CaddyGirls

by V. K. Sykes

When all the players had declined additional cards, she played the dealer hand, drawing a six on top of the original four, then turning over the ace of diamonds for twenty-one.

  “Shee-it,” moaned Mr. Ballcap.

  She gave him a hint of a smile as she gathered in the cards. “Could be a long night for you, sir, but at this rate I’m not so sure it’ll be a happy one.”

  “Little girl, I’m thinkin’ any night with you would be a happy one. When you gonna be done here?” His leer made the classy-looking brunette at the anchor end of the table choke on her mojito.

  Oh, great. Torrey mentally kicked herself for responding to the guy. He might be past fifty and as attractive as a weather-beaten hitching post, but the dude obviously figured he was Gary Cooper and Brad Pitt rolled into one.

  “Easy, sir.” She forced a tight smile as she stacked the chips in her tray. “Don’t let my pit boss hear that kind of talk.” She glanced over her shoulder at the husky man hovering behind the table one over from hers. One more stupid remark and she’d ask Matt to have a chat with Cowboy Casanova. She knew he would happily throw out—and if necessary punch out—any guy who pushed his luck too far with one of the female dealers.

  That one long glance at Matt, standing with his feet wide apart like a centurion, his dark suit bulging in all the right places, sent heated tingles through her tired body. Memories of his muscular, weightlifter’s body arched over hers jumped unwanted into her brain. Matt had been great fun, but she’d found out the hard way that once he got a girl into his bed, it was all over by morning.

  “Torrey! Deal the cards, girl!”

  She blinked as she realized that Alice, one of the regulars at her table, had caught her in her tiny reverie.

  “Sorry, folks,” she apologized, deftly sliding cards out of the shoe.

  She’d been fighting her flagging concentration all evening. And every time she refilled the shoe, it became harder to force the thought of Monday’s caddying assignment out of her mind.

  Monday, when she would finally meet Julian Grant.

  When she’d emailed her request for a little personal information, she sure hadn’t expected the full biography he’d sent her. Most times she was lucky to get a client’s name, rank and serial number. But not with Grant. Maybe he wanted to impress her. Or maybe he just had a monumental ego. In any case, learning that her new client had founded his own Silicon Valley company and built it into a multi-billion-dollar corporation—all by the age of thirty—had sent an unexpected jolt of excitement rippling through her. When she clicked on the photo image attached to the bio, she’d been even more intrigued.

  Grant had a movie-star face, but not the pretty features of his namesakes Cary or Hugh. His hard, resolute masculinity reminded her of someone tougher, harder edged. He radiated unstoppable determination on top of wickedly handsome, dark-eyed looks.

  Julian Grant had to be a man who made things happen.

  A man who could take a pen from his jacket pocket, write a check, and make all her dreams come true.

  Chapter 2

  As he strolled into Café Bellagio, Julian spotted Brendan on the far side of the room. Like the stereotypical finance guy, Brendan Morris always made sure to be early, whether for a major meeting or for a casual breakfast with his buddies.

  The hostess greeted Julian with a bright smile. “Good morning, Mr. Grant. Glad to have you back with us. Mr. Morris is waiting for you.”

  “Always a pleasure to see you again, Lorena. Yes, I see Brendan there in the corner. I’m sure Michael and Josh will be along soon. Well, Michael anyway. Josh couldn’t be on time if he had Scarlett Johansson waiting for him.”

  Lorena laughed as she led him to the table, where Brendan was poring over the Wall Street Journal.

  “God, this is some tough life, Bren.” Julian scanned the elegant room as he took his seat.

  Brendan peered at him over the top of the paper. “I hear you. This joint is a long way from Curly Joe’s.”

  Julian smiled, but inside he felt that same grinding ache in his gut that flared up every time one of his partners sent him on a walk down memory lane. Eight years ago, he, Brendan, and Colton Kerr had shared an apartment as grad students at MIT. Curly Joe’s, the little greasy spoon near campus, had served as a second home to the cooking-averse roommates. Before the three had even graduated, they had hooked up with Josh Wade and Michael Clark in a shoestring adventure they called OverTheEdge Games. Colton and Josh were among the best of the new, hotshot developers, and the company took off. But just two years later Colton took his baby, “Force of Nature”, and bolted to set up Apollo Software. Colton’s betrayal was a wound that refused to heal.

