Inside Bet: Vegas Top Guns, Book 2 (32 page)

BOOK: Inside Bet: Vegas Top Guns, Book 2
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Grant flicked his gaze between them, perhaps noticing the sudden chill. “Um, maybe I’ll come back later.”

“Oh, by all means,” Jon said, waving a hand. “Don’t let me bother you. Heather,
do
you need a ride to the company party?”

Her cheeks went pale. The vein that dipped into the hollow of her neck fluttered wildly. “No, thank you, Grant.” Although she spoke to the other man, she looked directly at Jon. “I was planning to drive myself.”

“That’s good.” Grant’s disappointment was impossible to miss. “I’ll…I’ll see you later, then.”

Neither Jon nor Heather saw the door close. Both were locked too intently on one another. A quiet snick was the only herald that they were alone.

Heather let loose first. “You didn’t even lock the door before you tried to get in my pants?” She put her hands to work sliding a white lid back over her carton and crimping the edges shut.

“I’d have locked it if needed, Ms. Morris.” He whipped out the words like a harsh coil. “Don’t try to distract me. Company party, is it?”

She nodded slowly, as if her neck had broken in increments. “Yearly thing. At the CEO’s house.”

“And you didn’t invite me because…?”

Her hands dropped out of sight, beneath the table. “I didn’t think you’d want to go. It’s boring. Always is.”

“I seem to remember making a similar argument about the ball,” he said coolly. “What about this promotion?”

“Weeks of speculation. Nothing more.”

“You’ve known it was a possibility for
weeks
and didn’t say a word? What, you don’t give a damn about a big promotion?”

“I do. I just didn’t want to…” Her movements became jerky as she went back to cleaning up the lunch neither of them intended to eat. “You know what? Fine. Good for you. Jon Carlisle is right again. I didn’t say anything because I was trying to keep you separate from work. I wasn’t sure what would happen. Happy?”

Fuck, he was ice. All the way down to his bones.

“I’m a goddamned officer in the United States Air Force,” he said. “I come from money, and you know good and well I can handle myself in company. So this is
all
you, Heather love. What the hell is your problem?”

Chapter Thirty-Seven


My
problem?”

Heather’s head throbbed. Her face had gone hot the moment Jon arrived, and she hadn’t been able to recover. The part of her touched by his thoughtfulness had been overruled.

“What if Grant had walked in on us?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jon said with a sneer. “Had you introduced me, he might’ve put two and two together.”

“Introduced you as what, exactly?”

“Take your pick, Heather. I can be the guy who brought you lunch. Or the guy who makes you fucking
shatter
when you come.”

She glanced toward her closed office door. “Will you please keep it down?”

“Horseshit.”

“See? This is what I meant all along!” After tapping a pencil against the desk in an anxious rhythm, she forced herself to stop. The borderline hysteria in her voice had to go. “You come in here and act like my life doesn’t have any foundation.”

“If you’d let me in for just a goddamn minute, I might learn what that means. Forgive me for having trouble interpreting your mixed signals.”

“You’re exaggerating,” she said, forcing the words out.

He leaned forward in the chair and ticked a list off on his fingers. “Let’s see. You can tease me within an inch of my commission, but you sure as hell don’t trust me to keep my dick in my pants around
your
boss. You like to hang with my friends, but God forbid you want to see where I live. And don’t even get me started on your fucking career. I guess a pervert like me is only fit for anonymous hotel rooms?”

“You think you can smile your way in here and, what, assume I’d shove you under the desk to grab some quick head?”

His eyes flicked away.

“You did! Oh, God.” Heather stood from the desk. The graphite dug into her thumb, but she only pressed deeper. “You have some nerve, Jon. Really. Maybe it’s your money or your ego, but you assume the world just bends to what you want. Believe me, not everyone can walk through life that way.”

“Right, because I’m getting exactly what I want right now. I love going in unprepared against an opponent I didn’t even know I had.”

“What opponent?”

“What’s-his-fuck Grant. Are you sleeping with him?”

Face on fire, Heather could only gape. His words had become rougher and tighter, but Jon—the arrogant young playboy she’d met in July—was practically lounging on his chair. He was as unknown to her as that long-ago stranger. His familiar features had buckled around a deep scowl.

