“That’s not how a tiebreaker works. My winning bet was that you wore the boots—naked. Your winning bet was that I ride the Insanity tonight.”
“But because we both won, we should both get what we want. You know you want to wear the boots more than you want to see me wear them.”
“Oh, I’ll try on the boots. The girl always tries on the boots.”
“Two tickets for the boots, then. But I want a bigger return on my investment, so I’ll get naked, but you’re riding the coaster.”
Callie seemed to mull over the options. “Okay, Captain No Underpants, lets get this show on the road.”
• • •
This was a bad idea. She should have gone along with trying on the boots and then getting on the damn coaster, because Gage was not taking his role lightly. So far he’d posed, wearing only the boots and with the newspaper positioned just so, in the office chair the ball girl rolled in, lying on the floor—thank God there were no stains on the carpet, not that that meant it was clean—and now he was leaning against the wall with his booted feet crossed and the paper open as if he were reading it. Or inspecting his area, Callie wasn’t sure which. She’d feigned indifference at first, but when it became clear Gage was going to hide behind the newspaper instead of flaunting around the room, curiosity got the better of her.
Just how much was he hiding behind that newspaper?
She snapped the last picture on her phone, and before Gage could come up with another pose, she tossed his jeans and boxers to him. She knew what he was doing, playing it up so she became more and more nervous about riding Insanity. She was nervous enough. Heights didn’t bother her. She’d once sat at the observation level of the Paris tower for an entire afternoon, just watching the people below. Heights weren’t the problem. Plunging over the side of a skyscraper for no good reason, that was the problem.
“Are you sure you have enough blackmail material?”
“I think one picture would have sufficed, but you seemed really interested in posing. Let’s get the death march over with.”
“Oh, you’re still nervous about the ride?”
She glared at him. “Get dressed, Pretty Boy. St. Peter has a schedule, and I don’t want to make him late to the pearly gates.”
Gage dropped the newspaper into the chair. The back of the chair reached just below his belly button, so she couldn’t see anything, but her mouth still went dry. She was in a private room with a naked Gage, and she’d do just about anything not to return to the Stratosphere.
Okay, she didn’t need the threat of death to consider sleeping with Gage. She’d wondered what he might look like under the perfect suit and ties for more than a week, and now she knew. On Gage, naked was better than Hugo Boss, Levi’s, boots, or wing tips. Naked might be better than anything in the world.
He slipped into his jeans and shirt and then sat to pull his own boots over his feet. All too soon they were in the truck and then back at the hotel and then sailing up, up, up in the elevator.
Naked was good. Naked was really, really good.
Thrill rides were bad. Really, really bad. Callie swallowed. She couldn’t do this, not even for a bet. But she also couldn’t stop it. Wearing nothing but concert boots and a newspaper was nowhere near as scary as falling off a building, even strapped into a seat with harnesses that were checked hourly for safety. She reached for Gage’s arm.
“I can’t do this. I can’t dangle over Vegas in what is basically a chairlift and wait to die.”
Gage took her clammy hand in his. He must have heard the fear in her voice because he didn’t tease her or bring up the bet. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb and said, “Okay.” Then he made an abrupt turn and took her onto the observation deck.
Relief washed over her. She wouldn’t renege on the bet, but she just needed another minute—or maybe sixty—to get ready for the ride.
There was a light breeze and only a few couples on the walkway. Callie took a deep breath and walked to the side, looking out over the city. Her city. The place that had always called to her, even when she’d been certain what she wanted was outside its limits. The new SLS sign glinted in the night, and headlights from the limos, rolling billboards, and transit buses lit up the night. Down the Strip, too far away to hear, were the card slappers and the street performers. And she couldn’t hear the music, but the lights and fountains at the Bellagio speared up into the night.
Gage leaned against the railing with her, hands crossed at the wrists. “I think the new Tropicana is my favorite.” His voice was quiet in the night. She stepped closer to him.
“I like the SLS. And you can’t go wrong with the MGM, either.”
“Not Caesars?”
She shook her head. “Too much marble and gold. The other places look … older, I guess. The way I imagine it all looked before Vegas gambling was a billion-dollar-a-year business.”
“You’re really not afraid of heights, are you?”
“Nope. I like looking out over the city. I like to hike in the mountains. I don’t like flying and I’d rather not rock climb, but that’s more about the possible falling than vertigo.” She took his hand and rubbed her shoulder against his. “I had fun tonight. You’re a good first date planner.”
“Nice to have your approval.”
“I haven’t been mini-golfing since our eighth grade field trip. Do you remember that? Our science teacher said we were learning about gravity and the theory of relativity.”
Gage chuckled. “But he cut out around the fourth hole, and we caught him sneaking out of a poker room when we were getting on the bus.”
“I wonder what ever happened to him?”
“Probably still teaching. We didn’t turn him in, and I’m pretty sure the bus driver was in on the whole gambling thing, because he had a wad of cash in his back pocket when he got back to the bus.”
“Vegas brings out the best and worst in people, doesn’t it?”
Gage shook his head. “It isn’t Vegas that does it. The casinos bring the worst because no one believes the high of winning will ever stop.”