  Michael’s exuberant entrance, complete with the usual hand-kissing of the hostess, interrupted Julian’s painful flashback. Thirty seconds later, Josh sauntered in. Brendan’s eyebrows arched in surprise, and Michael chuckled. After their arrival at the Bellagio late last evening, Josh had insisted on hitting the nightclubs. Nobody had expected to see him this early.

  The server arrived with two coffee carafes, one decaf and one high octane. As Julian signaled for the real stuff, he glanced at his partners’ expectant faces.

  “So, everybody jacked up about The Canyons today?” His voice was heavy with a knowing sarcasm. His partners were all crazy about The Canyons golf course and had talked about it incessantly for days.

  So much for the trade show.

  “Okay, then, let’s talk about this little wager we all agreed to. Some agreed more enthusiastically than others, of course.” Julian looked directly at Josh. “There are only two rules for this bet, but they’re ironclad, so listen up. First, the caddy you chose from the web site is the one you have to stick with all the way—right through to the last round on Thursday. You can’t decide to go back to the well for somebody else just because you’re getting nowhere with her.”

  “No problem.” Josh said with a grin. “I only need one shot. And I picked the right girl.”

  Brendan made a gagging noise.

  “Second,” Julian went on, ignoring them, “you can’t promise the caddy anything. Nothing. Zero. No money, no job, no car, no jewelry, no glowing reference…nothing. Even more important, don’t put any weird pressure on your caddy or make any dickhead moves. If you do, I will be royally pissed off.” He narrowed his gaze on his merry crew of idiots. “And you know what happens when I get pissed off.”

  The others all groaned, but Julian had no intention of budging on this.

  “Guys, we’re going to trust each other like we always have. But if I catch anybody cheating or treating these women with anything less than genuine courtesy, I’ll kick his ass all the way back to Mountain View.”

  Josh faked an exaggerated shiver of fear.

  “I’m not kidding, Josh.”

  “I know, boss. You make the rules, and we follow them, like always. Hell, it’s not like I need to cheat to win, do I?”

  “Just because you think you’re a world-class stick man doesn’t mean you’re automatically going to win,” Julian countered, ticked off by Josh’s supreme confidence. “You rolled the dice based on a couple of pictures and a two-paragraph bio, just like the rest of us. Maybe you even drew a happily married caddy.”

  “Fat chance. But since when would that make a difference? She looks like she wouldn’t say no to a party. No way is that babe going home to cook hubby dinner.”

  Brendan glowered, clearly annoyed by Josh’s sexist attitude. “I went along with this dumb idea, but now that we’re here, we should rethink it. Betting on which of us can have sex with his rent-a-caddy first—that’s not the right way to decide who gets to golf with Nick Wells. We should make a decision right now. And as far as I’m concerned, you should go, Julian. You’re the CEO.”

  Michael jumped in. “I haven’t changed my mind. This little contest is going to be fun, even if Boy Genius does win.”

  Brendan’s eyes practically popped from his skull as he stared at Michael. “I don’t know why the
hell you’re in this stupid bet. You don’t even like Nick Wells, and you wouldn’t take the trip if we gift-wrapped it with a big pink bow. And I’m damn sure you’re not going to have sex with your caddy!”

  Michael shook his head. “Brendan, Brendan. You really need to get out more. How do you know I won’t sleep with my caddy? She looks like a total cutie. Maybe you haven’t heard the news, but gay men have been known to have sex with women too.” He pointed his index finger at Brendan and made a “bang” sound.

  “Oh, please,” Brendan said with a dramatic sigh.

  Julian repressed the urge to growl. The last thing they needed was to reopen the inane argument they’d had a few days earlier. “I appreciate what you’re saying, Bren, but it’s a done deal now. We all agreed.”

  As far as Julian was concerned, Brendan was right. It was an incredibly juvenile way to make a decision. But Michael had thought Josh’s idea was a hoot, and Brendan—competitive as he always was—had initially, if reluctantly, agreed. And Julian had gone along too. After all, if it took a little craziness to keep his loopy design genius motivated, it was a small price to pay.

