Betting on Love in Vegas (Building Love Book 1)

by Stacy Hoff

  “We don’t need to know each other’s life stories for you to be a guest on my yacht. I’m sure you’d love sailing around the Mediterranean.”

  She shook her head, eyes wide as saucers. “I’ve never been too comfortable around water. But maybe I could give it another try . . .” The expression made her seem so fragile, so vulnerable, so tempted to join him. Aggravatingly, he found himself tempted, too. He bit down on a cheek again to snap himself out of whatever love-crazed fog he was in. If things kept going like this, he’d never clear his mind.

  “I think we should try gambling for a change, shall we?” Though he asked the question, he didn’t bother waiting for a response. Putting his hand on the small of her back, he led her to the roulette tables.

  “I’ve never gambled before, either. I’ve watched my father play blackjack but never had the nerve to play myself.”

  “Roulette is easier, so it’ll be a good starting point for you. I had Jacques teach me the rules so I look suave.” He loved that he could make her laugh. “I play this game at all my charity events to inspire the guests to ante up as well.”

  “Do people always want to emulate you?” she teased.

  “Yes,” he deadpanned, making her laugh again. He tried to keep his face straight. “There are ways of splitting your bet, but we don’t need to bother with all the rules if you’re a beginner. For your first spin, put the chips on whatever number feels lucky to you.”

  The crowd of people surrounding the roulette table seemed to magically part before him. The table was now free for them to place their bets. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a red chip. Gold-colored, fleur-de-leis embellishment made the chip as ornate as it was expensive.

  “How much is that worth?” she asked. “I wouldn’t want to lose too much of your money.”

  He observed her eyebrows were furrowed again. Poor thing was in a tizzy. For an upbeat, lust-for-life type of person, she could get herself all worked up with worry.

  “The chip is worth quite a lot,” he answered. “How about I don’t tell you the exact value so you don’t focus on it.”

  Given the crease on her forehead, it didn’t look like she was buying his blow-off response.

  “Don’t worry about it, Cat,” he persuaded. “I want my event to make gobs of money, so my spending these high-dollar chips comes with the territory. Go ahead and drop the chip on a number. Then if your number comes up, you can keep the winnings.”

  “But—”

  “Last call for bets,” the croupier called.

  Ty observed Cat’s hand. Slender, delicate, and shaking. Why was she so nervous? The woman was a tiger when it came to negotiations, so a little harmless fun like betting shouldn’t bother her.

  “Come on, Cat,” he gently urged. “The game doesn’t bite.”

  “But I’d hate to lose your money,” she repeated.

  “So what if you do lose it? The money will go to my charity.”

  Her eyes were as round as the elaborately decorated red chip. He would have given her a duplicate chip in exchange for her thoughts.

  ~ ~ ~

  Cat stared at a man who was surprising the heck out of her. Ty Orland was not at all what she had expected. A man who genuinely cared about giving to charity would be worth way more than whatever the chip’s value could be. She breathed in deeply and turned her attention to the croupier in front of her. He was seventy, if he was a day. The vest of his all-black uniform bore a tag that read: ‘Theodore McIntosh. I’m a volunteer.’

  How many other volunteers were here tonight? Dozens, no doubt. Lots of people obviously thought the Orland Charitable Foundation funneled money to good causes.

  Theodore the croupier winked at her. “Like the man said, honey, the game don’t bite.”

  “You sure?” she joked.

  “If it does, you can spend the rest of the night at the bar. Drink away the pain.”

  “I recognize your accent,” Cat said, perking up. “You’re from Boston.”

  “Yes, missy, I am. And I’m giving you the luck of the Irish.”

  “Okay, here it goes.” She gave the chip a little rub with the tip of her finger. “For good luck,” she explained as she handed it to Ty. “Can you put it on fifteen for me?”

  Ty complied, placing the chip down with a flourish. “Your wish is my command.”

  “Great. Now let’s see if my wish is the wheel’s command.”

  “No more bets!” the croupier announced and gave the large, mahogany wheel a spin. The brass bulb in the wheel’s center quickly became a blur as it gained speed. The little white ball spun around rapidly in the opposite direction.

  Cat watched the wheel spin with hands, and stomach, clenched. The little bouncy ball was taking its sweet time. Earth orbited quicker.

  The slow motion effect gave her time to think. If she lost his money, she would be furious with herself for agreeing to this. She didn’t gamble. Not with life. Not with love. Not with money. Especially other people’s money.

  Well, there was the one gamble she took with her newest inn. The one she couldn’t develop because she’d bought it without getting the approvals needed for an expanded building footprint. She was so sure she’d get the approvals in place. Only to be proven wrong. Now the historic building would never have enough rooms to generate income. A loss-leader every single month. Instead of getting the last bit of revenue needed for her to develop the Big Bear site, she had to bail herself out with her already existing inns. A classic screw-up. One she’d learn from. But too late to save her business?