There was something in his voice, a note of sadness that Callie wanted to push away. She knew he was talking about his mom. She’d eavesdropped on enough conversations to know Helena was a gambling addict, and she remembered the phone call from her mom the February of her freshman year in college telling her Helena had died driving back to the ranch in an ice storm. She’d lost in a high-stakes poker game and shouldn’t have been on the road at all.
“It’s a sickness, you know. Something she had to stop herself. There was nothing any of you could do.”
“I know. Knowing that just makes it worse.” His voice was hard, the hint of sadness gone, replaced by anger. Gage blew out a breath. “This is a date, though, not therapy for the son of a gambling addict. We played mini-golf, which takes care of the silly quotient, had great food, which takes care of the gluttony part of the evening. You wanna be adults and find a club for dancing?”
“I’m not much of a dancer.” She twisted her mouth, considering. Her return to Vegas hadn’t started out perfectly, not with her parents moving and the fiasco of the Vas Hole Center. But things seemed to be turning around now. She had a new location for the business. She was on a date with Gage Reeves. Maybe she could do one more thing for the “New Callie” column of her life. “I think I want to try a little Insanity.”
“Really?” Gage’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to; it was just a bet.”
“I know I don’t have to. I think I’ve been afraid of things long enough.” Like fear of losing herself in another person, so she chose an uncomplicated relationship. Riding Insanity didn’t mean a new lease on life, but maybe if she faced her fear of falling she could think less about failing, too. “Will you ride it with me?”
Gage bought the tickets while Callie focused on not passing out from hyperventilation. Maybe she wasn’t ready to face this particular fear. Maybe she should jump into the next down elevator and
forget about it. Screams from above caused a shiver down her spine. Definitely, definitely time for the elevator.
Gage met her at the door but pushed the up arrow rather than the down. It was okay, there was still time to back out. The doors opened and more screams rent the air, but this time followed by maniacal laughter. A group of bridesmaids wearing pink veils surrounded a bride wearing white, laughing as they staggered to the bank of elevators on the roof. Callie held on to Gage’s hand like it was a lifeline.
“We can back out, you know.”
“I know.” She watched a couple of college guys strap themselves into their seats and stepped forward even as her stomach clenched tightly. She could do this. Step forward, strap in, and close her eyes until it was over. Callie handed her ticket to the ride operator and sat in her seat. Gage followed suit.
After a litany of instructions about how to behave on the ride, the operator put it in motion. Callie tightened her hands around her harness. If she fell, she’d be holding on to the harness for dear life, she decided. The ride pushed out over the edge and began spinning. It was almost like being inside the Strat. If she didn’t look down, anyway.
The ride turned faster, and her seat tipped forward a little.
Nope, not like inside the Strat. Callie squeezed her eyes closed and let out a little yelp that sounded suspiciously like the coyote pup. The college guys in the next seat screamed swear words at the top of their lungs. Gage reached across the space, the heat from his hand calming the vultures beating in her belly.
“It’s almost over!” he yelled over the screaming crowd. “You’re doing great!”
Well, she wasn’t dead. But closing her eyes and pretending she was inside the restaurant wasn’t exactly being brave, either. Callie squinted one eye open, and the earth below seemed to yo-yo up and down. She closed her eyes, drew in a calming breath, and tried to channel Mandy’s instructions from before her meeting with Gage. But she couldn’t smell the lavender or sage.
She smelled sweat. Nervous sweat. Fearful sweat. The seat tipped forward a little more, and she tensed her arms around the harness, opening her eyes to make sure the seat was still attached to the ride. The ground yo-yoed up and down once, twice, and then seemed to steady. There were people down there, looking up and pointing. She could see a family walking into Circus Circus, and neon from the casino signs glinted brilliant pinks and purples and golds from the car windows.
It was beautiful. Scary, but beautiful, and her hands relaxed against the restraint. The Bellagio fountains started back up, and Callie pointed.
“My God, it’s beautiful up here.” She looked at Gage, who was looking at her. Only at her. And her stomach clenched again, but this time not because she was afraid of falling to her death.
It was because she was falling for Gage.
Chapter Eleven
It probably wasn’t her smartest idea ever, especially in light of the revelation on the Insanity, but somehow Callie found herself not only driving over to Gage’s condo in a fancy building on the Strip, but also knocking on his door at eleven the following morning. After riding Insanity, Gage had driven her home, walked her to the door, and … nothing. No kiss. There was a moment, standing in the glow of her porch light, when she thought he might, but then he stepped back, waved, and walked quickly away.
It was a little freaky. But this morning she had two iced coffees in her hands and a plan to figure out why the night hadn’t ended the way she thought it would end. She hadn’t wanted to fall right into Gage’s bed. But a good-night wave? Obviously they were on two very different pages.
After cleaning her condo from top to bottom, buying groceries, and cleaning out her coat closet, she’d considered calling to tell him they couldn’t see one another again outside of work. She’d dialed his number and hung up. Started a text and deleted it. Considered email. Then decided to tell him in person that, although it had been nice having dinner and playing mini-golf, she wasn’t interested in further complicating their business relationship.
