by Tamie Dearen
“Jiminy Cricket!” She exclaimed so loud the lady in front of her turned her head to look. “You’re right. Why would he do that? He’s so careful with everything he puts in his body.”
“It was always his way of saying what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
“Can’t believe Bran gets drunk.”
“Not drunk,” Jarrett clarified. “Not Bran. He never loses control. His limit is two drinks. Any more than that, and he’d probably be dancing on the tables. He’s got low tolerance, that’s for sure.”
“So what if Branson has a drink or two? What’s the big deal?”
“A couple of drinks, and he’ll be completely relaxed. You won’t have to worry about a panic attack.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Steph gave him her best, you’re-lying-through-your-teeth glare. “I don’t see him purposefully using alcohol to relax. He could’ve taken a prescription anti-anxiety med, and he refused. He doesn’t like drugs of any kind. Says they don’t like him, either.”
As Jarrett chuckled at her comment, Cole dropped into the seat on her other side. “Hey. I’ve come to plead for your forgiveness.”
“What did you do?” Steph whipped around, suddenly realizing her boss hadn’t taken his seat yet. “Where’s Branson? Have you done something to him?”
“Hold on, little lady,” Cole drawled in an exaggerated Texas accent. “Bran’s fine. He’s waiting for Carina to come out of the ladies’ room.”
She sagged in her seat. “Okay. Then what are you apologizing for?”
“Not what, but who. I’m apologizing for Finn.”
“If Finn wants forgiveness, why isn’t he asking for it, himself?”
Jarrett chuckled. “Finn’s a coward. He’s making Cole do his dirty work.”
“That’s true. He’s afraid of you,” Cole agreed, “because you threatened to tear him to little pieces and feed him to the dogs.” His grin was contagious, and Stephanie fought to remain stern.
“I meant what I said, but my threat was tied to whether Finn and you guys push Branson into a full-blown panic attack. My job is to protect my boss. If that means I have to turn someone into dog food, that’s what I’ll do.” She bobbed her chin to punctuate her words, hoping the matter was settled.
“Your commitment runs a bit beyond your job description. You’re so passionate… it’s almost as if you have feelings for him.” Cole lowered his voice as Bran and Carina made their way down the row of seats. “Wouldn’t you say?”
“No, I would not,” she spewed between her gritted teeth as her cheeks grew red hot.
“Whatever.” He waggled his eyebrows, still sporting that irritating grin. “Finn says he’s sorry he accused you of spying.”
Right on cue, Finn appeared at the far end of the row, wearing a sad puppy face, hands folded together in supplication under his chin. Stephanie covered her smile with her hand, and turned her head. “Fine,” she mumbled from the side of her mouth. “Tell Finn he’s forgiven, for now. But he’s on probation, and so are the two of you. One wrong move and…” She stretched her mouth and used her finger to mime slicing her neck, sending Cole and Jarrett into fits of laughter that had the surrounding audience members turning their heads.
Jarrett was the first to control his mirth. “Bran will be fine. We’re on the same side, you know. We all want what’s best for him.”
“Okay.” Her tension melted as she realized, for all their teasing, the guys truly cared about Bran. Surely they wouldn’t push him so far that he got hurt.
“And sometimes,” Cole leaned in to whisper, “we know what’s best for him, better than he does.”
The lights dimmed and the music began to play before Stephanie got a chance to ask him to explain that cryptic statement.
Chapter 9
Branson tapped the device in his ear. He hadn’t heard a peep out of Steph since sometime during lunch. Either it quit working, or she’d turned it off. Whatever the reason, he was irritated. Not that he needed her voice to prevent a panic attack. Truth be told, his anxiety had faded as the day progressed.
He enjoyed the show more than he expected, and was laughing and joking with his buddies as they returned to the limousine. Everyone seemed surprised when Bran suggested stopping at the Bellagio so Carina could watch the famous fountains.
As Bran leaned on the railing, listening to the classical music that accompanied the beginning of the water show, Finn edged beside him. “Stephanie seems captivated by the fountains.”
