“The rooms were too small. Like you said.” Callie crossed her arms as the air conditioner finally lowered the temperature in the cab.
Gage didn’t say anything, just continued to follow her directions as if he couldn’t imagine how he might have swayed her opinion.
They toured two more locations, but neither was right. At the first, Gage noticed as soon as they walked in that the reception area was barely ten feet square, leaving no room for an aesthetician or pedicure chairs or even a small desk for manicure work. The private rooms, down a narrow, dark hall, were worse. The room in the middle was the largest but sat in the shape of an isosceles triangle; the other two seemed to have been carved from the main room and barely had space for the small desk and chairs currently there. Her tables wouldn’t fit. The second location had a nice-sized reception area but no private rooms. He pointed out that she could use her Shoji screens to create rooms, and Callie offered him an eye roll. Shoji screens weren’t nearly private enough.
Gage cut through a small shopping plaza that led to the fourth location—in the middle of a strip of stores that had a South Pacific theme. Fake thatched roofs, turquoise-and-pink painted faux pillars, and employees wearing knock-off saris and straw hats. Callie grabbed Gage’s hand before they reached the empty space, shaking her head.
“I can do a lot with paint and decor, but nothing can fix this.”
He beeped open the SUV doors, and Callie climbed in the passenger side. There was one location left, near the north end of the Strip. As locations went, it could have been worse, but the heaviest tourist traffic was at the other end of the street. People walked down here with a mission, they didn’t wander. Part of her plan, until Holliday Spas was well established, was to use walk-in traffic to build up her name. Reluctantly, Callie input the address and listened for the first of the directions from her phone.
For his part, Gage didn’t say anything, simply turned as she directed.
“Are we going to the north-end location?” he finally asked. Callie nodded. “That’s a great place.” Callie brightened. Maybe she had been too quick to judge the address on her paper. Not that his opinion mattered.
“Really?”
“Definitely. Between two of the hotels, not far from Circus Circus or the Strat.” He paused and glanced her direction. “Used to be a fried chicken place.”
Callie groaned. “The description doesn’t say anything about fried chicken.” How would she get the smell of old cooking oil out of the walls? And the grease from the floors? She couldn’t expect her customers to pay for lavender-scented oils when all they could smell was Canola.
“And after that a New Age bookstore opened up. They burned a lot of incense. At least I think it was incense. Do you smoke incense?”
Callie’s eyes bugged. “You saw people smoking—” Gage busted up laughing as they pulled into a parking space before the low-slung white building. “You are such a jerk. Trying to convince me my potential place of business was a cannabis cottage.” She slapped at his arm. “They didn’t really fry chicken here, did they?”
Gage took the key from the ignition, still chuckling. He pointed three doors down, where a sign read Las Vegas Chicken and Fish. “They’re the fried chicken people.”
Callie got out of the car and inhaled the scent of frying chicken. Her mouth watered, and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything except an ice cream cone and a protein bar all day. Her tummy growled. What if customers arrived hungry? Would they even make it through the front door or would they chuck the massage for ten dollars worth of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and beer? She opened the door of the car again and sat back down.
Gage poked his head inside the driver’s door. “Something wrong?”
She couldn’t very well tell him her stomach had convinced her mind to choose a different location. “Its too … diversified. Chicken place, game and music resale shop, couple of touristy T-shirt places. This is the kind of place a family comes on their last day, not the kind of place people seek out.”
“Okay, then, next stop?” Gage climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.
“That was it.” Callie pushed the paper back into her folder and slid it into the exterior pocket of her attaché. “Last address on my list. I’ll hit the ads again tomorrow and come up with something.” She leaned back in her seat, clicked the seat belt into place, and closed her eyes. It had been a tough day.
Finding out Gage was her investor, ruining his meeting with Mr. Heck, and then touring four potential business locations only to find all of them were wrong, wrong, wrong for her business. She needed a nap.
And maybe some fried chicken.
“Would you mind dropping me back by the spa? I’ll email you tomorrow if I find a new place.” She felt the car back up and then continue down the road.
It had started out as such a horrible day, and then Gage had brightened it up again. Now she was right back where she started: with a business in need of a good location. Maybe she could make the space in the hotel off the Strip work. It would take more than paint. She would go over her renovation budget tonight.
“We’re here.”
She must have dozed off. It was the only explanation for why they had arrived at the Vas Hole Center so quickly. Callie opened her eyes and blinked. Then blinked again.
“This isn’t my address.”
There were too many people milling about, carrying shopping bags and chatting on their cell phones. No sign of her Bug and not a single crack in the asphalt or concrete. To the right, a two-level shopping plaza spread across the space, housing designer stores of all types. She noted a cute Stella McCartney jumper in one window and a killer pair of Louboutins in another. On the other side were more buildings: a hair salon, jewelry store, and a pair of blank windows at the far end.
Callie slid from her seat to the pavement below. “Is that an empty building?”
Gage followed, placed his hand at the small of her back, and urged her forward. “Looks like empty space to me.”
