“I have talked so much,” he said as he filled my glass again, despite my protests. “What about you?”
Never willing to share much, I gave him the short version.
When I finished, he was momentarily at a loss for words—not uncommon. “Most interesting,” he finally said. “So you are an expert on Las Vegas.”
That was not what I expected. “As much as anyone is, I guess. I’ve been here a long time and seen a lot.”
“Then you will help me tailor my restaurant for this market.” A self-satisfied grin split his face. “I knew you were perfect when I met you.” Again, his eyes held something more than his words. This guy was good, really good.
“Of course I will help you. That’s my job.”
“So we will be working closely together.”
“That’s how it’s normally done.” I dismounted my stool. “But now I have to go. I have a plane to meet.”
Jean-Charles took my hand in his and raised it briefly to his lips, his eyes warm as he looked up at me. “I should warn you, I am very demanding,” he said, his lips grazing my hand as he spoke.
“You’ve met your match,” I countered without conviction. Had he really? Time would tell, but one thing I knew for certain: I didn’t trust him any farther than I could throw him.
I wasn’t so sure I could trust myself, either.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WITHOUT even a hint of suck-up left in me, now I had to go make nice with Reza Pashiri.
Reading my mood, Paolo let me ride in silence as he navigated one more time to the Executive Terminal. He could probably get there with his eyes closed, although I sincerely hoped he didn’t try.
With a few minutes to kill, Paolo parked on the tarmac and killed the engine and the lights.
Putting my head back and closing my eyes, I surrendered. The next thing I knew, Paolo was gently shaking my shoulder. “Ms. O’Toole. The plane is here.”
Like a yoke over my shoulders, fatigue weighed on me until I was sure my legs would buckle.
Unable to summon even a modicum of enthusiasm, I waited by the car.
Reza Pashiri appeared at the top of the stairs. When she caught sight of me, she gave me a wave and bounded in my direction. Had I ever had that much energy at this hour? If I had, I didn’t remember... and they say the second thing to go is the memory... .
Breathless, Ms. Pashiri arrived at my side.
Tall and skeletal, she embodied the whole unkempt-pop-star thing. Her embroidered shirt, tied at the neckline, hung off one shoulder and ended at her belly button, which sported the ubiquitous navel ring. Grungy-like Salvation Army rejects, her jeans clung to nonexistent hips and were slung so low I doubted they were legal in most towns in Middle America. Barefoot, with dark hair that hung in a limp curtain down her back, flat, dark eyes, and a sallow complexion, she was less than I expected. Fairly unexceptional—a living testament to the magic of makeup and good lighting. And, swine that I am, I took a bit of delight in that.
“Ms. O’Toole?” she asked in her melodious voice.
“Welcome to Vegas.” I motioned to the car. “Paolo will take you to the hotel. I will wait for the van that should be here any minute. If your band could help load the equipment, that would be wonderful.”
Wide-eyed, she nodded and made this uh-huh noise at every word I uttered. “That’s way cool. You are so trippin’.”
“Is that a good thing?”
She giggled as if I wasn’t serious. “Theodore said you were one of a kind.”
I was pretty sure that was a good thing.
“Do you know what he told me when I asked him why he kept brushing off the ladies?”
“I have no idea.” If Teddie sent her to run interference for him, he’d picked a good front man—if she was blowing smoke, I couldn’t tell.
“He asked me why he would want hamburger when he had steak at home.”
Teddie often trotted out that Paul Newman quote. Maybe she wasn’t blowing smoke after all. It warmed the cockles of my heart: My man thought I was steak! Of course Jean-Charles had just educated me as to the merits of ground beef . . .
“I really appreciate you juggling your schedule to meet us,” Reza said, as she twirled a strand of hair around an index finger. She looked at me with an interesting expression I couldn’t quite place. “I hope we weren’t too much trouble.”
