“I don’t know if I’ll ever be right again. Just for the record, in case you’re getting any ideas about that deep massage, Monicaland is closed until further notice.”
Ty returned a cocky grin. “We’ll just see ’bout that.” He turned back to his horse and unbuckled his saddlebags to remove Tom’s boots. Just as he’d said he would, Ty was determined to lay Tom to rest in them, but rather than scattering the ashes as she’d expected, he placed the boots against the tree.
“If I shut my eyes I can still imagine him propped against that oak, dozing with his hat slung down over his face.” He surprised her by doffing his own hat and laying it on top of the boots.
Suddenly she could see it too. She watched as he stood there, eyes shut and head bowed, his lips moving in a silent prayer. Tears fogged her vision at the realization that this was it, the final goodbye.
When he finished, Ty came to stand behind her, with his big strong hands resting on her shoulders. “You take all the time you need, sugar.” He murmured in her ear.
There was that kindness and compassion again. She closed her eyes, leaning into the hard wall of muscle that supported her back. The hands on her shoulders tightened ever so slightly as she slowly inhaled a lungful of air scented with grass and just a hint of river mud. Her throat went painfully thick as she released it to whisper a last goodbye.
Thirty minutes after returning to the ranch, Ty drove up to the front porch, where Monica stood, packed bags in hand. She regarded the golf cart with mock seriousness. “Do you really think that thing will stay charged all the way to Vegas? Where’s your truck, Ty?”
“Leaving it here. With less than six days left, I’m not wasting sixteen hours of it driving,” he replied.
“So we’re flying?”
“Yup.”
“I know Tom had a private plane. Did you hire a pilot?”
“Nope. Don’t have to. I’ll fly us.”
“You?” She gaped.
“Yup. Tom taught me. Got my license when I was seventeen. Been a while, but I should still be able to take it up and put it back down in one piece,” he added with a teasing grin. “Kinda like ridin’ a horse that way. You don’t forget.” He patted the seat beside him. “C’mon. Time’s a wastin’.”
Monica still hesitated. “That information didn’t inspire a whole lot of confidence, Ty.”
“Would it make you feel any better to know I flew us to Colorado every year when Tom and I went elk hunting?”
“So it hasn’t been years since you’ve commanded the cockpit?”
“No, sugar.” He laughed. “Six months at most. Feel better now?”
She exhaled an exasperated puff of air. “Why do you always do that?”
“What?” he asked innocently.
“Withhold vital information. You can’t do that anymore if you expect us to be partners.”
He looped his arm around her waist and pulled her snug against his side. “I’ll try and work on that.”
A gleaming black stretch limo waited at the curb a few hours later when they landed the Beechcraft Bonanza at Henderson Executive Airport. Ty eyed the car with a frown. “I’m not used to all this conspicuousness, Monica. I’m a pick-up kinda man.”
“But you left your truck in Oklahoma. It only made sense to call Frankie. And besides, it’s not like we can’t afford it, Ty,” Monica threw the reply over her shoulder as she ducked into the car.
“Seems like such a waste,” Ty remarked once they were inside. “There’s only one real good use for a car like this.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked. “And what’s that?”
One side of his mouth curved upward as he tipped his head to the divider. “Ask Frankie to put that up and I’ll show you.”
She spoke the instructions to the driver, and then arched a brow. “Is this more of your seven-day persuasion campaign?”
“Depends,” he replied. “Does making you swallow back a scream count as persuasion?”
His words awakened ripples of desire deep in her belly.
“That’s a mighty tall order, cowboy, but I’m not sure a scream is what I really want to swallow.” She let her gaze drift to his lap.
“If that’s what you really want, sugar, I’m more than happy to fill that order.” He pulled her roughly onto his lap. “But I was raised that ladies always come first.” While one hand cupped the back of her neck for a hungry kiss, the other slid up her leg. He slipped his long fingers into her panties as his hot mouth swept up the length of her neck. He stroked and caressed her mound while murmuring dark and dirty words that sent pools of liquid heat between her thighs.
