Smiling to herself, she picked up the phone and dialed the concierge. “Can you please tell me how to find the pro shop?”
* * *
Adam dumped a bucket of balls on the practice tee and took a few swings with his rented seven iron. Knoll and Sedarno were each hitting their own buckets, preparing to tee off in ten minutes. Idly, Adam watched them hit a few balls. For overweight men in their 50s, both of them were surprisingly good golfers.
Or, maybe not surprisingly, considering that a lot of business for wealthy men still took place on the golf course.
Taking another swing, he wondered why he felt off. Not guilty, exactly. He knew exactly what guilt felt like. He’d been wallowing in it for close to eight years. But maybe he could have handled things better with Jess. While he stood by everything he said to her, he also knew she wasn’t a “do nothing” kind of girl, and that she’d been pissed by her relegation to the bench. Maybe he should have found something for her to do.
He shanked the ball. It shot straight to the right, past all the other golfers practicing. Knoll looked back in annoyance.
Damn it, this is why he didn’t do partners. He did teams, led teams. His success was entirely dependent on the quality of his teams. But he didn’t do partnerships. He couldn’t be distracted worrying about how a partner felt, for God’s sake.
Knoll and Sedarno each had half their buckets of balls remaining; they wouldn’t be moving for at least five more minutes. Casually, Adam strolled back to where all of the carts were parked. His contact on Knoll’s staff told him that Knoll’s golf bag could be identified by obnoxiously large Chicago Bears golf club covers. He spied the navy and orange covers on a cart parked directly behind Knoll’s place on the practice tees.
With the bug in his left hand, he paced slowly toward the cart, doing hamstring stretches. It took three long seconds to get the bug in place under the steering wheel. Then he hamstring-stretched his way back to his own spot and hit the rest of his bucket of balls.
Another reason he’d left Jess’s room so abruptly was that he could barely speak calmly to her while she was standing there in an indecently short towel. He’d lost his breath when she came out of the bathroom. Wet, tan skin. Miles of perfect leg. Her long hair was combed away from her face. Those eyelashes had actual droplets from the shower on them.
He’d gone as hard as a spike. He’d never been a monk, but damn, he didn’t even know he was capable of being that hard. He’d long thought that the true measure of a woman’s beauty was how she looked soaking wet, free of all makeup and artifice. Now he knew what Jess looked like soaking wet. Jesus Christ, he was toast.
Knoll and Sedarno got into their cart and drove to the first tee. Adam followed from a safe distance, putting a headphone bud in one ear. The men weren’t speaking, but he could tell the receiver was working just fine when Sedarno coughed. Good enough. He didn’t really need to wait in the clubhouse all afternoon. He shouldn’t be seen with Jess, but maybe they could—
“Hi there, gentlemen. I have a proposition for you.” A familiar voice in his ear. Adam froze, and his heart began to pound. Fuck, no. She did not.
Sedarno responded in his raspy voice. It sounded like he was smiling. “I always enjoy a proposition from a charming young lady.”
Adam pulled his cart over and climbed out. From here, he had a clear view. Knoll and Sedarno sat in their cart next to the first tee. Jess stood next to their cart in the tiniest pair of golf shorts he’d ever seen. On top, she wore a sleeveless collared shirt with a zipper. Which was currently pushed all the way down. Her breasts, on the other hand, were pushed all the way up. Holding a driver in her hands, a visor was perched on her head, and her hair dangled in a high ponytail down her back. If she’d been blonde, she would have looked like Golf ’’Course Barbie. As she was, she looked like she’d walked out of a beer commercial.
Either unaware or unconcerned with Adam’s open-mouthed scrutiny, she said, “I’m a last-minute single.” She grinned at Knoll and Sedarno. “The starter told me you’re a pair. I was wondering if I could join you.”
Before they could answer, she said, “Drinks on me, all day long.”
