It was time for that long talk he’d promised her. He might not get another chance.
She was still asleep when he walked into the bedroom. He’d never watched her sleeping before. Her brown hair was tousled, and mascara shadowed her eyes. She was snoring softly into her pillow. She must have had a restless night, judging by the condition of the bed.
He stretched out lengthwise beside her and reached out an arm to pull her close. She snuggled up against him spoon-style. He noticed she wore one of his T-shirts. He wondered why when she had all her clothes with her. He nuzzled her hair, thinking how nice it smelled. Feminine but not too perfume-y. “Sugar, I think it’s time we had that talk now.”
“Your timing sucks, Ty. I’m sleeping,” she mumbled back, wriggling her ass even closer.
Shit. He’d come to talk but hadn’t figured on having to wake her up first. He kissed her neck. “We can either talk or we can fool around. Your choice.”
She grumbled something unintelligible and hooked her leg over his.
His prick responded in no uncertain terms. He slid a hand under the shirt. Sure enough, she wore nothing underneath. His game plan instantly changed. “I’ll take that answer as door number two.” Injured ribs be damned. He wasn’t about to pass up the invite.
He stood to shed his shirt and jeans, but when he got back into the bed, her eyes were wide open. Her gaze dropped southward to his morning wood. Her brow wrinkled. “Ty? What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?”
“I thought you were going to give me some time alone.”
“I was. I did.” He shook his head with a frown. “Do you by chance talk in your sleep?”
“Not that I’m aware of. I thought I was dreaming.”
“Then shut your eyes again, and I’ll be happy to pick things up right where we left off.”
“What about that talk you promised me last night?”
“We can do both,” he answered. “It’s called multitasking.”
“No, Ty. Having sex with you will only confuse things. I need to be able to think clearly. It’s hard for me to do that when you touch me.”
“Fine then. You can do all the touching.”
“Please, Ty.” She sat up with a scowl. “I’m serious here. I was up half the night. I have questions I need you to answer.”
“I have some questions for you too,” he said.
“Like what?” she asked.
“Are you going back to Evan?”
Her forehead creased. “No. Why would you even think that?”
“He texted you this morning. I picked up your phone thinking it was mine.”
“What did he say?”
“He’s waiting for an answer too. Makes me wonder if it’s to the same question.”
“And what question is that, Ty?”
“Are you staying here with me, Monica? Or are you going back with him?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe neither. I’ve got some really big decisions to make.”
“That you do,” he answered steadily.
“I can’t make those decisions until I understand exactly what it is you want from me.”
“I thought that part went without saying,” he replied with a smirk.
Her gaze flickered back to his erection. She licked her lips. “Maybe we shouldn’t have this talk while you’re naked. It’s just a tad distracting. We need to move this conversation out of the bedroom. Can we talk in your office instead?”
“Sure,” Ty replied. “Wanna meet in an hour? I’ll have breakfast sent up.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “Breakfast would be great.”
He rose, pulling his jeans on with a dry laugh. “What I had in mind would have been a whole lot better.”
Ty was waiting in his office, boots propped on the desk and hands resting behind his head, when Monica walked in, looking all prim, proper, and businesslike in her black pencil skirt, white blouse, and stiletto heels. His gaze traveled appreciatively up her long legs before he cocked his head for a better view of her ass. He’d made no secret that her librarian look always gave him an instant hard-on.
She returned the look with a glare. “Are you ready to talk business, Ty, or should I leave and let you take care of your little problem.”
“Sweetheart, you know by now it’s not little.”
“You promised we’d have a serious discussion.”
He blew out a breath and pulled his feet from the desk. “All right, sugar. You wanna get down to brass tacks, let’s do it. You have questions. I’ll give you answers.”
“Thank you.” She sat across from his desk. “I told you straight-out from the beginning that I had no interest in running a hotel, but it occurs to me that in all this time, I’ve never even asked you what you wanted to do with it. I’m asking you now, Ty. What was it that sold Tom on your crazy idea to renovate this place?”
Her question, posed so directly, took him aback. Why hadn’t they ever discussed any of this before? When had she ever given him the chance? She hadn’t. She’d never once asked him about his ideas for the hotel. She’d never shown the least interest in his plans, or in his dreams, other than shutting them down.
He slumped back in his chair, recalling the fateful day he’d met with Tom. He’d made his case then, and won. But Tom had a sentimental attachment to the hotel. Could he also win over Tom’s pragmatic, hard-nosed daughter? He’d been prepared to counter all of the financial arguments he was certain she’d make, but was he ready to share his dream?
“What sold Tom?” he repeated slowly and then answered. “The vision of what could be.”
Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I told Tom what you already know—that gaming revenues in this city are way down and will likely never recover to what they were in the heyday, but dining, shopping, and entertainment are way up. Everyone who wants to make it in this town knows they need to attract a new non-gaming demographic. That’s why I want to renovate,” Ty said. “But I’m not talking about dealing with foundation settling or fixing roof leaks. I’ve been slapping those kinda Band-Aids on the place for too damned long. What we need is an attraction. We can’t hope to stay in business, much less compete, without one.”
