“Sure, but you live in one of the best school districts in Las Vegas. There had to be other people willing to chaperone on camping trips. Why would you, a single woman in her twenties who used to work nights, choose to spend her free time camping with a bunch of kids?”
Of course he didn’t understand, Pru thought as she connected his phone to the charger on the nightstand. “You still had parents when you were Jakey’s age, so you can’t understand.”
The conversation was becoming personal. More personal than they’d ever gotten before, and she expected him to quickly change the subject. But instead, Max said, “Try me. You’d be surprised at what I’m capable of understanding. My parents are still alive, but they haven’t exactly been there for me either.”
No, they hadn’t. Coleridge Benton II, the dad Max and Cole shared, hadn’t even bothered to show up at Cole and Sunny’s wedding. According to Sunny, who’d met him only once, her seldom-seen father-in-law was a bit of a Peter Pan, still roaming the world and refusing to grow up. Actually, she hadn’t called him a Peter Pan. Her exact words had been, “Like Max. He’s a lot like Max. More interested in having fun than relationships.”
“Yeah, that’s actually kind of why I had to go,” Pru answered, continuing to fiddle with the charger. “Our dad—he was great. A teacher. The kind of guy who would have volunteered to go on camping trips with Jakey. So I went in his stead. It wasn’t the same, but at least Jakey knew he wasn’t alone in the world. He had me. Maybe it wasn’t enough, but it was something.”
She went quiet then, feeling silly for having told a guy like Max even that much. It didn’t help when she looked up from the charger and found Max openly staring at her. In that way of his—the one that made her feel completely naked and exposed, even when she was fully dressed.
“If you only have twenty minutes, you should finish packing,” she mumbled.
Max just kept looking at her. “Does he know?” he asked.
Pru shook her head, confused. “Know what?”
“What a good big sister you’ve been to him,” he answered. “Does he appreciate that?”
The question made Pru’s stomach lurch, and his steady gaze felt raw on her skin. He had no idea what a poor substitute she was for Jakey. She’d never be able to make up for what he’d lost.
“Let’s not talk about Jakey,” she said.
She went over to the desk and picked up the sketchbook he’d left there. “You should take this, too. It’ll give you something else to do tonight.”
Max took the wire-bound pad from her with an irritated look.
“C’mon, Max, I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it won’t be that bad. Escalante is beautiful, and camping isn’t the worst way to spend a night here in Utah, trust me.”
Max zipped the backpack with a jerk of his arm. “I’m not angry because I have to go camping. I’m angry because I wanted to spend the night here. With you.”
Pru’s heart stopped. Was Max trying to say he was going to miss her? That he was angry about the unexpected trip, because it meant they’d have to be separated?
For a moment, she was actually touched. But then he said, “I still have eighteen wallets to cash in, and we only have a couple more days left here.”
The wallets. Of course that was why he was really upset. Max might be better in bed than the guys she used to date, but that didn’t mean he thought of her any differently.
This was what made Max so dangerous, she thought. One minute he was giving her undeserved compliments for chaperoning Jakey’s camping trips. The next he was reminding her that she was his current plaything.
Pru didn’t know why her heart shrank with disappointment then. Max had never claimed to be anything but exactly what he was. A wolf in designer jeans.
“Have fun on your camping trip, Max,” she said with a thin smile.
Then she went back to her computer, not knowing whether to flip him off for blackmailing her into the wallet agreement or thank him for this not-so-subtle reminder that Max Benton really wasn’t a good guy.
Chapter 17
Why Cole had decided to drag them all out to a campground in Escalante, Max still had no idea. Cole started the surprise excursion off with a little speech about the future of the Benton Inn, but it wasn’t exactly a halftime game changer. First, he reported that the Benton Inn’s opening would be delayed by a couple of months due to an unexpected bedbug infestation that would require them to replace quite a few beds and much of the carpeting.
“It’s a tedious and expensive setback,” Cole told them, “but we’ll take care of it and the Benton Inn will open right before Thanksgiving.”
Then he sat on a log and gave the floor to Gus and Harrison. Well, actually to Gus and his satellite smartphone, which Harrison used Skype to call in from, having bowed out of the trip due to his ankle. Gus did most of the talking, but Harrison chimed in every once in a while with numbers he apparently had pulled up on a computer, since they couldn’t exactly have a PowerPoint presentation out there.
Max had to give it to Gus. The updated presentation wasn’t half-bad. Gus announced they were in talks with a DJ who was on track to break big the following year, but open to residency while he put his first album together. They’d also decided to interview a few more design teams for the renovations and, after running some numbers, had decided to add two of the four cities Max had suggested to their East Asian ad campaign. Gus might not have the best initial instincts when it came to marketing, but he corrected well, and he knew how to deal with the hotel’s more mundane day-to-day business. There were still a few more issues Max could have raised, but he didn’t. Mostly because he wasn’t exactly in the mood to give any more helpful advice to the guy who’d made such a brazen run at his wife that morning.