  She winced from a sharp pain in her left hand. Opening her palm she saw her skin bright red. Her grip had been hard enough to almost draw blood. Tension from more than where the ball would land. It was over her land. And more importantly, where she would personally land. Her life was spinning around like the roulette wheel in front of her. Would she financially wind up in the black? Or in the red? If she landed solidly in the red, how much of a fool would she be for not taking Ty’s offer?

  Reluctantly, she had made her decision and placed her bet. Now all she needed to know was the outcome. If only her fate could be determined as quickly as the little ball in front of her. Almost at its destination, the anxiety and tension was killing her.

  The roulette ball slowed even more and started to bounce, hitting off the spinning center until it careened toward slot number two. Then it hit off the bank again. Landing solidly into fifteen.

  A cheer roared up from the crowd.

  “I did it!” Cat squealed.

  In a blur faster than the wheel’s spin, Ty reached over and kissed her. Slowly and deliciously on the mouth.

  Chapter 7

  Ty watched in amusement as Cat bounced up and down like an excited kid. She seemed so pure. So innocent. He bit down on the inside of his mouth again, a little shot of pain to keep his thoughts clean. But she was growing more attractive by the minute. Now was not the time or place, he told himself to no avail. He had grabbed hold of her waist, pressed her close to him, and placed his hungry lips firmly over her mouth without realizing what he was doing.

  Her reaction was one he could barely register. He was too caught up in a haze of sensations. Her soft lips yielding in her surprise. The gentle sigh she emanated, only spurring him onwards. It had been almost impossible to stop. Until he heard the collective gasp from the crowd. With great reluctance, he lifted his head to a sea of faces. A half dozen smiling. Two older couples “tsk-tsking.” And one beautiful face in front of him completely shocked.

  Cat’s expression, wide-eyed and mouth agape, would have been amusing if he could be sure he hadn’t completely scared her off.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Cat blinked up at him a moment before answering. “I think so.” She quickl
y took a step back from him and straightened up. He watched her stumble another step as a camera light flashed in her face.

  “This one’s going into the papers!” some young man in a blue sport coat shouted. The guy shoved his smartphone into his pants pocket and started to run out the door. He was almost there when Charles the bodyguard emerged from the shadows to block his exit.

  “The invitations clearly stated no photos would be allowed, so you’re getting thrown out, buddy.”

  “Give me back my Android!”

  Ty hadn’t even seen Charles take the phone from him. Well done. It pays to hire the best.

  “Sure thing, buddy,” he heard Charles say as he walked the man out of the room. “Just as soon as I’m sure all those photos have been deleted.”

  Yep, Charles was the best. “Okay,” Ty called out. “That’s the end of the floor show, folks. Let’s go back to enjoying our evening and let Orland Charities go back to making some serious money. Every dollar you spend helps out a child in need.”

  His words worked. Ty watched in relief as the onlookers walked away.

  “Wow,” Cat uttered, her voice full of disbelief.

  “What ‘wow’ part are you referring to?” Ty joked. “Because the last five minutes were jammed packed.”

  “The kiss you gave me. The guy you had hauled out of here. The money I won. ‘Wow’ to all of it.”

  “Let’s break it down, shall we? I find it easier to focus when I’m dealing with chunk-size pieces rather than a whole. First off, I kissed you because I wanted to.”

  Cat blinked hard, saying nothing.

  “Second off, I threw the guy out because he didn’t follow my rules and was stupid.”

  “Stupid?”

  “Stupid. Who announces what they’re going to do, anyway? Geez, tell me you’re going to have the photos sold to the tabloids, why don’t you? That guy was d-u-m-b.”

  He could see she was suppressing a smile. “And the third?” she prompted.

  “Third off, let’s see how much money you made.” Ty looked over to the croupier. “So, Theodore, how much did the little lady make?”

  “Seventy thousand dollars.”

  Ty burst out laughing. At this rate, Cat wouldn’t need his million-dollar offer. His Big Bear resort development was going to be really screwed.

  “Oh. My. God,” Cat burst out.

  “Shhh.” Ty laughed. “Any more drama from us will really steal the show. Though if Jacques can’t get the band going, maybe that’s a good thing,” he hastily muttered.

  As if God heard him, Jacques’ voice came over the loudspeaker.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, The Orland Charitable Foundation is now bringing you the hottest rock band of the season for your enjoyment. Let’s give a hand for . . .”

  “Come on,” Ty shouted to Cat so his voice could be heard over Jacques. “Now that I know everything is running smoothly, let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?” Cat asked.

  “To someplace less loud so I can really get to know you.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll just need a moment.”

  “For what?”

  “To cash in all these chips. I’ve got to give them to your charity.”

  Ty stood there, for the first time in his life, speechless. He closed his hanging jaw as soon as he collected his thoughts. “It’s my turn to say ‘wow.’”

  “Wow, what?” Her brows knit together in confusion.

  “You are amazing. Are you sure you want to give all of it away? It’s yours to keep, you know.”

  “After what you told me? The money goes to kids, for Pete’s sake. I don’t need money that badly.” She gave him big grin. “After all, I recently turned down an offer for a million dollars.”

  “A woman of principle, I see. Quite impressive.”

