Moira turned and wrapped her arms around him. “This has been the most interesting vacation I have ever had.”
Gazing at her, his heart swelled. He could see how happy she looked. How relaxed she was.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He nodded, the truth pushing at him. Tell her now, it said, pushing harder. But her eyes would change instantly if he did. She would pull away from him. There had to be a better time, a better place where he could ease into it, explain it properly.
“Something’s bothering you. You said you had something important to say earlier. What is it?”
Man, she always hit the nail on the head. He reached up to slide a curl that wrapped around her cheek aside. He breathed out heavily. “No.”
“Truth, Mr. Porter.”
“I know,” he murmured. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable tonight. These are people just like you, just like me,” he said, fending off the words he should be telling her.
She gave him a sweet smile. “I know, we all pee the same, and we’re all going to end up as dust in the ground.” She sighed. “It’s ridiculous to feel intimidated by people just because of what they’ve achieved.”
When the hell did he become so gutless?
“Thank you for being concerned about my feelings.”
“I’m concerned about more than that, Moira.” He tightened his hold on her. “I know you’re ready to accept that tomorrow is our last day together. But I can’t accept that. I can’t let you walk out of my life. I won’t accept that.” His heart churned. What would it be like not being beside her or seeing her every day? He didn’t even want to consider it. “I know we live a long ways from each other, but you need to know tomorrow isn’t our last day together, at least—I don’t want it to be.”
“We’ll see.”
He shook his head, a laugh rumbling in his chest. “I didn’t get where I am because I’m indecisive, Moira. I know what I want, and I don’t stop until I get it.” He lowered his head and kissed her open lips. He pulled away from her. “I want something from you, and I’m going to get it,” he said, looking into her eyes.
“An autograph?”
“Yeah, an autograph. Come on, let’s go, smartass.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, still chuckling, and guided her toward the impressive mansion.
* * * *
They enjoyed dinner on the balcony with Vince and one of his daughters. She didn’t know what to expect, but the meal and the company felt very relaxed.
As they finished their after-dinner drinks, the balcony doors swung open. Steven’s attention shot to the doorway, then to Vince. Vince looked at him and shrugged a little. Moira didn’t understand, but it almost looked like an expression of apology.
“George, hey welcome,” Vince said, getting to his feet.
The portly gentleman standing almost as tall as he was wide wore a designer suit. Little droplets of sweat gathered on his forehead. She couldn’t miss the large, heavy bands of gold, studded with diamonds that covered three of his fingers. Whoever he was, he was rich.
“We’re not early, are we?” said a beautiful lithe woman who stood beside George.
She rested her arm lightly on Georges, looking like an erotic vision directly from the centerfold of Playboy. The gorgeous redhead’s eyes locked on Steven—heating up instantly.
“Steven, I didn’t know you were in town.” She took a couple long-legged strides to reach him and gave him a huge hug, whispering something in his ear at the same time.
Moira had to stop herself from crawling under the table. Her instincts, not to mention life skills, had given her enough experience to realize these two had been lovers once. She knew it instantly. They looked like something right out of a Hollywood magazine—perfect together.
“George, Grace, I’d like you to meet Moira,” he said, pulling himself from Grace’s clutches. He walked around to stand behind her chair. He rested his hand gently on her shoulder as if to tell her to relax.
Grace’s lips tightened as she extended her well-manicured hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, have we?”
“No, I don’t believe we have,” she said, shaking Grace’s hand. It felt as limp as a jellyfish. She released it quickly.
“Nice to meet you, Moira,” George said with a firm handshake.
“George runs the Villagro,” Vince explained to her.
“I see.” She rose from her chair, her legs feeling wobbly. “It used to be my favorite casino,” she said with a grin and looked at Vince. He had built the Villagro for a cool two billion dollars, but with business ventures that she couldn’t even begin to ponder, others owned it now.
Vince chuckled and nodded. “Thanks, Moira.”
Grace’s thick and luscious display of red hair shone in the patio lights. She practically twinkled all over with her ten-thousand-dollar dress. Grace gave her a critical “once-over” inspection. Thank God the cracks weren’t too wide on the patio or she would have slid into one. But as always, she had a rock-solid bullshit factor that hit nine point zero on the Richter scale when required. This woman was looking down her nose at her. Ignoring Grace would be better than instigating a silent battle of wills. She was beautiful, but she was obviously a bitch.
“It’s still a lovely hotel, George—I visit the gardens every time I come to Las Vegas,” Moira said.
“Do you come often?” Grace asked.
“No, not anymore. I used to. This is my first trip back in five years.”
“Moira is from Canada,” Steven added.
All eyes turned to him.
“She’s an officer with the Canadian Coast Guard. She works in the Port of Vancouver.”
“That must be an interesting and rewarding job,” George said.
“It can be challenging.” Steven wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders.
“I can imagine. I’ve brought my yacht to Vancouver a few times. I love that city. It’s so fresh—and green,” he said, chortling.
“Do you dock at Coal Harbor?” She eyed him. “Or is it big enough for Canada Place?” she asked.