Knoll and Sedarno exchanged glances. Then Knoll answered exactly as Adam would have predicted. “Sorry, sweets. We’re on the clock here. You seem sweet, but the answer is no.”
Adam was so angry at her that he couldn’t wait to yell “I told you so” in her face. He waited for her to walk away. Christ, he was going to wrap his hand around that ponytail and—
She didn’t walk away. Instead, she licked her lips and raised one eyebrow. “What if we made it interesting?”
Knoll raised a hand like a fly swatter, as if he were about to flick her away. But Sedarno said, “What do you mean?” Knoll dropped the hand. Sedarno was unquestionably the boss.
Jess pointed to the first tee. “Let’s all go tee off. If I outdrive both of you, you’ll let me join you. If not, your first round of drinks is still on me.”
Sedarno’s raspy voice was wry. “It’s not that big a deal for you to outdrive us from the ladies’ tees, sweetheart.”
She laughed then, and it was such a sexy sound that even through his anger, Adam had to shift in his seat. Damn pants were getting way too uncomfortable. “I’ll use the men’s tees,” she promised.
“Well, I can’t resist seeing her outdrive you, Maurice,” Sedarno teased. The men climbed out of the cart, and the three of them walked up to the tee, away from his bug. Since he couldn’t hear anymore, Adam carefully walked closer. There weren’t a lot of things to hide behind, but he just had to see what happened next.
What the fuck was she doing? Exposing her face—and her entire freakin’ body—to the eyes of the two men they were supposed to be discreetly following? Clearly, she had no clue as to the long-term consequences of this impromptu decision. He never should have brought her along. She was only thinking about the short-term goal. And she’d exposed herself for no good reason! Adam was a fairly good golfer, but he never would have challenged them to a driving contest. Both men were solid, experienced, strong players. But, of course, she wouldn’t know that.
Ugh, he was going to kill her. It was unlike her to be so stupid. She didn’t know their golfing skills. She couldn’t. She could only know her own.
She could only know her own.
The thought echoed in his head as Knoll went first, striking the ball hard and straight. It landed on the left side of the fairway, about 230 yards away. Both Jess and Sedarno clapped. “Not terrible, Maurice,” Sedarno said.
Fumbling for his phone, Adam Googled “Jessica Hughes Chicago golf.” The reception on the course wasn’t great. He looked up from the spinning pinwheel in time to see Sedarno take a great swing, sending the ball careening past Knoll’s. It had to have gone at least 250 yards.
Knoll chortled. “Get out your wallet, girlie. I’m thirsty.”
Jess made a show of wiping sweat off her brow. Then she bent over, straight-legged, to stick her tee in the ground. Adam would have enjoyed the view except he noticed how much Knoll and Sedarno were enjoying it.
He glanced down at his search results—and almost groaned aloud. The first article was from thirteen years ago, entitled “Hughes does it again.” For fuck’s sake. He should have known. In high school, Jessica won the Illinois state golf tournament two years in a row. The article cited her unusual power and mental toughness as the key secrets of her success.
Ignoring Knoll and Sedarno’s stares, Jess got into position, squatting behind the ball, straightening her arms. Adam held his breath, not sure if he hoped she’d do it or not. Without even taking a practice swing, she nailed the ball into the center of the fairway.
Ten yards past Sedarno’s.
The two men stared at the ball and then at her face. Back and forth, like it was a tennis match. Jess just raised her eyebrows
and smiled pleasantly. “Shall we, gentlemen?” She gestured to their carts.
Finally, Sedarno laughed. “After you, darlin’.” Jess climbed into her cart, and the two men climbed into theirs. Adam watched as both sailed off down the first fairway.
He needed a drink.
Chapter Eight
Jess wasn’t surprised, exactly, that Adam was waiting in her suite when she returned from the golf course. She was surprised at the three beer bottles on the table in front of him and the fourth in his hand. At the cold squint of his eyes. The tight jaw.
