Undisclosed Desire (The Complete Box Set

by Falon Gold

  Half a day later, I’ve been massaged, covered in brown and green goo from head to feet, waddled in a mud bath like a sophisticated pig, and gotten my hands and toes manicured and pedicured. The worst part of the spa was the tweezing and waxing. I made the mistake of letting Elle, the spa’s beautician, have her way with my body hair. After cringing, outright yelling, and showering, while promising never to let anyone do this to me again, she gets her hands on my head of hair. I gawk at the new me covered in a robe and standing before the floor-length mirror beside her stylist booth. My hair falls down my back in a black, thick curtain of layered soft curls after a much-needed wash, condition, and trim. My skin glows. I hardly recognize myself without my glasses. I doubt if anyone else will either, including my family, which is exactly what I was aiming for.

  “You like it?” Elle asks as she zips into the room with a rack of clothes. I peel my eyes away from my beautiful transformation in the mirror and turn to peruse the clothes she’s selected.

  “These are perfect for my body type and caramel complexion! I'm going to be a dime by the time you finish,” I yell excitedly, in complete wonder at how well she has me pegged. This wardrobe will give me a much-needed overhaul.

  My old clothes are comfortable, but if I want a man in my life, the granny skirts and blouses have to go.

  “I think these are much more suitable for a jazzy young lady like you. You have it all sweetheart. You just need to flaunt it,” Elle says and holds up a knee length skirt that looks like it will cling to every curve that I have for dear life. “Do you like this one?”

  “It is gorgeous!” I say agreeing with her choice. “I just don’t usually wear my clothes this tight.” I’m already thinking about how the fabric will ride up on my skin.

  “Well, think of it like this. If you have a man, he’s going to be watching your every move, more than ever. If you don’t have a man, you will definitely start to get more attention. Because honey, you have a shape that some women would die for. You might as well show it off.”

  Elle has made me feel good about my makeover so far. I select a couple of form-fitting dresses for the weekend, a pair of black slacks, and a royal-blue, sleeveless top for work on Monday with shoes to match from a hidden shoe rack beneath the clothes.

  “Charge it all to my room,” I tell Elle, “and have these sent up there for me please.”

  The outfit I keep, I’m going to wear while I gamble like the rest of the tourists. If I meet a guy who I’d like to take back to my room while in Vegas, well what happens here… Hmmm.

  Elle turns away to rummage through her booth while I dress in a low-back, high-necked, fire-engine red dress. It comes to just above my knees and highlights my skin. When I twist at the waist to get a glimpse of my backside in the mirror, she starts to cluck around me like a mother hen, tugging on my clothes in places.

  “You should definitely go straight to the casino to test this new look out. If it doesn’t glue every eye to your body, including the straight women, come back and see me at no charge.”

  “Sounds good, Elle.” I can tell she takes her job seriously, but I get a little worried when she pushes my boobs up with her open palms. When she stops, I’m looking at her strangely. She steps back.

  “Just making sure the girls stand up, so you stand out. Your finished look is an extension of my job. You will look your best, even if I have to get down and dirty with your underwear.”

  I believe her and cover my mouth to keep from laughing in her face. She moves back again. Her eyes roam my body. “Damn, I’m good and you look fabulous.”

  “That I do, Elle, and thank you so much.”

  Her expression softens. Then she bends down and selects a pair of three-inch, red bottom pumps, placing them on the floor before me.

  “These will go perfect with that dress.”

  I step into them, with Elle’s help, and get a glance in the mirror at my hips being pushed out even more. She stands up to usher me into the chair again. She adds a layer of mascara, deep red lipstick, and hoop earrings and then sighs.

  “All done, Malisa.”

  “Thank you again, Elle. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “Nope, you couldn’t,” she fires back, before reaching for my hands and pulling me to my feet. She smiles for the first time since I arrived. “Go get ‘em, girl.”

  “I’m going to go get something. That’s for sure.”

  She snorts and releases my hands. I grab one of hers to leave a generous tip in it, and then I ball her hand around it tightly. She earned every dollar.

