As the dog wiggled against him, Liz smiled up at him like he was some kind of rescuer, of dogs and of . . .
Her?
But he wasn’t any kind of hero. He was in all of this for the glory.
He was about to remind her of that when his damned phone rang.
Shuffling the puppy to Liz, he motioned toward his Bluetooth. She understood, taking the dog and walking toward the hallway. Puppy eyes watched him with glinting happiness, and Ben had to turn away.
Too bad they didn’t make Rolexes for dogs.
He answered the call, and Jameson’s voice came on.
“You can thank me later.”
“Why?” Already, he was getting a bad feeling about this, maybe because his brother sounded so officious.
“I was talking to you from the office, and Dad caught wind of my end of our phone conversation because he’s here, too, little did I know. He always did like to spy.”
The wind gushed out of Ben. What was Jameson saying?
“I told you,” his brother continued, “that Dad would want to meet this miracle woman of yours, so prepare yourself. He’s making arrangements to fly out there as soon as possible.”
16
After hearing the news about Daddy Hughes’s impending visit, Liz had needed to make a fast choice that morning: cuddle in a hot-to-trot luxury car with a freshly bathed puppy on the way to an animal shelter? Or go on a fast-tracked, lavish shopping spree at one of the most high-end department stores in Vegas?
Some girls might’ve chosen glitz and glamour. Puppies, after all, would always be there, waiting with their tails wagging for you when you came home. But as Liz stood in front of a private dressing room’s bank of mirrors while the personal shopper Ben had hired took stock of her, all she wanted was to be snuggling with Poppy.
From behind her, Anita’s voice filled the room. “Don’t look so pouty, Lizzie. You’ll see that dog as soon as your man brings her back from the shelter. He already called and said you get to keep her during the waiting period.”
Liz glanced over her shoulder at her friend, who was lounging on a plush velvet love seat, a flute of champagne in hand. “It’s just that I already miss Poppy. You and the girls are gonna be so in love with her when you meet her, too!”
“The girls are already champing at the bit to celebrate your good news. Add a puppy? Pure chaos.”
“When things calm down, we’ll have a party. With Poppy.”
“Really, hon?” Anita said. “Poppy is all you can think about when your new, disgustingly rich relative is on a jet bound for Vegas as we speak? Where’re your nerves?”
Riding my skin, Liz thought. And that was why thinking of puppy dogs was making her feel better.
The personal shopper, a brunette named Maya who wore a chignon and a black-and-white suit that reminded Liz of an old forties ditty, finished her inspection. “All right. I know just what you need for tonight, as well as beyond that, Ms. Palazzo. Why don’t you have a seat and drink some champagne while I gather a selection of pieces for you to try on?”
“Will do.”
When Ben had hastily made arrangements for this shopping trip, he hadn’t told the store about their marriage. But that secret would be here, there, and everywhere soon enough, after Liz met the family tonight. Still, Liz had asked Anita not to spill the news in front of the staff.
The nerves Anita had mentioned danced a jive in Liz’s stomach as she went to sit next to her friend and the shopper disappeared. “This is all happening so fast. I didn’t think I’d be doing family dinners for at least another couple of weeks, if ever. Ben’s not exactly chummy with the rest of the Hugheses.”
“Better to get things over with, I say.” Anita sighed and sat back in the seat. Classical music—Beethoven—swirled around them. “Are you ready to be thoroughly investigated and interrogated by the Dripping with Moola clan?”
“Not really. You’d think a close-up-and-personal meeting would be no big deal for a girl who paraded around in next to nothing on a stage for years, but I’m going to feel more naked than ever tonight.”
“Our job sure was good training for moments like this.” Anita took a sip from her champagne flute, sighing in relaxed bliss. “Think of it this way—you’ll be wearing a splendid new gown. More important, I get a new wardrobe, too. You know, I think I’m liking Ben more and more.”
Anita could act shallow, but Liz knew better. “He was hoping you’d warm up to him. He’s actually a good guy, you know.”
