She’d fallen. Hard.
It felt way too much like a high school crush, where something as small as a passing glance turned into initials sketched into hearts and whispers of forever. No grown woman should entertain such thoughts—especially in the face of knowing she had less than twenty-four hours to ever see him again—but somewhere in the dark he’d touched more than her body. They’d forged a connection that went so far beyond physical that the thought of losing it crippled her. But it wasn’t right. Couldn’t be. It didn’t matter that she’d never felt as close to another human being as she had him. It only mattered that in a matter of hours they’d be through.
Done.
Over.
Who was she kidding? After his exit, they probably already were.
I’m sorry if that’s not good enough, Colorado, but it’s all I’ve got.
She wondered if he had second thoughts. About taking her to the park. Going back to her room. Stealing her from Focker.
Telling her he’d give her back.
What a joke.
She wanted to tell him she wasn’t his to give, but she’d be his for a long time to come. She had quite a few mountains to climb to get past that, and she strongly suspected every clear blue sky she ever saw would be his. Every sunset. Every flaming red rock. Every dream, every memory. He’d changed it all.
She wouldn’t change that. Maybe the outcome—she wished they had more time—but what they had wasn’t meant to be anything more. She didn’t want to cling to him only to have things fall apart. She’d take what he’d given her and treasure it, and that would have to be enough.
After spending a disproportionate amount of her time—and budget—in Hershey’s Chocolate World, she headed back to the hotel and prayed she’d still fit in her ball gown. Between the breakfast Jax had sent Friday morning, the all-you-can-eat buffet, and the chocolate she’d just consumed, she’d be lucky if she didn’t need to call room service for help getting the zipper up. Managing to do so on her own only left her paranoid the stupid thing would split, but she’d take her chances.
One more night in Vegas.
But it wasn’t the same. Couldn’t be.
She still had an hour before the ball, so she went to the hotel casino, only a little self-conscious to do so in a formal gown. Her short tenure in the city had quickly taught her two things. One, anything goes. Two, “anything” didn’t cause most people to look twice. Sure enough, she found herself at the bar with a man who appeared to be wearing a bikini top and a woman wearing a French maid costume. As far as she could tell, no one paid more than passing attention to either one of them.
The bartender was on her in a second. “What’ll you have?”
Ellie blinked, stupidly surprised anyone would ask. She didn’t have a clue what to order, so she nodded toward the concoction in front of the French maid. “Um, one of those.”
“Blue Hawaii, coming up.”
Well, alrighty then. She watched him mix the drink and still had no idea what went in it, but if she didn’t hate it and it didn’t put her on the floor, at least she had a go-to for the next time. As if there’d be one.
She didn’t have the chance to pay for the drink before a man slid onto the seat next to her and shoved a twenty across the bar.
“She’s on me,” he said.
In your dreams. The guy was attractive enough, though he’d gone a little overboard with hair product. Ellie wasn’t high maintenance, and as a rule she wasn’t into guys who would require more time at the bathroom mirror than she. Or those who weren’t Jax.
She’d get over that last part eventually. She’d have to.
“Where you from, gorgeous?”
“Colorado.”
The response hadn’t been hers. It was Jax, and if looks could kill, High Maintenance Man would have disintegrated on the spot.
“She’s not available,” Jax said. “Beat it.”
The other man gave a cocky, half-drunk smile. “I was here first, and I paid for the drink.”
Jax glanced at her glass, then extracted a bill from his pocket and planted it against the other man’s chest with enough force to make him stumble backward. “She’s not for sale, jackass.”
The offender grabbed for the cash then spread his arms in surrender, backing across the floor to nearly collide with a waitress carrying a tray full of cocktails. He spun out of her way, flashed a smile, and disappeared into the crowd.
“What was that?” Jax asked, his voice meticulously even.
“Unwanted attention.”
He eyed her appreciatively, although he didn’t seem too happy about it. “I’m not surprised, in that dress. I should have come with a baseball bat.”
