CaddyGirls (8 page)

Torrey had to work hard to convince herself she’d been right to decline Julian’s offer of dinner. She couldn’t deny how badly she wanted to spend the evening with him, especially if it ended with her in his bed. But she knew she couldn’t indulge herself, even if he wanted her to. No matter what, she’d vowed not to sleep with him until she had her answer on the sponsorship, and her decision to pass on his dinner offer had eliminated the chance of another difficult, late-night moment. Thankfully though, he’d persisted, asking her to have breakfast with him first thing in the morning. That was perfect. She’d screw up her courage and ask him for his sponsorship as soon as coffee appeared in front of them.

Their discussions on the course had prepared the ground for her. It had made her inwardly cringe to have to talk on and on about her dreams and ambitions, but Julian had listened patiently. He even asked a few questions. But just when she’d managed to work herself up enough to pop the big one, he jumped in with his dinner invitation. By the time they’d sorted that out, the moment had passed.

Torrey merged into the brutal stream of rush hour traffic on the freeway, her mind grappling with Julian Grant. After two days in his company, she thought she’d figured him out. He was a natural leader, but not the kind of control freak she’d imagined when she first met him. He strove to be number one because he wouldn’t settle for anything less than excellence in what he did. He persuaded people through intellect and personality instead of dominating them with the power of his position. Despite the jibes and the bantering, it was obvious his partners admired him and relied on him. And probably loved him too.

Despite his power and natural authority, she believed Julian Grant was a kind man with a lot to give—if he would ever allow himself to give it.

Torrey zipped into the parking lot of her apartment building. With her shift starting at seven, she had to hustle to change so she could make it to the casino on time. She didn’t look forward to five more hours on her feet dealing cards, fighting to keep her concentration on the job. At least by one a.m. her shift would be over. Sleep wouldn’t come easily, though. Not with so much riding on breakfast.

At any other time, Julian would have found the dynamic artistry of the Cirque du Soleil show completely engaging. Acrobats plummeted from the roof of the theater, their tethers stretching to slow them at the last instant before their feet or heads crashed into the stage floor. But even the spectacular performance hadn’t been able to completely offset his preoccupation with meeting Torrey in the morning. He was sure she’d ask him to help her out of her financial bind. And she’d probably expect him to snap his fingers and pull a sponsorship out of the air, like some Vegas magic act.

As much as he’d like to help her, he’d actually have to be a magician to pull it off. OTE had never yet sponsored an individual athlete. Sure, his company had a sponsorship budget, but it had always been devoted to the arts and amateur sports—events from music festivals to track tournaments. But they’d never stuck their name on the body of any single athlete.

It was a policy all four partners had been able to agree on. They’d come to that conclusion in the early days, when they realized that they had completely different priorities and would likely never be able to reach consensus around any individual request.

If there was one passion they shared, it was golf. Yet even then, nobody had proposed breaking the policy to sponsor a golfer. So what was he going to tell her? A straight no, because OTE had an ironclad policy? That would be the easy way out. But it stuck in his throat to have Torrey think he couldn’t manage to hammer through the trifling amount of money she would need initially to pursue her dream.

Hell, he’d even thought briefly that he could just write her a personal check. He didn’t need OTE’s corporate money. But there was no way he could see himself saying,
No, sorry, I can’t get the company to sponsor you but I’ll front you the cash myself
. As much as she needed the money, she wouldn’t go for that. She’d probably think he was trying to buy his way into her bed.

After more stewing, he’d finally come up with the only way he could imagine to convince Brendan, Josh and Michael. He’d ask Torrey to play a round with them. They already liked her and had come to respect her golf knowledge. If she could shoot the lights out, maybe he could talk the guys into a sponsorship. If she couldn’t, then at least he’d have given her a full and fair shot.

When the show ended, he and Brendan returned to the hotel. It was just shy of eleven but Brendan decided to call it a night. Julian knew it was way too early to bunk out. He’d just toss and turn for hours if he tried. Better to fire up his laptop and at least clear out his email.

The very first message on the list came from Josh, time stamped ten forty-five. The subject line read “Highland Fling.” It was addressed to Brendan, Michael and him.

Hosers: Grit your teeth and suck it up—I’m going to Scotland! Success came at exactly ten-twenty. I’ll bring you back some obscure but incredible single malt…

At the bottom of the message Julian noted the automatic insertion telling the recipients that Josh had sent it from his BlackBerry. He’d probably jumped out of bed, raced to the john and thumbed in the gloating message before Krista emerged from what was no doubt a post-coital haze.