“Why? Because of all this?” Anita gestured toward the sumptuous room, with its silk drapings and jasmine-scented air.
“No. Because he’s doing everything he can to see if I’ll be able to keep Poppy, for one thing. And he won’t admit it, but he’s already smitten with her, too.”
“Hmm—Ben, smitten. That’s new.”
Liz wasn’t about to give up on selling him to Anita. “Also, he’s treating me like a queen, just as you commanded, and, believe it or not, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
She wished she could tell Anita everything—about how Ben had promised her she’d be set for life, even after they divorced, about the contract that would give her everything she’d ever wanted.
“Wow,” Anita said, putting her champagne down on the petal-strewn glass table in front of them. “You’ve still got those infatuated-at-first-sight stars in yours eyes for him.”
A tremble in her tummy, a baking warmth around her heart. “Yeah. More than ever.”
Anita tucked a strand of curly black hair behind her ear, her tone gentling. “I hate to pound on this, hon, but are you ready for those stars to get a little less shiny and for marriage to really settle in? Because, not to be a downer, but it’s not going to be all hearts and stars. Too many of our friends have horror stories about marriage, and you’ve heard them just like I have.”
Liz held back a frown. “Is it too much to ask for you to be a little glad for me?”
Anita took Liz’s hand, squeezing it. “I’m not trying to hate. But we’ve talked about this before—you’ve always wanted love so badly. Too badly. So you got the marriage, and good for you, but I don’t see much realism about it, Liz. I can’t help thinking that you’re setting yourself up for a massive fall.”
Liz wanted to tell Anita that what she’d felt for Ben right away wasn’t something superficial, but then she thought about how he’d talked her into staying married to him, how his money would solve all her problems.
Would the wonderland of her emotions wear off and leave her with only a convenient arrangement in the end, chalking up just one more heartbreak for her?
After they drank more of their champagne in near silence except for the Beethoven on the speakers, Maya reentered with a rack where evening gowns shimmered alongside a couple of svelte suits.
“This is only a start, Ms. Palazzo,” the shopper said. “My assistant and I will have more for you presently.”
Ben had also mentioned getting Liz an image consultant in the near future as he’d dropped her off here, but Liz couldn’t imagine wanting anything outside of this store—not when the swirling flow of the perfect gown beckoned her from the rack.
Maya laughed. “I see the Chanel has said hello to you. I knew you two would get along.”
She liberated the creamy gown from where it was hanging, holding it up, the intricate beading catching the light, the draped back tasteful, like something a movie star would wear on a red carpet.
Behind her, Anita sighed. “Oh, Liz.”
And then she was trying it on, a heavenly fit, the gown hugging her slight curves with diaphanous, sparkly affection, making her arms look like a ballerina’s.
“Sold!” said Anita, who’d come to her side. “You look banging, but not slutty at all.”
Liz smiled at Maya. “She means that as a compliment.”
The shopper laughed. Then her assistant came in with a pair of pearled heels, and Liz slipped into them, taking a long look at herself in the mirror. A s
howgirl gone good.
Mrs. Freakin’ Hughes.
When a flutter of awareness skimmed her, wavering down the fine hairs of her neck, she adjusted her line of sight in the mirror, seeing Ben at the back of the room, his gaze filled with a longing that pierced her.
She held her breath. Was he feeling something for his wife? Or was it the same let’s-share-a-room lust he’d felt last night and the one before?
Before she thought more on it, something in his arms stirred, and she realized that he’d brought Poppy.
“Baby girl!” she said, turning around, walking toward them, the puppy already pawing for her.
Ben had recovered from whatever she’d seen in the mirror, and she tried not to let that bother her. Poppy’s adoration helped her mightily to get over it.
Anita came rushing over. “The dress! Don’t get it dirty!”
Liz petted the dog while Ben still held her. “You brought Poppy into a department store?” she asked. “Especially this one?”