His wife for now, Max corrected himself. And for the first time he wondered what would happen after he and Cole signed his trust papers. Once Pru was a free agent again, would Gus swoop in? Max felt his nails dig into his palms, and he looked down to see that both of his hands were now fisted on top of his knees. He shook his hands out and forced himself to think of other things, not liking how dark his mind went when he thought of Pru going for Gus after they put in for a divorce.
Max was miserable for the rest of the day. And not because he was camping. Prudence had been right. It hadn’t been so bad. He and Cole had won the unofficial fly-fishing contest, their combined general competiveness netting more fish to throw back into the stream than any other team. And he would have put the Dutch-oven stew the execs were forced to make in yet another team-building exercise up against any gourmet meal he’d had in five-star restaurants around the world. He couldn’t even really complain about the two presentations he’d been forced to sit through.
As it turned out, the life of a hotelier on executive vacation suited him. And as much as it should have annoyed him that Cole insisted on keeping him close by his side, he had to admit that watching Cole work over the past few days had been good for him.
Max was a big-idea guy, while Cole’s vision, like their Granddad’s mission statement, could be summed up in four words: More Hotels, More Money. But seeing how Cole put together the details of launching a new hotel outfit had served to further inspire Max in his own venture. He’d worked out every aspect of building and marketing his boutique hotel—the licensing, the building, the design and the marketing plan he was sure would draw in the tourists and locals alike. But working with Cole and the other execs had helped him see that he needed to put more thought into the day-to-day management of the place. As annoying as Gus was, Max had to admit, he’d been a damn good general manager in New Orleans—and those didn’t exactly grow on trees.
Max was actually learning a few things on this trip. Learning and not minding the free business education. When they split for the night, going into their individual tents, he was glad Pr
u had convinced him to charge his phone a little more. He couldn’t type new ideas into it fast enough.
He thought back to earlier that day when he’d gone fly-fishing. He’d found himself wondering whether Pru had ever done this activity with her brother. He’d nearly gone for his phone to call her before remembering he didn’t have reception out there.
When he’d been eating his Dutch-oven stew, he’d wondered what Pru was eating. Had she decided to go into the small town of Escalante herself? Maybe bring Harrison something back? Harrison had mentioned her offer to let him use their shower during the team lunch that afternoon. He wouldn’t be surprised if Pru made sure he got dinner, too. As tough as she tried to come off, she was just that kind of woman. The kind of woman who took care of others when she could.
After he was done typing all of his new ideas into his phone, he found himself scrolling to her name on his contacts list. He resisted the urge to press it, even though he had no service out there.
Not enough...
Disgusted with himself, he set the phone aside and brought out his sketchbook and began drafting out new plans for his hotel’s casino floor. Ones that took into account everything he’d learned over the past week.
This thing with Pru was a means to an end, he reminded himself. And since he couldn’t currently cash in a wallet, there was no reason to call her. Even if he was feeling weird about the way he’d left things with her before departing their room at the lodge. She’d looked so disappointed when he mentioned the wallets. As if she regretted opening up to him even the little bit that she had. As if Max was scum she had no business associating with.
Not enough...
The words echoed in his head, refusing to stop, even when Max added yet out loud. When he got back to the lodge, he’d spend the next two days making sure he got his fill of Prudence. By Friday she’d be out of his system. And by Saturday he’d be back in New Orleans, putting his plans in place for his hotel.
“Son of a...”
He shook his head at his sketchpad. Somehow his new casino floor had sprouted a nose, a pair of dark eyes and a set of full lips that looked an awful lot like his temporary wife’s features.
“Hey, Max,” Pru’s voice whispered. “Don’t be afraid, it’s just me.”
His tent door was unzipped, and then Pru herself crawled inside the space like a vision called up by his unintentional drawing.
Max blinked, wondering if his weird obsession with her had ramped up to hallucinations.
“Hi,” she said, rezipping the door before taking what looked like a new camping backpack off her shoulders.
She set the backpack on the ground in front of her and pulled out a stainless-steel thermos. “I brought you some hot cocoa,” she whispered. “It always helps Jakey get to sleep on camping trips.”
Okay, well that sealed it. Max closed the sketchbook on the drawing he’d accidently made. If she was just a figment of his fantasy, she definitely wouldn’t be giving him hot chocolate or mentioning her little brother or be clothed for that matter.
And for once she was wearing regular clothes. What looked like a pair of sweatpants made within the current decade and a long-sleeved Henley worn under a padded vest. She looked...adorable. Like one of those ads for camping that the Vegas Tourism Board sometimes ran to convince out-of-state tourists that there was more to do in Vegas than party and gamble.
Max accepted the thermos she was holding out to him and took a careful sip. It was insanely good. Even better than the Dutch-oven stew.
Pru grinned when he looked back up at her in amazement. “Dark chocolate, two squares of a milk-chocolate candy bar, honey, whole milk and a pinch of sea salt. It was my mom’s recipe. Guaranteed to put even the most terrified kid to sleep on a dark and spooky night. You’re welcome.”