“Of course not. We are honored that you have agreed to host the opening on Saturday. Anything I can do to make your stay more pleasurable, let me know.” Wonder of wonders, I did a have a teensy bit of suck-up left.
A smile tugged at her thin lips. For a moment she looked older than twentysomething. “To thank you for your trouble, I brought you a present.”
“I assure you, that was not necessary.”
“Oh, yes it was.” Her grin broke through in full force. “As much for my sanity as for yours.”
She motioned toward the plane. Her crew was busy unloading instruments and other equipment with the help of the two pilots and several lineboys.
A figure stepped to the open doorway, ducked through, then stood to his full height.
My heart leapt in my chest.
Teddie!
“He was driving us nuts. You were all he ever talked about.”
“Me?” I asked, my eyes never leaving Teddie’s.
“That man has it bad. I know enough about you to be your sister.”
A look of unconditional adoration on his face, Teddie stepped slowly down the steps as I rushed to meet him.
My life was complete.
I didn’t care how I looked. I didn’t care about playing it cool. Three strides and I launched myself into his arms. Looping my arms around him, I buried my face in his neck.
He grabbed me and held me tight. “Nothing was the same without you,” he whispered.
Simple words that stole my breath away.
I pulled back so I could see him. I brushed my fingers across his cheek then lost myself in his kiss. God, he lit every nerve ending on fire.
I don’t know how long we were lost in each other, but long enough for the natives to get restless.
Reza politely cleared her throat. “Man, when you dudes read the Book of True Love, you didn’t just look at the pictures—you must’ve read the instructions. I need to find me some of that.”
Teddie and I broke our kiss, but neither of us let go.
“Want to go home?” I asked.
“I’ve been dreaming of home since the moment I left.”
* * *
HIS hand gripping mine, Teddie stayed with me while I made sure that Reza and her crew were settled and had everything they needed. Finally, we headed for home. A beautiful night—actually an exquisite night with his hand in mine—we decided to walk.
The night air had a bite to it—a cool harbinger of change. In the cloudless sky, the stars shone so brightly they seemed to hang over our heads, just out of reach. A sliver of moon smiled down on us. All was right in my little corner of the world.
Teddie shucked his jacket and draped it around my shoulders, then pulled me tight against him.
I snaked an arm around his waist, then worked my other hand under his shirt. An intoxicating sensation, his skin on mine generated a frisson of energy, a spark of connection that shot through me to my soul.
When my flesh met his, he took a deep, savoring breath. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me or how you did it. You’re like a drug I can’t live without.” He kissed me on the temple, his lips lingering there.
“I know the feeling.” Nobody affected me the way Teddie did.
“Tonight, I was supposed to go out with Dig-Me O’Dell and a bunch of the record company suits. They wanted to celebrate our future collaborations.”
“Why didn’t you go?” I rested my head on his shoulder as we strolled.
“It wouldn’t have been a celebration without you.” He stopped. Pulling me in front of him, he framed my face in his hands then kissed me.
I
couldn’t imagine a more perfect kiss. Murmuring against his lips, I said, “You keep that up, and we won’t make it home.”
Reluctantly, he relented and we continued on our way, this time with more urgency, which made me smile. We walked in silence, drinking in the nearness of each other. There would be time for catching up later... much later.
Forrest still manned his post when we pushed through the front doors. His eyebrows shot skyward when he saw Teddie. “Mr. Kowalski. Ms. O’Toole.”
Teddie nodded. I waved.
“Let’s stay at your place, but I need to stop at home to get some clothes for tomorrow,” I said, when Teddie’s hand hovered over the elevator buttons. “Oh, and you’ll find the bird in your kitchen. I needed a place to stash him for a few days.”
“What for?”
“It’s complicated. I have a houseguest and the service traipsing in twice a day would’ve been inconvenient.”
“Suits me.” His mouth covered mine, and I lost myself.
Teddie was working through the buttons on my blouse when we staggered out of the elevator.
