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Love Me (Take a Chance #2) Page 11
Author: Diane Alberts

So why, damn him, was he still thinking about her?

She’d gotten what she wanted from him. He’d gotten what he wanted from her. It wasn’t much different from his relationship with Nicole. With the rare fling or girlfriend afterward, either.

But it wasn’t all he wanted from her and that irritated him even more. He was curious. Curious about what she was hiding. Curious why she hid so much energy and passion and wildness under that thin sheen of frost. Curious about her, when damn it, the last thing he wanted was another thing tying him to Las Vegas.

He should wash his hands of this. Secure the contract, leave this godforsaken town, and never look back. Beg for a new position in a different city or hand in his resignation. Drive away until he found that quiet place of white sand and blue water. Drive until he found some place to just be, where he was acceptable with or without business casual suits and natty cufflinks.

Maybe he’d do just that.

But first, he’d track Brianna down and find out why she’d run out on him like the hotel was on fire. He needed to know.

He showered and changed first. He looked like hell, dark circles under his eyes, jaw stubbled, and he doubted his jeans and undershirt were appropriate attire for a business meeting. He slid his wallet into his pocket and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. It was a tight, tense smile. One he didn’t like.

But it didn’t matter, because he and Brianna Faulk had some unfinished business.

He pulled into the parking lot of the Golden Hand and hopped out of his truck far too eagerly. As soon as he crossed the barrier between casino and corporate offices, a security guard stepped in his path. Thank God he had the proposal packet from MotoTek in his truck. And thank God he could fast-talk his way past the glowering, pot-bellied old man—who fingered his Taser with way too much enthusiasm—and into the casino with only a minimal nod to the fact that he looked more like a failed white wannabe rapper than George Clooney right now.

Second floor. Fourth door on the left, the guard had told him grudgingly. The upstairs offices were clustered along a narrow hallway lined with potted ficus trees and floored in Oriental carpet so old it had probably been woven at the height of the Chinese opium trade.

Her office door was closed but the blinds over the glass-windowed door were open. She sat bowed over a broad mahogany desk, taking handwritten notes in a ledger. Banks of security monitors lined the wall behind her desk. Even on a Saturday she was in a neat, well-fitted suit, the skirt and jacket in a misty silver that offset her dark blouse. Her hair was twisted up in a messy bun, and she had those naughty librarian glasses on again.

He pushed the door open without knocking. “Good morning, Cinderella.”

Her head snapped up. For a moment she stared at him, naked shock flashing through her eyes, her color high. Then she set her pen down and reclined in her high-backed chair, glacial calm falling over her like a cloak. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You left your shoes in my room.”

“I noticed halfway down the hallway.” Her gaze flicked to his empty hands. “I see you didn’t bring them back.”

“I didn’t. They didn’t match my jeans.”

She laced her fingers together on the desk, her mouth twitching as if she bit back a smile. “What do you want this time, Thomas?”

Thomas didn’t answer until he’d closed the door behind him. He leaned against the wall next to it and folded his arms over his chest. She might want to act as if she wasn’t interested in him, but he knew differently. And there was no way in hell he was falling for the act.

“I want an honest answer,” he said.

She sighed. “To what?”

“Why you ran out on me last night.”

Another sigh. “Let’s not delude ourselves, Mr. Jones.” She picked up her pen and began writing in the ledger again. When she spoke, it was a dismissive murmur, distracted. “I know exactly why you brought me to your room.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I’m not sure if it’s MotoTek’s policy to include seduction as part of the contract perks, but if it is, I’m sure you’ve just earned your annual bonus.” A disdainful little shrug tightened the shoulders of her jacket. “It was a nice bonus for me, if nothing else.”

The world bottomed out beneath him. His stomach twisted and his face heated. Tension was a noose locking his arms to his body, rigid. “Is that what you think? That they pimp me out to clients?”

“Is there any reason to think otherwise?”

His tension snapped. He shoved away from the wall and stepped closer to her desk. “Is that why you slept with me?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he snarled.

She blinked and glanced up at him over the rim of her glasses. “Why?”

“Because I don’t win contracts with my dick. I win contracts by being smarter than the competition. By being good at it.”

“I never said you weren’t good at your job,” she said quietly. “Just that you had a motive for bringing me back to your place.”

Thomas frowned and studied her. There was a subtle tremor to her hands, a whiteness to her lips. She was more upset than she let on. Much more upset. “Why can’t it be simple? Why can’t it be something as simple as a man finding a woman attractive and wanting to spend the night with her?”

Her eyes narrowed. “If it were that simple, you wouldn’t have manipulated me into it.”

“Manipulated—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. He stared at her. At the tight set of her jaw, the defiant tilt of her chin, the hard sheen of her eyes. “I gave you a chance to leave. You didn’t take it. If you were unwilling—”

He stopped when she averted her eyes from him sharply and muttered, “I wasn’t unwilling.”

“Then why am I the villain because we had a mutually enjoyable one-night stand?”

“If it was a one-night stand, why are you here?” she flared. She stood, palms pressed flat to the desk, leaning on her hands and meeting his eyes with a cold, accusatory frankness that snapped at the edges with simmering anger. “You know what I think? I think you’re afraid you f**ked up. You came back to make sure I’d keep our night together quiet. Or maybe you think you made me so angry I won’t sign the contract and you’re here to make sure you earn your commission.”

He said nothing. She glared at him. He let her. Let her be as angry as she wanted because he was starting to understand why. She doubted his motivation behind last night and was striking out at him before he could hurt her.

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Diane Alberts's Novels
» Try Me (Take a Chance #1)
» Love Me (Take a Chance #2)
» Play Me (Take a Chance #3)
» Take Me (Take a Chance #4)
» On One Condition