“Ah. Glad she likes it.” Bran kept his expression neutral, though Steph had been his major motivation for suggesting the show. “I assume Carina’s enjoying herself?”
“Ha! You can’t fool me, Bran. You could care less whether Carina likes it or not. However, I believe you can congratulate yourself for the rapturous expression on Stephanie’s face.”
“Humph,” he grunted, wishing he could see her face for himself. He’d read books describing rapture. Were her lips parted? Were her eyes glazed? Were her pupils dilated?
“I’m thinking you could find other ways to make her look rapturous, and it might be a lot more fun for both of you.”
As Finn let out a hearty chuckle, Bran swung his fist toward his stomach, but only caught the edge of his shirt. His missed punch only prodded Finn to laugh harder. Bran would find a way to get even, eventually. He smiled, remembering the practical jokes he and his buddies had exchanged over the years. Feeling comfortable and relaxed, he considered his friends might’ve been right about the ill effects of shutting himself off from the world.
Bran was even beginning to look forward to the casino event, though he didn’t relish the head-splitting battery of sounds that came with it. He’d tried ear plugs in the past, but then he was totally out of any conversations that took place inside the casino. Hopefully, Stephanie’s microphone trick would be the answer to that dilemma, especially if she stuck close and repeated the bits of dialogue that were drowned out by the commotion.
Though Bran had thought to blow his tournament money quickly and escape upstairs to his suite, a persistent inner voice now enticed him to stay and compete until the bitter end. And part of him wanted Stephanie to see him win.
The limo made slow progress down the strip, in stop-and-go traffic, while Carina’s high-pitched chatter continued, grating on his nerves. Some movie star had married some rock singer, and now they were getting a divorce. Blah, blah, blah.
Fortunately, his fiancée had never been a night owl. He fully expected she’d be asleep by midnight at the latest. Between the lulling vibration of the limousine and sheer boredom at Carina’s monologue, Bran had to fight against sleep, even on the short drive back to the hotel.
“Hey, Bran. Can you hear me?”
At last, Stephanie’s microphone was back on. He smiled and pointed upward with his left thumb in a motion he hoped was discreet enough to escape notice by the others. Steph was sitting somewhere on the opposite side.
“You seem to be fine without my help,” her soft voice continued. “Do you want the microphone off or on when we go into the casino tonight?”
He frowned and gave a thumbs down.
“You want it off?”
He shook his head and mouthed the word on.
“You want it on?”
He reversed his thumb, lifting it up in the air to be certain she understood.
“What are you doing, Bran?” Carina’s elbow jabbed in his ribs. “You’re not even paying attention, are you?”
“Yes, yes. I’m listening.” He quickly folded his hands in his lap.
“Then what was I talking about?” she challenged.
Bran thought hard, in an effort to recall a single word she’d spoken.
“Cancer,” he declared, triumphantly. “You were talking about tumors.”
“Not tumors. Turmeric. It’s supposed to be really good for you.”
“It is,” he confirmed. “It’s anti-inflammatory. Good for your heart. I have it every morning in my egg
s.”
“You never listen to me!” Her voice went shrill and all the other conversations inside the limo paused in the wake of her outburst. “That’s exactly what I said, and you ignored me. I have a master’s degree in finance, but you treat me like a child.”
“I know you’re smart, Carina—”
“You always talk down to me,” she snapped. “And you keep secrets. You’d rather talk to your hick secretary about your business than ask my opinion. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“I thought it would make you feel like my fiancée instead of my personal assistant.” Bran’s jaws clenched with such strength he could barely force the words between his lips. He knew everyone in the limo was listening, but he was beyond caring. After the all-day effort he’d made to give Carina his undivided attention, this is how she repaid him? She was a leech. She demanded so much she sucked all the energy out of him. How had he ever thought their relationship would be a mutually-beneficial business deal?
The limo stopped and the door opened. “Welcome to the Grand Laurencia, where good times are had by all.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bran said, under his breath.
