How to Lasso a Billionaire

by Katharine Sadler

  Isla frowned. "I'd offer you something to wear, but . . ." She gestured at her long, lean figure. She was a good six inches taller than Bri's five-two stature and nowhere near as curvy. Isla bounced. "I know a great place. Really cheap. We'll find you something fabulous."

  Bri just managed not to groan aloud. She had exactly fifty dollars cash in her wallet and a credit card that was about a hundred dollars away from being maxed out.

  Isla must have seen the worry in her expression. "I'll ask Jude to give you an advance on your salary." She grabbed her phone, but Bri stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  "No. I've got enough for an outfit or two. I can make it work."

  "You shouldn't have to. Jude's the one forcing you to work in the office instead of on the floor. He should front you the money for the necessary wardrobe."

  Isla wasn't wrong, but Bri wouldn't be beholden to that man for anything else. "Let's get me a couple outfits, and I'll ask him for money for more when I see him Monday." Isla would be in the air over the ocean when Bri started her first day, so she never had to know whether or not Bri kept her promise.

  "Okay, but I just have one question."

  "What?" Bri asked, nervous.

  "Cartwheeling care bears?"

  Bri laughed. "I live with a four-year-old, I've had to get creative with the swearing."

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jude stalked into his temporary home, a small room in his casino, and threw his keys so hard they bounced off the far wall and clattered to the floor. He growled, annoyed with himself. Even from across the room he could see that the keys had chipped the dry wall and left a dark mark. Something else he'd have to fix.

  Ten minutes.

  Ten minutes breathing the same air as Brianne Mason and he'd lost his mind, lost his ability to think, lost his ability to suck in a full breath.

  He sat on the couch and dropped his head in his hands. What had he been thinking offering her a job? She was even more beautiful than she'd been five years ago. Her thick, shiny hair hung long now, and he'd wondered how it would feel between his fingers, wrapped around his fist as he pulled her close. Her eyes had jolted him free of those thoughts. Eyes that had once looked at him with kindness, respect, and fondness now looked at him with hate.

  She hated him?

  He ought to be furious. After what her brother had done to him, after all Max had taken from him, how dare Brianne look at him with such hate and disdain? But he hadn't been angry, he'd been hurt. There had been a time when he'd thought . . . No, he'd known with absolute certainty that Brianne was the woman for him. She'd been twenty, in her junior year of college, and he and Max had just been getting their business off the ground.

  He'd always considered Brianne a good friend, maybe even a better friend than Max. She'd been the one he'd called when he'd had a bad day or when he needed a laugh, but they'd been growing apart for the better part of three years, with him trying to build a business and her working hard in college. He'd missed her, so he'd gone out of his way to see her when he'd visited his family and Isla five Christmases ago.

  He'd knocked on her door, and when she'd stepped outside and wrapped her arms around him, something had shifted deep in his core. He'd no longer been able to pretend that she was just a friend. The realization had terrified and excited him. It had felt so right, like those feelings he had for her had been there all along and he'd been pushing them down, just as he'd pushed down his lust for her the first time he'd seen her in a bikini the summer after his sophomore year in high school. He'd had no clue how she'd felt about him, but he'd never been one to hold back when he'd decided he wanted something. He'd had nothing to offer her, but he'd wanted her, not just so he could run his hands over her curves and taste her sweet lips, he'd wanted to wake up next to her every day, to share his life with her.

  He'd been a fool. At the time, he'd also believed Max was his best friend, his brother in every way except blood. And then, Max had betrayed him.

  Jude had called Brianne after everything had crumbled, and she'd asked him never to call her again. He'd been furious and broken, and he'd done what she'd asked. He hadn't called her, hadn't texted, hadn't even asked Isla about her or been back to Towle in more than five years.

  He'd convinced himself he was over her, that his plan for a future with her had been the silly fantasy of a stupid kid, but he'd stepped into Isla's apartment and, even before he'd realized who she was, he'd felt drawn to her.

  The very idea of her working in his casino, free to come and go as though she were any other employee, made all his defenses go on red alert. She couldn't be trusted any more than her brother could. No, he needed her close to him, where he could watch her, where she'd work from a computer he could monitor and a phone he could track.

  If he wanted to ignore that the very idea of her dressing in a skimpy uniform and waiting on clients on his casino floor scared the crap out of him and sent his long-dormant jealousy into a tailspin, well that was his right. Unless life in whatever city she'd been living in had changed her, she was in no way prepared for the kind of depravity that lurked in the darkest corners of a city like Las Vegas. And the very idea that she might work for another casino, for one of the degenerates Isla had mentioned, or at a strip club . . . He'd known Isla had been goading him, but it didn't matter. He couldn't take a chance that Brianne might be hurt, might even be spoken to harshly.

  She despised him, but for what? For being the idiot who'd trusted her brother? Or maybe she hated that he'd stepped into Isla's apartment and upended whatever plan she'd had to take more from him. Money made people crazy. It had changed Max, and it could very well have changed Brianne, once she'd gotten a taste of it. She very likely believed she deserved more money from him, that he owed her, and she'd take what he wouldn't give.