“Would you wait?” I slapped at his hands without much conviction. “I’d really like to take this upstairs.”
Before Teddie could reply, a male voice, seductive and filled with innuendo, rang out. “Honey? Is that you? I’ve been waiting up for you.”
Teddie went rigid as Jordan appeared in the doorway dressed only in a pair of gym shorts.
The wicked grin on his face vanished when he caught sight of us. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t... you’re not...”
“I’m not what?” Teddie’s voice was lethal. “Not the person you expected?”
Jordan looked at me and shrugged. “Do you want to explain, or should I?”
I laughed as I disengaged myself from Teddie. “Better let me. Jordan’s been hiding out here for a few days.”
“Really? How nice for you.” Venom dripped from Teddie’s every word.
“Nice?” His tone threw me off. “I do enjoy his visits, but this time we haven’t had much time to catch up. It’s been sort of crazy.”
“Catch up? Never heard it referred to that way.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Jordan over my shoulder. “So I leave and you move an old boyfriend in?” He emphasized “old” which I thought was unnecessary.
In fact, this whole scene was unnecessary. “No need to be rude.”
“Rude? You want me to be polite to the man who has been keeping my bed warm and my lover satisfied in my absence.” Teddie ripped into me, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You take the cake, O’Toole, you really do.”
“Me?” Like a punch to the stomach, Teddie’s words finally registered, taking my breath away. At least Norm Clarke had had the kindness to insinuate. But not once in a million years would I have thought Teddie would accuse me of such superficiality, such callousness. The ultimate betrayal!
With the shake of my head, I stopped Jordan from entering the fray. This was my fight. Sucking in lungfuls of air, it took me a moment before I could speak again. “So, Jordan and I have been fucking like rabbits while you were gone? Like, what’s a little casual sex among friends? Is that what you think?”
“What am I supposed to think?” He glared at me, his anger not quite covering the hurt. “Everybody knows you’ve been sleeping with him for years.”
“Everybody knows that, do they?” My eyes had gone all slitty, my voice deadly.
“It’s common knowledge.”
“Really?”
At least Teddie knew me well enough to know when he’d pushed me across the line—he started retreating. “If you didn’t have something to hide, why didn’t you tell me?”
“It didn’t seem like a big deal.” I advanced on him, not sure exactly what I would do. “Although, had I known that I lack the moral fiber to reign in my galloping nympho tendencies, I might have thought otherwise.”
“So, you want me, but you want the old guy, too?” Teddie’s voice had dropped an octave. Clearly he had blown right by the sarcasm. “That won’t work for me. And, for the record, this is a big deal, a very big deal.”
“Apparently.” A lot of verbal missiles shot through my brain as I stood looking at him, my heart crushed. I could’ve thrown his picture with the young Ms. Pashiri in his face. I could’ve asked him, if that’s the opinion he truly held of me, why would he want to be with me? I could’ve asked him what was love without trust? I could’ve told him that I had never slept with Jordan Marsh and certainly wasn’t going to take a place in his bed now. But I didn’t. I shouldn’t have to...if Teddie was the right guy for me.
“You need to leave.” My voice was soft, defeated.
“Lucky! I need an explanation.”
“You already got one, but apparently it wasn’t good enough. If the truth won’t do, what will? Now, go away.”
He grabbed my arm as I turned to go.
My face must’ve conveyed everything I didn’t say because he let go.
As I ran into my bedroom I heard Jordan say, “Theodore, you are sooooo going to regret this.”
* * *
FOR some reason, I didn’t cry. My chest felt empty, as if my heart had been ripped out, but I was too angry to give in to tears. Instead, I stood at my window, which looked south toward the airport. Planes taxied out, then launched themselves into the sky bound for points unknown. Climbing aboard one of them right now was an almost irresistible notion. It would be easy—throw a few things in my bag and boogie.
Running was always easy—it was the staying that was hard.
Jordan stuck his head through the door. “You okay?”