“There’re certain perks for being who I am.” He grinned at Maya, who was standing by, her hands to her heart while she watched them.
Anita was even cooing at Poppy, scratching her ears. Poppy was already in love, too, and Ben turned the dog over. Anita walked away with her new object of affection, much to Liz’s selfish dismay. But when she saw Ben giving her that same intense gaze she’d seen in the mirror, she brightened.
Was he looking at her that way because of the dress? Or was it her he was truly seeing?
“You’re a vision, Liz,” he said softly.
Warmth whirled in her, a building storm. “Do you think this will work for dinner with your family?”
“Absolutely.” One more look, bathing her with heat, then he cleared his throat.
Maya took that as some kind of hint. “I’ll be back with more soon.”
After she was gone, he said, “The shelter didn’t find a microchip in the dog, and there are no local missing reports on her either. She very well might’ve been abandoned.”
Liz gave a tiny hop. “So we can keep her?”
“You already know there’s a waiting period and we’ve got to do due diligence in finding the owner, but it could happen.” He frowned. “I just don’t want you to get your heart in a jam if it doesn’t.”
He cared about her heart?
Without further comment, he reached into the pocket of his sport jacket. He was wearing jeans, too, and would be changing into a suit purchased from the store before they went over to the Macau Hotel and Casino, where his family would be staying. That was the plan, anyway.
She didn’t expect the next part of it, though, as he brought out the velvet box he’d had yesterday when he’d made his proposal to her. He opened it up, and she instinctively put her hand over his.
The ring.
Their skin burned together, and he cupped her hand in his. But was it because Anita was here and he wanted to put on a show, or . . . ?
“I made a stop at the jewelry boutique before coming here. I figured why not pick up the sized ring since I had to get some Puppy Chow at the market anyway.”
True. It’d be nice to have a ring, a symbol of their so-called love, at dinner. How could she have forgotten that?
He ran a thumb over hers, then plucked the jewelry out of its velvet bed, tucking the box into his pocket. When he slipped the ring on her, there was no doubt it belonged, another perfect fit.
Anita had come to their side, cradling Poppy. “Damn. That is fine.”
Liz was thinking the same thing, but it had nothing to do with the diamonds. And when Ben held up his hand, showing her he’d purchased his own wedding band, everything felt full circle, fusing her to him.
“And,” he said, reaching inside his jacket to pull out a slightly bigger box, opening it to show her a ruby bracelet, “I couldn’t say no to this. I wasn’t sure what you’d be wearing tonight, so there’s more jewelry in store.”
Liz’s pulse trembled as he put the box on a nearby table and fixed the rubies on her wrist. No rhinestones for her. Not anymore.
She was still in the process of being dazzled when he dug into another pocket.
“I feel like a magician here,” he said, laughing as he fished a box out then revealed a teardrop diamond necklace. “For Anita.”
Her friend’s mouth fell open. “I . . . You didn’t have to . . .”
“I thought it’d look great on you.”
Ben handed it over to her, trading it for Poppy, which was more than fair in Liz’s mind. She saw how Anita’s eyes shined, but when her friend glanced up at her, Liz was pretty sure she wasn’t getting emotional over a diamond necklace. She’d received a few of those from backstage admirers before. There was a whole different message in Anita’s gaze as she watched Ben, who was ruffling Poppy’s ears, looking at the dog with an affection he wasn’t bothering to hide.
Maybe I was wrong about him, her gaze said.
But as Anita wandered away to give them privacy—and peruse the collection of gowns—Ben traded a glance with Liz, then a secretive smile.
It’s all working, isn’t it? was his message.
Her heart folded. The charade was truly on, and that seemed to be the only thing it was.
***
Kat was having Dillinger and Cassandra, a part-time day bartender who came in on the weekends, work the saloon while she finished unloading a liquor shipment in the supply room.
She could hear the lighthearted jabber of Saturday tourists filling the front of house, and it sounded like money—enough to pay the bills and get along for yet another month.