Ty’s trashy talk never failed to turn her on.
He licked and tongued her ear, then continued nuzzling and nipping as he worked his way back down her throat, pausing for a soft bite at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. One hand unbuttoned her blouse, freeing a breast.
Wary of the driver, she suppressed a moan as he took her nipple into his mouth in a feasting frenzy. In seconds Ty’s sucking mouth had Monica shuddering with the first tremors of impending orgasm. She reached for him. His hips went into motion as she rubbed him though his jeans. “Ride me now, sugar.”
Her need at fever pitch, she tore off her panties as he freed himself. He took her face in both hands, kissing her hungrily while she straddled his hips. He continued long, lush kisses as she lowered herself slowly onto his erection. Holding herself back, she slowly swiveled and teased, watching the flare of desire in his eyes until he released her face to grip her hips, driving them all the way down.
They sucked in a synchronous gasp at that euphoric moment of penetration.
Panting with the need to move but wanting to draw out the exquisite torture, she squeezed her inner muscles.
He let loose a deep moan that vibrated her insides. He thrust, driving upward. Deep.
“Oh. God,” she moaned. Digging her fingers deep into his muscular shoulders, she met his next thrust in counterpoint. So big and hard. He gave another thrust. Freaking fantastic. Her head rolled back in ecstasy. And mine. He’s all mine. Her last thought froze her.
Was she taking that part for granted? Ty was long accustomed to playing fast and loose. Although he’d told her there hadn’t been other women and that there was no one else he wanted, how long would that last? Would their relationship end the moment he got the money he needed to rebuild the hotel?
She shook the hair from her face and tipped her head back to stare into his. “What are we doing, Ty?”
His mouth curved into an irresistible smirk. “Humping in a limousine like horny prom dates.”
“Well, yeah,” she chuckled. “But that’s not all, Ty. This thing between us is all screwed up. We’re business partners, remember? This trip was supposed to be about our partnership in Brandt Morgan, and here we are again.”
“Because you can’t keep your hands off me, but I got no problem with that.” He slid his hands to her ass. “Don’t stop now. We’re just getting to the good part.”
“Is this all we’re going to do for the next week—screw each other senseless?”
The smirk stretched wider. “Sounds like a mighty fine plan to me.”
“I’m serious, Ty. We need to set some ground rules here.”
“You need ground rules? I just need grinding. Quit talkin’ now, sugar. You’re gonna ruin the mood.”
“Please,” she persisted. “We really need to talk about this. We need some parameters for this to work.”
“Fuck it, Monica,” Ty dropped his head onto the leather seatback with a groan. “There’s a time and place for talkin’. And this ain’t it.”
“What did you bring me here for?” she demanded.
“You wanted to know why the hotel is so important to me. I intend to show you, but if we want to spend the rest of our time screwing each other’s brains out, I have no problem with that.” He brought his hands up to her shoulders. “Do you, Ms. Brandt?
She stared back at him with brows furrow
ed, her mind and emotions raging. Her powerful physical reaction to Ty scared the hell out of her, and her emotions even more, but did she really want to risk pushing him away just to get things back on an even keel? Her brain said yes, but her body and heart both screamed no.
“All right, Ty,” she replied slowly. “Suppose I decide to stay here after this week. What happens then? Do I get an apartment somewhere? Do I take over the owner’s suite?”
“I s’pose that all depends on how much space you need,” he answered carefully.
“Maybe the better question is how much space do you need?”
“Shit, Monica. I’m eight inches inside you right now. I’m not looking for space. Is that what’s really eatin’ you?” he asked. “If that’s all you’re fretting about, we can share the owner’s suite. Hell, we can even share my place.”
“Your place?” she asked warily. “Are you sure about that?” His words filled her with a bittersweet memory of the night he’d offered to show her the sunrise over Red Rock Canyon from his bedroom terrace. It had been their best night together and the last before the ugly breakup that had followed only hours later.
