A Little Like Destiny

by Lisa Suzanne

I’d laugh if I wasn’t desperate for coffee. I pour cream into my cup first then drown it with coffee. “Anything exciting on tap today?”

  She nods. “I’m reviewing a show that has a preview night tonight before this weekend’s opening.”

  “That sounds fun. Your job is pretty cool.”

  “Hey, you’re the lucky bitch with summers off.”

  I shrug. “I’m smart. I picked the right profession.”

  “It’s all about perspective.”

  “True. You got us backstage passes to Vail. That’s pretty dope.”

  She laughs. “And it led you to Mark Ashton’s bed. Tell me again how that happened?”

  I sigh dreamily as I rest my chin on my hand. “I have no idea.”

  “What was the ride to the Mandarin like?”

  I pause at her question. She’s my best friend in the entire world. I tell her everything. Everything. But for some reason, our ride to his place seems sacred. I’m not ready to share it yet—maybe not ever. So I lie. “We basically made out the entire way.”

  I’ve never lied to Jill before—not like this. The occasional white lie, sure—your hair looks cute with all those tiny braids sticking out everywhere like a rat’s nest, or that lip gloss is the perfect shade of yellow on you, or that dumpy white t-shirt looks adorable with those leggings. White lies to make her feel good, but I’ve never intentionally told her something big that wasn’t true.

  *

  Morning turns swiftly into noon as I read half of my first romance novel of the summer. I lean back against my headboard and text Tess.

  Me: You have plans Friday?

  Tess: Nothing I can’t cancel. Why?

  Me: I went out with this guy last night. He’s new to town and has friends and wants to go out Friday.

  My phone rings seconds later. “Before you even ask,” I say without a greeting, “I didn’t sleep with him.”

  She laughs. “Amateur.”

  “You would’ve?”

  “I don’t even have to know the details to know I would’ve. It’s practically payment for a nice meal.”

  “God, I hope that’s not true.”

  “Are his friends hot?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that he is. But hands off, Tess,” I warn.

  “Fine, fine,” she says. “But the friends. I need to know more. And I need to know more about where you met this guy.”

  “He’s one of the co-presidents of that company I had to beg for fundraiser money.”

  “And I got stuck with fucking Beatrice from Dairy Queen?”

  “His friends are the two other presidents.”

  “Oh, good call. What was the company name again?”

  “FDB Tech Corp. He said drinks are on him and money isn’t an object.”

  “What is he, seventy-five? Who says that?”

  I giggle. “I wonder how he even got all this money that’s not an object.”

  “If you’d have slept with him, you’d have found out a lot more.”

  “You’re probably right about that.”

  “You should’ve at least gone home with him to check out his pad. Where does he live?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Amateur,” she repeats. We say our goodbyes, and as soon as we hang up, I text Brian.

  Me: I’ve got two friends lined up for Friday.

  His reply comes quickly.

  Brian: Are they hot?

  Me: Well it’s supposed to be ninety-one today, so I’d guess so.

  Brian: Good one.

  Brian: What are you wearing?

  Me: That’s for me to know and you to dream about.

  Brian: You got that right. After you left me hanging last night, all I have are my dreams.

  Me: Awfully forward for someone who’s just my friend.

  Brian: I may just be your friend, but I think you’re potentially more than that to me.

  Me: I guess I can’t rule out potential. Shouldn’t you be working instead of having an entire conversation via text with me?

  Brian: I’m multi-tasking.

  Me: What are you doing?

  Brian: Sitting in a boring meeting that someone else is running.

  Me: You should probably pay attention.

  Brian: Probably. But you’re far more interesting. Besides, I’m the boss.

  Part of me wants to tell him I can’t wait to see him again, but I’m worried I’m already building him up bigger and better in my mind than he is…so I just leave it at that.

  seven

  “Holy shit, Reese,” Jill murmurs beside me.