“No, maybe not yet.” His scowl warped into a cruel smile. “But maybe you’ve got plans for him? A little variety, is it?”

“You’re being absurd.”

“Am I? Come on, then,” he said, standing. “Let’s go get him. I’m sure he’d take time off for a threesome.”

“You sick little shit.”

“We’d better go to your place, though. You don’t even know
where
my condo is. I’ll even give him first choice. Christ knows I’ve learned to be satisfied with less than all of you.”

“That’s
not
fair! Not even close! You act like we were ever going to be anything but a good time.”

“Are you having a good time?” He looked her up and down. “Because all I’ve got left is wondering if you have
any
limits.”

“You see what happens? I open up a tiny bit of myself and you use it against me.”

“What? Do you think this has anything to do with what you did as a kid?”

She froze, toe-to-toe with him. “Why not? That’s what you’re thinking. Some guy in uniform drove me to Jersey and I let his friends crawl all over me. Must be the kind of girl I am underneath all this, right? Bound to happen again for the right sweet-talker.”

“If you’re comparing me to that jerk-off punk,” he said with clipped syllables, “then we’re not getting out of this one.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

Her rusted joints creaked as she forced herself to cross to the office door. Outside there would be curious stares and reproachful glances. Unavoidable now. They’d been too loud. There would be no hiding this.

“You’ve been looking for it all this time, Jon,” she said, opening the door. “So here’s your panda. I’m done.”


Fine
. I’m used to having it your way.” There in the doorway, in front of everyone, he stared down at her. For a moment she caught a flicker of something ragged in his dark gaze, before he shuffled it away. “But I want you to do something for me when you get home.”

Heather tightened her death grip on the doorknob. “Not here. Don’t you dare—”

“Oh, nothing like that, Ms. Morris. I’ve think we’ve already done enough to embarrass you.”

He leaned close, forcing his warmth and his scent on her. Heather swallowed a sting of tears.

“I want you to think about all the times you trusted me with your body. Everything we did and all that made you curious. Ask yourself why I never took more than you wanted to give, and how hard I tried to get it right.” He pulled back. The naked pain in his honey-brown eyes shocked her to her soul. “You think about that, and then you try to look yourself in the mirror.”

She stood stiff, numb, rigid, as Jon stalked away. He came to the end of the corridor and drew up short. With a rasping growl, he slammed his fist into the wall. Heather flinched. Tears smeared down her cheeks as he disappeared out of sight. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Heather?”

Her skin shriveled. She turned to find Mr. Quinn. “Sir?”

“I think you should take a few days, don’t you? Kyle’s accounts are up to date. He can finish up your numbers on the Wynn.”

“Mr. Quinn, I—”

He shook his head, silently cutting off her protest. “Just take some time.”

Everything she’d worked for…all in tatters.

And for what? Jon was gone and her heart was breaking.

Heather nodded stiffly. The eyes of the office burned into her back as she turned away. She threw the Italian food into the garbage bin as her stomach knotted around that cooled stench.

Even as she shut down her computer, she couldn’t stop fighting to make sense of the grenade thrown into her afternoon. Jon had just been there. He’d brought her lunch. He’d kissed her. They were supposed to go to Cass’s gallery for the afternoon.

Not to be. Any of it.

She found herself looking around in the vain hope he might have left something behind. Just a little something of him, of them, that wasn’t tainted.

Wiping her flushed cheeks, she closed the office door behind her. Conversations stopped as she did. Heather no longer cared. The worst had already happened.

 

 

That evening, she stood in the shower and let the steaming water scald her back. For minutes and minutes, she pressed her forehead against the tile. Didn’t wash. Didn’t shave. Just stood there.

Her months with Jon became a movie she couldn’t stop rewatching. As much as she didn’t want to do as he’d asked, she pictured every audacious encounter and each moment when she’d placed her trust in his hands.

Not once—
not once
had he let her down.

Instead he’d given her a hundred little gifts. His caring and wicked humor, his restraint and daring. His unexpected laughter still teased in her ears when he dropped all of his disguises. With Jon she’d rewritten her own wild history, learning herself in ways she hadn’t believed possible.