“I’m sure that I’d like nothing better than to wake up every morning buried deep inside you.”
She let loose a snort. “I’m not getting this, Ty. You just told me less than a week ago that you don’t ‘do’ relationships? You made your feelings on the subject perfectly clear. Do you expect me to believe that in less than a week you’ve had a total change of heart?”
“It’s been much longer than a week,” he confessed, adding with a self-deprecating laugh. “But sometimes I’m a real bullheaded sonofabitch. I admit I have a piss-poor track record for anything long-term, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try. If you don’t feel the same way about trying, why did you come out here with me?”
“Because I felt I owed it to Tom,” she said. “He believed in you enough to put you in the CEO chair. I thought maybe I should try to understand why.”
“And that’s all? Because you felt you owed Tom? Sounds mighty flimsy to me.”
He was right, of course. She’d realized too late that returning to Las Vegas with Ty was much like a junkie seeking another fix. He was becoming her drug—the more she got, the more she craved. Having sex in the limo was proof of her addiction.
“Are you saying you really want this, Ty?” She searched his eyes, uncertain she could trust him. She knew he needed her money, but did he really need her?
“Sugar, I told you I was raised in the belief that actions speak louder than words. I thought my actions told you loud and clear what I want, but if that’s not good enough, if you really need to hear those words, listen to me close right now.” He took her face in his hands, locking his gaze to hers. “I want you to stay in Vegas. I want you to stay with me. I want to know once and for all if we have any shot of making this thing work. You got that now? We done talkin’? You satisfied?”
“Yes, Ty,” she whispered. He’d said everything she’d needed to hear and more. She rose up a few inches and leaned in to trace the seam of his mouth with her tongue, and then slowly slid down his shaft. “We’re done talking but I’m far from satisfied.”
Chapter Nine
After they’d driven up and down The Strip a half dozen times while fogging the windows, Ty instructed Frankie to drop them off at the hotel.
“Tonight’s the final round of the bull-riding championships. I know you don’t have any interest in it, but it’s the biggest week of the year for this place,” Ty explained. “The riding starts at six and gets over about nine. I really need to be there. Following that event, I have to at least make an appearance at the after-party. I don’t s’pose you want to come along?” he asked.
Monica considered Ty’s invitation for only a moment before declining. “I don’t know, Ty. I really have a lot to do. Bob gave me an entire briefcase full of paperwork to look at. And the sooner the better. Maybe I should just stay in for the night.”
“If that’s what you want,” Ty replied. “You sure you can entertain yourself without me?” he asked with a suggestive quirk of his brow.
“I suppose I’ll manage,” Monica replied. “I’m going to go through Tom’s assets and investments and determine which ones to keep and what to liquidate. Although the thought of all this positively gives me a headache, it has to be done.”
“I suppose the hotel is on the top of that liquidation list?”
“Until yesterday it was solidly in the ‘dispose of” column,” she confessed. “But now, thanks to your masterful persuasion, it’s back up for discussion.”
“Masterful, eh?”
His smirk reminded her of all the other things he’d done today with his talented mouth.
“Don’t let it go to your head, cowboy.”
“I’ll try and slip away early,” he said. “If you decide to wait up, I’ll make it worth your while with another round of masterful persuasion.”
The look he gave her with that promise guaranteed she’d wait up if he took all night.
After Ty left, Monica spent the next hour staring blankly at financial reports, feeling irrationally resentful. She knew the bull-riding finals were a huge event for the hotel. Of course Ty had to be there, but why should she be stuck in the room alone? She might actually have gone with him if the invitation hadn’t sounded so much like an afterthought. That was the crux of the issue.