He gave a quick belly laugh. “Oh, I wish—no, I go to Coal Harbor. It barely fits though,” he said, pushing his bushy brows together in amusement.
“Well, what can I get you to drink, George, Grace?” Vince asked.
“Oh, the usual. I’m still a conservative at heart,” George said. “How is Hollywood, Steven?”
“Been to the movies lately?” he asked, ignoring Grace.
“I have actually.”
“Well, then I’m still making movies,” he said, reaching out to shake his hand.
“I guess you are.” George laughed, giving him a firm handshake.
Soon more guests arrived, and before long the patio glittered with thousand-dollar dresses and coiffed hairstyles. The jewelry that dripped off the women’s hands, wrists, and ears could have saved a small country. Most of the ladies seemed quite friendly, except of course for Grace, who kept darting looks their way. Steven never left her side, but eventually he had to go to the bathroom.
“I’ll be right back, Moira,” he whispered in her ear. “I know you feel more than a little uncomfortable, but you fit in beautifully. You certainly shine compared to every other woman here.”
She gave him a gracious smile. “Even Grace?”
He curled his arms around her. “I know she’s been eyeing you all night, but she’ll keep her distance.”
“You have history, don’t you?” she declared, looking toward the lush gardens.
“Yes,” he admitted carefully.
“You were lovers once, maybe more?”
He watched her silently for a moment. He nodded. “I almost married the bitch.”
She bowed her head. “I can see that. You look beautiful together.”
“It’s been over ten years since we split, and I told you this morning what beautiful means to me. She needed about ten operations to look that way. God made you who you are.”
“Ten years is a long time. I think she still likes you, so I suppose you did the dumping.”
“She didn’t take it well, no.” He leaned in and kissed her deeply. “I’ll be right back, and then we’re leaving. We’ve put in an appearance. I want to spend the rest of tonight alone with you.” He brushed her cheek with a kiss. “We have some things to talk about.”
* * * *
Moira stood by the balustrade and looked over the beautiful backyard as she had several times that evening. The lush green lawn sprawled for as far as the eye could see, and the air smelled of fresh cut grass. Leafy plants and cactus shared space in mounded gardens that meandered across the landscape, with small stepping-stones woven between them, begging to be followed.
“Moira,” Sandy Fisher said, pulling her attention back to the party. “You’ve been holding out on us.”
Sandy was the wife of another casino owner who she’d met earlier in the evening. Obviously, she was a woman of high standing in the world of Las Vegas with the women who clucked around her, but she had been friendly enough. A couple other women tagged along with her.
“Holding out?” she asked.
“Vince just told me you’re the author of the By Sea and by Earth Prophecies. God, I just loved those books. When’s the last one coming out? My daughters are going to be so thrilled,” she said, looking at her with real excitement.
“Oh.” Moira gave her a quick smile. “Well, it’s almost finished. I have some more drafts to work through, but I suppose it will go to the editorial team in a couple months.”
“Oh, my God, I can’t wait,” a young blonde, who was a friend of Vince’s daughter said, “What happens? Give us a little hint. So many people are theorizing. The elements are all going to come together and we’re finally going to find out what the soldiers were up against in the desert right?”
“Oh, I don’t know if I can say. It would kind of wreck the surprise, wouldn’t it?”
“Oh, come on,” Sandy chided.
“That explains a lot,” she heard from behind her as she turned to see Grace standing behind her.
“Explains a lot?” She didn’t understand.
Grace’s lips curled with a smile that resembled more of a sneer. Disdain cut through her sharp blue eyes. Moira was glad Grace wasn’t holding any sharp objects. The woman looked like she wanted to cut her heart out.
“I couldn’t figure out what Steven was up to, but I understand now.”
She shook her head, not understanding, but her heart had already seized.
“Steven’s been in heavy negotiations to buy your books, Moira. Didn’t he tell you?” She hardly paused. “He wants the film rights to turn it into a blockbuster set of movies. He knows whoever gets them is going to make millions, maybe even set records. I’d heard he was having a hell of time. So he went in the back way as usual.” She laughed sharply. “Oh that guy, he is ruthless when he wants something. He’ll do anything.” Grace rolled her eyes.
Suddenly the guillotine of understanding dropped. A cold blade sliced through the unanswered questions and her heart. The other women stared in silence when they saw the look in her eyes. They shuffled uncomfortably, none of them knowing what to do.
Sandy smiled tightly at her. “Moira, maybe you wouldn’t mind signing a copy of the books if I could get them to your hotel?” she asked.
She nodded sharply. “Sure, Sandy.” She didn’t know what to do, her feet seemed frozen.
“What was that all about?” A woman standing next to Sandy asked, watching Grace slither away to the other side of the patio.
“God, I hate that woman,” Sandy said. “She’s a heartless bitch.” She turned to Moira. “Grace has had revenge on her mind ever since Steven broke off their engagement instead of marrying her and making her a blue-blood of Hollywood.”
“Really?” one of the women said.
Moira listened, but all she could hear was a white hum.
