CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Saturday, 11:14 a.m., Las Vegas
After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and home fries, Clay took another swallow of his coffee, finishing the cup. They sat at the breakfast table by the window of their hotel suite, him in his boxer briefs, her in a cami and lacy underwear. If he hadn’t just enjoyed two rounds of morning sex—one in bed, one in the shower—he’d have ripped off the panties. But he was sated.
For now.
Julia chewed the last bite of her toast, then checked her phone. She’d been antsy to hear from Tad after the meeting yesterday when he dispensed his be-a-good-girl rules. Clay was eager too to get a look-see at the morals clause. Strange item for a liquor company, but he could also see how stipulations like that might be necessary. A beverage-maker wouldn’t want a drunk representing its drinks. In fact, such clauses might even be more vital for a product that loosened lips and relaxed judgment.
She tapped the screen. “I knew it. Saturday morning and he’s already all over me. Here’s a note from Tad, and he wants to know if I received the contract addendum and if I plan on signing it.”
He motioned with his fingers for her to hand him the phone. “Let me see those documents.”
She clicked open the PDF in her email and handed it to Clay. He took a minute to read it over. When he set down the phone, he simply said, “Hmm.”
“Hmmm what?”
“This hardly seems necessary. Which makes me think it’s personal.”
Julia pointed to herself. “Personal about me?”
“Or him.”
“In what way?”
“It might be a hot-button issue for him. Let’s see what we can find out.”
“You figured that all out from looking at a one-page contract addendum?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
He nodded. “Call it a gut feeling. Everyone has a motive. When someone is pushing hard for something in business it’s almost always personal. Take Gino at Comedy Nation. His wife just left him. Messy divorce, and she’s taking him to the cleaners. His negotiation style goes from hard-ass to complete prick. Now this Tad guy? I don’t know him from Adam, but I’ll bet you the keys to the handcuffs that something is up.”
She reached out a hand to shake. “I’m not doubting you. I’m only shaking because I have a thing for handcuffs.”
He grinned, and stretched across the table to give her a quick kiss. Then he lobbed in a call to his friend Cam, and asked him to run intel on Tad.
As he hung up the call, he steeled himself for what might be a tough topic—Charlie, and the way things had ended with him yesterday. Pissing off a gangster was, generally speaking, not a good idea, and Charlie Stravinsky was most decidedly mad at him.
“Julia,” he started, clearing his throat. “You know how we made a promise to always be open? No more secrets?”
“Of course,” she said, shooting him a quizzical look. Small lines of tension knitted across her brow.
“I called Charlie yesterday,” he said, then shared the details of the call, down to the cold end of it when Charlie had hung up, pissed.
“Shit,” she said, sucking in a breath. “That’s not good.”
“I know. But I actually think it’s not going to be too hard to make good with him.”
“A man like Charlie is a man no one needs on their bad side.”
“And I’ve got a few ideas I’m mulling about.”
“You’re not going to go into business with him, are you?” she asked, her eyebrows now shooting up to her hairline.
He laughed deeply, and shook his head. “No. You know me—I’ve built my law firm on the backbone of being squeaky clean and it’s served me well. Just a little something to say I’m sorry is all I’m thinking.”
“You gotta be careful, Clay,” she said, her voice now intensely serious, her eyes flashing him some kind of warning. She held up her hands, turning them into claws. “When he gets his hooks in you, he doesn’t let go until he gets every last bite. He’s like a lion chasing down a gazelle.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, so let’s just cut to the chase. I know how to be a lion too.”
She tilted her head. “I know you do. Though I see you as more of a tiger. You’re my tiger,” she said, then purred playfully. “But be careful. Especially now.”
“Especially with Tad expecting you to only consort with upstanding people.”
“I’ll admit it; I do kind of want the expanded deal. Being a spokesperson for my drink? I like the idea. I’m proud of that drink, and what it’s done for me, how it launched my career to a new level.”
“As you should be. So don’t worry. I won’t get close to a gangster and sully your squeaky-clean reputation anywhere but in the bedroom.”
“And that’s where I’m anything but squeaky clean,” she said, and stood up from her chair, walked the few feet over to him and sat down in his lap. “Dirty me up again, you sexy thing.”
“Gladly.”
* * *
He glanced out the hotel window as Julia blow-dried her hair. The sun was rising high; it was a little past noon. He planned to pop the question in the afternoon because she’d least suspect that. A fancy dinner out at the Paris hotel? A late night-proposal in a gondola at the Venetian? That’s precisely what she’d expect. But he’d surprise her if he asked her in the middle of the day. Catch her off-guard, ask the question, make her melt.
He hoped.
He never wanted to take anything for granted, not in business and not in love, and certainly never with Julia. But damn, he’d pictured it, scripted it, and imagined her response. He hoped to hell she wanted this as much as he did. A forever together.
Snagging his phone from the table, he tapped out a quick text to Brent. Ten minutes.
His reply arrived seconds later. Ten-four.
He deleted the trail of evidence—the thread of messages between himself and his brother this morning. Not that Julia would ever go snooping, but he didn’t want one to accidentally pop up.
A few minutes later, she’d clicked off the dryer, so he headed to the bathroom and stood in the door. “I heard from Cam. Want to know what Tad’s story is?”
She nodded eagerly, her green eyes lighting up as she fluffed out her hair with her fingers. “Tell me. And make it tawdry, please. I want to know that he was a very bad boy, that he likes spankings from nuns, and that he covers it all up by acting like a goody-goody two shoes.”