I gave him a look.
“Okay, stupid question.” He’d put on a shirt, but that was too little, too late. “Why didn’t you let me explain?”
“I had already explained—you were hiding out here for a few days. That was the truth, and it should’ve been enough.”
“Don’t be too hard on him, he’s really vulnerable right now. New love can do that to you.”
I gave Jordan a disgusted look. “You guys always stick up for each other. Right now, I’m thinking shooting him would be too merciful.”
“Then it’s a good thing he took himself out of the line of fire.” He glanced around the room. “Just in case your homicidal tendencies get the better of you, all the weapons are locked up, aren’t they?”
“All except the butcher knives.”
“Then we’ll stay out of the kitchen.” Jordan extended a hand to me. “Come, let’s have a drink or something. For the record, you do know I thought you were Rudy when the elevator opened? I wasn’t trying to jerk you around.”
“Of course.” I took his hand and walked with him into the great room. “Where is your boy toy, by the way?”
“He just called. He has clients in town and dinner is running later than expected. They hadn’t even had dessert yet, so he’ll be awhile.” Jordan stepped to the bar. “Do you want a drink?”
I shook my head. The memory of this morning’s hangover was still too fresh. Besides, I’d consumed my annual quota of alcohol in the last few days alone. Not like me. And not a good sign.
“Then dance with me?” Jordan asked.
“What?”
He fiddled with the stereo for a few moments. As the first strains of “Trust in Me” played, he threw open the French doors, then folded me into his arms. “Music, a wonderful salve for the soul.”
I buried my face in his shoulder as we swayed to the music. Reza Pashiri could definitely sing.
When she swung into a heartfelt rendition of “At Last,” the tears finally came.
A true friend, Jordan held me until I couldn’t cry anymore. Then I crawled into my empty bed. But sleep wouldn’t come.
Through the open windows, music drifted in on the breeze. Teddie always turned to the piano when he was hurting. Staring at the ceiling, I lay on my back, feeling wrung-out, lifeless. My eyes closed, I pushed everything aside, forcing my brain into idle. This problem would wor
k itself out, one way or the other. I had no control—either he trusted me, or he didn’t.
As I listened to Teddie play “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,” a single tear trickled out of each eye, and I took a ragged breath.
Homecomings totally suck.
And for a smart woman, I was totally clueless. Testosterone-fueled jealousies were mythic. I’d walked into the middle of one, but I’d be damned if I was going to tolerate the insults.
What a great couple of days the last two had been.
The last thing I remembered hearing was Teddie’s voice as he sang, “How I knew, my true love was true . . .”
Like I said, the guy had a song for every occasion.
* * *
SOMETHING jarred me out of a sound sleep. A noise? I sat up in bed and listened. Someone was in the den.
“Jordan?” I called out.
“Lucky?” Teddie’s voice, but not his voice. “Woman, get your ass out here.” Definitely Teddie, but not the Teddie I knew. His words were slurred, his voice too loud. “I swear, if you don’t get out here, I’m coming in there and that would be emb... embar... awkward for all of us.”
All of us? I guess thinking clearly hadn’t been high on his priority list since I’d last seen him. Hastily, I wrapped a robe around me.
An empty bourbon bottle clutched in one hand, the back of the couch in the other, Teddie wobbled where he stood. “There you are,” he slurred, when he caught sight of me.
“Shhh.” I held a finger to my lips. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Not enough. It still hurts.” He let go of the couch and took a tentative step in my direction. He staggered, then grabbed the couch before he fell.
“It does, doesn’t it?”
A quizzical look on his face, he squinted at me as if he was trying to understand what I meant by the question—or bring me into focus. Either way, with his brain cells awash in alcohol and dying like flies, he was fighting a losing battle. “We need to talk.”
“I’m not sure now is the right time.” I stood where I was. No way was I going to rescue him.
Lucky Stiff (Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Book 2) Page 23