  He wouldn't be made a fool by another Mason. She'd be working by his side every day for the next six weeks. And he would ignore the heat he felt when he looked at her, ignore the want, ignore the fact that the idea of her walking around in the skimpy cocktail server's outfit, her curves on display for anyone to see, made him want to punch something. The thought of men leering at her, of men laying hands on her . . . His vision went red. If anyone was going to touch her it was going to be . . . Not him, he admitted with a groan. He'd seen to that by making her his employee in the most direct sense. He'd train her and he'd keep his hands off her and, at the end of six weeks, he'd pay her and send her on her way. He wouldn't think about why she needed the money or why she hated him so much. He wouldn't think of her lush curves, those full breasts that strained her threadbare t-shirt, those full, red lips perfect for whispering the dirtiest of thoughts.

  No. He wouldn't go there with her. He wouldn't risk his career or his heart.

  He crossed one leg over the other and pulled out his phone. Raymond answered on the third ring. "I'm sorry to bother you after hours," Jude said to his administrative assistant, a man who kept Jude's life running smoothly and kept him sane on the worst days.

  "It's not a problem, Mr. Cassidy. How can I help you?"

  "How would you feel about a six-week paid vacation? Maybe an early honeymoon for you and Broderick?"

  The silence on the other end of the phone stretched too long, but Jude didn't fill the space with unnecessary words. He'd said what needed to be said. He'd wait.

  "Has something happened? Has there been a problem with my work?"

  "No," Jude said without hesitation. "Your work has been beyond satisfactory. I'll pay your full salary for the entire six weeks." Out of his own pocket, since he couldn't blame this mess on anyone but himself.

  "That's very kind," Raymond said. "But . . . I mean this in the nicest possible way, sir, but how will you survive without me for six weeks?"

  Jude hadn't wanted to give Raymond more details than absolutely necessary. He wasn't friends or confidants with his employees, but Vegas was a small world, and Raymond was sure to hear that someone else was doing his job. Jude couldn't risk offending the best
assistant he'd ever had. "An old friend is in town and she needs a job. I'm going to train her to do yours. She'll go back home at the end of six weeks."

  Again, a long, hollow silence filled the phone. "You're going to . . ." Raymond coughed, but it sounded like he might be choking on something. "Let me see if I understand. You own a casino, sir, but an old friend comes into town and you offer her my job? She could have had any job in the building."

  "I want her to work with me." He didn't feel the need to explain himself farther, probably because he barely understood his own reasoning. "If you'd rather not have the paid vacation, I'm sure I can find another job for you in the interim. Didn't you express an interest in marketing?"

  "Sir. If you don't mind, may I suggest an alternate solution?"

  Jude almost shouted with relief. "I'd be grateful to hear what you have to say."

  "Thank you, sir." He could hear the smile in Raymond's voice. Raymond didn't speak so formally in his after-work hours, Jude had heard enough of his personal calls to know that, and he appreciated his assistant being so professional. "I would suggest that I stay on for a week to train the young lady. We can tell her I'm in the process of transitioning to another department. I can spend two weeks in marketing, and then take a three-week paid vacation. How does that sound?"

  Irrationally, Jude had hoped Raymond might have a solution that involved paying Brianne to stay locked in Isla's apartment for the next six weeks, but there were, unfortunately, laws against such measures. "That would be a satisfactory arrangement. I appreciate the suggestion."

  "Great. Is she starting tomorrow?"

  "I'm meeting her at the covered wagon at seven forty-five Monday morning."

  "Might I suggest I meet her?" Raymond asked. "I can show her where to get your coffee and give her a tour of the offices. You have several meetings scheduled in the morning."

  Relief washed through Jude. A reprieve. Raymond deserved a raise. "Of course. Thank you, Raymond."

  "Always happy to help, sir." Jude thought he detected something like glee in Raymond's voice, but the other man hung up before Jude could be certain.

  He tossed the phone onto the coffee table and stood. He needed to get out of his place and burn off some steam, get back to the Zen world he normally inhabited. After changing into workout clothes, he made his way to the parking garage. There was a gym in the casino, but it was often busy and he hated to take equipment from paying customers. His house, currently under construction, would have a home gym, but for now he drove ten miles from the strip to a locally owned, old-school gym.

  He left his phone and his wallet in the car and stepped into the cool night, the rich scents of the desert overwhelmed the smell of traffic and cooling asphalt.

  Behind the gym was a make-shift dirt track that had been cut into a stretch of vacant lots. He sucked in a deep breath and began to run.

  No music, no distraction beyond the pounding of his feet and the beat of his heart. He ran harder and faster until he'd outrun his thoughts, outrun his worries, outrun his desire for a woman he could never have.

  Once he'd reached the five-mile goal he set for himself every time he stepped onto that make-shift track, he stopped, sucking wind, his legs shaky, but his mind in the right place, endorphins pumping him full of good feelings.

  He straightened and headed inside. On any other night, he'd have checked his phone to make sure everything was cool at the casino, to make sure no emergencies had come up, but he needed to pretend for a little bit longer that no one depended on him or expected anything of him.