  “Bye, Elle.”

  She pulls me into a tight embrace. “Bye yourself and don’t be good,” she whispers. “You’re in Vegas.”

  I find it hard to walk away from her. She’s become a friend. It’s even more difficult to find an elevator that’ll take me to the ground floor where the hotel’s casino is. I plan to lose as little money as possible there while finding a sexy, Vegas fling.

  I enter the main lobby, which has every game of chance known to man. I walk slowly into the dimly-lit, massive oval-shaped space with halogen lights on the end of long poles that extend from the ceiling over each gaming table. I have to circle around slot machines and poker tables on the outskirts of the casino before I get to the very center of the room. It's filled with people sitting around hoping to leave a little richer. There are also those that want to witness the next big win who are standing and looking over the players’ shoulders.

  I stop behind a crowd at the blackjack table and browse the room for an empty seat at any table in the middle of the casino. A roar follows hands flying in the air around the table behind me. I turn around to spectate, but standing five-feet-five-inches in heels, I can’t penetrate or see over the packed bodies surrounding the table. I hear the crowd congratulating the winner, then most of the people leave. Before I pick one of the empty seats that are suddenly available at the blackjack table, a waitress approaches me with serving tray in hand.

  “Do you want a drink, ma’am? They’re free to anyone who’s gambling.”

  I don’t really want one, but every adult in the room has one.

  “I’ll take a long island iced tea,” I tell the waitress, hoping to blend in.

  “I’ll be right back with your tea,” she says before walking away.

  I hook my heel into the low rung of an adult high chair and hoist myself up to sit down. After sliding a single hundred-dollar bill across the table to the dealer in exchange for one-dollar chips, I wait for her to flick the chips out the holder toward me and scan the table to see who’s left after the big win. A man wearing a black, double-breasted suit with navy blue dress shirt and tie that looks just like the one I gave Ford two years ago for Christmas looks back. When my eyes meet familiar black eyes, which are identical to a man who’s supposed to be in Utah, not Nevada, the bottom of my stomach drops. A tidal wave of anger and heat rushes me.

  Why in the hell is he here?

  Before I can ask why he’s violating my getaway from him and ask myself how I managed to pick the same damn table that he’s sitting at, a hand glides up my bare spine. I jerk around in my seat to see who else is violating my personal space, which I went all the way to another state to get. A dark giant of a man clothed in an aviator’s brown leather jacket, stark-white dress shirt, loose fit jeans, and espresso-colored skin smiles down at me.

  I take in his Caesar haircut, perfectly aligned white teeth, his build and height that matches Apollo’s perfectly, and I can’t look away. In a word, he’s gorgeous. I’d definitely be interested in him if Ford wasn’t here, but he is.

  The air goes from dark and inviting to intense and awkward.

  “Hello beautiful. Can I sit next to you?” The man’s deep voice is just as amazing as Ford’s. I imagine all of the ways I would have explored him, if Ford hadn’t shown up.

  “Ah… sure,” I respond slowly. Words fail me the same way they did when I interviewed to be Ford’s personal assistant.

>   I don’t know how I got the job. I could barely get a word out of my mouth. Ford’s presence seemed to suck the air and the intelligence right out of me. Just like now with a sexy replica of him standing beside me and Ford across the table.

  The waitress returns and deposits a tall, sweating glass on the table in front of me, which is a much-needed escape from the newcomer sliding his long frame into the chair beside me. I stalk his every move, while reaching for my drink. His eyes are glued to my face.

  “So how come I haven’t seen you here before?” he asks coolly then sets his drink down on the green felt that lines the table.

  “I’m… ah… not from around here,” I stammer.

  Ford’s eyes drilling into the side of my face ratchets up the awkwardness a notch and adds a truckload of unbreathable tension to the air. He doesn’t seem to recognize me. He hasn’t said a word. Certainly, he would have spoken up if he knew it was me.

