I open my mouth to say that I’m sorry again, but then I stay silent. I have said those empty words too many times already.
“Dammit, Jamie.” He sounds ripped up, and I force myself not to reach for him when he kneels down in front of me, his hands on my knees. “I want you, make no mistake. But if I can’t have you in my bed, I still want you in my life.”
My heart stutters. He’s speaking words of friendship, not just sex. Of a connection that’s more than just physical. It scares me—but even as I want to shrink away, I also can’t deny the little spark of hope that is now dancing inside me.
He reaches up and strokes my cheek. “I care about you,” he says. “And I thought—”
“What?” I’m breathless.
“I thought you felt the same.”
“I do. It’s just—” I stand up and run my fingers through my hair, trying to find the words. “You’ve seen me. And I know you’ve heard stories. It’s not like I keep my private life a secret, and that whole fiasco with Bryan Raine was all over the tabloids.”
Raine is an up-and-coming movie star, and it hadn’t ended well. Primarily because he was a selfish, self-absorbed prick who decided to dump me because it would be better for his career to screw an actress with clout.
“I fuck around,” I say, which pretty much sums up my entire adult life. “And it’s messed me up a lot. Bryan messed with my head. And then I went and slept with one of my best friends, and we managed to fuck that relationship up, too.”
I’m rattling my thoughts out, not sure if I’m revealing too much or too little, if I’m pushing him away or driving him closer.
“But then with you,” I continue. “I’ve never felt so—” I shake my head because I’m not going there. “It was amazing,” I say, backtracking. “But the timing was completely messed up. I was already supposed to go back. I was already deep into The Plan.”
“The Plan?”
“The whole reason I moved back to Texas in the first place. I need to get my head on straight. I’ve done a hell of a lot of dumb stuff.”
“Everyone’s done dumb stuff, kitten,” he says. “Running isn’t going to make you smarter. It just puts more distance between you and the problem.”
I shake my head. “It’s not about distance. It’s not even about avoiding sex. Not really. But sex knocks me off track, and I need to stay strong.”
“All right,” he says. “But if it’s not about distance and not about sex, then what is it about?”
That’s a good question, and not one I was sure I had the answer to. “It’s about...I guess it’s about figuring out who you are. Who I am. Does that sound foolish?”
He shakes his head, then moves to sit back on the bed opposite my chair. “No,” he says. “It doesn’t. Do you think you’re going to figure it out in Texas?”
“Yeah,” I say. “By way of Vegas,” I add, and then tell him about the job.
“It sounds like an excellent opportunity,” he says.
“It is. And I think I’ll be good at it.”
“I know you will.” He stands up, paces the room, then stops in front of me. “All right,” he says.
I’m confused. “All right?”
“I’m not going to argue with you, and I’m certainly not going to force you. If you think you need to make a quest and go home, then I won’t stop you.”
His expression is warm but intense. “I already know who you are, Jamie Archer. But I also know you have to figure it out on your own.”
His phone chimes, and he pulls it from his pocket, then glances at me, amused. “You texted me to rescue you?”
“I—oh. Yeah. Sorry. I realize it’s a little weird seeing as how I walked out on you, but...” I trail off in a shrug. “You were the first one I thought to text, so I tried to think of other people. But I couldn’t, and so...at any rate, it doesn’t matter. You rescued me even before I asked.”
He moves back in front of me, then reaches down and pulls me to my feet. “Thank you,” he says simply.
I shake my head in confusion. “For what?”
“For knowing that I will always be there for you, no matter what.”
“Ryan...” My voice is soft and full of emotion. Because he is right. I do know that, and the knowledge wraps around me like a soft blanket.
He smiles in what I think is understanding. Then the smile intensifies, and a hint of amusement touches his lips. “If getting to Texas is what you need, then I’ll get you there. First Vegas, then on to Dallas.”
“I can drive myself,” I say.
“Maybe,” he says. “But do you really want to? I provide a quality transportation service,” he adds with a cocky grin. “And all for a very reasonable price.”