  As long as everyone stuck by the rules. He’d make sure hell would rain down if they didn’t.

  “All right,” he said, closing off the discussion, “let’s just try to have fun and not get too bent out of shape about the bet. The guy who wins is off to Scotland, and that’s it.” He took a gulp of his coffee as the other guys waited for him to finish. “But try to behave like gentlemen—and adults, okay?”

  “That lets Josh out,” Brendan needled.

  “Shut up, bean counter.” Josh flipped him the bird.

  “What did I say about acting like adults?” Julian worked to keep his jaw firmly set. “The limo will pick us up at one-fifteen. We’re focusing on the show this morning, right?”

  The other three nodded, looking like a bunch of poorly behaved schoolboys.

  Julian had no doubt Josh would win the bet and the trip. Brendan would probably give it a shot, even though he said now he didn’t like the whole idea. He loved to get up Josh’s nose, and Nick Wells had been his favorite player since he was a teen. But Brendan was way overmatched by Josh in anything to do with women. As for Michael, the only way he’d end up in bed with a woman would be at a pajama party.

  Julian knew he could give Josh a solid run himself if his heart was in it. But it wasn’t. The bet was a dumb idea, and the last thing he needed was the distraction of seducing a caddy into bed. No, he’d come to Vegas to hammer Colton Kerr into a merger. While he hated losing at anything, especially to Josh, there was too much at stake to get distracted by some ridiculous sex game.

  * * *

  Torrey arrived at the course an hour early, first stopping in at the pro shop to pick up a dozen Titleist Pro-V1’s for Julian Grant.

  In the locker room, she did a little double take as she eyed Krista Janssen, Annie O’Malley and another caddy she didn’t know. The women were in various states of undress, changing into their golf outfits. Krista combined a beautiful, narrow face with a trim, model-perfect body. Annie had a devilish smile to go along with her long, flame-red hair and leggy figure. Torrey knew Annie from the Desert Oasis, where she danced part time in the casino revue High Rollers. The third caddy was a short, dark-eyed, dark-haired Latina girl who was a truly stunning beauty.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out the clients had chosen three of the hottest-looking women on the web site. But why then had Julian Grant picked her? These gorgeous ladies were in a different league when it came to sex appeal.

  As she dumped her athletic bag on a bench in front of the lockers, Torrey said hi to Krista and Annie and introduced herself to the girl she hadn’t met, Julieta Rodriguez.

  “You must be our fourth,” Krista said, her perfect eyebrows arching a little.

  “So it seems,” Torrey nodded, trying not to feel defensive. “Two o’clock, four high-tech dudes from California, right?”

  “What’s up with these guys, anyway?” Annie wondered, threading her long ponytail through the back of her Nike ball cap. “Four straight days on the best courses in town? They must be total golf nuts—not to mention loaded.”

  Torrey pulled a pink Nike visor down onto her brow. “They’re loaded, all right. I got on Google to do some research over the weekend. These guys started OverTheEdge Games from scratch right out of MIT. When they took the company public three years ago, the stock went through the roof. The market cap’s up to twenty billion, and they say all the founders are worth close to a billion each.”

  Krista looked confused. “Does all that weird jargon mean these guys are billionaires? I like the sound of that.”

  Torrey repressed a sigh. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “Wow. This is going to be amazing.” Julieta flashed a sly smile. “I’ve never met a dot-com billionaire. We should get the best tips ever.”

  Torrey checked her watch. “It’s quarter to two. We can’t keep the gentlemen waiting.”

  The four caddies walked side-by-side to the practice green. After a few minutes of small talk, Torrey started to wonder why there was still no sign of the clients. Every few seconds she glanced toward the men’s locker room on the far side of the clubhouse. Her anxiety grew as she realized they were going to be late for their scheduled tee time.

  Finally four tall, good-looking men, all apparently in their early thirties, emerged from the locker room. Fully loaded golf bags hung over their shoulders. She recognized Julian right away. The tallest, he led the pack as they approached with long strides. As she studied his lanky but powerful frame, she had the sudden feeling that the front of the pack was exactly where Julian naturally belonged.