  I can’t seem to wrap my head around the man who’s giving me all his attention while Ford, who shouldn’t be here, is making it hard to inhale. I just forget about thinking clearly and take a big gulp of my drink.

  “And where are you from?” ejects smoothly from the man’s mouth before his long fingers wrap around his glass tumbler, distracting me from Ford’s pensive stare. I glare back at him. The look in his eyes lets me know that he recognizes me and he’s not happy for some reason.

  “Lake City, Utah,” I say coolly then turn my head to pay the man the same amount of attention that he’s giving me.

  My composure begins to return bit by bit. It might come back completely if I don’t look at my boss, again.

  The man extends his free hand to me. “I’m Derek Wilson from Pritchard, New York.”

  I take his warm hand and feel when Ford’s stare goes frigid.

  “You’re a long way from home, Mr. Wilson,” I mention. I’m sure Derek knows he’s a long way from home, but I need this small talk as a distraction.

  Derek raises my hand to his mouth and grazes my knuckles with his thick lips, making my stomach clench.

  “Call me Derek, beautiful. I’m glad I’m not at home or I wouldn’t have run into you. What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you beautiful all night.” Then he cocks his head to side, appealingly. “Or I could. Your choice.”

  It seems Derek is a charmer and a disarmer. I laugh softly, as he probably intended for me to.

  “I’m Malisa Owens, and it’s nice to meet you, Derek.”

  I take my hand back from his, slowly.

  “Malisa,” Derek says my name one syllable at a time, as if he’s tasting each one.

  “That’s me.”

  “So how long are you here for, Malisa?”

  “Until tomorrow,” Mr. Ford replies coldly, making my eyes and Derek’s swivel to him.

  “And you are?” Derek asks in an even colder tone.

  Mr. Ford smiles and bows his head my way. “Her boss.”

  “Who’s supposed to be in Utah getting ready for meetings tomorrow,” I snipe, giving him two evil eyes. “Why are you here?”

  He has the nerve to shrug with a small smile growing on his face like he knows he’s interfering and glad of it. I grow confused. Could he want me just a little bit too?

  “I decided I needed a vacation from work too. I cancelled my meetings and rescheduled them for after we fly home, Malisa.”

  We?

  I cock one freshly arched eyebrow his way. “And you chose to come to Las Vegas where I am on your suddenly free weekend?”

  “Yes. Why not? You’re here already, and I can show you around the town. We could even stay until Monday if you want.”

  And in what capacity would I stay as lover or friend?

  But I’ve already been work-zoned by him, I’m not about to be friend-zoned too. It’s probably too much to even dream of being his lover. He has to go.

  “Mr. Ford, you do know the whole point of vacation is to get away from your boss, right?”

  His smile slips. “I thought it was work you were getting away from, not me.”

  I grind my teeth, before spitting out, “It’s all the same.”

  He grins with one side of his mouth. “Well, I have a fun side, too.”

  “Oh really! What in the world made you think I wanted to see it?” Truthfully, I’d sell my first born to be with him when his fun side is out. “You usually reserve your fun side for the airhead socialites you like so much, which I’m not.”

  His smile grows even more crooked and smug. “Watch it, my Lisa, or I’ll start to think you’re jealous.”

  Did he just call me his Lisa?

  His mispronunciation of my name throws my newly gained composure out the window and trashes my ability to respond.

  “No comeback, my Lisa?” he asks, clearly goading me.

  I’ve never known him to goad anybody. It seems Ford has much more than just a fun side. He’s arrogant as hell, too. The problem with that is I don’t mind it.

  I reach for the long island iced tea with slightly trembling fingers, looking for Dutch courage and a way to cool the heat that floods my midsection every time he surprises me with something new about himself. I take a sip, then another, before setting my drink back down on the table. The seven different liquors on ice cool my mouth, but that’s all. I’m just going to have to find the courage from within to tell him to go away.

  “Mr. Ford, I’m not entertaining you tonight. This weekend was my getaway from you, but I can’t make you leave the casino, so stay on your side of the table and I’ll stay on mine.” I turn to Derek. “I’m sorry about that. My boss doesn’t have boundaries.”