She reached for the door and frowned. “Locked. Dang it.” Callie pressed her hands to the glass on either side of her face. “Do you see a number or anything inside? I could call them in the morning.”
“Maybe you should just use the key,” Gage said from beside her. Callie pulled her gaze from the inside of the pristine building to Gage, a single key on the ring dangling from his pinkie. He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I told you I liked real estate.”
Chapter Four
Callie was quiet as Gage opened the door and led her inside the cavernous room. For the first time since they’d left her office earlier that afternoon he knew what to expect: Callie’s complete and utter happiness. The knowledge gave him a high. Finding and developing the perfect locations for people to build their businesses was his favorite part of the job.
Under the perfect exterior she’d presented that morning in his office he’d caught sight of an unsure Callie. From the second he’d seen that little piece of her, positive she would be rejected again, he had wanted to help her not only find the perfect location, but make the spa a success. This location was part of the plan he’d haphazardly formed through rescuing the coyote pup and the meeting with Heck. The reason he’d followed her back to her office rather than go up to his own.
“There is no way I can afford this.” Her voice was so quiet Gage nearly missed the words. The next were stronger. “I’ll figure it out.” She paced along the walls of the main room, probably imagining what the space would look like furnished and waiting for customers.
Directly on the Strip, the building was surrounded by luxury shops including a salon that boasted a $300 haircut and shops carrying everything from Versace evening wear to Birkin bags. The center was within easy walking distance of the major hotels, including the MGM and Caesars, but the parking lot was large enough to handle stretch limos or other luxury vehicles. This was a slam dunk for Callie, especially since Gage controlled the rent.
Callie opened a clos
et behind the reception desk and gasped. “I could fit a massage table in here.”
“Or create a coat check system so your patrons don’t have to worry about where their things are.”
“Even better.” She started down the hallway but stopped, turned, and looked expectantly at Gage.
“What?”
“You brought me here. Show me around, Mr. Real Estate Mogul.”
“Eh, mogul, genius. Either works.”
She slapped his arm and grinned. He grinned back, feeling himself soaring even higher, and not because of business this time. Because of Callie. Callie’s smile. Callie’s enthusiasm. Callie being in the same room with him for the first time in more than ten years.
He hadn’t realized until now just how much he’d missed her. Before she left for college they hadn’t exactly been confidants, but she’d always been there. Waiting at the lake that divided the Rocking R from her dad’s ranch, smiling at him in the hallway at school. Walking him through yet another quadratic equation he didn’t understand. Picking his tie off the ground at the funeral before anyone else noticed, and talking to him as if he was still Gage the football star and not Gage the orphan.
Her friendship had been too important to him back then to do anything more than tease her about whatever guy she seemed to like; in his experience, relationships only messed people up. His father had chased after Gage's mother, Helena, their entire marriage. She would run off to whatever high-stakes poker game was going in Vegas or Reno. He would bring her back when her money was gone again, only to have her take off when another game came to town.
“Incorrigible.”
Gage shrugged and started down the hallway. “What we have here are six private suites, including changing rooms, for massage clients.” He opened one of the doors and waited for Callie’s reaction.
He wasn’t disappointed when she gasped again and reached out to run her hand along the built-in teak cabinet and glass bowl sink. A full-size massage table would easily fit inside the room, he was certain, leaving plenty of room for the masseuse to move around. When he’d bought this strip of buildings a few years before, it had been filled with hair salons. He’d kept one of the units as a salon but renovated the remaining two to be complementary. If Callie signed his lease, she would complete his plans for this upscale shopping center.
Who was he kidding? When she signed, not if. Other than the unit in the casino off the Strip, none of the other locations came close to his. And that casino location was in the back of the building where no one would find Callie, no matter how handy her hands were.
She peeked her head inside a small closet that could be used as storage for the supplies or as a small changing room for her guests.
“It’s almost perfect. Who designed this?”
Gage led her through two more similar rooms and then opened the door to a massive private room. “The next two are doubles. I’m thinking couples massages,” he said as Callie took in the room with wide eyes and a dumbfounded expression on her face. “I didn’t just happen upon this place. It was designed to hold a spa. The last piece of the puzzle that my company created when we bought and developed the land.”
“Why did you let me tour those other places?” She opened another room, this one a large square with short hallways leading to the massage rooms and the reception area. He had always envisioned this room with spa chairs and tiny tables where nail techs worked.
“You had to make your own decision.”
Callie snorted. “Make my own decision. You found something wrong with every one of those places.”
“What can I say? I know what I like. What I like is you in my unit in my building in my shopping center.” The innocent words made his mouth go dry. Suddenly, all he could picture was Callie, naked, on an imaginary massage table in the empty room. Wrong vision, Gage, way wrong vision.
Callie twisted her mouth to the side. “It isn’t inside a casino. People will have to walk or drive here. That could be a problem.”
No, not naked. In a business suit, with her hair falling down around her shoulders, legs crossed, and a prim expression on her face. Waiting for him. Goddammit, Gage, get your head on straight. This is a business deal.
