His fingers tightened on hers. “You heard the lady. I guess we’re headed home to Las Vegas.”
CHAPTER TEN
GRACE HIGHLY RECOMMENDED flying by private luxury jet. The one they traveled on had a seating area—better than the normal first class—a living room area, with a big-screen TV and wet bar, and a bedroom area. Both bathrooms had small showers. The appointments were luxurious, the seating comfortable.
The flight took less than two hours. And then she and the three men were in a limousine headed for the Las Vegas Pinnacle Hotel, the showpiece of the Pinnacle properties.
Her jaw dropped as she walked hand in hand through the lobby with Jackson. Just like San Francisco the hotel followed the theme of the game, but to a much larger degree. She felt as if she’d walked into a city wrestled from the desolation of the apocalypse and jazzed up as only Vegas could do.
“This is too cool.” Jackson leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I want to shake these guys and explore.”
Jethro and Clay walked ahead of them, leading them to the elevators.
“I want to shake these guys and talk.” She held up their joined hands and nodded to them significantly. They hadn’t been alone since breakfast. His executives joined them in the suite while they packed up and then they’d been on the road.
“We will,” he assured her.
Clay walked past the bank of hotel elevators, turned right and pushed through a door marked Private. Down a short hall was a bank of service elevators. He stopped in front of the first one and used a keycard to activate the call button.
“I called ahead and requested a new set of keys for you. Since you lost your wallet, we recoded all the locks just to be on the safe side. Sierra will have yours upstairs.” The elevator arrived and he used the keycard again to access the penthouse level.
“So Jackson has a secret elevator?” Grace asked. “How covert.”
Clay looked down his nose at her. “It’s a matter of security.”
“Because of the woman who stabbed him?”
He lifted a dark eyebrow, showing his surprise that Jackson had confided in her about the attack. “She’s a good example of why precautions are necessary.”
“Ms. Delaney,” Jethro cut in. “Once we reach the penthouse, Jackson’s associate will escort you to your room. We have to catch him up on business matters.”
“She’ll be staying with me,” Jackson declared.
Shock rolled across Jethro’s face. He sent a questioning glance Clay’s way. Trained to show no emotion, Clay masked his reaction. Their surprise was quite telling. Obviously Jackson didn’t normally allow his companions to stay with him in his suite. He really did hold himself apart.
No wonder the two men didn’t know what to make of her. She didn’t fit in his world and he wasn’t acting himself. Tension tightened through her shoulders. All her arguments against putting on a false romantic front just took a hit. If they wanted to avoid suspicion, Jackson’s pretense of a relationship was their best bet.
People did crazy things when they were in love. His uncharacteristic behavior would make his staff all the more suspicious of her, which gave them the added bonus of switching their focus from Jackson to her.
Uh-huh. Just because it was a brilliant strategy didn’t mean she’d let him get away with launching it without talking to her first.
The hotel suite matched the owner’s suite in San Francisco. She imagined in everyday life the familiarity gave Jackson a false sense of homecoming. In these unusual circumstances, it helped with his charade.
She led the way into the living room and a spectacular view of the Las Vegas strip opened up before her. The hotel rooms resembled each other, but the views were singular. No pretending you were in the same place when the view was on display.
Then again, a push of a button could fix that problem.
A slim blonde in a chic navy dress and an older gentleman, round in the middle and bald on top, waited in the living room. Jethro took care of introductions.
“Grace, this is Sierra Ross, Jackson’s personal assistant. And Dr. Wilcox, his personal physician. Sierra, Doctor, this is Jackson’s new friend, Grace Delaney.”
“Hello.” To cover Jackson’s sudden tension, Grace broke away to shake hands. “Dr. Wilcox, I’m glad to see you, though I’m sure you know Jackson isn’t.”
The man laughed and patted her hand before releasing it. “Oh, I’m aware I’m not his favorite person. A necessary evil at best. But he sends me a stellar bottle of brandy for Christmas every year, so it’s a trade-off.”