He was pissed that she’d called an audible. Well, too bad. He needed to understand that she could pull her weight in this partnership. Besides, she could play a round of golf in her sleep.
She waited for him to say something. When he just sat there glaring, a knot formed in her stomach. She didn’t want him to be upset with her. As hard as it was to admit to herself, she’d been hoping he might be a little impressed with her initiative and execution. If not, she’d at least been looking forward to talking through the day with him.
It had been a bit nerve-racking at first, but after the first tee shot the rest of the afternoon was fine. She bought drinks and joked around with Knoll and Sedarno, but she also gave the men a lot of space. She didn’t forget who she was dealing with; she stayed out of their way.
When they realized she wasn’t going to be a chatterbox or slow them down, the men had actually been pretty friendly. Knoll was clearly a slobbering meathead, but Sedarno was quick-witted. Her short game had been a mess, which seemed to endear her to him. He had given her quite a bit of good putting advice.
Warily, she sat down on the sofa next to Adam and pulled off her visor. “Did you listen to them in the cart? Did they say anything that we can use?”
“Yep.”
When he simply continued to glare, she felt a spark of her own temper ignite. “What did they say? I deserve to know.”
“You little idiot,” he seethed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
The spark of temper grew into a blaze of anger. “Yes. I helped us. They did all their ‘serious’ talking in the cart. So now we have more information. Frankly, I’m surprised you aren’t thanking me.”
He slammed the beer bottle in his hand on the coffee table, making all of the other ones shake. She couldn’t stop the flinch. Wow, he was livid. For the first time, she felt uneasy. Had she screwed up their plan? She couldn’t see how, but why else would he be so furious?
“Let’s play this out, Blondie. Let’s say you win in our little situation here. You manage to take Knoll down, catch him red-handed with the 25 million dollars in diamonds. The diamonds will go wherever the Feds take them, and Sedarno is left empty-handed. You think he’s not going to be interested enough in Knoll’s arrest to look into it? What if you’re mentioned in the news story about the arrest? Or what if he simply does a little Google-ing on Ignatius like I did and sees your picture in the Trib? You’re a chameleon, but you spent the whole damn day with him, Jess, and there’s no way he won’t recognize the woman in the photo as the woman who popped out of nowhere in Vegas when he was meeting with Knoll and fucking outdrove him.”
Before she could react, he just kept going. “You don’t think he’s going to put two and two together? Because Knoll might not be as bright as he once was, but Sedarno’s as sharp as they come. As sharp as the ice pick he used to kill a cheating ex-mistress.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a shake. “You think the mob boss is going to be forgiving? When he’s been denied 25 million dollars?”
Another shake. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jess. You better hope I steal those diamonds before there’s any further connection between you and Knoll.”
His hands gripped her shoulders tightly, and his blue eyes were practically glowing with fury. Then his gaze dropped to her lips for a long moment, and the air between them grew warm and thick. She inhaled a shaky breath, uncertain in that instant if he was going to shake her again or kiss her.
To her half relief/half disappointment, he did neither. He stood and went to the window, watched the sun setting on the Strip. “I don’t know what I was thinking, to get you involved like this.”
Jess forced herself to look away from the long line of his rigid body, to focus on his words. So...no. She hadn’t really thought as far ahead as that. She hadn’t thought about the connections. Maybe she had acted like an idiot. Shit.
She’d have to worry about that later. For now, she was still trying to process his anger. She hadn’t put their goal in jeopardy. In fact, if the information on the recording was good, she’d put him one step closer to the diamonds. She may have put herself in future danger, but why did that make him so upset?
Her voice was incredulous when she spoke. “Are you mad because...you’re worried about me?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment. When he did, his voice sounded more tired than angry. “Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are.”
She didn’t know what to say next, so she said nothing. She’d worked at Ignatius for most of her adult life and when she was accused and fired, not one of the co-workers she considered friends defended her. Except for Andrew, the rest of her family chose to believe the scandal instead of her protestations of innocence. They had pushed her away without one real conversation.