“And that means putting fifty million into a place that Tom only paid eight for?”
“That was thirty years ago, Monica. Real estate on The Strip has skyrocketed since then.”
“All the more reason to sell,” Monica argued. “You could be rich and free of all the headaches, Ty.”
“And then do what?” he asked.
“Whatever you want.”
“I’ve told you time and again, this is what I want. Can’t you understand that?”
“I’m trying to, Ty. I really am, but I’m a numbers girl, and so far, this just isn’t making much sense to me.”
“Fair enough,” Ty said. “Then let’s try and paint this by the numbers. Last night you went to the bull-riding championships. You already know that that single event generates close to fifteen million in non-gaming revenue in Las Vegas. The championship sells out months in advance, but those are mostly just hard-core fans. What if we could offer something for people who might be curious but not enough to cough up big money for championship tickets?”
“Bull riding?” she said. “You think that kind of attraction is the answer? Is that why you were so happy I wanted to go last night?”
“Yes. The bull riding association’s making money hand over fist on it, but what you saw was only a small piece of what I’d like to do. America still loves cowboys. You saw that last night. But true-blue cowboys, men like Zac and Kade, are a dying breed. People come from all over to see the magicians and those pansy-ass Canadian circus performers. Why not give them some all-American entertainment?”
“If you’re talking about putting on rodeos, isn’t that what South Point does just five miles down the strip? You’d be competing for the same patrons. That makes no sense. If you’re goi
ng to invest in big-money entertainment, you need to offer something fresh and original.”
“Fresh and original is exactly what I’m talking about,” Ty said. “I’m not proposing rodeo, I’m talking about bulls with a Las Vegas–style twist.”
“But I thought you wanted out of that. Wasn’t it why you left Oklahoma to come here?” she asked.
“Didn’t say I plan to be the one in the arena,” he said. “I’m too old and busted up for any more of last night’s shit, but there’s plenty of younger guys gunnin’ to do it.”
“I know you already have all the connections with the contractors and riders,” Monica said, “But wouldn’t that piss off the pro bull-riding people?”
“Not the way I plan to do it. I’m hoping we can work together,” Ty said. “The last thing I want to do is bite the hand that feeds us, especially here in Vegas.”
“All right, I guess I have an idea of where you want to take this, but how, Ty?”
“I have a few thoughts,” he replied.
She reached across his desk for a set of rolled blueprints. “Is that where these come into play?”
“Those? They don’t,” Ty said. “Cassie Alexander drew those up after an early discussion we’d had. She dropped them off the first night of the bull riding, the same night you walked outta here, as I recall.” He regarded her with a frown. “How did you know about them?”
“I was looking for you that night and found your office open. I saw them sitting on the desk, so I took a peek. I admit I was surprised.”
His frown deepened. “How do you mean?”
“These renderings are a near-perfect replica of the bullring in Seville. I thought that was really odd, given you’ve never been there. In fact, I was shocked to recognize that as the inspiration for the sketches.”
“It isn’t what I had in mind,” he said dismissively.
“Why not?” Monica asked. “I think it’s a brilliant idea, Ty. I don’t think you should blow it off without due consideration. The concept very much fits with Las Vegas. There’s a certain cachet to the Old World. Look no further than the Bellagio and the Palazzo for proof.”
“So you actually like this Spanish bullring idea?”
He’d immediately rejected the notion when Cassie had presented her sketches, but Monica’s enthusiasm had him wondering if he should take another look. He came around the desk to peruse the renderings she’d rolled out.
“I love it,” she gushed. “I’ve been to Seville several times. I was even there once during the April fair. Each day they have this fantastic parade of carriages and riders that goes through the city to the Plaza de Toros de la Real Maestranza. Everyone is all dressed up in traditional Spanish finery—the men in short jackets, skin-tight pants, and cordobés hats, and the women in gorgeous flowing dresses. It’s so elegant! And then there are the fairgrounds and the riverbank, all covered in rows of beautiful marquee tents where people meet, drink, dance, and eat tapas. It is fabulous.” Her eyes gleamed. “Oh my God! That’s it! You could do all of that right here!”
“Do what?” He scratched his chin. “ ’Fraid I’m not following you.”
“You could recreate the Seville Fair! I can see it all now, the bullring, the casetas, flamenco dancing, the staff dressed in traditional Spanish costumes. You could combine the rustic Western roots of Las Vegas with a continental flair. This idea is the perfect melding of old and new. I’m thinking we should build the hotel around the bullring, or even build the bullring within the hotel itself.”
“Whoa there, Nelly!” Ty held up both hands with a laugh. “We just went from zero to sixty in nothing flat. Maybe we should just rein back a few steps. That’s not at all the direction I was planning to take here.”
“But why not?” Monica asked.
“Because we’re American, not Spanish. Because this is the Hotel Rodeo.”