“Price,” I repeat, amused. “What kind of price?”
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “And since we’re going to Vegas, we’ll let roulette decide the terms.”
“I’m still not following you,” I say.
“Then let me be more clear. One spin of the roulette wheel. Black, you pay me. Red, you fuck me.”
I gape at him. “But I just told you. Getting my head straight. Sex. How it messes me up, and—”
“You said it wasn’t about avoiding sex. Just that sex knocks you off track. But I’ll be keeping you on track, Jamie. First Vegas, then Dallas, and then I go back to LA, no questions asked.”
“I—”
“We won’t be dating,” he says. “Nothing like that. Just the same terms as before.” The heat in his voice is unmistakable. “You. At my mercy.”
I swallow. My head says I should say no, but every other part of my body is screaming for me to say yes.
I lick my lips. “And the payment? If it’s black, I mean?”
“I’m salaried at Stark International. But I’ll calculate my hourly rate. We can start the clock when we arrive in Vegas.”
I narrow my eyes. “How much exactly,” I demand. He does a quick calculation and tells me a number that comes near to making me faint.
“Are you insane? I can’t afford that.”
“Well then,” he says with a wicked grin, “you’d better hope for red.”
Chapter Eight
Because we slept until almost noon and then had an absolutely fabulous breakfast of greasy eggs, bacon, and melt-in-your-mouth biscuits at the motel’s dive of a coffee shop, it is already past four when we finally roll into Vegas.
Even in the daylight, the city feels alive.
If Manhattan is your snooty stepmother and Los Angeles your hippie brother, then Las Vegas is your crazy-ass cousin who doesn’t know what to be when he grows up.
Everything is gaudy, bright, and larger than life. Paris bumps up against Egypt, and the whole place has a Disneyland feel to it.
It’s probably terribly wrong of me to love it, but I do. Especially the Strip, where all the biggest and best casinos and hotels line up like a receiving line, welcoming everyone, from people with Stark-like billions all the way down to me, with my nearly empty checking account.
“Dammit, Jamie.” He sounds ripped up, and I force myself not to reach for him when he kneels down in front of me, his hands on my knees. “I want you, make no mistake. But if I can’t have you in my bed, I still want you in my life.”
My heart stutters. He’s speaking words of friendship, not just sex. Of a connection that’s more than just physical. It scares me—but even as I want to shrink away, I also can’t deny the little spark of hope that is now dancing inside me.
He reaches up and strokes my cheek. “I care about you,” he says. “And I thought—”
“What?” I’m breathless.
“I thought you felt the same.”
“I do. It’s just—” I stand up and run my fingers through my hair, trying to find the words. “You’ve seen me. And I know you’ve heard stories. It’s not like I keep my private life a secret, and that whole fiasco with Bryan Raine was all over the tabloids.”
Raine is an up-and-coming movie star, and it hadn’t ended well. Primarily because he was a selfish, self-absorbed prick who decided to dump me because it would be better for his career to screw an actress with clout.
“I fuck around,” I say, which pretty much sums up my entire adult life. “And it’s messed me up a lot. Bryan messed with my head. And then I went and slept with one of my best friends, and we managed to fuck that relationship up, too.”
I’m rattling my thoughts out, not sure if I’m revealing too much or too little, if I’m pushing him away or driving him closer.
“But then with you,” I continue. “I’ve never felt so—” I shake my head because I’m not going there. “It was amazing,” I say, backtracking. “But the timing was completely messed up. I was already supposed to go back. I was already deep into The Plan.”
“The Plan?”
“The whole reason I moved back to Texas in the first place. I need to get my head on straight. I’ve done a hell of a lot of dumb stuff.”
“Everyone’s done dumb stuff, kitten,” he says. “Running isn’t going to make you smarter. It just puts more distance between you and the problem.”
I shake my head. “It’s not about distance. It’s not even about avoiding sex. Not really. But sex knocks me off track, and I need to stay strong.”