As much as Julian hated to lose at anything, especially to Josh, he managed a reluctant laugh at the guy’s typically immature attempt at one-upmanship. Good thing the wanker had been a loyal friend for all these years, or he would have had to strangle him long before now for being such a jerk. But Josh had always been there for him, especially during those dark months after Kerr betrayed them. Still, Julian felt a pang of sympathy for Krista, and just hoped she had the good sense not to develop feelings for someone as immature as Josh.

The almost palpable feeling of relief that flowed through his body now that the stupid bet was over surprised him. The bet had colored everything between the golfers and the caddies. Even though he had no intention of trying to win, Julian regretted that he had agreed to it in the first place. The caddies didn’t deserve to be pawns in their crazy game.

Now that he’d come to know her, he couldn’t stand the thought that Torrey might find out about the wager. Maybe the average bimbo wouldn’t be too bent out of shape to have been played for a sex object. But a strong, intelligent woman like Torrey would be horrified. And explaining that he personally didn’t take it seriously wouldn’t cut any ice with her. She wouldn’t excuse such a juvenile prank. Her respect for him would vanish in a heartbeat, and he was surprised how much that thought troubled him.

A week ago, the bet had seemed like a harmless lark—a way to have some fun with caddy chicks who might welcome a full-court press from a bunch of guys like them. Now, with the way he’d come to feel about Torrey, he knew it had been an inexcusable blunder.

He’d talk to the guys first thing in the morning to make sure they all kept their mouths firmly shut. Michael and Brendan caused him no worries, but Josh was always a loose cannon. Hopefully he’d have enough self-discipline to realize it would do none of them any credit if the bet was ever revealed.

But Julian wouldn’t take any chances. Josh was about to have the fear of God come down on him.

He closed his laptop, knowing he couldn’t do any more work, given his distracted frame of mind. God, he wished he could see Torrey tonight. She’d ignited something powerful inside him that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. To his amazement, and despite his worries about the merger, he’d had a hard-on for just about the entire round of golf—or at least whenever Torrey came within ten feet of him. Even now, when he thought back to last night, he could still feel her soft, wet body pressed against him, her hot, delicious mouth welcoming his tongue, the tantalizing curve of her ass as he slid his palm down her back.

He stood up and headed for the door of his suite. Why couldn’t he see her, anyway? She was busy, but she wasn’t stuck at the North Pole.

Torrey’s feet ached. Her conditioning program, combined with miles of walking as she caddied, had left her in the best physical shape of her life. But there didn’t seem to be any cure for tired, achy feet. At least her shift would soon be over. Ten minutes to midnight and freedom.

It had taken every ounce of her mental strength and training to keep her focus on the cards tonight. Though she’d done everything she could to prepare for popping the question to Julian tomorrow, it hadn’t stopped her from thinking through scenario after scenario. She’d already run her credentials past him—her outstanding NCAA record, and the solid results from the local and regional tournaments she’d managed to enter this past year. He’d been interested, maybe even impressed.

But what if he said no? Even if he wanted to sponsor her, maybe there were company policies or procedures that would tie his hands. She told herself to get mentally prepared for another rejection.

That was easier said than done. Julian and OTE were her last hope, at least for this year’s Q-School. Plus she wasn’t getting any younger, and her skills weren’t going to improve unless she played full time and had enough money for a good coach. Tomorrow’s breakfast couldn’t have had more on the line, and it scared her to death, no matter how much she told herself she was ready.

She cleared the losers’ chips, paid out the winners, collected the cards and started to refill the shoe. Looking up, her head jerked back, and her heart nearly jumped out of her throat. Julian had somehow slipped in, escaping her notice. He stood behind the empty number two chair, looking ridiculously handsome in a cream-colored linen jacket and black silk shirt. When her eyes met his, he cocked an eyebrow and gave her that crooked grin she’d loved from the moment she first saw him.

“Is this seat free?” His hand grasped the back of the chair directly in front of her.

“Yes, sir,” she said with a smile.

“Thanks.” He sat down, placing his drink in the holder. “I’m feeling lucky tonight.”

Torrey’s breath caught in her throat, as she whipped the cards out of the shoe. “I like everyone to win.”

She was sure the little quaver in her voice gave away the excitement rippling through her body. Though his surprise appearance probably foretold another awkward moment on the horizon, right now she didn’t give a damn. It thrilled her to know he’d come.

Five hands later, her replacement edged up, waiting to relieve her. Torrey collected the cards and chips and turned the table over to him. As she moved away, Julian picked up his small stack of chips. By the time she made it through the pit area exit, he stood waiting.

“I didn’t expect to see you here…” She stopped herself from finishing the sentence. It would have been, “…but I’m really glad you came.”