Callie folded her arms over her chest and turned to inspect the blank wall behind her. “I’m kind of partial to in-casino spas.”
It was Gage’s turn to snort, and he didn’t hold back. “Less than six hours ago you railed against chain spas with cardboard employees and services. And until a few weeks ago you worked at the Timber—didn’t they just switch gears from geisha girls to Egyptian princesses?” Not that he would mind seeing Callie in some kind of ancient princess getup. After-hours.
He pushed those thoughts away again. Callie wasn’t thinking of him that way, and this certainly wasn’t the time to start thinking of her that way. They were business associates. Childhood friends. He was kind of her boss. The whole thing was sticky and messy.
Gage didn’t date people he worked with because he didn’t like sticky. Or messy. He liked clean. Distant. Women who answered when he called but didn’t bombard him with questions or attention. Callie would answer, and she would question, and before he knew it, he’d have a whole herd of coyotes living in his barn. It would be much better to keep this on Friend Level One.
Except she looked awfully cute with her lower lip between her teeth and that faux-innocent expression on her face. He narrowed his eyes. “You want an in-casino spa about as badly as I want that coyote on my ranch.”
That innocent expression went blank as she widened her eyes. “I knew you liked that pup.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Gage Reeves, I believe you’re an old softie. Falling for a coyote like that.” She faked a Southern accent before linking her arm through his and patting the back of his hand. “Maybe we should go find its mama.”
“Maybe I should let you know another prospective renter toured this place this morning.”
The innocent expression left Callie’s face in an instant. She tightened her hold on his arm. “Maybe I should remind you that you’re invested in my business so it’s in your best interest to find a way to put me inside this place.”
Gage covered Callie’s hand with his own. “Tell you what, Cal, I’ll rent to you at the same rate you’ve been paying the Vast Hole Center for one year.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “And then?”
“We renegotiate based on your profit margin. Simple business agreement.”
“This isn’t a favor, is it? I mean, I know you’re invested in Holliday Spas, but you know I’m perfectly capable of finding my own space. It won’t be nearly as perfect, but it’s out there.”
“Does it really matter if this is a favor or a sound business decision?”
Callie stepped away from him and pulled her arm from his. “That’s what I thought. I don’t think—” She was interrupted by a loud growling sound that came from the general area of her belly button. Callie’s hands covered her face, but not before Gage caught the first blush of embarrassment on her cheeks.
“Hold that thought. Why don’t we finish this conversation over dinner?” he asked. She shook her head. “I’ll let you pay. You know, since you’re a successful businesswoman and all.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said, but her tummy growled again, belying her words.
“Anything you want. I know where they make the best fried chicken. Or maybe beef enchiladas. No, I’ll bet you haven’t had Vegas’s best cheeseburger since you’ve been back, have you?”
Her only answer was another growl of the tummy.
“This is so embarrassing,” she finally said. “I’m trying to close a deal, and my stomach interrupts the proceedings.”
Gage took her hand and pulled her toward the entrance. “Could have been worse.”
“How?” she asked miserably as he locked the door and then led the way to his SUV.
Pedestrian traffic had increased as the sun sank into the western sky, and now a few limos had joined t
he rush of people on the Strip. Horns honked, and a few convertibles with blaring speaker systems competed to see which was loudest. It was maddening and perfect. His favorite part of the Las Vegas evening. Gage drank in the sights and sounds of his city with his hand warm on the small of Callie’s back, until they reached the SUV.
“It could have been gas,” he finally replied as he handed her into the truck.
“You’re terrible,” she said after a moment. “But you can make it up to me with the best cheeseburger in Vegas. And then we’ll talk about why your building is perfect but I’m not going to lease it.
Gage cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’ll lease.”
“You’re wrong.”
Gage tried to concentrate on the road while he was driving, but Callie was a distraction, leaning against her window to watch the same neon signs she’d seen since she was a kid. And laughing when they passed a large African-American man dressed in pink and black feathers, fishnet stockings, and platform heels performing alongside an Elvis impersonator and a couple of Stormtroopers.
“Everything here is so wrong its right,” she said, smiling as they passed the Bellagio fountains lighting up the night sky. She hit the button to push her window down when the traffic stopped and listened to the crowd and the music. “Gaudy and silly, but it’s still home, you know?”
He knew. He’d wanted to leave Las Vegas. Start life anew in Los Angeles or maybe Miami, where people would only know his name and not the history behind it. He’d actually left for Miami but returned within a week. Beach life was great for some, but not even the craziness of South Beach compared to the street performers, neon, and rolling billboards of Vegas. He stopped at a red light and hundreds of people surged into the crosswalk. Dancers in leggings and flat sandals on their way to one of the revues, tourists with cameras around their necks, honeymooners who somehow managed to kiss and walk without running into anyone around them. Gage shook his head and smiled. This was his town. He loved every gaudy, gritty piece of it.
What the Bachelor Gets Page 5