“All right,” he says. “But if it’s not about distance and not about sex, then what is it about?”
That’s a good question, and not one I was sure I had the answer to. “It’s about...I guess it’s about figuring out who you are. Who I am. Does that sound foolish?”
He shakes his head, then moves to sit back on the bed opposite my chair. “No,” he says. “It doesn’t. Do you think you’re going to figure it out in Texas?”
“Yeah,” I say. “By way of Vegas,” I add, and then tell him about the job.
“It sounds like an excellent opportunity,” he says.
“It is. And I think I’ll be good at it.”
“I know you will.” He stands up, paces the room, then stops in front of me. “All right,” he says.
I’m confused. “All right?”
“I’m not going to argue with you, and I’m certainly not going to force you. If you think you need to make a quest and go home, then I won’t stop you.”
His expression is warm but intense. “I already know who you are, Jamie Archer. But I also know you have to figure it out on your own.”
His phone chimes, and he pulls it from his pocket, then glances at me, amused. “You texted me to rescue you?”
“I—oh. Yeah. Sorry. I realize it’s a little weird seeing as how I walked out on you, but...” I trail off in a shrug. “You were the first one I thought to text, so I tried to think of other people. But I couldn’t, and so...at any rate, it doesn’t matter. You rescued me even before I asked.”
He moves back in front of me, then reaches down and pulls me to my feet. “Thank you,” he says simply.
I shake my head in confusion. “For what?”
“For knowing that I will always be there for you, no matter what.”
“Ryan...” My voice is soft and full of emotion. Because he is right. I do know that, and the knowledge wraps around me like a soft blanket.
He smiles in what I think is understanding. Then the smile intensifies, and a hint of amusement touches his lips. “If getting to Texas is what you need, then I’ll get you there. First Vegas, then on to Dallas.”
“I can drive myself,” I say.
“Maybe,” he says. “But do you really want to? I provide a quality transportation service,” he adds with a cocky grin. “And all for a very reasonable price.”
“Price,” I repeat, amused. “What kind of price?”
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “And since we’re going to Vegas, we’ll let roulette decide the terms.”
“I’m still not following you,” I say.
“Then let me be more clear. One spin of the roulette wheel. Black, you pay me. Red, you fuck me.”
I gape at him. “But I just told you. Getting my head straight. Sex. How it messes me up, and—”
“You said it wasn’t about avoiding sex. Just that sex knocks you off track. But I’ll be keeping you on track, Jamie. First Vegas, then Dallas, and then I go back to LA, no questions asked.”
“I—”
“We won’t be dating,” he says. “Nothing like that. Just the same terms as before.” The heat in his voice is unmistakable. “You. At my mercy.”
I swallow. My head says I should say no, but every other part of my body is screaming for me to say yes.
I lick my lips. “And the payment? If it’s black, I mean?”
“I’m salaried at Stark International. But I’ll calculate my hourly rate. We can start the clock when we arrive in Vegas.”
I narrow my eyes. “How much exactly,” I demand. He does a quick calculation and tells me a number that comes near to making me faint.
“Are you insane? I can’t afford that.”
“Well then,” he says with a wicked grin, “you’d better hope for red.”
Chapter Eight
Because we slept until almost noon and then had an absolutely fabulous breakfast of greasy eggs, bacon, and melt-in-your-mouth biscuits at the motel’s dive of a coffee shop, it is already past four when we finally roll into Vegas.
Even in the daylight, the city feels alive.
If Manhattan is your snooty stepmother and Los Angeles your hippie brother, then Las Vegas is your crazy-ass cousin who doesn’t know what to be when he grows up.
Everything is gaudy, bright, and larger than life. Paris bumps up against Egypt, and the whole place has a Disneyland feel to it.
It’s probably terribly wrong of me to love it, but I do. Especially the Strip, where all the biggest and best casinos and hotels line up like a receiving line, welcoming everyone, from people with Stark-like billions all the way down to me, with my nearly empty checking account.