Only weeks ago, she would have scoffed at the idea, but now part of her, a bigger part than she ever could have imagined, wanted to experience a bit of Ty’s world. Until now, she’d done almost nothing to try to fit in. Maybe it was time. Hadn’t he brought her back here to discuss a partnership? If she and Ty were going to work together, it seemed only logical for her to dirty her boots . . . if she had boots, that is. She’d left the borrowed Ropers and Wranglers in Oklahoma, not that she’d be caught dead in them out here in Las Vegas.
Ty had said the event didn’t begin until six. Maybe it wasn’t too late. She checked her watch. It was barely three, which still gave her a couple of hours. She phoned Frankie. “Hey, Frankie. It’s Monica. Can you pick me up? I need to do some shopping.”
“Sure thing, Ms. Brandt. You want to hit Prada?”
“Not this time. I need to buy some Western clothes?”
“Western? You mean like rodeo?” Frankie asked.
“Something like that. I’m going to the bull-riding championships. I’m afraid I’d look a little out of place in my Roberto Cavalli skinny jeans and stilettos.”
“You might be surprised,” he chuckled.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a lot of high-class city girls who chase after those guys. I don’t understand the appeal, but lots of them have picked up cowboys in these limos. We drivers see it all.”
“TMI, Frankie.” Although she and Ty had christened it not once but twice, Monica didn’t want to think about what else had gone on in the back of her hired limo.
“So you’re needing what? A hat? Some boots?” Frankie asked.
“The whole ensemble, I think.”
“I know just the place that can fix you up. The rodeo queens all go to The Pinto Ranch when they’re in town for the big pageant. It’s right between Macy’s and Neiman Marcus in the Fashion Show Mall.”
An hour later, Monica stepped out of the dressing room in ass-boosting, rhinestone-studded jeans, complete with a blingy belt. She then added a colorful, snug-fitting Western blouse and a pair of hand-crafted Lucchese boots. Letting her hair down from her customary chignon, she finger-combed the loose waves and then donned a Resistol straw hat. Tilting the hat this way and that, she grinned into the mirror, hardly recognizing herself. Whoever would have known cowgirl chic would suit her so well? She couldn’t help wondering what Ty would think.
Once he’d settled Monica in the owner’s suite, Ty checked his messages and then made the rounds at the hotel, before finally heading down to the Last Chance Saloon. He was glad to see the plac
e was busier than usual, but that was to be expected, given the bull-riding finals. Although Tom’s death had put a serious damper on everyone’s spirits, the show had to go on. It’s what Tom would have expected. What he would have wanted.
Spotting a vacant stool at the bar, Ty claimed it.
“Ty! You’re back already?” Gabby greeted him as she filled an order from the tap. “I didn’t expect you for at least a week.”
“Neither did I,” he replied. “But circumstances have changed.”
Gabby filled another frosty mug with foaming beer and slid it across the bar to Ty. “Changed how?”
“Tom left me controlling interest in the hotel,” he answered.
Gabby’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Surprised the hell out of me too.”
“Gotta fill some orders,” she said, “but I want to hear all about this.”
Ty sipped his drink and scanned the bar, tipping his hat to several familiar faces. He searched the crowd for Zac McDaniel, but didn’t see any sign of the broody bull rider. He wondered how Zac had fared in the past few days of competition. Had he made the short list? They’d been through a lot over the years. He’d hated that they’d drifted so far apart. So much time wasted. Just another regret compounding so many others. He was glad they were finally back on speaking terms again.
“What about the boss lady?” Gabby asked when she returned. “How does Ms. Brandt feel about all this?”
“I’m trying to convince her that this place is worth the gamble.”
“Really? And how’s that working out?” she asked dubiously.
He shrugged. “Dunno yet, but at least I got her to come back.”
“You did?” Gabby asked with surprise. “Where is she?”
“Upstairs in the owner’s suite.”
“You aren’t taking her with you tonight?” Gabby asked.
“Nope. I asked her, but she declined. You know she’s not into any of this.” He tilted his head in a gesture meant to encompass the whole saloon. “She’s a New Yorker, a city girl through and through.”
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