by Michele Hauf
“You sound like an old time cereal commercial we studied in my media classes at college.”
So, she’d been to college. He lifted his glass. “Here’s to a wonderful day.”
He watched her wage an internal war, her face an expressive canvas of all her emotions. Finally, she raised her glass, clinking his.
“To a wonderful day.” She sipped the orange drink slowly, and her expressive golden eyes widened. “This is good! I’ve had one of these before, but it didn’t taste like this.”
“I told you. Nothing but the best. Now, what would you like to eat?”
She ordered eggs, sunny side up, a double order of bacon, home fries, and an English muffin instead of toast. “And can I have another one of these?”
“I’ll have the same and bring a pitcher of mimosas.”
The waiter moved away, and Sam topped off her coffee. He watched Cleo look around the room with interest at the few patrons who’d made it to breakfast. She avoided making eye contact with any of the men and looked curiously at a couple of underdressed ladies who probably made their living on their back. A strange look crossed her face.
“What are you thinking? You look so sad all of a sudden.”
She returned her attention to him.
“Nothing really. I was just thinking how differently this weekend has turned out to be.”
“And that makes you sad?”
“No. Knowing it’ll soon be over does.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Cleo lifted her mimosa and took a drink of the delicious champagne and freshly squeezed orange juice rather than comment on Sam’s statement. If things were different, they might have a future, but as they stood now, this was a forty-eight hour fling. Their real lives were light years apart: she was a school teacher, and he was an entertainer who had beautiful women throwing themselves and their money at him six out of seven nights a week. As Mitch had said, this was her chance to grab the brass ring, if only for a few hours. Today was all about self-indulgence, something she rarely allowed herself, and memories—the kind she’d carry in her heart forever.
There was no way she could deny she was attracted to Sam. She’d been intrigued the first time she’d laid eyes on him, and now, up close in the brightly lit restaurant, he was without a doubt the most enticing man she’d ever seen. Every woman would want a chance to feast on him, and the fact that he wanted to spend time with her was like winning the lottery.
Today, he was dressed casually, and like the suit he’d worn on Thursday night, everything looked tailor-made. He wore a beige shirt, probably made of silk or some space-age wicking fabric that resembled it. The short sleeves molded the hard muscles of his upper arms. His lower arms were covered with a light dusting of fine, brown hair, and similar hair extended above the open second button of his shirt. She imagined he had a thin mat of hair on his chest—not a lot, just enough to make him look sexy. She’d thought most of the entertainers shaved their body hair, but maybe seasoned performers like Sam got to keep theirs. It might be a perk like having summers off and not having to pose for the calendar.
His dark brown hair was streaked with gold from the summer sun. It was a touch long and curled where it met his collar. It gave him a rakish look that promised fun and excitement. His deep chocolate, Johnny Depp eyes watched her so intently it was as if he were trying to memorize every inch of her. He had a large nose, not a bulbous one, and she couldn’t imagine any other would suit his face as well as this one did. He’d shaved, and without the gray makeup, she could see a couple of tiny scars on the side of his chin—childhood falls off his bike perhaps. She loved the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he laughed. His face wasn’t effeminate, but everything about it was proportioned and perfect—no unibrow there. He smiled at her, and the dimple in his chin was more pronounced. He was the only man in the room worth looking at, and for today, he was all hers.
She realized he was probably waiting for her to comment on what he’d said, but that was conversational quicksand. She took another sip of her mimosa. “We don’t always get what we want in life. Some things are out of our control. Let’s enjoy the time we have, and let the future take care of itself.”
He looked as if he was about to argue with her, but the waiter approached and placed their food down on the table in front of them. The eggs were done to perfection, the bacon crisp the way she liked it, and the home fries golden brown. As requested, her English muffin was lightly toasted.
“This looks delicious.”