  My heart thumps in my chest as I stare at him. I can’t respond to Jill’s curse because I’m enraptured by the man who has claimed far too many of my waking thoughts for the past two days.

  “Which one’s Brian?” Jill asks.

  “The one in the middle.”

  “Then I’ll take the one on the right.” She grins at the tall, lanky man with brown eyes—just her type.

  “I have no qualms taking the leftovers,” Tess says with her eye on the third man, a blond-haired, blue-eyed man with muscles.

  We’re waiting for them by the entrance to the casino at the Cosmopolitan, and I can’t help but think that it’s not fair that three men who look like that are just running around Vegas hot and single. All three are dressed for a night out, and the sight of Brian Fox turns the prick of need already forming in my belly into a balloon of desire.

  They walk toward us, all three of them powerful and confident, and Brian makes a beeline straight to me as my heart thumps loudly in my chest. I’m sure he can hear it over the din of the casino. He moves in toward me for a hug, but in my nervousness at seeing him again, I totally miss the social cue. I stick my hand out, and instead of the hug he expected, my hand accidentally brushes against his crotch.

  My eyes widen and he chuckles. Good Lord, has there been a time yet where I haven’t managed to start off by embarrassing myself in front of this man?

  He ignores my faux pas, and honestly, I give him mad props for that. My face feels hot and there’s a loud buzzing sound in my head, yet through the complete mortification, I can’t help the pooling saliva in my mouth.

  That one unintentional preview was enough to tell me that he’s hiding some serious goods beneath those fitted dark wash blue jeans.

  “Good to see you again,” he murmurs close to my ear.

  The urge to kiss him is almost unbearable, but we’re just friends.

  Yeah, right.

  Brian makes the introductions. “This is Ryan Becker,” he says, nodding toward the one Jill was eyeing, “and Jason Davis.”

  “Ryan and Brian?” Tess asks. “Doesn’t that get confusing?”

  They both chuckle.

  “It does,” Brian says, “Everyone calls us by our last names.”

  “So Becker and Fox?” Tess asks, pointing to each of them in turn. They nod. “And Davis?” she asks, pointing to Jason.

  “Jason,” he says. She finds her place by his side, already turning on her Tess-charm in only the way she can.

  The six of us head toward the bar first. The first round is on Brian, and the second is on Becker. By the time Jason pays for the third, we’re chatting and laughing like we’ve all known each other for years. Brian suggests some blackjack, and we follow the men over to the tables. I don’t have the money to throw it away on blackjack—neither do Jill or Tess, really—but it’ll be free entertainment for us while we watch the money is no object men throw around cash like it’s candy.

  Tess sits next to Jason, and the dealer gives her a look that clearly says you can’t sit here if you’re not playing. She ignores him and stays in the chair so she can flirt. I have no doubt that she’s going home with him tonight.

  My eyes edge toward the little plaque listing the table spending requirements, and I gasp when I see the hundred-dollar minimum bet. Every hand Brian plays will cost him a week’s worth of groceries for me.

  Having that kind of money is unimagi
nable to me. The most I’ve ever spent on a hand of blackjack was twenty dollars, and it was only because I was on a roll—I was up over a hundred bucks at the time. I can still remember how my hands shook as I thought about what else I could buy with twenty dollars. I won, luckily, and then I cashed in my chips.

  A hundred dollars a hand seems insane enough, but once Brian cashes in a pile of bills and the dealer pushes a stack of chips toward him, he stacks two of the chips together. He’s betting two hundred dollars on one hand of blackjack, and I’m over here thinking how far I could stretch two hundred dollars.

  Brian loses his first hand. The dealer rakes in the two black chips, but Brian doesn’t even bat an eyelash as he stacks two more chips onto his little circle.

  Watching someone spend this sort of money like it’s nothing at all gives me a little bit of a high. This is so over the top, so crazy. I don’t know how old he is, exactly, but he can’t be more than thirty. How does a guy his age have this kind of money to spend?