“But just think about the bulls, Ty.”
“What about the bulls?”
“You said you wanted to use bulls as your main attraction, so why not build a traditional Spanish bullring?”
“Forget it Monica. I already asked Cassie to work on something else.”
“That’s it?” She jutted her chin. “You’re dismissing the whole idea just like that?”
“Not quite. We just can’t go off half-cocked, is all I’m sayin’.”
“I thought you were proposing a partnership?”
“I am.”
“I’m not going to be a silent partner, Ty.”
“Didn’t expect you to be.”
“If you want me, you’re going to have to give me equal say.”
“How can I do that when I’m talking bulls and you’re going off about flamenco dancers?”
“You just illustrated my entire point!” she said. “If we’re going to work together, you have to let me be a part of this. Partnerships require common goals and like minds. How can this work when we have none of that?”
Ty perched on the desk with a frown. “One little stumble and you’re already getting cold feet? We can work through this if we try, Monica. And I’m willing to compromise—to a point. You just gotta understand that this whole thing was my vision. My idea. My dream. I can’t let you or anyone else take that away.”
“I’m not trying to take it away from you. I just want it to succeed. We’re talking about a huge investment. Look, Ty, I came in here with an open mind, but I can’t take the backseat, and neither can you. Do you see now how incompatible we are? And why I’ve said we could never work.”
“I thought you had more grit than that.”
“That’s not it! I wanted this to work. I really did, but we just don’t have enough common ground. I admit the chemistry between us is incredible, but we burn too hot.”
“You’re right about that part,” he broke into a dark chuckle. “We’ve been playing with gun powder from the get-go. But there’s something you need to understand about gunpowder, Monica. Although it’s highly combustible, it’s also what makes fireworks. So only two things can happen here—we’re either gonna blow like a stick of dynamite or we’re gonna make some major fucking pyrotechnics. Don’t know ’bout you, but I’m banking on the fireworks.”
“It’s not enough, Ty,” Monica replied softly, her eyes growing misty.
Ty’s chest tightened. Had she decided? Was it over? Was she leaving?
“Wait, Monica.” He stood, gripping her shoulders, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss away all logic and reason, because that would only be a temporary fix. In the end it would circle back around as it always did to the same tired arguments. It was time for a new approach to an old problem.
“Please. Before you decide to bail out on me, there’s something real important I need to show you.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“You’ll find out tonight,” he replied.
“It doesn’t involve bulls, does it?” she asked warily.
His mouth twitched. “No bulls.”
“If it’s so important, why not now?” she asked.
“Because it requires some special arrangements.”
“You’re sounding rather mysterious.”
“Surprises are supposed to be mysterious.” He stood. “I’ve gotta take care of some things. I’ll be back to get you at ten.”
“Ten tonight? Isn’t that rather late?”
“Not in Vegas,” he replied. “Wear a dress.”
Chapter Twelve
Monica exhaled in relief when Ty walked out. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her again. She never could resist when he touched her, kissed her. Waking up with him beside her this morning had been almost too tempting to resist, but it was time to face reality instead of living in a fantasy. She’d spent far too many sleepless nights thinking about Ty Morgan.
Ty’s ideas for a new hotel and entertainment complex were absolutely brilliant and well thought out, but even if he could secure the funding, did he have the business savvy to take on such a mass
ive project? Tom’s words echoed once more in her mind. Ty needs you.
She recalled her answer to Tom, that Ty only needed Ty. Hadn’t he just proven that? He’d rejected all of her suggestions outright. Was it just stupid pride?
She’d go with Ty tonight and see whatever it was he wanted to show her, but in truth there was nothing he could say or do to sway her. Her mind was made up. Although she wished him well, she could never be an unequal partner. If he asked for the money, she’d loan it to him interest free. It’s what Tom would have wanted, but after that, she was done with the hotel.
And done with Tyrone Jefferson Morgan.
She rolled up the drawings, wistfully wondering if she could have stayed on had things been different between them. But they’d proven time and again that it was impossible to keep their relationship on a professional footing, and anything personal was only doomed to fail.
She left his office and returned to her suite, determined to book the next commercial jet back to New York. After arranging her flight, she dragged her suitcase to the bed and began packing up her things, but froze over the pile of Western clothes she’d taken off the night before.
Just last night she’d felt like someone else in those clothes. It had been liberating in a way she couldn’t understand. Just as being with Ty always made her feel different, more easygoing and relaxed. Was it all just playing dress-up, or did she really have a softer side that she’d never explored?
Her entire life she’d known exactly who she was and what she wanted—or at least she’d thought she had. Until Tom had come into her life, her career had always come first and relationships a distant second, but now it seemed everything was shifting like quicksand under her feet.
Who was she really and what did she really want? Was it a real estate mogul with an expensive penthouse apartment in lower Manhattan, or a swaggering cowboy and his rundown hotel on the garishly lit Las Vegas Strip? For the first time, she put all logic aside to search her heart.
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