Luscious Craving (21 page)

I’ll just bet he is
, I thought.

“And he came straight to you, didn’t he?” I said, as my sleep-deprived mind finally came up with the real reason for Al’s call. “To ask who else knew about the possibility of the con.”

“Bingo,” Al said. “Do I need to tell you whose name tops the list?”

“I’m on my way, Al,” I said.

We both knew it was mine.

By the time I got to Al’s office, Randolph Glass was in prime form. Storming from one side to another like a drill sergeant dressing down new recruits. Al sat behind his desk, saying nothing. I sat in the chair in front of it, saying more of the same.

“How did this happen?”
Randolph
demanded. He wore a black suit with a gray silk tie, pretty damned slick for an internal morning meeting. I couldn’t help wondering if he had already arranged a press conference to refute the report. “I’m not going to rest till I know.”

“Why don’t you just accuse me and be done with it?” I snapped. “Then you can fire me and we can all go home.”

“
You
can go home any time you like,”
Randolph
said. “But with or without you,
I
have a casino to run.”

“Candace did not leak the rumors to the press,” Al put in quietly.

Randolph
swung toward him. “You can’t be sure of that.”

“Of course I can,” Al said, evenly. “
Randolph
, you have got to calm down. Your reaction is only making things worse. Candace is a key member of my staff and I trust her.”

“She knows people at Weatherly’s station.”

“I know reporters at every TV station in Vegas,” I answered for myself, shooting a quick, grateful look at Al. The fact that I had lost my temper so easily hadn’t helped the situation either.

“A fact that has worked to the
Sher’s
advantage more than once,” I went on.
“Human-interest angles or stand-ups in front of our sign when they need a Strip backdrop.
The shots aren’t always in front of the dancing waters at the
Bellagio
anymore, or haven’t you noticed?”

“Actually, I have noticed that,”
Randolph
said shortly. “You’re saying it’s you and not the marketing department.”

“I’m saying it’s both,” I replied. “I’m also saying I know enough to know that Lance Weatherly could have been listening to the buzz on the streets. There’s absolutely no reason to think his information is accurate, or that it came from inside. You said it yourself, Al,” I said, switching my attention to him. “There are always rumors of a big con.”

“I did say that,” Al acknowledged. “I said it and I meant it.”

“We can’t do anything about Weatherly,” I said. “That damage is done. Instead of going after his source, maybe we should be mounting a media event of our own. Give meaning to the notion there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

“She’s got a point,” Al said.

And you just hate that little fact, don’t you Mr. Randolph Glass?

“Call my secretary, Al,”
Randolph
suddenly barked. “Better yet, go get her yourself.”
Which was just his charming way of saying he wanted a moment alone with me, even if it meant kicking Al out of his own office.

“Sure thing,” Al said. He got up and left the room without making eye contact with me. Good choice.

“I suppose you think I owe you an apology,” Randolph Glass said, when we were alone.

I decided it was time to stand on my own two feet, literally, as well as verbally. I got up.

“Except for a paycheck, I don’t think you owe me anything at all.”

“I’ve worked hard for what I’ve established here,” Randolph Glass continued. “And I’m hoping to expand soon, to grow.” He shot me a look. “I don’t know whether
Bibi’s
mentioned that or not.”

“
Bibi
does not discuss your business affairs and neither do I.”

So that’s what this little tête-à-tête is really all about
, I thought.

“Have you spoken to her? How is she?”
Randolph
asked.

“
Bibi
,” I said, “is just fine. If you have any other questions for her, I suggest you ask them yourself.”

I walked out the door.

I stomped back through the casino, my mind a seething cauldron of
Randolph
’s bad behavior and Blanchard’s dire predictions of what he called a war. The more I thought about it, the more it scared me. People were going to get hurt, and it looked more and more as if I wouldn’t be able to stop it. There are always innocent bystanders when it comes to war. What was the official term?
“Collateral damage.”
I could only hope the damage wouldn’t be restricted to humans only.

As I walked past the slots that circled the perimeter of the casino, I caught sight of some of Michael’s friends from last night’s party happily putting their Magic Carpet Cards into the slots.
You guys sure aren’t wasting any time
, I thought. At the rate they’d been going when I left the suite, I would have said they intended to party all night. Maybe they’d done just that,
then
come downstairs for some casino action. They were only here for a short period of time, after all. I passed by a woman whose name I’d forgotten two seconds after I’d been introduced. She was moving from machine to machine, not playing more than a dollar at each. I wondered if I should tell her that the odds are better if you stick with one machine, but I didn’t really feel like talking to her.

I walked toward the poker tournament. Only six tables remained, roped off from the rest of the casino by brass stanchions with purple velvet ropes. The crowd watching the games had grown; it was at least six people deep on every side. I thought I remembered Michael had expected an early call, but I couldn’t see him over the crowd in front of me.