“When will we eat dinner?” Stephanie asked no one in particular, as the group, minus Bran and Carina, rode the elevator back downstairs. She’d had enough time to freshen up and change into a backless cocktail dress. She was prepared to return to her room and change clothes if she had to, though Finn assured her she wouldn’t be overdressed for the event. As if to make a point, the three men were wearing tuxedos, though Cole wore his with cowboy boots. In a moment of jealousy, she wished she had on comfortable boots instead of teetering on five-inch heels, no matter how beautiful her designer sandals were.
“I don’t know what the schedule is,” Cole replied. “Carina kind of threw a wrench in our plans with her conniption fit. If you ask me, Bran should’ve let her stay in her room and pout.”
“Will Branson miss the tournament?” Steph asked.
“No chance,” said Finn. “It lasts until one a.m. and the casino throws a party for us, after that. He’ll merely miss the opening bell, thanks to Carina.”
“A party?” Steph’s already frayed nerves started sparking. She felt like a fraud. She’d never make it through a party with all these ultra-rich people. “I might go to bed by then and let you guys take care of Branson.”
“No way,” Cole piped in. “The ratio of single men to single women is way too high to lose a potential dance partner.”
“Maybe Branson will share Carina with you.” Steph smirked.
“I’d pass on that offer even if Oscar liked dancing,” Jarrett scoffed.
“Oscar?” Steph asked.
“My leg. That’s his name. I also have Flash Gordon, but that’s my sports leg. I call him Gordie.”
“Einstein loves to dance.” Cole lifted his bright green prosthetic arm. “Have to watch him. He sometimes slides down a little too low from the waist. Says it’s because he has no nerve sensation, but I think he’s trying to cop a feel.”
Stephanie suppressed a snort, when Finn jumped in the discussion. “I’ll dance with Stephanie. Cole can have Carina.”
“I don’t want her,” Cole said, in a gruff tone. “I don’t know why Bran wants to marry her, anyway. She’s too controlling, if you ask me.”
Finn started forward as the elevator doors opened, but Cole grabbed his arm and hauled him backwards. “Ladies first.”
Finn offered an elbow instead, and Steph accepted, hoping to steady her rickety feet on their precariously high perches.
“Bran’s got his reasons.” Finn guided her out, turning left, toward the casino.
“Good reasons?” Jarrett asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. But I’m working on a way around it.” Finn’s cryptic reply piqued her curiosity, but she didn’t dare ask.
“Care to share?” Cole inquired.
“It’ll have to wait.”
Steph got the distinct impression she was the reason Finn was waiting.
“I wish they wouldn’t fight.” Steph was being honest. She was a peacemaker at heart and couldn’t stand being around people who were quarrelling. “I’m gonna do my best to help them work things out. That’s one of the reasons I came. I wanted to convince her I’m not a threat.”
“Personally, I’m glad Carina’s in a snit,” said Finn. “She’s playing right into my hand. If everything goes as planned, Branson’s gonna back out of this relationship, soon.”
Steph ought to object, but secretly wanted Finn’s plan to work. She kept her mouth shut.
“You’ve got a plan to break off the engagement?” Cole’s eyes lit up.
“I do. We all have a part to play.” Finn’s lips curved in a special grin, one Steph was beginning to recognize, indicating he had something up his sleeve.
“I’m in.” Cole raised his voice to compete with the casino noise as they drew closer.
“Me, too,” Jarrett confirmed.
“Stephanie has a special role,” Finn added.
She stopped in her tracks. “No way. I don’t want any part in this. I’m here to back my boss. I’m not risking my job to help with your little scheme.”
“Surely you don’t believe Carina’s good for him, do you?” Finn’s hand nestled on her bare skin on the small of her back, nudging her onward.
“My opinion doesn’t matter.” She marched faster, escaping from the unwanted intimacy of his touch, a feat made difficult by her gangly heels. “It’s what Branson wants.”
Finn passed her up, blocking her path, and the other two caught up and flanked him. “What if I told you she’s trying to steal from him?”