It was the adult thing to do.
He opened the door pulling a white tee over his head and blinked twice, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Do you want to go swimming?” she asked. “Because the heat is a bitch today, and not even the air conditioning is going to cool it down—at least that’s what the meteorologists said on the morning shows.” And just like that, her carefully planned speech about work relationships and uncomplicating things evaporated like the steam from the coffees in her hands.
“You watch weekend morning news shows?”
“Don’t you?” In truth, she didn’t, but this morning every radio station had seemed intent on talking her back to sleep so she’d flipped on the television while she was cleaning. Callie passed by him, into the apartment, and stopped dead. A view of Las Vegas Boulevard spread out below her with the MGM and Tropicana across the street, the New York, New York to one side, and Caesars on another. She could see the Strat and the Wynn in the distance.
“Holy crap, Gage, how much did you pay for this place?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Callie sucked her lips between her teeth and felt her eyes widen into circles that were probably the size of the silver dollars the tooth fairy used to leave under her pillow. “Scratch that, I don’t care. It’s none of my business.”
“I, um … ” He closed the door. “A lot, but when you develop properties in a city like Las Vegas you kind of have to go overboard with the properties you keep for yourself.”
Callie handed him one of the cups. “So this is just about impressing other people? None of it is just for you?”
He grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t say that. It’s a good investment. But if I just wanted to impress my investors or clients, I’d live in one of the suites at Caesars or the Bellagio.” He sat on a pristine white couch and put his feet up on a chrome-and-glass coffee table. “Why are you here at the crack of dawn on a Saturday?”
“It’s nearly noon. Why aren’t you already up and about and planning another takeover?”
Gage hit a button, and the blackout shade on one south-facing window raised while the tinting on the rest of the windows lightened, washing the living space in bright sunlight. “So it is.” He sipped the coffee. “I stayed up until three or so working on a plan for the Heck ranch, the property I made an offer on last week?” When Callie nodded, Gage continued. “I met with Walt the other day, and he mentioned another offer on the table. I should have pressured him, but I didn’t, and I’m not going to pressure him now, but I have a feeling a couple of new sketches might sway him my direction.”
“Would it be so bad if you didn’t buy Walt’s ranch?” Callie didn’t see any coasters so she went into the kitchen to find something to put between her coffee cup and the expensive-looking table. From what Callie could see, the room, which looked over a side street, was decked with every appliance, gadget, and utensil known to cooking and baking. Across the room, a hallway led to what she assumed were bedrooms and maybe a home office. The main living area was at least as big as her condo, with floor-to-ceiling windows, Bamboo floors, chrome-and-glass low tables, and streamlined couches and chairs, all in white, finished the room. No magazines or plants graced the space. There were no rings on the coffee table, no paraphernalia from Gage’s life at all. Just a pristine space where he … what? Did he live here, or did he exist here? She found coasters on the counter next to the stove and grabbed two. She put both coffee cups on them. “Maybe the other developer is just as concerned about the environment.”
“Not likely. It’s another local firm, and they’ve told Walt they want to buy it to set up a new cattle ranching operation.”
“That seems unlikely.” No one was starting cattle operations right now. Even the existing operations were downsizing or coming up with new ways to make money. It was part of the reason her dad finally sold. He’d been land rich but cash poor, like so many others.
“Exactly, but Walt’s sick and a
lone, and he wants to believe. I have to convince him my plans can bring the ranch back to life but in a different way.”
“Can I help?”
Gage shook his head. “Not really. He’s got the prospectus; I’ll take what I came up with last night out to him on Monday.”
“Or you could take it out today.”
Callie stood and then trailed her hands over the keys of a baby grand piano sitting in the corner between a bank of windows looking out toward Caesars and another facing the lions guarding the MGM. She could watch the people below, already crowding the sidewalks, for hours. This was nothing like the cozy quiet of her Henderson condo. Gage was so obviously on a whole other financial level that it made her fingers clench.
She was barely competing with the thousands of women clamoring for a piece of Gabe Reeves, Bachelor of the Month, and she had yet to truly encounter any of them. How could she also compete with the kind of lavish lifestyle he must live when he wasn’t slumming with her at a mini-golf course or the zero-star burger joint downtown?
This place was one more reason to follow through on her original plan and not spend another day pretending this was an even playing field.
Buck up, Cal, her father’s voice echoed in her head. Money doesn’t make anyone better or worse, just makes it easier to get by.
“I could.” Gage closed his eyes and inhaled the steam coming from his cup. He sipped and sighed. “So you showed up on my doorstep”—he glanced at the clock on the mantle of the freestanding stone fireplace that divided the living and dining areas—“at eleven on a Saturday to go swimming? Why are you really here, Cal?”
“It’s a Saturday morning, and I’m still dealing with the adrenaline rush of riding the Insanity for the first time?”
He shook his head.
“It’s Saturday morning, and I need a hand with the last few boxes at the store?”
“You’d call Mandy because you don’t like the way I arranged the first twelve boxes I unloaded.”
“How did you know that?”
What the Bachelor Gets Page 16