She tucked into her food with her usual gusto. They ate in silence, and he seemed to enjoy his breakfast as much as she did hers, but Cleo found the lack of conversation disconcerting. It was like eating at home with her dad. What had Mitch said? Men liked to talk about themselves and their interest. The last thing she wanted to ask about right now was his job and his extra-curricular activities. They’d exhausted the topic of sci-fi last night—at least as far as she was concerned—so that left their plans for the next few hours.
“Where are we going today?” she asked as she set her fork down and reached for her mimosa—was this her second or her third? She really needed to keep better track of her drinks. It wasn’t even ten in the morning. If she imbibed champagne all day, she’d be in no shape to enjoy whatever might happen tonight, and something would definitely happen. She wasn’t above begging.
Sam smiled. “I guess a lot depends on when we decide to return to the city. At this time of the year, it’s light out until after nine.”
“I don’t have to get back,” she interrupted. “We can be as late as we like. Charlie volunteered to help Mitch at the book signing tonight. So, what can we do for the next twelve hours?”
The look on his face made her realize her double entendre, and she swallowed. He knew exactly what she was thinking. It was disconcerting to say the least.
“I know. Charlie mentioned it this morning, but I thought you might want to do something in Vegas tonight.”
I do; I want to make mad, passionate love with you.
“No, no other plans, so, what have you got in mind?” She shoved a forkful of eggs into her mouth, her mind busily conjuring up images of what she’d like him to do.
“I thought we could start with a visit to Hoover Dam and Lake Mead. From there, we’ll fly over the canyon to the Hualapai Reservation, where one of my friends, a Hualapai guide, will take us to the Grand Canyon Skywalk. Later, we’ll head into the canyon and have lunch beside the Colorado River. Afterward, if you like, we can pop over to Death Valley and check out Scotty’s Castle. We’ll be back in time for the late night fireworks. How does that sound? Unless you’d rather do something else? Liz says I can be a little pushy.”
“She’s one of your sisters, right—not the pregnant one.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, Jane’s the one expecting. Liz is the conference manager here. I talked to her about adding more security. I know it probably didn’t feel like it, but you weren’t the only woman hassled last night.”
“That’s good to know. I was on the verge of developing a complex. I don’t know you well enough to comment on your pushiness, but you’ve already mentioned you tend to take what you want—the kiss, remember? Your itinerary for the day sounds great. I can’t wait to get started.” She sounded like a kid and knew it, but who wouldn’t be excited at the prospect of such a day in the company of a man like Sam?
I need to keep my wits about me. There’s no future for us. But wouldn’t it be nice to pretend there was, just for today?
“I’m glad I charged my phone and my camera. I want to take lots of pictures,” she added.
Especially pictures of you to go with the storehouse of memories I’ll make.
She looked down at her plate and realized she’d cleaned it. Her metabolism and love of exercise allowed her to enjoy whatever food she liked. She lifted her cup to finish her coffee, and then swallowed the last of the mimosa. Had they really polished off the entire pitcher?
“You
know, if I were to come to Vegas on a regular basis, I’d probably become a lush. I think I like these a little too much, but I doubt I could afford them. Let me guess. These particular mimosas are made with Dom?”
He nodded. “If you think mimosas are the high life, as they say, you ain’t seen nothing yet! I’ll have to introduce you to the various casinos’ signature drinks.”
“I had a Witch Doctor in the Voodoo Lounge. Those things are powerful. For a minute, I thought I would fall off my shoes—well, Mitch’s shoes, really.”
He reached for her hand and kissed her palm, the gesture the most romantic thing ever.
“I’m so glad you came to Vegas. Are you ready for a day of adventure high above the Nevada sky?”
“I am. Let me visit the powder room, and I’m all yours.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He smiled wickedly and a frisson danced across her skin.
Unable to think of a quick retort, she bit her lower lip. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll wait for you at the door.”
Cleo walked deeper into the restaurant and wondered, not for the first time, if she’d bitten off more than she could chew.
“We’re going to the airport in this?”