“She stewed for months—years obviously.” Sandy shook her head. “I don’t know Steven all that well, Moira, but I understand what a happy and proud man looks like. I could see it in his eyes when he held you. He really cares for you.” Sandy reached out and grabbed her arm. “It must just burn Grace to ashes to see that. Don’t listen to her, she’s just trying to make trouble.” Across the patio Grace curled herself around George like a snake. “What a bitch.”
“Excuse me,” Moira said. Her throat had gone dry with understanding. Steven had used her, softened her, hoping to sway her to give him the rights. Her chest tightened with hurt. She knew there had to be another reason why Steven had kept coming back to see her. She walked into the house and headed for one of the servants.
“Sir,” she said sharply. She took a breath to calm herself. “Could you please call me a cab?” The sting of tears and the torque in her chest squeezed down like a vice, making it hard to even speak.
“Certainly, madam.”
She didn’t waste any time. She headed straight for the door, intending on walking down the road to intercept the cab.
* * * *
“Moira, where are you going?” Steven called out. With her hand on the door, she turned to look at him. He took a couple steps, but stopped.
“Don’t,” she warned harshly, and raised her hand. “Please don’t.” Her gaze shifted over his shoulder. He turned to see Grace had slid through the door, and stood silently watching them.
He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes squeezing shut. “Just, let me explain.” But the door closing brought his head up. “Oh shit,” he yelled.
“Something wrong?” Grace mewed from behind him.
She looked smugly at him with her hand propped on her luxurious hip, and her forty-thousand-dollar breasts pushing up from her sequined dress. “You’re such a fucking bitch,” he roared at her, his anger hotter than hell itself.
“Darling, what? I didn’t know. I couldn’t figure out what you were doing with someone like that. When the girls said she had written that drivel, then I understood. I’m sorry, I just felt bad for the poor woman. She needed to know you were just using her. It’s only fair,” she purred, taking a few steps toward him.
“Really,” he said. “It’s a good thing George has a lot of money so he can hide that shallow, bitter bitch inside of you.”
“Please, Steven. Look at the woman. As if you would be interested in that. Where did she buy her shoes, Walmart?”
“Fuck you,” he railed at her. “She would look better in rags than you’ll ever look, no matter how expensive those goddamned things are that you wrap yourself in.”
She stopped, staring at him in shock. “Holy shit.” Her defenses fell. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “You actually like her? I don’t believe it.” She shook her head. “A middle-aged, working-class woman from Canada? Have you let your standards slide or what?” Burning anger and resentment spread across her face. “I’m fine wine compared to that woman’s beer-based standard. How could you like her?”
“Like her?” He laughed at her. “I don’t like her—I love her, Grace. I adore her. I respect her. She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved.” He swung around, leaving Grace with that thought, knowing it would burn for a long time and it was the truth. He headed for the door.
He called to Moira as she stepped into the cab, but she closed the door without even looking up. Bolting for his car, he fumbled in his pocket for the keys. He followed the cab for a couple miles. Mostly because he had to calm down and formulate what he was going to say. Moira knew. He could read it in her face. There was no doubt that Grace told her he’d been bidding on her books for months now. He knew Grace would put a spin on it to make it look like that’s all he’d wanted. It was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t care if he ever got the film rights. He raced ahead of the cab and hammered on the brakes.
* * * *
“Don’t stop,” Moira begged the driver as she quickly wiped her tears away.
The door flew open and Steven reached in for
her. “Out of the cab, right now,” he ordered, pulling on her arms. “Go.” He threw some money at the driver.
“Stay, please,” she said. She didn’t think Steven would chase her, but she should have known better. He knew the ruse was over. Now came the final conflict to save his multi-million-dollar plan.
The driver didn’t hesitate. He drove off quickly, leaving them in darkness and red taillights.
She yanked herself from his grip and started walking.
“You’re going to walk all the way back to the strip?” He took two long strides to catch up with her, putting his broadness in her way.
“You just sent my cab down the road. I don’t have a choice, do I?” she said hotly, taking a step to move around him.
He blocked her again and grabbed her shoulders. “Stop, please. Just listen to me, all right?”
She backed up and stared at the ground. She took a shuddering breath. “Steven, I get it.” Her throat clenched with sadness, but there was no way in hell she wanted him to see her weakness.
“No, you don’t. This is what I wanted to tell you in my own time, but that bitch back there knew exactly where to hit me so it would hurt.” He turned away, shoving his hand in his pocket. “I know what it sounds like, I know what it looks like, but I’m telling you it’s not, you’re misunderstanding.”
“You don’t have to explain.” She tried to calm herself, center herself. A storm front of pain rolled over the horizon, and she couldn’t stop it.
“Moira, please, I don’t know what Grace told you—”
“The truth,” she said harshly, cutting him off. “Why?” A horrible, sour, squeezing ache flowed from her heart to her throat. “Why didn’t you just tell me what you wanted instead of…” She flapped her arm in frustration, turning away from him. Used, she’d been used. Anger seethed inside of her. She’d let herself be manipulated. “I didn’t stand a chance against you, did I?”
Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 22