  Becker and Jason sit beside him, tossing chips out the same way Brian is. They must not be too concerned about saving money even though they just opened a brand-new business right in the heart of Las Vegas.

  After a few hands, all three of them have already lost at least a thousand dollars.

  A thousand dollars is an entire paycheck for me.

  It’s not my concern how he spends his money, but it’s so far out of my realm that it’s hard to reconcile that this guy is interested in me. He turns around and his eyes fall on me. He motions for me to come a little closer, so I take a step toward him and rest a hand on his shoulder. His hand falls over mine. I watch the cards as the dealer throws them in front of each player, almost feeling like I’m the one playing since I’m so close to the action now.

  His first card is a king, and his second card is an ace.

  I let out a little whoop of excitement, but Brian doesn’t react until the dealer turns over his card. It’s a seven. Brian turns to Becker and they fist bump. Then he turns around. “You must be my lucky charm,” he says softly to me.

  I’m not sure why those words send a bullet of excitement through me, and I’m also not sure why I have the sudden urge to kiss him.

  The cards seem to take a turn the moment my hand lands on his shoulder. He quickly makes back his lost money, and the chips start to pile higher and higher. Through it all, he maintains his cool. Eventually, the man sitting to his right runs out of chips, and when he stands to leave, Brian looks at me then nods to the empty seat.

  “Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t afford that.”

  He pushes a stack of his chips toward the empty seat. “It’s on me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” he challenges. He takes one of the chips and places it in the circle in front of the empty seat so now he has three hundred dollars on the table. “If you don’t sit, I’ll just play two hands myself.”

  “I don’t want to lose your money.”

  He chuckles. “I’ll tell you what to do.”

  I huff out a sigh. “Fine.” I slide into the chair, and just as I do, Jason stands.

  “That’s it for me,” he says. Tess loops her arm through his and they disappear toward the bar.

  Brian sets another chip on top of the one in front of me. My hands shake as I watch the dealer toss a card toward me. A four. It’s a fucking four. Brian gets an ace.

  My second card is a seven.

  “Double down,” Brian says, nodding to my chip pile.

  “You haven’t even seen what the dealer has yet!”

  He leans in close like he’s going to tell me a secret. “That’s why it’s called gambling.”

  I push two more chips next to my pile. When the dealer flips my card over, it’s a ten.

  A glorious, beautiful ten that just won Brian a cool four hundred dollars.

  I squeak in shock as excitement races through my chest. I hear Jill cheer behind us, and Brian leans over and presses his lips to my cheek. “See? Good luck charm,” he says. The excitement in my chest turns to something darker, sexier, as Brian straightens away from me and takes the spicy, amber smell of his aftershave with him.

  The dealer pays me with black chips to match the others on the table in front of me. Brian stacks another chip on the pile of two in front of each of us. Between my bet and his, six hundred dollars of Brian Fox’s money sits on the table to be easily swept away as if it’s nothing at all.

  We both win again, and Brian stacks again.

  I’m freaking out that he’s doing this each time. My hands shake and my chest tightens with nerves as I wait for the cards to be dealt. The thrill of betting four hundred dollars on a single hand of blackjack is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

  We both win again, and I can’t help my scream when we do. Brian stacks another chip, so now we’re betting five hundred each.

  This can’t be real life.

  Just a few days ago, I was scoring final exams as I debated whether or not my checking account could take the hit of a new dress. Now I’m throwing out five hundred bucks—albeit of somebody else’s money—on cards. I could buy five dresses for that kind of money. Or one super nice one.

  We play for a while, and eventually Brian pushes his chips toward the dealer and motions for me to do the same. Becker cashes out, too. The dealer calls over a supervisor before he gives us each several orange chips—a chip color I’ve never held in my own palm before. As soon as we stand, I hand my chips to Brian.

  He takes two orange ones and hands them back to me. “Two pumpkins for you.”

  “Pumpkins?” I ask.