  He worked out, speaking to no one, getting lost in the cadence of reps and pain, breaking down muscle so it could grow stronger. As he left, he spoke only to the owner, Horace, but Horace could always tell when Jude didn't want to talk and said nothing to him beyond a wish for a good evening.

  Jude stepped back into the parking lot and wished he could have made his work out last longer, wished he could avoid his life for another hour. Unfortunately, his arms shook from exertion and his gut grumbled for food. Bodily needs outweighed his wishes.

  His phone vibrated, after he'd lifted it from the console and powered it on, letting him know at least one person had wished to get in touch with him.

  Three missed texts, all of them from casino managers, none of them with pressing issues. Nothing to distract him from himself or his thoughts. He answered the texts and went home.

  After a room service dinner and an hour more of work, he got into bed, determined to sleep and dream of no one, but his cock had other ideas and, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Brianne's face, saw those perfect breasts straining against her t-shirt, saw her thick hair wrapped around his hand as he thrust into her. He threw off the covers, wrapped his hand around his throbbing cock and worked himself to a shouting orgasm, thinking of being inside her, thinking of the sounds she'd make when he touched her.

  He lay panting in bed, alone and spent, and acknowledged that he was well and truly fucked.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Bri's heart raced as she stepped into Jude's casino for the first time. Hole in the Wall Casino, a place she'd once promised herself she'd never visit. Inside, like every other casino, was absolute chaos. She couldn't help but smile at the bright lights, the sound of the slot machines, the music. Before Isla left, she'd made sure they visited a few of the casinos on the strip. To Bri's complete shock, she loved casinos. She loved Vegas. She loved the nonstop action and excitement, the colors and sounds and happy, drunk tourists. The city was alive. She'd never been a gambler, but she was a life-long lover of people watching and if there was a better place for that than Vegas, she'd never been there.

  Jude's casino had a wild west theme, hence the cowgirl costume she'd never have to wear and the name of the casino. Hole in the Wall was the name of an outlaw hideout in Wyoming and also the name of an outlaw gang, of which Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid were members. She knew that because Jude and Max had shared an obsession with the wild west and had called themselves Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid well past the age most kids play at cowboy and outlaw. As different as the two of them were, they had shared a dream of someday opening a wild west casino. In the end, Jude had taken that dream from Max along with everything else.

  Instead of a cowgirl uniform, Bri wore cheap khakis and a button-down blouse in an unassuming, and therefore cheaper, shade of gray. She wouldn't win any fashion awards, but she'd look presentable. The air conditioning gave her a chill after the heat of the Vegas summer she'd walked three blocks through from Isla's place, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

  Cowboys roamed the casino floor, and the shops and restaurants looked like wild west buildings, wooden and dusty. As she made her way to the covered wagon just inside the cavernous lobby, she remembered the dream she'd had the night before. Jude had been there, wearing a gold star on his jacket and looking damn good in a cowboy hat. She'd been in a saloon, having a good time, when he'd walked in and . . . she stopped walking for a moment, trying to remember her dream. Needing to remember her dream, or maybe just needing to put off facing Jude a bit longer. He'd walked in and she'd . . . she'd made a run for it, but he'd caught her. He'd called her a criminal and cuffed her. She started walking again. That made sense, he was so uptight and such a rule-follower, of course he'd be the sheriff, accusing her of a crime she didn't commit.

  He'd taken her to the jail and then he'd shoved her into a cell, but he hadn't taken the cuffs off. No. He'd stepped into the cell with her and he'd pressed his long, hard body against hers. She'd been helpless to do anything when he'd kissed his way down her neck and . . . She stopped again, causing a tourist behind her to curse. Dithering dandelions. She'd liked his kisses. Controlling, uptight, pushy Jude had morphed from annoying and hateful to just about the sexiest damn thing she'd ever seen. Even now, standing in the middle of the casino, the dream coming back to her, heat traveled from her cheeks lower, making her want . . . Making her want to run away as fast as she could.

&n
bsp; She turned. She didn't need this job. She'd find another way to make money for Addy, she'd . . . Dancing daisies. She was an adult. So, she had a sexy dream about her nemesis boss. It didn't mean anything. It was just her subconscious struggling with anxiety about her new job. She spun back toward the wagon with only one thought. Addy. She would face Jude and she would survive this job for Addy.

  She didn't see Jude by the wagon, and she sighed with relief. She needed all the time she could get to pretend he didn't affect her in any way at all.

  Her relief lasted about three seconds before she realized the absence of Jude just meant more time to stress over the eventual presence of Jude. She patted the fake horse attached to the wagon and leaned against it. It was so soft. Like a giant teddy bear.

  The fake horse snorted and stamped his foot. She shrieked and jumped away from it like someone had just declared the floor was lava.

  "Please stay away from the horse," an elderly man in chaps and a cowboy hat said in a sharp tone. "If you're taking the tour, get into the back of the wagon."

  "Uh, no. I'm --"

  "Actually, that's a great idea." A man linked his arm through hers and grinned. "You really should familiarize yourself with the casino if you're going to be working for Jude."

  She blinked. Was she still asleep? Was this whole morning a weird dream extension? "Um, I . . . Who? . . .What is--"