“Don’t be upset, Jackson.” Sierra brought her brooding boss into the conversation. “Clay mentioned you had a concussion and that Grace recommended you see Dr. Wilcox. I thought it best to bring him here.”
“It’s fine.” Jackson strolled forward and held out his hand. “Thank you for coming, Doc. Do you mind if we get this over with?”
“No problem.” The doctor patted his arm after shaking hands. “Shall we go to your room?”
“That works.” Jackson came to her. “You’ll be all right on your own?” He kissed her on the temple. Up close his displeasure seared her. He whispered, “When I’m done, we need to talk.”
“Yes, we do.” She lovingly ran her hand down his chest while talking through gritted teeth. “Do yourself a favor, be frank with the doctor. You might be surprised at how he can help you.”
“Do you want to come with me?”
“No. You’re a big boy. And I agree with your first instinct. These guys would find it odd if I joined you. It’s obvious you don’t let women get too close.”
“Yeah, well, the last one I dated stabbed me. And come to think of it, you’re probably armed.”
She didn’t respond and his eyes went wide.
“You are armed, aren’t you?”
“Shh. Not at this moment. But yes, I own a gun. If your man hasn’t confiscated it.”
“I should have known.” Anxiety clouded his gaze. “I’m supposed to be a genius, and it doesn’t occur to me that a woman who is ex-military, ex-sheriff would carry a gun.”
“It’s the concussion.” She brushed the hair from his eyes, watched heat push back the anxiety. “Talk to the doctor. Let him help you.”
He sighed. “Okay. But it’s going to cost you.” And he kissed her. In front of everyone. His mouth covered hers in a soft claiming. It lasted only a moment. A hot, sensual moment that stole her breath and had her hooking an arm around his neck to get closer, to extend the caress that ended way too soon.
No, the kiss didn’t last long, but the power of it reached all the way to her tingling toes. She slowly opened her eyes to find him smiling down at her.
“These guys are smart. It has to look real to fool them.”
Grace sank back on her heels. “Oh, your strategy is working. All too well.” Best she remember it was all for show. “Go away now.”
He left with the doctor and she found herself alone with his cohorts. Pretending a confidence she only half felt, she chose a chair and sat.
“Would you care for some coffee?” Sierra rose from the futuristic sofa as she made her way to the bar where a carafe and cups were situated. “I must say I’ve never seen Jackson so attentive.”
Before Grace could respond to the leading comment, the suite door opened and a man walked in. Sweet merciful angels, he was gorgeous. Of mixed heritage, he had light brown skin and dreamy gold eyes. He wore his black hair skull close.
“Sorry I’m late.” He stopped in front of her. “You must be Grace.”
His eyes weren’t so dreamy now. They raked over her, assessing every little detail. Jackson’s chief counsel made no secret he questioned her presence here.
“And you must be Ryan. Nice to meet you.”
“Really? Has Jackson told you a lot about me?” He spread his arms wide, asking, “About us? We can’t say the same about you.”
“Oh. Well, our relationship is still very new.” She gave a half shrug. “Don’t
blame him. He’s not totally himself at the moment.”
“Exactly.” Jethro jumped on her response. “So you can understand our concern that he’s taken up with a stranger.”
“I would think you’d be happy he had someone to help him in a moment of dire need. Or is your concern only of a professional nature? Is Jackson simply your boss, or do any of you look on him as a friend?”
The room bristled with hostility.
Clay surged to his feet. “We’ve been a team for ten years. You have no right to question our loyalty to him.”
She relaxed as the others nodded, confirming his impassioned declaration. “Good. Then we all have Jackson’s best interests at heart.”
“Do we?”
“Ryan, gentlemen, why don’t you all have a seat?” Sierra suggested as she poured two cups of coffee—one black, one with two sugars. “And Grace can tell us more about herself.”