A fierce trembling took hold of her hands, so that turning off the water became a challenge. The faucet dripped its last in a quiet patter. She opened the glass door and groped for a towel. When she swiped away the condensation on the mirror, she couldn’t lift her eyes. She already knew what she’d find there: a scared woman who’d let a good man down.

The last time she’d been unable to face herself, she’d been a terrified teenager in a sleazy hotel. And she’d called her father. Before she could second-guess, Heather grabbed her BlackBerry and crawled onto her bed. She hit the speed dial. Three long rings had her silently begging.

Please, please pick up.

“Hello?”

Heather closed her eyes in relief. “Hey, Dad.”

“Heather, honey. Wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

She swallowed. “Just wanted to say hi. Where are you guys?”

“Nova Scotia.”

“In Canada? When did you get to Canada?”

“Early last week. The leaves in New England were gorgeous, and then we just kept driving north.”

“What’s it like there?”

“Chilly tonight. We’re looking out over the ocean.” She liked the sound of his voice, almost peaceful. Dragging it inside her fevered mind was a quiet medicine. “We might settle here if we run out of travel money. Be beach bums.”

She flinched. Years of hard work had earned her the privilege of taking care of them—paying them back. She didn’t feel like a competent, successful woman now. “You won’t run out of money. You know I don’t take my eyes off your accounts.”

“I know, I know. Just teasing.” He paused. The long-distance crackle filled her ear. “Heather, are you all right? You don’t sound good.”

The sob she’d held back for hours broke free. “Dad, I think I messed up. Bad.”

“Are you hurt? Heather?”

“No, no—I, well, I am hurting. But I gave a lot worse than I got.”

“You’re gonna have to fill me in, baby.”

Swallowing another sob at his endearment, she wiped her eyes. “I met a man in July. He’s an Air Force pilot here at Nellis. Young. Smart. But…it wasn’t supposed to get serious.”

Her father offered a sympathetic chuckle. “It rarely starts out serious. And you got scared?”

So scared.
Scared to trust what had seemed for weeks to be too good, too perfect.

“Yeah, I did.”

“If he’s worth a damn, then he was too.”

Heather smiled despite herself. “I can’t imagine that.”

“Oh, believe it. Nothing more scared on this planet than a guy who has it bad.”

She closed her eyes again, remembering the times when she’d seen Jon watching her, that expectant look on his face. Never anything overt. Just a certain…waiting. How long had he wanted to take their relationship deeper? How long had her determination to keep it crazy and carefree silenced him?

Yet, he’d never said a word. Silent, matching fears had amplified until nothing of them remained.

Her throat constricted. “Dad, what do I do?”

He was silent again, longer this time. Wet hair was giving her goose bumps, so she crawled under the covers.

“Honey, you have to know something about men. Young men. Maybe military men most of all. Our pride can be a helluva thing.” He said that last with another rueful chuckle. “If you’ve hurt his pride, you’re going to have to give him more than an apology. He’ll need a leap of faith. You just gotta hope he catches you.”

Heather’s heart stuttered. She wouldn’t have doubted Jon before that afternoon. Now she had even more to fear. The idea of opening herself up to a cold, remote stranger, with his emotions in deep-freeze, made her shake.

“But do me a favor, Heather?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t tell me if he screws up, okay? I don’t wanna have to leave your mom in Canada so I can brain some dumb-ass throttle jockey.”

Laughing softly—a break in the tension—she rubbed her wet nose on the sheet. “You’ve held yourself back from wailing on worse guys.”

“You know, I’d do anything to save you some of the pain you’ve grabbed hold of through the years, but I can’t bring myself to wish for it. I’m too proud of the woman you’ve become.”

She buried her face in her pillow.

“Just be easy on that girl you were,” he said. “I wasn’t much older than you are now when we got through that time. Hopefully we’re both a lot wiser for it.”

She found herself nodding and shaking her head both. The idea that her dad took on board some of the blame for her wild years was almost too much. But he was right—they were both stronger and wiser, calmer with one another. Maybe she’d been hanging on too tightly for too long.

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