  He nods. “It’s what they call the thousand dollar chips.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not taking your pumpkins. I can’t.”

  “Why not? You won the money fair and square.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t need to give me money.”

  “I’m not giving you money. I’m letting you keep your winnings.”

  I roll my eyes. “Just go cash in your winnings.”

  He palms his chips in one hand before he pulls me closer against his body. It’s the first time he’s hugged me this closely, and I can’t ignore the steel pipe digging into my hip. I guess winning money does it for him, but the ache between my legs tells me it also does it for me. Or it could just be Brian—being close to him, smelling him, wanting him and wanting to get past the traumatic bliss of what happened less than a week ago. Wanting to feel close to someone I like, someone I can have for more than just one night.

  He leans into our hug, the rough hairs of his jaw scratching against my temple. “Tell me the next part of our night is getting a hotel room.” His voice is strained and husky.

  I giggle and gently push him away from me—mostly because if I don’t, I’m positive I won’t be able to keep my promise to myself that I’m taking things slow with him.

  “You okay?” Jill asks once the boys move toward the cashier’s cage.

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Thinking about last weekend?” she asks softly.

  “Constantly,” I murmur.

  “If it helps at all, Brian is hot. And he’s not hiding how much he’s into you.”

  “I’m into him, too, I think.”

  “You think?”

  I shrug. “I think he’s ready to be more than just friends.” I throw air quotes around just friends.

  “And you’re not? I mean how hot was it watching all that money?”

  “I just want to take it slow,” I say.

  “I get it. But don’t take it so slow that you push him away and lose your chance.”

  She’s right, and I know that. I can’t help the fleeting images in my mind of my night with Mark. The Mandarin Oriental is directly next door to where we are now, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s here in Vegas tonight, staying in his penthouse, overlooking the hotel where I’m standing now. If he’s thinking about me as much as I’ve thought about him.

  It has
n’t even been a week, but it’s not like I’ll ever see him again. It’s time to move on.

  It’s with that thought in my mind that I allow my lips to form a big smile meant just for Brian. Taking it slow is overrated, and I need to stop denying myself what I need to get past the ghosts of my past, no matter how recently those ghosts stepped into my life.

  eight

  The dance floor is a humid mass of bodies and I’m more than a little drunk.

  Once I decided I didn’t want to take things slow, something snapped inside me and pushed me to wake the hell up. I saw my life from a new perspective, and I saw that I was working as my own worst enemy. I refuse to do that to myself any longer.

  On that note, I ordered vodka for my first drink at the club even though I was still tipsy from the drinks we had before blackjack. I pounded the first glass and started on my second, and now my inhibitions are shot. All I can think about as Brian’s hips grind with mine is what it would be like to share a bed with him tonight.

  When the familiar sounds of Mark Ashton’s smooth voice pump through the speakers as Vail’s current chart-topper plays, I’m tipsy enough that the song doesn’t make me cry.

  Just like when I wore the gold dress to my first dinner with Brian as a way to replace old memories in it, I think I need to make some new memories to this song.

  “I love this song,” I say, and then I throw my head back and start shouting out the words I know so well. Brian leans forward to nuzzle my neck as I do, the stubble along his jaw burning a trail on my neck and igniting a blistering passion in my chest.

  I’m thankful for the alcohol. It’s helping me make decisions that my sober mind wouldn’t agree with, but this is what I need. It’s like I’m finally thinking clearly, finally stepping out of my good girl persona and into the hidden minx that’s always been dormant inside me.

  I lower my head and he’s centimeters away. I do what feels natural. I lean forward and press my lips to his.

  I’m tentative at first despite the alcohol. His lips are firm and soft, a contradiction that feels absolutely right, but I’m leading here. I’m the one who kissed him.

  I may be tentative, but he’s not. He’s hot and assured, pushing his hips harder against me to show me that he wants this…wants me. His arms tighten around me as our tentative kiss escalates.