The men sat, all of them perching on the edge of their chosen seat. All focused their attention on her.
Great. She’d always longed to have the undivided attention of three of the most powerful men in corporate America.
Not.
Yet here she was. Nothing for her to do but bluster her way through it.
“You mean in addition to what you’ve all read in the report Clay had done before we ever touched ground in Las Vegas?” She met each person’s gaze straight on. She had nothing to hide. The secrets were Jackson’s, not hers. “I think you all have a fair idea of who I am.”
Sierra joined them in the living area. She handed one cup of coffee to Ryan and kept the other.
“You grew up a navy brat. Speak four foreign languages—French, German, Italian and Japanese.”
“Are they really foreign if you live there?” she asked rhetorically.
“Joined the navy at the age of seventeen with your father’s permission. Your military record is clean. You received several commendations and were accelerating well through the ranks until you quit to care for your ailing father, a retired Senior Chief Petty Officer.” Jethro ran through her history as if reading a list. Probably because he had. “Finished your father’s term as sheriff in Woodpark when he passed. Ran for sheriff yourself but lost.”
“Why is that, Grace?” Clay demanded. “What did you do to upset the good citizens of Woodpark?”
Being it was a question she’d asked herself more than once, the query threw Grace as her confidence took a hit. He knew right where to strike to make her question herself. But she quickly regrouped. She’d done her best for the people of Woodpark. It wasn’t her skills that had been in question.
Now she inhaled a deep breath, fought back her insecurities and projected a calm she didn’t feel to attempt to put them at ease.
“I did my job.” The point wasn’t to sell herself to them, but to let them know she wasn’t a threat to Jackson. She crossed her legs. “But that’s not what you really care about is it? What you really want to know is what my intentions are regarding your boss. The answer is I have none.”
“None.” Ryan infused the word with skepticism.
“None,” she confirmed. She ran a finger down the crease in her jeans. “Look, we met under unusual circumstances, which caused us to bond quickly. At first I didn’t know who he really was. He needed help and I was happy to put Woodpark in my rearview mirror. Bottom line, we all agree he’s not his usual self. I don’t expect our relationship to last past his full recovery. But it’s not every day a girl gets romanced by a billionaire. I’m just enjoying the time we have together.”
She knew immediately it was the right note to strike. The men looked at each other and relaxed back in their seats.
“He has a lot of money.” Jethro stated the obvious.
“He does.” She left it at that. She had no designs on Jackson’s money, but the more she tried to convince this group of that fact, the less credible she’d sound.
“A lot of women lose sight of the man for the money.” Clay observed.
“I knew the man first, his money doesn’t interest me. But the trappings are fun. I’ve never flown in a private jet before.”
“So we all agree this will be a short-lived affair.”
“No.” A deep voice stated from the archway near the foyer. Jackson stood there. “We are not in agreement. My relationship with Grace is none of your business. I’ll thank you all to stay out of it.”
“Jackson,” Sierra sought to appease him, saying, “we’re only looking out for you.”
By the jut of his chin she’d failed. “I don’t need you to look out for me. Grace is the last person I, or you, need to worry about. My money is safe from her. Grace.” He held out his hand to her, a demand to join him.
She made her way to his side, took his hand. “Don’t overreact,” she warned him.
“I won’t let them intimidate you.”
“I can handle myself. These are the people you rely on daily, who will be here for you long after I’m gone from your life.”
“You’re the one I know. The one who is here for me now. I won’t let them hurt you.”
“They haven’t.” Only he had the power to do that.
But that was her problem.
The fact she loved him changed nothing. Yes, having him take her side reinforced that feeling, but as far as this group was concerned their relationship didn’t go beyond a fun time. Couldn’t go beyond that. She was enjoying their time together, and that was all there could ever be between them.
“Hmm.” His gaze flicked to his associates, skepticism clear in the green depths. Had he heard more than she thought? A hand in the small of her back urged her through the archway. “Let’s go.”