  Cat cocked her head, obviously thinking through her answer. “I don’t know. I guess so. I never particularly thought of myself that way. I’m at the point in my life where I just do what I think is right. The consequences for not following my gut are too high.”

  Ty wondered why a dark shadow crossed over her face toward the end of her comment. She must have suffered through a bad lesson. A shame a wonderful person like Cat had to go through whatever it was.

  “I’ll walk you over to the cashier,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. Before his flesh touched hers, however, he felt himself turn to stone. Henry Morsik. The man had to be crazy to show his face here.

  ~ ~ ~

  Cat saw Ty’s shoulders stiffen, his body suddenly tense. She placed a hand gently on his arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t expect to see here tonight the man who gave you a hard time at the bar.”

  She whirled around, blond hair flying. “What? You can’t be serious.” Then she saw him, the same guy who had grabbed her at the bar.

  She felt her eyes narrow. “What did you say his name was?”

  “Henry Morsik.”

  “How do you know this . . . this . . .” she sputtered.

  “You can say it—‘asshole.’ Excuse me a minute, won’t you?”

  Cat grabbed Ty’s arm, stopping him. “Look, it’s all right. I don’t like the guy, but nothing really happened. And he couldn’t know I’d be here.”

  “No. But he knew I’d be here. Excuse me for a sec, will you?” Before she could stop him again, he took off.

  Cat watched, stomach clenched, as Ty approached the man. She followed him, hoping for Ty’s sake Morsik didn’t create a scene. Ty didn’t need a confrontation at his own charity event. No need to have a wonderful event marred. Certainly not on her behalf. The man was just a drunken jerk. There were a million people like that in life.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jacques follow closely on Ty’s heel. Good. If Ty blew his cool, his majordomo would calm down the situation. Before she could find out, however, she heard Morsik bellow, “You’re a piece of shit, Orland! And a user. It’s time you got what’s coming to you!”

  “Quiet down, Morsik, before the whole room knows you’re drunk, and a fool.”

  Impulsively, Cat scurried over. There was probably nothing she could do to help, she knew. Still, she had to try. After all, there was a chance they were arguing about her. If she could either get Morsik to apologize, or convince Ty she’d forgiven him, maybe she could save Ty’s lovely event.

  A few steps away, Cat stopped short. As if in slow motion, she watched in horror as an empty champagne flute flew out of Morsik’s hand. He’d thrown it like a Tomahawk, and the glass tumbled top-over-bottom as it flew forward, aiming right for Ty’s head.

  Without thinking, Cat dashed forward, throwing her right hand over Ty’s face in a “block” move. Palm open, fingers outstretched, she did what she could to maximize the size of her shield. Her move worked—the glass bounced off her hand, thumping harmlessly to the floor.

  Her heart beat fast enough she wasn’t aware of anything except the thumping in her chest. She rubbed her right palm with the fingers of her left hand to ease the dull pain where the glass struck. For a thin glass, it had struck with more force than she would have guessed. But the dark purple carpeting prevented much collateral damage, the only break separating the stem from the base. She gave a brief prayer of thanks the floor hadn’t been made of a hard surface. A stray shard from a shattered glass could have bounced, hurting somebody. Regardless of whether Ty had been the intended target, Morsik was one sick man. She was glad Charles had returned to walk Morsik out the door.

  Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she breathed in deeply. When her eyes opened, it was to the crowd’s stunned stares and silence. Even the famous band held off playing. The whole room was focused on her. And the most prominent pair of eyes belonged to Ty. Her body felt like it was turning to stone.<
br />
  Fighting off physical threats was never a problem. It was emotional and social hazards that posed the biggest dangers.

  All she could do was take a stab at combating the situation. “Er, show’s over, folks. Again.” Her voice was so soft she wasn’t sure anybody heard. The thought of the charity possibly getting shortchanged from the commotion made her heart sink.

  Until Ty laughed. Apparently, he had heard her fine.

  “You heard the lady,” he said, his voice loud enough for the crowd. “These distractions are terrible for the charity. Let’s have a good time tonight. While the band plays, a round of drinks will be given to each of you as my personal thanks. Enjoy!”

  A cheer went up, the band started playing, and Ty grabbed Cat’s arm to escort her out of the room.

  “Why the hell did you do that?” he hissed as he walked her out.

  Cat felt her face contort into a frown. “I’m sorry for the distraction to your party. But you can’t possibly be mad at me. I saved you from getting cut.”

  “I know. Thank you. But I’m still angry.” He hesitated for a long moment, making her stomach clench with what he was going to say. “I would have rather had the glass smash my face than risk you being injured,” he finally ground out.

  “I’m not sorry I did it.” She risked a glance at him and was sad to not make eye contact. He seemed focused on the French doors they were headed for.

  “I am sorry you did it,” he shot back. “Why the hell did you? Do you think I want to see you hurt?”

  “I couldn’t help myself, I guess.” Rather than admit her burgeoning feelings she offered up a much less emotional reason. “You don’t need to worry about me. I told you I had a lot of self-defense training. Defensive moves come naturally to me.”

  “Stick to the dojo, will you?” Ty snarled.