“Thank you. I think.”
He sat on the seat next to hers. “I’m sorry I ran out this morning.”
“I understand you have a job to do,” she said. As if she believed it was his job that had him backpedaling out of her bed. Her life.
“It’s not that.”
Her gaze drifted from his face to his biceps where his tattoo peeked from under his shirt sleeve. For the first time, she noticed letters carefully, beautifully woven into the design. G-R-A. She pushed up his sleeve with a fingertip to see the rest. C-I-E. When she looked up at him, his eyes were on her.
“My sister,” he said. “Gracie was my sister.”
“What happened?” she asked softly. She hadn’t dared to ask the first time he’d mentioned her, but she and Jax had shared so much since then.
“I was sixteen. She was twelve. We were on vacation in the mountains. Your mountains.” He paused and took a break that shook him, but he didn’t meet her eye. “She loved to ski. We were due to fly home that day, and I let her talk me into one more run. She was supposed to stay on the intermediate slope unless our parents were with her, but she took the black diamond. At the time I was good, but I wasn’t the skier she was. I didn’t have any business on an expert trail, but I couldn’t just let her go, you know?”
Ellie nodded. Already, her eyes were hot with unshed tears. It didn’t matter how many years had passed—the parallels between Ellie’s job and the way he’d lost his sister had to shake him. They’d shake anybody.
“The sun was warm on that side of the mountain,” he said. “They hadn’t closed it, so she insisted it would be fine. I should have stopped her, but she was ahead of me. There were signs against it, but she went off the trail.”
“On purpose?”
“I think so. It was a deliberate turn, just like the trail head. Other skiers had gone before her. You could see the tracks. She wanted to try it. She’d asked all day, but I always pointed to the signs. I never said, ‘Hey, might be dangerous.’ Just, ‘There’s a sign, so don’t.’” He tapped restlessly on the bar. Had to wave away the bartender. “She wasn’t out of control,” he finally said. “That was me. I think that’s been me ever since. I just stood there watching that damned red hat of hers weave through the snow, then she was gone.”
“A crevasse?” The deep cracks through ice were hard to see under fresh snow, and they were dangerous. A fall into one could be deadly—one of many reasons skiing out of designated areas was forbidden.
“No. Avalanche.”
“Oh, God, Jax. I’m so sorry.”
“I tore down that black diamond trail to get help, but by the time they found her, it was too late. I should have followed her. I should have been there with her.”
“If she was good enough to take an expert trail, she knew better than to ski out of bounds. It’s not your fault.”
“Tell that to my parents. They didn’t care that she’d gone off on her own, or that I managed to stress fracture both of my legs going down that mountain after help. It was my fault because I told her she could take one more run.” He looked down at his hands, picking at an invisible spot on the bar. “It was sixteen years ago, and those were the last words they said to me.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “But they’re wrong, Jax.”
<
br /> He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I made the wrong decision that day. I guess they’re entitled to do the same.”
Anger elbowed through her sorrow. “It wasn’t your fault. You were a kid, and they forced onto you a burden an adult couldn’t handle, let alone a child.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he repeated. “I just wanted you to know…to know why.”
“Why what?”
“I care about you, and the minute I realized that, I should have walked away. I certainly shouldn’t have spent the night with you, Ellie, because you deserve more than what I have to give.”
She caught her lip between her teeth. He’d called her by her name. Not Colorado, but Ellie. And it hurt.
“You’re wrong,” she said.
A short, dark laugh escaped him. “You’re a fucking ski instructor. It should have been over right then and there.”
She winced. Under the circumstances, he was probably right. “But it wasn’t.”
“Because I’m a selfish bastard.” He turned his head, scrubbing with his hand the stubble that darkened his chin. “Because you’re the sun. You’re the goddamn sun, and it’s been so long since I’ve been warm.”
Her heart broke, every piece into a million more. He wasn’t running.
