The Sunday Arrangement (8 page)

I
opened the car door. “I could use a drink.”

“Great.
I’ll pick you up at your apartment tonight around nine.”

“Okay.
Sounds like a plan.” I got into the limo, glad he was behind me so that he
couldn’t see the huge smile on my face.

When I arrived at the hotel, I pulled out my iPhone and called
my brother to tell him we had finally found a piece of land. He’d need to come
out so that we could start to work on a mock-up of what the casino would look
like.

“What’s today?
Saturday? The earliest I can get out there is Tuesday afternoon, Lauren.”

“Crap. Thought you
might be able to hang out with me this weekend and, ya know, talk. I haven’t
seen you in so long.”

“I just saw you at
your going-away dinner, remember?”

“You and I both know
when Dad’s involved, no one is really himself.”

“True. Listen, I’d
love to come out earlier but Margret’s kind of pissed at me for not helping out
around here more. The baby’s sick, and the house is a wreck. Our typical song
and dance.”

“No problem, Toby.
Gotta keep the missus happy.”

“Don’t I know it,” he
said with a short chuckle. “I should be there mid-afternoon, sis. I figure we
can go see a magic act or a show and have some drinks. You can rant to me all
about Pierce Maverick. Sound good?” Toby asked.

“That sounds
fantastic. I’ll meet you at the strip around noon. Say hello to Margret and the
troublemaker for me? Hope he feels better.”

“Of course, I’ll see ya
Tuesday.”

“Bye.” I hung up and
looked out my balcony window at the city of Vegas below. As the pink and purple
sky signaled the end of the day, I knew the city’s night life was just
beginning. I couldn’t wait to see my brother. I knew he would take my mind off
my frustrations with this project and my confusion over Pierce. Maybe Toby
could help me understand my ridiculous attraction to the impervious Maverick
man. Until then, I was on my own with him, and that included our faux date
tonight.

~*~*~*~

I
looked in the mirror for the tenth time. I wore a simple black cocktail dress,
and my hair was in a messy chignon. My makeup was a light smoky eye that I
matched with a light pink lip gloss. Puckering in the mirror, I began to feel
strangely inadequate, a feeling I wasn’t particularly accustomed to when it
came to men who weren’t my father.
Will the women at the restaurant think
Pierce could do so much better?

I didn’t
know why I was so nervous. The man had been driving me nuts with his insane
plans for this project, and besides, this was just a celebratory drink. Nothing
more. In my head, however, it had morphed into something much, much more. I
couldn’t stop trying to smooth out my dress even though it didn’t need it. My
stilettos were already killing my small feet, but I ignored the pain. This was
going to be my first night out in Vegas since we arrived a few nights earlier,
and I wanted it to be done right.

I rolled
my eyes at my reflection. Was I being completely ridiculous?
The man was
arrogant, slightly childish, and all around annoying. Our families
hated
each other. So why in Christ’s name did I want to sleep with him so badly? No
matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t deny the crazy heat between us. When he
grabbed my arm earlier, I could literally feel it pulsating through me. Somehow
the sensation made me feel more alive than I had been in years—as though he had
inexplicably awakened something deep inside of me that had been buried under lock
and key. Now that my sensual prowess had been aroused and revived, it could
hardly be put back to sleep, locked once again in a secret chamber. I wanted to
explore, to rediscover, to experience. I wondered if he did as well. Shaking my
head, I dismissed the thought as quickly as it had entered my mind.

“He
dates supermodels, remember?” I said out loud, hoping my crazy hormones would
receive the message. “Besides, there are plenty of guys here in Vegas willing
to sleep with you.” It had been a long time since I had a man in my bed,
especially one who, against all reason, made me ache with desire. I didn’t know
how I would react tonight after a few drinks, and that was what scared me most
about going on this date. I couldn’t believe this man had made my
professionalism fly out the window, replacing it with raging, insatiable lust. Scarcely
did I recognize the reflection staring back at me.
You’re not supposed to
like this man
.
Your family has always hated his, truce or not
.