“Jackson,” Ryan hailed him. “Are you leaving? I wanted to get with you.”
“Later. I need to take my lady shopping.”
Shopping? Grace hid an inner grimace. She just got this crew on her side and he probably wiped all her hard work out with that one statement. Not to mention, shopping for what?
“I’m not letting you buy me another thing,” she muttered for his ears only.
On the other side of him Ryan said, “I thought you’d want to catch up on what we’ve done while you’ve been gone.”
“Jethro indicated everything was under control.” Jackson threaded his fingers through hers. “After what I overheard, I need to spend the next few hours showing Grace I want her here.” Jackson released Grace to walk over and hand Sierra his phone. “I lost my old phone in the accident. Can you update all my contacts and then send me the itinerary for the foundation gala?”
“Uh, sure.” Sierra looked shell-shocked. As did the men, to a lesser degree.
Jackson came back and reclaimed her hand. As he led her through the archway, he tossed a final comment over his shoulder. “Grace’s number is in there. If anyone needs me they can call her number.”
* * *
Fury fueled Jackson’s pace into the elevator and then to the front desk.
“Good afternoon, sir.” A young man dressed in the dark blue-and-black hotel colors greeted him.
“Do you know who I am?” Jackson demanded.
The young man’s eyes widened as if he’d been presented with a sudden pop quiz. He cleared his throat. “Of course, Mr. Hawke. It’s good to have you back with us.”
Jackson nodded. “I’d like two keys to the penthouse suite.” He drew Grace forward. “This is my guest, Grace Delaney. She is to be treated with respect. Anything she asks for is to be charged to me.”
“Of course. Welcome, Ms. Delaney.”
“Thank you.” Next to Jackson, Grace tensed. She twisted her hand in his seeking freedom.
He held on. He always held on.
“You need to calm down,” she murmured softly when the clerk looked away to deal with the keys.
“I’m fine.” He seethed with indignation on her behalf. She’d done nothing but help him and those self-satisfied blowhards upstairs treated her like a money-grubbing groupie.
�
�No, I’m fine,” she argued. “You are overreacting.”
“Don’t tell me how to feel.” Pain spiked as the high emotions sent the blood pounding through his head. He didn’t care. Bring on the hurt. He wouldn’t allow Grace to be disrespected. His so-called entourage better get behind the notion real quick or they’d be looking for new jobs real soon.
“Here you go, Mr. Hawke. Is there anything more I can help you with?”
“Thank you, no.” With keys in one hand, her hand in the other, he headed back to the elevator and the shops down below but changed his mind halfway there and went for the front door instead. He’d had enough of this fishbowl.
A valet immediately appeared. “Hello, do you have a ticket?”
“No.” But Jackson automatically patted his pocket, which reminded him he held the keys. He dropped one in his pocket and handed the other to Grace. “Just bring something around,” he said.
“Excuse me, sir,” The valet, a man in his late twenties with sideburns and a goatee, protested. “You need a ticket. Or would you like a taxi?”
Great. Just when he counted on his identity to work for him, he gets the one valet who doesn’t know who he is.
“Mr. Hawke.” The concierge bustled up. His name tag read R. Schultz. “I have this, Pete. What can we do for you, sir?”
Finally. “I have vehicles here, right?”
“Yes, sir.” The robust man took the question in stride. “You have six vehicles housed here in a private section of the garage.”
Six? Jackson figured he had something besides a motorcycle, but six? What did he do with six vehicles? Never mind, he didn’t even want to think about that.
He nodded for the concierge’s benefit. “Have something brought around, would you?”
“No preference, sir? Perhaps the Ferrari or the Hummer?”
“Something simple, please,” Grace spoke up. “Mr. Hawke isn’t feeling himself this afternoon.”
Jackson’s neck twitched. He dropped Grace’s hand. He didn’t care to have his condition advertised to the world. Something he’d let her know once they were alone.
His Unforgettable Fiancée Page 13