A man with a camera on his shoulder muttered an apology as he pushed past me.

I saw Michael’s friend Josh Doyle. He was talking with two cameramen who weren’t taping. I could tell, even from where I stood, that he was asking questions and listening closely to their answers. I inched closer, keeping a rotund man with a fragrant cigar between Josh and me.

“So how often do you switch cameras?” Josh was asking.

“Whenever the director decides.”
One camera-man motioned with his elbow. “See that skinny blonde in black by the tables? She’s the director.”

Josh kept asking questions about the type of cameras the men were using to shoot the tournament and the lighting and the director’s controls and using a lot of technical terms that I wasn’t familiar with.

I watched Josh walk away, stopping at the slot machines where Michael’s friends were playing. He paused to talk with each one. I followed him at a distance, growing more and more curious.

“Candace!” I heard Michael call.

Turning, I saw him a few paces away. I didn’t have to ask how he was doing. He looked like a winner. I turned my face so he kissed my cheek instead of my mouth.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“I’m not supposed to fraternize with the guests, remember?”

“You’re not working.”

“Well, I’m not playing.” I glanced at the cameramen who were fiddling with their equipment. “Josh was certainly interested in those guys.”

“I’m not surprised.” Michael turned to watch the men adjusting the cameras for the next round of play. “Now that he’s sold his company, Josh has been thinking about what he wants to do next. Near as I can tell, it’s something to do with TV production and high def.”

He went on, but, as with the cameramen and Josh, too many of the terms were gibberish to me. I needed a quick course, and I didn’t feel comfortable asking Michael to explain.

“I’m exhausted,” I said when he paused to take a breath.

“I’ve got the perfect solution,” he said, capturing my hand. “Come rest upstairs.”

“Michael,” I protested, even as I let him pull me along. “We don’t rest upstairs.”

“So we’ll do other things, then,” he said.
“C’mon, Candace.
I need a break, too.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “I’ll order up some coffee.”

“Coffee?
Okay,” I said. “You’re on.”

Five minutes later Michael led me through the suite. The living room was a maze of overnight bags and briefcases. Josh was sitting at the dining table, talking into a cell phone. He lifted a hand in greeting, then turned to the table and began to scribble furiously on a yellow pad. I would have stopped short if Michael hadn’t maintained his grip on my hand. Quietly but purposefully, he steered me toward the bedroom, urged me through the door, followed me inside, then closed the door behind us. I heard the lock catch with a
click
.

“Michael, for crying out loud,” I whispered. “Josh is right outside the door.”

Michael made a face. “Josh is working,” he said. “The television could explode right next to him and he wouldn’t notice. Besides, I promised you a rest, remember? Now be a good girl and lie down on the bed.”

I put my hands on my hips, though I could feel the first stirrings of excitement. “You’re getting awfully bossy all of a sudden, don’t you think?” I asked.

Michael smiled. “Candace,” he said softly. “Will you please lie down on the bed?”

I could feel the laughter start to ripple through me, and pressed my lips together to hold it back.
“Facedown or
faceup
?”
I asked.

“Facedown,” Michael said.
“Though that position is subject to revision, of course.”

“Naturally,” I said.

I sat down on the bed, scooted backward, then rolled over onto my stomach, nestling my face in my arms. I felt the bed give as Michael joined me. He eased off my shoes and socks, then knelt, his knees on either side of my body, just below my ass.

“You seem a little tense to me, Candace,” he said. “Fortunately for you, I know just the way to fix that. Did I ever mention I went to massage school?”

“Why, no,” I said, my voice slightly muffled. “Somehow I think you neglected to mention that. You’re just full of talents, aren’t you?”

I heard him laugh beneath his breath. His hands moved against my shoulders in a series of firm squeezes,
then
swept down my back in slow, easy strokes. The only sounds in the room were Michael’s hands moving across the fabric of my clothing, and our quiet breathing. In the other room, I could hear Josh raise his voice.

“Are all your friends staying with you?” I murmured.

“Most of them,” Michael sighed, his voice resigned. His hands were sweeping lower now, gently stroking across my ass. I felt a fine tingling begin to seep slowly through my body. “Fortunately, they’re here to do some serious gambling, so they’re not around most of the time.”

His hands moved up once more. They were in my hair now.
Massaging my scalp with the tips of his fingers.
I felt his weight shift, then come back down. I could feel his erection, pressing against my ass. The tingling in my body became a low, hot throb. His hands still busy in my hair, Michael leaned forward. I felt his breath on my neck, then his tongue.
Slowly circling my earlobe, then sliding down my neck.
Ever so slightly, I began to move my ass from side to side.