I swept
my thick bangs over to the side, fiddling with them one final time.
It’s not
a date; it’s not a date. He’s probably not even attracted to you.
Tall,
skinny blondes seemed to be more his cup of tea than voluptuous brunettes.

There
was a knock at the door. I took a deep breath and smoothed down my dress one
last time before I made my way across the plush carpet.

When
I opened it, I was relieved to see that he had dressed up too. He was wearing a
simple dark blue silk button-up shirt. The first few buttons were undone,
revealing his olive skin, which made me blush in longing. His black slacks were
sleek and slim. It was the most dashing and sultry I had ever seen him.

A
twinge of disappointment spread over me when I saw nothing in his hands. No
wine. No flowers.
Why would there be flowers? This isn’t a date, Lauren. Get
a grip!

“Hi,”
I said after a moment of observing him.

 He
looked me over, and I could tell he approved. “Hi, you look nice.”

“Thank
you. Are you ready to go?”

We
walked down to where his silver Shelby Cobra was waiting. The luxury car was almost
as sexy as the man who owned it. “Nice car,” I said when he opened the sleek door
for me.

“Thank
you. It’s one of my favorites. I had it airlifted over here.”

I
resisted the urge to gag a little in my mouth. He probably wasn’t used to
dating women of equal financial upbringing. The one-of-a-kind sports car spoke
enough about his wealth without him dropping lines about airlifting and
multiple vehicles. He sounded just like my father, so I ignored his vain
attempts to impress. I slid inside, the cool leather hitting my legs. “So where
are we going?”

He
started the car, which roared to life with a purr. “I heard about this really
different club. Great food. Cool ambiance. Tons of different shows. They
apparently have an underwater act, which sounds pretty amazing.” He shrugged.
“Sounded interesting to me anyway, so I thought it would be fun to go there.
What do you think?”

“I
don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a thing,” I said. “Underwater? Like scuba
diving?”

He
shrugged again. “I guess. Sounds cool, right?”

Suddenly
I became very aware that this was a date. Here I was, sitting in his car,
making small talk as he drove me to a fancy restaurant in the middle of Vegas.
My nerves went into overdrive.
This isn’t a date. He’s just your business
partner, and you’re exploring the city together.
The rest of the drive was
nice and silent. I was thankful since I didn’t really know what to say anyway. I
was accustomed to handling formal conversations and business, not pointless chit-chat,
especially when I was nervous. The club had a long line out front when we drove
up. We both got out of the car, and Pierce generously tipped the valet.

“Looks
like we aren’t the only ones interested in this underwater shindig,” I said,
glancing at the long, winding line.

“Don’t
worry,” he said confidently. “We won’t have to wait in that mile-long line. I’m
on the list already.”

We
walked up to the red velvet rope, and the bouncer crossed his bulging biceps
across his thick chest. “Name,” he said. His voice was deep and gruff.

“Maverick.”

He
looked at his list and then took out a stamp. “You’re VIP.” He marked our hands
with an obnoxious purple star, and we walked inside the dark entrance of the
club. “Go through this door to the left.”

As
we stepped inside, a young waiter stopped us. “This way, sir and madam. The VIP
section is over here. You get to sit closer to the center of show. Best seats
in the house!” I heard the trill of jazz music, a saxophone sweetly playing, as
we made our way to the main room of the club. When we arrived, my mouth
dropped.

“My
God,” Pierce mumbled.

We
looked around the old-style theater. Every wall except for the front of the
club had been replaced with gigantic aquariums. Floor to ceiling, larger than
anything I had ever seen. The thick glass revealed a whole other world of sea
life. Dolphins, many different schools of fish, colorful corral, and decorative
rocks filled the tanks. I felt like I was in the middle of the ocean,
completely captivated by the sea creatures behind the glass.