She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. The car was a white 1976 Cadillac Eldorado convertible with a red and white interior. “I’ve never seen this particular vintage car up close before. Where did you get it?”
“It belongs to a friend. He lets me use it once in a while, although I don’t usually use it on dates. I forgot most women don’t like the wind in their hair. We can get a cab if you prefer.”
“Are you crazy? I don’t care if it messes my hair. My dad would love to ride in this. He’s a classic car buff. He’s taught me everything I know about cars. I have to take some pictures. He’ll be envious. Can you get in?”
Sam obliged and got behind the wheel and waited, seemingly patiently, while she took over a dozen shots.
“How big is the memory card in your camera? At the rate you’re going, you’ll run out of space or power long before we get back to Vegas.”
She laughed and got in beside him, fastened her seat belt, and turned herself slightly so she could look at him.
“Oh ye of little faith. You’re talking to an amateur photographer. I have two extra batteries and an eight-gig card. If that runs out, I’ve got my phone.”
“We’ll have to get someone to snap a few pictures of the two of us—you know, for posterity.”
“Definitely.” No matter what happened from now on, she would look at these pictures and remember the greatest day of her life.
Sam started the car, and after signaling, eased smoothly into traffic and headed for the Henderson Executive Airport where the helicopter awaited them.
Eager to start a conversation that might be safe, Cleo turned to Sam. “I read about this car last year. The first version came out in 1953 and the last one in 2002. Most people think it was named after the lost city of gold that the Spaniards and Sir Walter Raleigh searched for, but it was actually named after a South American tribal chieftain. According to the legend, his followers covered him in gold dust for ceremonial occasions, and afterward, he dove into a lake to wash the dust from his body. I find that kind of stuff fascinating.” God, that hadn’t gone well. She’d sounded like a nerdy know-it-all.
Sam chuckled. “So do I, and I didn’t know that about the car. As you can imagine, the owner is a bit of an old car buff. He can probably tell you more about this gas-guzzling engine than you’d ever want to know.”
Cleo was amazed at the number of people out and about so early. “I’ll bet he could. Doesn’t anyone sleep in this city? There were people all over the place last night and look at them now.”
“It’s the only time of day for some activities, especially at this time of year. It gets too hot in the afternoon to do much walking in the sun. So I’ll see your car facts and raise you one: did you know the first population census of Vegas dated 1900 listed the population in the area at twenty-five? Today there are well over six hundred thousand people who call this place home.”
She giggled. Not a good sign—how many mimosas had she had?
“I wonder how many of them are involved with the casinos?”
“Probably a significant amount since tourism is the city’s bread and butter, but there are a number of technology companies here too as well as the University of Nevada, a major research center. I’ve got a buddy who tends to refer to the place as the ninth Hawaiian Island—apparently it’s a popular retirement destination for the islanders.”
“I can’t imagine giving up a lush, tropical home for a chunk of desert, but to each his own. It’s always been my dream to live by the ocean. Someday, I would like to visit Hawaii, but with my complexion, I would probably be better off in Alaska.”
Sam smiled and reached for her hand. “I couldn’t agree more about the ocean. I’ve been to Hawaii and Alaska. The sun shines bright in both places. A hat like the one you’re carrying and some sunscreen, and you should be fine. Those places each have their own unique beauty. You can’t imagine what a thrill it is to watch a chunk of glacier crash into the sea. There’s nothing like it.”
“I’ll definitely add it to my bucket list.”
He squeezed her fingers, released her hand, and turned back to the road.
8
Sam got on I-15 South, and Cleo watched as the streets of Vegas, the areas of the city people rarely saw, flashed by. For all the glitz and glamour of the Strip, it looked like any other city, and some parts were not those you would want to highlight in a travel brochure. Within a few minutes, he turned right onto Executive Airport Drive. The helicopters were all parked together at one end of the airport. Some belonged to tour companies; others sported private company logos. She recognized a couple of the mining company emblems she’d seen around Alamo when she’d driven by.
