how much to share. “The short version is that I was pretty fucked up for a while. My life had strayed way off track. I needed a change, and Tom needed someone he could trust. It seemed worth the gamble for both of us.”
“I heard about your predecessor,” she said.
“Unfortunately, the son of a bitch stole over a million before he got caught.”
“So what did you do before running the hotel?”
“I was involved with rodeo. I contracted stock and rode bulls.”
“Like your father did? Didn’t you say he was killed by a bull?”
“Yup. And I followed square in my ol’ man’s footsteps, even though I’d sworn to myself I never would. My story probably would have ended exactly the same way, too, if not for Tom. And that’s about all I’m inclined to say about it, Ms. Brandt.” Ty spoke casually, but she saw the strain in the lines around his mouth and the flicker of pain in his eyes. “What about you?” he asked. “Tom told me how you never even knew him until you were grown.”
Monica licked her lips, realizing she didn’t relish digging up her past any more than he had. “The abbreviated version?” she suggested.
He raised his water glass with a nod. “Whatever version suits you to tell.”
“Okay.” She took a sip of wine while composing her thoughts. “My mother’s family is from Connecticut. Old money. The kind that vacation in the Hamptons and winter in Palm Beach. Maybe you know the type?”
He inclined his head. “Yeah, I know the sort, all right.”
“You know how my mother and Tom met?”
“I’ve heard Tom’s version of the story a few times,” Ty replied dryly.
“When Vivian, that’s my mother, returned from Vegas, she never even told her parents that she’d married Tom. She just quietly hired a lawyer and filed for divorce. When she discovered she was pregnant, they all assumed it was illegitimate and hid her away. When I was born, I was put straight into the care of a nanny, like a dirty little secret, while Vivian went back to her old life.” She traced rings on the lip of her wineglass as she spoke.
“You’re kidding.”
“No I’m not. She finished college and then made her social debut, as if I didn’t exist. She eventually wed a high-powered New York attorney and moved to Manhattan. I was five years old by then, but she never even told my stepfather about me. I was shipped off to boarding school and only came home on holidays.”
“Home?” he asked. “Where was that?”
“My grandparents’ house,” she clarified. “They hired another nanny for when I was home, but when I got older I usually spent holidays with friends or traveled abroad. That’s how I was raised, for the most part. Tom was the first person in my life who ever actually wanted me.” She paused. “Aside from Evan, that is.”
“The ex-fiancé?”
“Yes. Maybe that’s why I agreed to marry him.”
“You didn’t love him?”
“I was infatuated with him. I was an impressionable intern at his company when we met. He was rich, powerful, good-looking . . . and he took notice of me.”
“I’m sure there were lots of men who took notice of you, Ms. Brandt.”
She gave a soft snort. “If they did, I didn’t notice them. I didn’t have time for any of that. I was out to prove myself.”
“That’s quite a chip to carry,” he remarked softly.
“It was.” She added softly, “It still is.”
“So why’d you and Evan split?”
She answered with a tight smile, “Because I finally saw him for what he is—a manipulative, self-serving bastard.”
“And now he’s here in Vegas? What does he want?”
“He says he misses me and wants to see me.” She was reluctant to bring up the part about the hotel. Now just didn’t seem the right time to talk about business.
“Does he now?” His expression darkened. “Are you going to see him?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.”
She didn’t know how she felt about seeing Evan again, the man she’d once thought she’d spend her life with. She wondered now what kind of life that would have been. When together, they’d both put in sixty- to seventy-hour workweeks. They ate out at all the most popular places. Even then, they weren’t relaxing, but networking.
Evan was always on the prowl for the next deal, and having social connections with the right people was a huge part of that. Power, prestige, success. That’s what her life with Evan would have been about. Romance and passion were never part of that equation. Evan’s passion was reserved for the deals he made. At one time she’d believed that was enough. But not anymore.
His gaze held hers. “Let it go, Monica. You don’t need him. You don’t have to prove anything to your family or to anyone else.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You only got engaged to him because you wanted your family’s approval.”
“That’s not it at all!”
“Sure it is. You said yourself you didn’t love him. You were just using him to buy your way into your family’s good graces.”
“Me using Evan?” She gave a derisive laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Am I? Seems obvious to me.”
She stared at him in utter disbelief. Was it true? Was that the reason she still hadn’t told her family about the breakup?
“They say blood is thicker than water, but that’s nothing but bullshit,” Ty continued. “Tom is more of a father to me than mine ever was, and we aren’t even kin. Do you know what he did when that bull killed my father?”
“No. What happened, Ty?”
“Tom showed up the next day and drove me out to his ranch. He walked me out to where he had the bull penned and handed me a loaded rifle. That bull was Tom’s pride and joy and was intended to be his new herd sire. Hell, it wasn’t even the bull’s fault. He was just doing what he was bred to do—what he was born to do—but Tom nodded at the bull and said to me, ‘Do whatcha gotta do, son.’ I climbed inside that pen, stared the bull straight in the eye, and pulled the trigger. I shot the sonofabitch four times, but it didn’t bring my ol’ man back.”
“Oh my God.” She covered her mouth. “You were only a kid. How awful.”
“It was, but my point is that Tom stepped in and has been there for me ever since. He’s the real deal, Monica. He loves you. Screw the rest of ’em. Live your own life.”
<
br /> “Yeah, well, independence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” she replied softly. Why did only Tom find her worthy of love?
Looking for a distraction, Monica stared out at the vista almost nine hundred feet below. The sun had started to dip, painting the mountains in the distance in soft shades of red, gold, and purple while the city came to life below in all its gaudy and glimmering glory. It was breathtaking, enough for her to lose herself for a time. “The view up here is incredible,” she murmured.
“It’s still only the second-best view,” Ty’s voice softly rumbled back.
“And the first?” she asked.
“If you really want to know, it’s watching the sunrise over Red Rock Canyon . . . from my bedroom window.” The invitation for something far more than the view glittered in his eyes.
Monica’s pulse raced with panic. She ached to see that sunrise but didn’t know how she could ever survive it unscathed. She should check into another hotel or, better yet, one of the condos at the Aria just down The Strip—anything but another night with Ty.
It would be so easy to succumb to temptation, but self-preservation prevailed. A moment later, she excused herself and slipped away to the ladies’ room to make some calls.
When she returned, Ty stood to pull out her chair. Monica sat down to the main course, only to find her appetite gone. “You’re folding again, aren’t you?” Ty easily read her thoughts. “I can see it in your eyes.”
She drew a long breath and forced her lips to form the right words. “Yes. Frankie’s already on his way to pick me up.” She laid her napkin down and stood on wobbly legs. “I’ll be staying at the Aria if you need me. Could you please send my things over?”
“Sure.” He said nothing further, but she registered the flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
Unable to suppress the urge, she laid her hand lightly on his. “Thank you for the dinner, Ty. I truly did enjoy it.”
Ty watched her leave, cursing himself. Why the hell did he keep setting himself up like this? He’d never been uncertain of himself where a woman was concerned, but Monica wouldn’t let him rest easy. Every time he thought he was on solid footing, it seemed to move beneath his boots, like shifting desert sand. He never knew quite where he stood.
Hell on Heels Page 13