“Call me impatient, but I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to see you again.” His dark eyes flashed the same intensity she’d glimpsed last night. “I know you’re probably exhausted, but could I talk you into a nightcap?”

Torrey thought for maybe half a second. “Here?”

“Why don’t we go back to the Bellagio? I don’t want to insult your employer, but this place is a bit of a dump.”

“Insult away,” she said with a laugh. “I only work here because they’re willing to hire rookie dealers. I don’t spend any more time in the place than I have to.”

They retrieved her car from the parking garage and ten minutes later drove up to the Bellagio. Julian spent most of the drive talking about the Cirque du Soleil show. Torrey listened with only half an ear, her mind absorbed by worries about where this encounter would lead. Should she spring the question tonight, or wait until breakfast as planned?

Julian reached for her hand as they entered the hotel from the Bellagio’s massive garage. It almost felt to her as if they were on a date. As she walked toward the casino at the side of this sophisticated, insanely gorgeous man, she felt for the first time as if she actually belonged in this opulent hotel. It was a crazy thought, as the place was full of gamblers and walk-through tourists who couldn’t afford to actually stay there. It was one thing to be a walk-through, but quite another to be a guest like Julian Grant, pampered and catered to.

“This place has at least six bars,” he said. “Would you prefer music or quiet? Or maybe a view?”

Torrey looked down at herself. The casino dealer outfit made her look like she should be standing behind a card table, not sitting in a fancy bar.

“Well,” she said, giving a little laugh, “how about wherever I’ll look the least out of place?”

Julian smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Anybody who looks at you will be focused on how beautiful you are, not on what you’re wearing. Let’s try the Fontana Bar. We can sit outside and watch the fountains.”

She nodded, her heart pounding against the wall of her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was the result of his compliment or her nervousness, or both.

The Fontana’s hostess led them through the circular bar to the patio. They chose seats at one of the white metal tables, adjusting the chairs so they could talk while still having a good view of the dancing waters.

Both ordered white wine, and Julian asked her a couple of questions about dealing blackjack. She managed to babble some semi-coherent answers while her mind rehearsed how to broach the big question.

“You know, I was thinking. Why don’t we move up the discussion we were going to have in the morning?” Julian asked, right out of the blue. “We both know you want to talk to me about helping with your golf career.”

Torrey tried not to show her surprise. Yes, she was dying to talk to him about her career, but she’d never suspected he’d be the one to raise it. Had she been that obvious this afternoon? Or was Julian simply a very perceptive man?

“I suppose I haven’t been appropriately subtle, have I?” She cast her eyes down for a moment as she took a sip of wine.

“Don’t worry about it. You go after what you want. I was sure you were going to ask me tomorrow and, frankly, I didn’t see any point in waiting.”

Please let the next words out of that gorgeous mouth be, ‘Yes, Torrey, I’d love to help you.’

She smiled, her eyes encouraging him to go on.

“So, Torrey Green, why don’t you explain exactly what you need?”

So, she did. She told him she needed a sponsorship deal that would give her enough money to quit her jobs and enter a series of tournaments this summer. And enough to live on through the LPGA Qualifying School tournaments in the fall. Julian listened patiently as she went into far more detail than she’d ever intended. At least he wouldn’t be able to doubt her enthusiasm.

After she finished, he remained silent for what seemed like minutes, even though it was probably only a few seconds. Before he said a word, she could already see his answer in those dark, expressive eyes. Her heart took a sickening dive.

He was going to tell her no.

“Torrey, you’ve made a strong case.” He rested both hands on the table and riveted his gaze to hers. “Let me start by saying I’ve listened carefully when you talked about your college career. And I even did some research on my own.”

Her eyes must have betrayed her astonishment.

“Yes,” he continued. “I would never consider investing in anything without doing due diligence research. So, here’s what I’ve learned. You showed incredible promise as a junior, blowing all your competition out of the water from the time you were twelve years old. You were Michelle Wie before there was a Michelle Wie. Then you were named California’s junior girls’ golfer of the year for two consecutive years. It was no wonder UNLV courted you with a full scholarship.”

“I didn’t want to go into all that detail, but thank you, Julian.”

“Then you had a fantastic college career. An All-American twice. By far the best golfer on your squad.”

She almost felt embarrassed by his effusive praise. “We had a lot of great golfers. I loved those teams.”

“It’s clear you have fantastic potential. I want you to know I think you deserve support, and I would like to be able to help you.”

Her stomach went into such a spasm she thought for a moment she might be sick. But a couple of deep breaths settled it down enough for her to speak. “That’s great. Yet, I’m thinking your next sentence is going to start with ‘but,’ isn’t it?”