Pierce
gently touched my arm. “Lauren?” he asked.

I
hadn’t noticed that he had pulled my chair out from our table, right in front
of the main stage.

I quickly
took my seat. “This is . . . amazing.”

“I
see now what they meant by underwater act,” he said as he sat down across from
me. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

Our
eyes followed the purple- and blue-striped fish as they swam around the orange
reef. “Do you see those starfish attached to the glass? Upper right corner.”

“Oh
wow! There’s so many of them!”

“I
know. I swear I could stare at this tank all night and not see everything,” he
said. His boyish excitement was incredibly attractive.

“Did
you see the sea turtle? I think it’s as big as that entire school of clown
fish.”

“You’re
right. He’s a beast,” Pierce acknowledged after he spotted it.

The
two giant tanks behind the stage were absolutely mesmerizing. I could feel my nervous
anxiety about the evening significantly dwindling as I stared at the colorful
fish dancing in the water.

“First
time here?” a waiter asked.

I
turned to look at the tall brunette and immediately glanced at Pierce to get
his reaction. If he thought she was as stunningly beautiful as I did, his face
didn’t reveal it.

“What
gave us away?” he asked playfully.

She
gave him a flirtatious smile. “Just a guess.”

“I
think we’re a little too obvious, huh Ms. Hart?”

I
nodded, grateful that he was bringing me back into the conversation and
acknowledging my presence in front of the Peruvian beauty.

“No
please. Enjoy the tanks as much as you’d like. That’s why they’re here!” She
reached for a yellow notepad in the front pocket of her black apron. “What
would you like to drink this evening?”

“Do
you have a wine list?” Pierce asked.

Pointing
to the middle of the table, she nodded her head. “Yes, it’s right here.”

He
grabbed the menu and handed it to me. Obviously, he thought I knew more about
wine than he, the non-drinker. I flipped open the extensive list and scanned
for anything familiar. I drank mostly champagne at formal gatherings, and with
French food, I liked white wine with my
boeuf bourguignon
. Deciding
against my go-to glass of chardonnay, I decided to wing it and chose the first
merlot I saw. I pointed to one of the more expensive wines on the list. “We’ll
have the bottle.”

“An
excellent choice,” she said as she took the menu from me. “I will return
shortly with your drinks.”

Pierce
looked around with amazement. “I have never seen anything like this.”

“I
know. I can’t believe we haven’t heard of this place before.”

“We
should add an aspect like this to our casino. For the spa area for the higher-paying
customers?”

“Agreed.
It’s so peaceful. I’d kill for my spa to have one of these.”

He
grinned. “Yes, I think it would go over very well. It has a nice calming
effect.”

The
waiter returned shortly with our wine. After opening the bottle and pouring a
generous amount for each of us, she pulled out a small notepad to jot down our
orders.

“I
think I’ll just have your lobster bisque,” I said. I didn’t want anything too
heavy on my stomach. My appetite wasn’t exactly for food. . . .

“Seems
wrong somehow to order seafood while we’re staring at fish,” Pierce said with a
forced laugh. “Filet mignon with the mushroom sauce and green beans sounds good
to me.”

“The
show will start in a few moments. Please enjoy,” the waiter said before
leaving.

I took
a sip from the large glass and smiled. The sweet, dry taste was just what I
needed. “Do you know what the show will be about?”

“It
was described as a taboo version of Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Little
Mermaid” on the flier.”

I
chuckled. “How in the world can you make that innocent Disney movie taboo?”

“Oh,
I think you could . . . if you just used your imagination.”

I
squirmed in my seat. Using my imagination wouldn’t be a problem, though I preferred
a more realistic subject than mermen and seashell bras. “I guess this
is
Vegas, after all. Anything’s possible, right? Should be interesting even though
I’m not sure I’ll be able to pay attention with the tanks directly behind the
stage.”