But here was this man—a professional criminal, of all things—and he believed in her innocence because he was smart enough to look at the facts and willing to listen. He was angry now, not because she’d somehow messed up his diamond-stealing plan but because she had put herself in jeopardy.
Jess felt abruptly disoriented. She could almost see her ideas of how the world worked and her preconceived notions of people...they were moving and shifting in her peripheral vision.
She didn’t know how to react when he left the window and stalked silently across the room to kneel in front of her, so she froze. She absolutely didn’t know what to do when he stared into her eyes, his own blazing with a startling mix of lust and leftover anger, so she closed hers.
When she opened them again, he was gone.
* * *
Jess showered and changed into a pair of cut-offs and a red t-shirt. Three hours of flicking through the channels on the flat-screen TV later, she resigned herself to the fact that Adam wasn’t going to come back.
That man made her crazy. In more ways than one.
Starving and restless, she decided to wander along the Strip and grab a burger somewhere. As she took the elevator down to the casino, she couldn’t ignore the pit of disappointment in her stomach. He’d told her they couldn’t be seen together—and that was before she pissed him off. But she must have been harboring some fantasy that they’d be able to spend time together somehow. Which would have been really stupid, she knew that. She was already way too entranced by him. Even if they were currently working together, their ultimate goals weren’t aligned. Getting any more involved with him would be a mistake.
But wasn’t Vegas the place where people went to make mistakes?
The Strip was crowded with tourists. She wolfed down her burger, realizing she hadn’t eaten the entire day. It felt good to be walking among other people in the warm night air. She smiled at the fountains in front of the Bellagio, smirked at the mini-Eiffel Tower in front of the Paris, watched the roller coaster at New York, New York. She was grateful for the endless distractions. She didn’t want to sit alone in her hotel room waiting for a man who was too upset with her to return that night.
She kept walking until she stood in front of the new star of the Strip, the Skylar Hotel. The tango competition was there, she remembered, wondering if she should go in. Well, why not? The night was young and she had nothing else to do.
She bought a ticket and entered an enormous auditorium with stadium seating, a large stage in the cen
ter, and a Jumbotron hanging over it. The lights were low and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. On stage, a couple in ornate red and black costumes prepared to take the floor. Jess took a seat up high and in the back. The cavernous stadium was less than half full, and she was grateful she wasn’t squeezed right next to someone chatting, texting or talking on a phone.
Because the dancing was riveting. Aside from a few episodes of “Dancing with the Stars,” Jess had never seen professionals. She was mesmerized by the footwork. Some of the steps were quick and light, but then there were slow, sliding stretches. The dancers would walk in one direction for a full minute—and then do four different direction changes in ten seconds. It was just so sensual. The energy and the longing, the way they threw their bodies on one another...it was like sex on hard wood.
The couple finished in a tight embrace to a wave of applause. Jess clapped furiously before leaning back to wait for the next performance.
Suddenly, she felt a tingle on the back of her neck. The air felt warmer and thicker. Her thigh muscles clenched. Adam. Her breath caught with excitement.
“I know you’re behind me,” she said softly.
“Don’t turn around. Lots of cameras here.” Speaking low, his voice was rough and hoarse. Jess closed her eyes, glad he couldn’t see her breathing go shallow. It wasn’t fair, she thought. Not fair at all that just the sound of his voice could make her go hot and liquid.
“How did you know I was here?” he whispered. “I didn’t make a sound.”
When she wasn’t looking at him, it was easier to tell the truth. “I felt you.”
He made a sound that was almost a groan. “You’re as...aware of me as I am of you?”
She needed to lighten this up or damn the cameras, she was going to turn around and climb in his lap. She wanted her voice to sound light and carefree. But when the words popped out, they just sounded breathless. “I think our pheromones like each other.”
Strange Tango Page 7