He took another sip, wondering what it was like to actually have good memories of your mother, as Pru did.
“What I’d do to deserve your hot chocolate?”
It hadn’t been meant as a sexual innuendo, but once it was out of his mouth, he could see why Pru took it that way. “Absolutely nothing,” she answered, her voice as dry as the canyon they were currently occupying. “But I felt bad for you, so I decided to come out here and make sure you were doing all right.”
Max took another sip of hot chocolate and grinned at her. “So you missed me.”
She just shrugged. “I figured it would help with our cover story if it looked like I couldn’t be away from you for even a night.”
“How did you know this was my tent?” he asked.
“Nearly everyone else on the executive committee is married or has kids or both. It’s one in the morning. I figured the tent with the flashlight still on was either your tent or Gus’s.”
His hands tightened around the thermos. “What would you have done if it had been Gus’s?”
“Apologized and told him I was looking for you,” she answered. “I’m not an idiot, Max. I know how to keep up a cover story.”
With an annoyed look, she reached for her backpack and pulled out a sleeping bag. One that she unrolled about as far away from his as she could get in such a small space.
“Pru,” he said. “Come on.”
She ignored him.
“Come on,” he said again. “You can sleep over here, with me.”
“This sleeping bag will do me just fine,” she assured him, smoothing out its wrinkles.
“Pru...”
He gritted his teeth, not believing what he was gearing up to say next. But it was late, he was tired...and it was true. “I missed you. A lot of the reason I’m still up is because I’ve been thinking about you all day. Can you come over here, please? Let me hold you.”
Pru’s back stayed rigid for a few more seconds, making him wonder if he’d have to invoke the wallets again. But then her shoulders sagged. “I guess,” she mumbled. “It really does get cold here at night.”
It wasn’t that cold. Probably in the sixties. But he didn’t argue with her. Didn’t argue with himself. Just solemnly helped her rearrange the sleeping bags, laying one out on the floor of the tent and the other on top as a blanket.
He let her get into their makeshift bed first. Then he turned off his flashlight, letting the tent go pitch-black, before climbing under the covers himself. His mind, which had been looping around frantically, refusing to let him sleep, settled down as soon as he pulled her into his arms. As if Pru was the answer to a question he didn’t even know he had.
“How’s the case coming?” he asked. Mostly to take his mind off the fact that lying like this with Pru felt better than the best sex he’d had with other girls in years past.
“Slow,” she answered. Her body was stiff in his arms, as if she were expecting him to accost her at any moment. “All the execs are pretty clean, which you’d have to be in order to work in such a high-stakes job. A few execs from the Southern states tithe, and Harrison even gives nearly 20 percent of his income to charity.”
She grew quiet for a little bit, then said, “But I did find some more weirdness where Gus is concerned.” She shifted to look up at him. “Are you sure your grandpa didn’t have some kind of other personal connection to him? Like maybe he owed someone associated with Gus a favor?”
Max answered truthfully. “I don’t think so, or else he would have told us he’d handpicked Gus in the first place. He used to always lecture Cole about tracking his favors, so that he knew how to use them to his best advantage. If Granddad handpicked Gus as a favor to somebody, he would have told Cole, and Cole said Granddad never mentioned him. Why? What did you find?”
Again the tent fell quiet. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”
“Because the last time I told you something about Gus, you ended up using it against him as a weapon.”
“You don’t trust me.”
; “No, I don’t,” she answered, her voice frank. “I’m also not interested in providing fuel for the next shoving match you get into with Gus. It doesn’t advance the case, and eventually he’s going to become suspicious about why you know all this stuff about him.”
Fair enough, Max supposed. “Fine, whatever you tell me, I won’t bring it up to Gus.”
“You promise?”
“Is my promise worth anything to you?”
She ran a hand over the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore, brought it to rest over his heart. “No, not really,” she answered truthfully. “You’re a total liar. You’ve already proved that on more than one occasion.”
This was true, but Max didn’t like how Pru’s assessment made him feel. “Well, I guess you’re going to have to decide whether to take another gamble on me,” he answered.
As a few moments of silence passed, Max thought she might decide against telling him. But then she said, “Gus aced all his standardized tests. But he had terrible grades in high school and a record. A few suspensions for getting in fights and, according to a New Orleans cop friend of one of my Las Vegas cop friends, he was brought into the station a couple of times.”
Max frowned. “He has an arrest record? And he got hired at the Benton Group?”
Despite its seedy reputation in some circles, the casino-resort industry actually had much stricter hiring standards than many other businesses in America. It was near to impossible to get hired at one with an arrest record, especially if you were working as close to the money as Gus had during his years as the Benton New Orleans general manager.
“No, he wasn’t exactly arrested. Both times he was let off with a warning,” Pru answered. “And he was under the age of eighteen, so there’s no official record on him. It’s possible that since he started out lower on the managerial totem pole, your Granddad decided against a deeper background check. And since you don’t need one to get promoted, he was able to make it all the way to the the Benton Las Vegas without anyone finding out.”
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