  “Ladies, please accept my apologies for our late arrival. It’s inexcusable that we kept you waiting here.” Julian flashed a crooked but charming smile that practically knocked Torrey off her feet. He glanced over at the tee box. “I’m afraid we’d better get right over there. I see the marshal is looking for us. We can do introductions after we tee off.”

  Torrey scrambled to compare the real Julian Grant to the photo he’d emailed last week. That picture had revealed a handsome man whose toughness had leaped off the screen. But seeing him in the flesh, she realized the formal photo hadn’t captured a lighter side of the man—a man whose quirky grin softened his dark features and whose courtly manner probably reduced women to boneless heaps of quivering flesh.

  “Let’s go, Torrey,” he urged softly as he brushed one big hand across the small of her back. She almost jumped out of her skin as the heat of that glancing touch whipped through her, penetrating the most sensitive parts of her body.

  Good Lord, what was that all about?

  She sucked in a deep breath and forced her suddenly weak legs to follow the sexiest man she’d ever met.

  The marshal smiled as the four golfers and their caddies hustled up onto the tee. “Don’t worry about being late. The foursome behind you cancelled. You can take your time,” he said generously.

  “That’s good, but we want to apologize, anyway,” Julian said, offering the man his hand. “There’s no excuse for being late for a tee time.”

  The frowning glance Julian directed at the lanky guy beside him left no doubt in Torrey’s mind as to who had been responsible for their tardiness. The man—who looked too cute for his own good—grinned and raised his palms in silent acknowledgement of his guilt.

  Julian turned back to the caddies, an easy smile replacing his frown. “All right. I’d like to introduce these gentlemen and myself, and thank you for agreeing to caddy for us this week. We know some of you had to rearrange your schedules to accommodate us, and we’re grateful. So, the four of us are from Mountain View, California. Our company is called OverTheEdge Games, and we’re in Vegas for the Software Expo and some great golf. I’m Julian Grant.”

  “Head honcho and chief ball-buster, as if you couldn’t tell already,” the lanky guy piped up.

  Julian’s lips thinned
as he turned to the other man. “And this unfortunate example of stunted maturity is Josh Wade.”

  Josh’s grin widened. “That’s the nicest thing he’s said about me all week.” He shook hands with each of the caddies. When he got to Krista, his eyes raked up and down her body without the slightest hint of embarrassment. Krista responded to his leer with a coy smile.

  O-kay. Torrey forced herself not to roll her eyes. Josh was obviously the dickhead of the group. There was usually one in every foursome.

  Julian turned to the broad-shouldered, black-haired man standing beside Josh. “Next to Josh is Michael Clark.”

  Michael was a five-alarm hottie. He looked utterly gorgeous in lemon-yellow pants with a matching belt and a white cotton golf shirt that was molded to his deeply tanned torso. Julieta clearly couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “A great pleasure to meet you, ladies,” Michael purred, bending at the waist to give the women an extravagant bow before he kissed each of their hands.

  “A true gentleman,” Julieta gushed as she smiled into Michael’s dark bedroom eyes.

  “And last, but certainly not least, is Brendan Morris.” Julian indicated the fourth man, a little stockier than the others, but almost as handsome as Michael.

  “Company bean counter,” Josh jumped in.

  Julian shot him another withering look. “Shut up, Josh, so the ladies can introduce themselves.” He directed his devastating smile at her. “Torrey, would you like to begin?”

  She jerked a bit, suddenly realizing she’d been locked on to Julian like a targeting laser. God, the man was mesmerizing, even when doing something as mundane as introductions.

  And no wonder. He stood at least six-three and packed around two hundred well-toned pounds. His chiseled jaw, though clean shaven, was accentuated by a dark shadow. Combined with wavy black hair, deep brown, heavy-lidded eyes, and sculpted cheekbones, it produced the hard, don’t-mess-with-me look of his photo. Torrey ran her eyes from his broad shoulders to the tanned biceps stretching the fabric of his Nike golf shirt, on down to his powerful hands. His tailored slacks clung perfectly to his lean hips and long legs and screamed money, as did the silver Rolex watch on his left wrist.