He was already gone.
He hadn’t backpedaled because he didn’t want her. He did it because he wanted her too much.
“What does that tell you?” she asked. “That I made you warm?”
He met her gaze evenly. “That you’re too good for me. Too good to get caught up in this. Dammit, this is too much for two days.”
Two days. She felt like she’d known him forever. “You’ve been unhappy half your life. You don’t have to forget, but you have to live.”
He stopped short of answering her when yelling erupted from a nearby bank of slot machines. At first she thought someone must have hit a jackpot, but the harsh tones quickly suggested otherwise. “What—?”
“Get to the other side of the bar.” He pointed across the free-standing station to an area that put the bulk of the bar between her and the commotion. “Now.”
She grabbed her drink—interesting choice of priorities for someone who didn’t know enough to name a single one—and moved as he sprinted in the direction of the yelling. She tried to make out what was being said, but despite the hush around her, the general casino noise managed to drown out the details. Ellie stood on tiptoes, unable to see anything but the throng of onlookers and the attempt of a pair of hotel security personnel to break through. Then a man burst from the group and ran right for her.
Standing perched on her tiptoes in an evening gown didn’t make for good reaction time. He caught her elbow as he plowed past, forcing Ellie hard against the bar. She managed a few choice words as her drink sloshed onto her dress, but it was over before she realized what happened. Several strides away, the guy was grabbed by security.
Jax walked from the rapidly dispersing crowd, holding the elbow of an elderly, slightly bent woman who, with a gray bun and an old handbag, looked every bit the part of the granny who owned Tweety Bird. She ranted about a man trying to steal her winnings, and Jax looked on with sympathy…until he saw Ellie. His eyes flashed dark. Fierce. He didn’t abandon the woman, but he appeared to hurry her along until she caught sight of the man who had jostled Ellie, at which point the old woman left Jax in the dust. She was a spry little thing in her orthopedic shoes, and even more so when she got close enough to whack her target with her purse. The security guards traded barely-suppressed grins and made only halfhearted attempts to shield the perp while she beat the crap out of him with her bag—one of those old-school numbers with actual corners.
Ellie watched with a grin on her face. And Blue Hawaii on her chest.
“Are you okay?” Jax didn’t smile. He didn’t look the least bit amused by any of it.
“I’m fine. He just bumped me.”
“Are you sure?” Worry penetrated the dazzling blue of his eyes.
Buoyed her. “You do care.”
“I never said I didn’t care. Just that I couldn’t.”
“Jax—”
“Look, I get it, okay? I won’t deny what’s between us, but I can’t accept it. I told you about Gracie so you’d understand. I want to be the man I was last night. I want nothing more than to be him for you, but I can’t, and there’s nothing to be gained by pretending.”
“Were you pretending last night?”
After a long, bitter silence in which the entire casino seemed to still around them, he spoke. “You said yourself, nothing here is real. You and climbing mountains and hiding here, that’s me. And I can’t give that away. Not to a woman like you who deserves the moon and the stars.” A short, humorless laugh followed. “I can’t even see the damned stars from here.”
“But you know where they are,” she insisted. “And you go there so often to seek them that they know you at the gate. Don’t tell me you’re broken, Jax. Don’t tell me you’re too broken when you still care enough to look.”
He shook his head. Slow, deliberate. “Not anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve found it. I’ve found what I’ve looked for, and I can’t have it. And I know that now. It’s over. It has to be.” Blue eyes pierced her brown ones. Said good-bye. “Later, Colorado. At the ball. You can meet up with Focker one more time, and then we’ll be done.”
Chapter Ten
Ellie spent a few minutes in the ladies room attempting to spot clean her dress, but mostly remembering the moment she’d watched her ticket disappear down the toilet and thought her life was over. Now she felt as if it had begun, if not with that moment, than the one where she’d walked into Jax. Wolverine. It fit the exterior, but no one would ever guess the tenderness under that surface. She smiled at herself in the mirror. Thought of how he’d smiled.