“Carina’s stealing from Branson?” Steph felt a sudden impulse to slam her fist into Miss Snobby’s perfect teeth. “Why haven’t you told him?”
“It’s a hunch. I don’t have any proof. That’s where you come in. When you get back, you have to spy on Carina… see what she’s up to.”
Her dampening armpits made her want to flap her arms like a chicken. “I can’t. She hates me, already. If she catches me nosing around, she’ll get me fired.”
Finn’s special grin returned. “Don’t worry about that. If my idea works, it’ll be impossible for him to terminate you.”
Her curiosity overcame her better sense. “What’s your idea?”
“Come on. You wouldn’t want me to spoil the surprise, would you?” Finn scrunched one eye shut in an exaggerated wink. Cole and Jarrett shuffled their feet, as if they didn’t want to confront her.
She crossed her arms and gave all three men a scorching, angry-mom look that would’ve made the average man tremble in his shoes, even if he wore fancy boots like Cole’s. “I don’t like surprises.”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” said Finn. He hooked an imprisoning arm around her shoulder and towed her onward. “This way to check in.”
With all the fees prepaid, a quick ID inspection produced four tournament tags, and four small pouches with twenty chips each.
“Only twenty poker chips?” she wondered aloud. “That won’t last long.”
“Each one of those chips is worth a thousand dollars. Plus, you have twenty thousand more banked on that ID tag,” Cole explained as the group wandered inside.
Frustrated she hadn’t discovered the price of her tournament entry, Steph tried to wheedle the information from Finn, while thanking him, once again, for fronting her entry fee.
“Branson insists he’s paying me back,” Finn replied. “Seems he can’t stand the idea you might be obligated to me in any way. Guess if you want to know the buy-in amount, you’ll have to ask your jealous boyfriend.”
So much blood rushed to her face, she needed to fan herself. “Don’t say things like that. If Carina gets wind of it, she’ll use it against me. Branson Knight is my boss and nothing more. Not my boyfriend. There’s nothing romantic between us, and there never will be.”
Finn’s enigmatic smile never faltered as his arm slid around h
er waist. “That’s good to hear. I’ll give you a chance to prove that tonight. Will you be my date, for real?”
The heat in her face spread down her neck. She searched for a way to escape him without hurting his feelings. “Honestly, I don’t even know how to date, it’s been so long.”
“I doubt that,” he replied in a throaty voice, dipping so close she could smell the spicy musk of his aftershave. It was nice, but sweeter than the one Branson wore.
She tried to sidestep away from him, but his arm held firm, pulling her toward one of the slot machines. He herded her into the chair in front of the machine with flashing lights and a sign that read, “$10,000,000 Payout.” His hands rested on her bare shoulders and feathered a stroke on her neck, sending a rippling shudder down her back.
Great. Now he’ll think I’m attracted to him. Better nip that in the bud.
“I should’ve brought a sweater. I’m gonna run upstairs.” She wriggled free of his hold and slid out of the chair. “Be right back,” she threw over her shoulder.
Ignoring his protests, she walked as fast as her towering sandals would allow, belatedly realizing her stride made her hips move in exaggerated form. When she got on the elevator, she joined a couple dressed in elegant fashion, the woman with a diamond-studded necklace. Of course, Steph had no idea if the jewels were real or fake. The only diamond she’d ever owned was the modest solitaire in her old engagement ring.
“You look beautiful,” Steph complimented. “Does everyone dress up like this to gamble?”
“To gamble? No.” The woman shook her head, with a puzzled smile. “You can wear anything you like to play in the casino. The dress you have on is gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” Stephanie lifted one of her feet and pointed to the five-inch heels. “Thinking about changing into something more comfortable.”
“Whatever you want will be fine,” she confirmed. “Anything goes in Vegas. From blue-jeans to formal wear. Most people are dressed somewhere in between.”
“I just wear whatever my boss tells me to wear.” Her husband nudged her arm with his hand.