But as Kat dusted off her hands and prepared to take a short break, she kept her ears tuned for one voice among all the others—a deep baritone that had woven itself through her dreams last night, making them shine where there was usually no light.
She didn’t hear Isaiah out there, though, hadn’t seen him since last night, when she’d made it clear during their slow dance that she had barriers that couldn’t be crossed, when he’d left her to wallow in a useless attraction that wasn’t burning itself out, no matter how much she tried to smother it.
Was he ever going to come back, or had he done all the research he needed to do in Rough & Tumble? More to the point, had he gotten sick of her skittishness?
She grabbed a soda pop from the personal fridge everyone kept their snacks in, then moseyed to the back door, going outside, where hills lifted out of the ground, bristling with desert scrub. A side road slithered toward a couple of abandoned houses. When she heard someone shuffling toward her from around the building, she whirled on the sound, nearly spiking her bottle at whoever it was.
Fear mixed with hope—memories of That Terrible Night and the scars it’d left versus the thought that maybe Isaiah had come back.
But when she saw Gideon Lane sidling toward her, kicking up dust with his worn black boots, she lowered the bottle, as well as her guard.
Gideon tipped his cowboy hat to her, looking just as he always did in that denim jacket and faded jeans. “I should’ve made more noise.”
“And I should take some kind of pill. What is it that nervous people use? Valium? Or is there something stronger nowadays?”
He stayed in the open, like he wanted to keep his eye on who was coming and going around the building. That was Gideon’s style, freelancing as a bodyguard and all.
She asked, “Didn’t you have a gig today?”
“Canceled. It was for a country-western singer who postponed his trip at the last minute, so I’ll be on duty in a couple days outside his rented mansion.”
“And you came here to keep me company, as usual.” She grinned. Gideon was like a big brother, and when a day went by without him, she missed him.
“In truth,” he said, “I’m here for another reason.”
She didn’t like the way he’d lowered his voice. “Does this have to do with Ben?” she asked, hoping that was it.
“No, although I’d have asked him to be here if he
could’ve been. But you know the latest with him.”
“I’m not sure I do. News travels in this town, but it didn’t seem to smack my ass this time around.”
Gideon nudged back his hat. “He sent me a text—his family’s coming in to meet Liz.” He chuckled darkly. “Shit’s about to get real there. I told him if there’s anything I can do, I’d be around since I’ve found myself with a couple days off.”
“I can help, too. Dammit, I knew your crazy marriage plan wouldn’t work.”
“Oh, it’ll work . . . just maybe not in the way Ben thinks it will. He likes her, you know. It’ll be a miracle if he realizes it in time to save his soul.”
Weird, hearing that from Gideon. He never talked about love, but everyone had a sob story—even him. She could see it written all over his face.
But then the expression was gone, just like that.
Kat took a drink of soda, gestured toward him with the bottle to ask if he wanted some, but he shook his head.
“I got a call from Boomer,” he said.
As she waited, Gideon squinted into the sun, then walked toward the saloon’s back door to shut it. She crossed her arms over her chest.
“How is Boomer?” she asked tentatively.
Gideon meandered back to the open, away from the building, and she followed him. Here, she could see that they were as alone as could be while the dry wind scuffed dirt up and over the nearby parked cars from the tourists. Sun glared off the windshields.
“Boomer’s fine,” Gideon finally said, stopping by a bent pole that stuck out of the ground for no reason at all, except that it’d been there since Kat could remember. He kicked at it. “He’s still up north, poking his nose into the affairs of a client who can afford to have someone solve them.”
“And . . . ?”
Gideon looked her straight in the eyes, and she could tell this was the last thing he wanted to be doing—talking to her about whatever Boomer had to say.
“Late last night, I asked our friendly PI to look into your new suitor, Kat.”
She didn’t move a muscle. Anger broiled her, a sense of having no privacy in this town, of always having to be careful of what she said and who she said it to.
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