Of how he said it had been too long.
And she was furious.
Was this what it was like when you didn’t wait for everything to be right? What irony. Things with her ex had never felt like this. She hadn’t realized it, having nothing to compare it to, but there must have been something in the back of her mind that told her things weren’t right. That she shouldn’t have to fight to label and compartmentalize. If she hadn’t realized that, she would have been much more devastated when she caught him with another woman. She’d been upset, for sure, but in retrospect it was more about her plans falling apart than in the betrayal. There hadn’t been anything there to begin with. They were held together—at least on paper—by her rules.
Jax blew rules all to hell.
A person didn’t pencil “Have orgasm in a public park” onto one’s schedule. No one scheduled syrup. In no datebook ever, electronic or otherwise, had anyone ever written, “Put on his shirt so he can tear it off and devour you.”
Jax Mathis had changed everything.
Shaking her head, she gave up on the Blue Hawaii. The spot was hardly noticeable under the harsh fluorescent glare, so it would be invisible under the ballroom lights—assuming, that was, that they resembled all the fictional ones she’d seen on television.
She’d never been to a ball.
You can meet up with Focker one more time, and then we’ll be done.
The words irked her beyond reason. It didn’t matter how far she’d fallen. He’d made it clear he wouldn’t be there to catch her, but if he thought he was going to hand her over to another man, he had another think coming. She withdrew her phone from her clutch and checked the time. Only about fifteen minutes until the ball started. She had a text from Taylor. A reminder.
What happens in Vegas gets told to the bestie, pronto. And your dog ate my shoe.
Ellie tapped back a reply. Her new mantra.
I suck at one-night stands. And your next pair of shoes is on me.
Taylor would lose her mind. Ellie grinned at the thought, then set her notifications to vibrate and dropped her phone in her purse.
&nbs
p; The ballroom was on the second floor. Ellie opted to take the escalator. On the ride up, she noticed the purse-packing granny back at the slots, glasses perched at the end of her nose and a drink in her hand. Ellie wished she could put the pieces back together so easily. Move on like nothing had happened. A cloak of melancholy settled over her. It was her last night in Vegas, and she would spend it with a room full of strangers. Them and one man who wanted to take it all back and pretend that was all they’d ever been.
The second floor was clogged with ball attendees in formal wear, a sea of black tuxes and a myriad of gowns that somehow complemented the Masquerade’s color scape of gold, purple, green, red, and silver. But if those colors were considered matching, clashing would be more of a challenge than not.
Just inside the ballroom, a regal woman with a gorgeous light blue floor-length gown—one presumably not doused in Blue Hawaii—greeted guests, introducing herself as Patricia Plimpton. To Ellie, she said, “You’ll have some punch, won’t you, dear?”
A good stiff drink sounded better, but Ellie nodded anyway.
Patricia patted her on the shoulder and leaned close. “You don’t look happy. Have two glasses. Perhaps even a third. It’ll do wonders for you.”
Ellie blinked, bewildered, but the hostess was quickly swallowed by revelers.
And then she was alone. At a ball.
She dutifully took a glass of punch and meandered the room’s periphery, scanning for Jax. She found Focker first. Instinctively, she expected the once-familiar thrill of seeing him on a book cover to shoot through her, tenfold because he was in the flesh—albeit less flesh than their previous encounter in which he’d been shirtless. But nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Focker didn’t look at anyone in particular, not even when they appeared to speak to him. Rather he continuously searched the room, fiddling alternatively with his cuffs and his hair. Despite his frequent ministrations, not a strand fell out of place. The angle of the light hitting his face suggested the skin there was as baby soft as his hands had been on her arms for the photo shoot—no rough edges like Jax’s.
She shivered, still feeling the thrill of the abrasion between her thighs. Of what his tongue had done to her.
Gambling on the Bodyguard Page 10