  Derek smiles while his jet-black eyes rove over my face. “No apology necessary. I can understand why he followed you here. I would’ve too.”

  I get the nagging feeling that Derek thinks Ford and I have something going on or worse, we had something going on.

  “No, you wouldn’t understand, Derek. My boss and I only have a working relationship, and he’s about to work me to death. Hence, the whole state that’s supposed to be between us. The airlines allow anybody on their planes these days.”

  Derek laughs out loud, and the sound is just as attractive as he is.

  Ford lets loose an alluring set of chuckles as well, which draw my eyes to his mouth just as it emits, “I came by private jet, my Lisa, and it’s dangerous for you to be roaming the country by yourself. Any sort of riffraff could try to pick you up.” Even his deep tenor, which can drown out a whole conference room full of bickering businessmen, can’t cloak the intended insult to Derek, who stops laughing suddenly.

  “Mr. Ford,” I say through clenched teeth, my irritation level rising along with the heat, “it’s my business who tries to pick me up. I don’t show up on your dates uninvited, now do I?”

  Derek chuckles quietly. “You two are like an old married couple.”

  I turn to glare at him. “You got that right, except there’s no romance. He’s more like a tyrant and an older brother, which I have one of already,” I said of my brother, even though he's not biological.

  Ford sits back in his chair and folds his arms. “And I take your safety just as seriously as your man would, my Lisa.”

  My man? And what is with the ‘my Lisa’ all of a sudden? He’s not my man, and he knows I don’t have one, thanks to him.

  Hell, I’d have no problems with being his Lisa it if it were true, but I'm not and not going to be, so I have another sip of my drink.

  Chapter Three

  The dealer, a blonde woman in custom dealer’s uniform of white shirt, black slacks, and black arm bands, shuffles her thin frame from one side to the other while standing inside the black jack table. “Are you going to gamble or sit here talking all night, ladies and gentlemen?”

  I slide ten chips to the middle of the table so she’ll shut up. Questions run through my mind like a sprinter. What boggles me the most is why Ford is suddenly being possessive? Or is my mind playing tricks on me?

 
; I decide to go with the latter, just so I won’t freak the hell out about the former. I’ve never seen him do possessive. I didn’t think he had it in him, not where it concerns me anyway. My mind has to definitely be playing tricks on me. I wish he did have possessive feelings for me, and that’s not good, so I take another sip of my drink.

  The real game starts when the men ante up. That's when the losing streak begins for me. I enjoy my time with Derek, who isn’t faring any better than me against the house and protesting loudly about it.

  "Awe man, this game is rigged," he says and throws his hands in the air.

  I roar in laughter and decide to hold off on the next hand.

  Ford barely pays any attention to his cards or the dealer’s, steadily sliding chips towards her. He watches me and Derek intensely as we try to get to know one each other in the noisy casino. Being closely scrutinized by the man whose eyes can be found on me at any time I look his way isn’t making getting to know Derek easy.

  I fidget uncomfortably under his stare and take more sips from my glass than I intend to. The drink is supposed to be for show. Now, it’s the only thing keeping me calm until my chips run out. When they do, I decide this weekend is a bust for finding love or a fling, and call it a night. At least, I can catch up on my sleep.

  I toss back the last of my drink, which didn’t seem to have a bottom to it while I sat at the table losing horribly. I stand up, wobble on my heels, and grab for the edge of the table twice. Dang, is it moving?

  The table had to have moved away from me the first time I reached for it. With one hand clutching the edge, I reach for the high back of the chair, making my grip on the table slip. Then I start to sway towards the chair. Derek’s hand suddenly on my waist keeps me from falling against the seat that reaches my hip.

  “Oh damn, I’m drunk,” I mumble.

  Derek’s mouth tilts in one corner. “I think you need an escort to your room.”

  I nod, then release a nervous, uncharacteristic giggle. “I think you’re right.”

  He stands up, while keeping me balanced.