Sam drove the length of the airport and along a small road that led to the helicopter maintenance hangar, then parked the car in a reserved spot. A man dressed in a pale blue shirt and jeans, wearing a ball cap and aviator sunglasses, sat in the shade and stood as soon as Sam got out of the convertible. Sam signaled to him, and the man stayed where he was. Walking around the car, Sam removed her tote bag, a brown flight bag, and a huge picnic hamper from the trunk.
“Where on earth did you manage to get that?” She indicated the picnic basket.
“I told you my sister works for the hotel. I managed to talk her into getting us some food and drink. You did request a picnic at the bottom of the canyon. How can you have a picnic without a pic-a-nic basket?” He pronounced the word the way the cartoon character Yogi Bear would and she laughed.
“I guess that makes you smarter than the average Chip-and-Dale,” she continued the joke.
He set the bags and the basket beside the car. “That’s Matt, my buddy, and the chopper’s pilot. Wait here while I tell him what we’ve decided to do today. I won’t be long.”
He bent his head, kissed her quickly, and then walked over to the hangar. The brief touch of his lips made her feel warm and fuzzy. Holding the hat she’d borrowed from Mitch between her fingers, she followed him with her gaze, admiring how he carried himself and the way his brown jeans clung to his muscular thighs and derriere. The man looked good coming and going. She could see him posing for some of the Hellenic marble statues her father found so interesting. No doubt he’d look hot in nothing but a fig leaf.
As Sam approached Matt, the man must have said something funny because Sam laughed. Cleo watched Matt nod a few times, shake his head twice, and then shake Sam’s hand. No doubt they were discussing the exorbitant cost of this grandiose gesture on Sam’s part, but suddenly, she didn’t care. She felt like a kid in the candy store whose owner just told her to help herself. Everyone who knew her well knew she had an incredible sweet tooth, and she intended to satisfy it today. The two men approached.
“Cleo Jones, I would like you to m
eet Matt Sauvé. He’s an old friend who’s been flying helos for more than twenty years. He’ll take good care of us today.”
She held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Matt. I’m excited about this.” She gestured to encompass everything around her. “I’ve never been in a helicopter before. I’ve been in small planes, and I’m not afraid of heights.”
Matt shook her hand. He had a firm grip that inspired trust. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Jones. Whatever you did to convince this guy to take some time off and give me some as well, I appreciate. He works way too hard.”
Something about what he’d just said didn’t sound right, but in her excitement Cleo couldn’t quite figure out what that was. She supposed Sam must take paying customers on tours now and then. Well, at least Matt didn’t think she was some rich bitch trying to buy her way into Sam’s bed. No, she was a poor one hoping for a freebie.
“Flying in a luxury helicopter like this one is a real treat,” Matt said, his smile genuine. “You’re going to love the view, and the places Sam wants to show you are among the most picturesque in the Mojave. I’ll be flying between seven hundred and a thousand feet above the ground most of the time, although I’ll drop down to five hundred feet in Death Valley. Matt’s mentioned a few stops to me, but if you need to get out and stretch your legs, we can add others. I’ll circle back over Vegas on our way to the dam since we’ll be returning after dark. If you’re ready, the bird’s just over there.” He indicated the aircraft on her left.
The helicopter, a beautiful white and black Agusta-Westland AW139, had plenty of windows to ensure she’d have an incredible view. Matt opened the door and helped her into the air-conditioned interior. The cabin resembled that of a small private jet. The cockpit was in a separate area, and when Matt shut the door between it and the cabin, she and Sam were alone in this tiny enclave of incredible luxury.
A beige and brown Berber carpet covered the floor. Four magnificent tan leather swivel recliners faced one another, two to a side, and were separated by mahogany tables that could open into desks. There was a small, flat screen television attached to the wall above the table on the cockpit side of the cabin, and a refreshment area built into the table beneath it. Sam motioned that she take the chair on the far left. She sat in the smooth, supple leather lounger and automatically fastened her seat belt.
