“My next game might be in Vegas. I haven’t decided yet, and yes, I’ll take the job.”
“We still have the guest room if you want it,” she added.
She refused to impose on them, or point her enemies their way. “We’ll see.”
“There’s nothing to see, missy. Get your ass over here. We have some catching up to do before your shift. I’ll tell Kyle you’re on your way so he can go back to his restaurant. He’s in my territory and getting on my nerves.”
“I’ll be there in a few.” Hanging up, Terri punched in the combination of the briefcase and grinned at the stack of bills. Hiding and skimping the last six months had been worth it. She could now afford to buy her share of the bar/restaurant owned by Lucille and her husband, Kyle Barrel. She and Lucille went way back, and she would trust the perky blonde with anything. Kyle was a total sweetheart too and doted on his wife, even putting up with her crazy best friend. But then again, who could refuse Lucille anything? She was adorable, until she opened her mouth.
Lucille was like a drill sergeant. Always had been, from the moment Terri’s family arrived in Las Vegas and moved in next door to their eccentric family. Lucille didn’t take no for an answer or back down from anything. When Terri’s mother later decided to relocate her family again, this time to the-middle-of-nowhere Idaho, Terri had begged her to let her stay behind with Lucille’s family and finish high school. Her mother was like a bear with her children. She didn’t believe in keeping them apart, but the move had only separated them physically. Terri and Lucille were tighter than two peas in a pod. Thicker than thieves. Or, as Lucille’s husband liked to say, Lucille knew where all Terri’s bodies were buried.
Terri stripped and entered the shower. The water temperature was perfect, so she lingered and hummed off key. The second she stepped out of the shower, she knew she was no longer alone in the suite.
She’d developed a sixth sense about these things. She got her first proof when she spied an expensive duffel bag on top of her suitcase at the foot of the bed. Her disposable phone was on the bed, so she had no way of calling for help.
She’d taken self-defense classes and knew the quickest way to disarm an attacker and escape, but she couldn’t fight whoever was out there naked or run out of the room while screaming for help. She wasn’t officially a guest in the hotel and didn’t need the attention. Then there was her money. There was no way she was leaving without it.
Pretending not to notice the duffel bag, she grabbed a towel, wrapped it around her, and hummed while dumping the contents of a vase into the nearest sink. She gripped the neck. A well-aimed hit would slow anyone down. Her hand tightened on the towel as she stepped into the room
A man stood by the window and appeared to be admiring the view, the light from outside silhouetting his body, and the one from the bathroom barely reaching his chest. The first thing she noticed was his height and his powerful shoulders. He was big. There was no way she could disarm him with a hit on his nose, chin, or Adam’s apple. That meant attacking low.
“Marx promised me a gift,” he said in a deep and husky voice. “I didn’t know you’d beat me to the room.”
A gift? Wow. Okay, so maybe an attack wouldn’t be necessary here. She could play along or reason with him. She sized him again. Height-wise, she was above average for a woman, so she liked her men big and masculine. Big size meant they were packing an eight- or nine-incher. Anything smaller was a deal breaker.
Now why was she thinking about what he was packing? Maybe it was his long shaggy hair. It fell past his collar. The power suit and that hair didn’t go together, but she was a sucker for thick hair. Better for gripping at just the right moment, not that she planned to grip his. Then there was the way he’d said “gift” in his deep, sensual voice.
He turned, the curtains falling back in place. She peered at his face. That body and that voice had to have an amazing face, but the light from the bathroom didn’t reach his face. It touched his expensive loafers and sharply creased pants, giving a hint of his powerful thighs. The visible shirt under his unbuttoned coat said he had zero fat in his mid-section.
The suit screamed tailor-made and his assurance said Mr. T. and his daughter had gotten it wrong. The high roller had made it, and he thought she was a gift.
“Do you speak English?” he asked.
“Of course. The plan was to surprise you.” Her voice was terribly calm, which didn’t surprise her. She hadn’t lived in the shadows the past five years without developing coping skills. One of them was never letting the other person know she was rattled. And she was rattled tonight. The other was improvising.
“I hope you approve,” she added while inching closer to where she’d left her clothes, but they weren’t on the floor where she’d dropped them. Where the hell were they?
He chuckled. “Wholeheartedly.”
She didn’t let his voice distract her. It was sexy as hell. A voice that could talk dirty to her all night and she’d never get tired of listening to it. She found her clothes. They were on a chair along with her bag and briefcase. She also spied something lacey in his hand. What the hell was he doing with her panties?
“If you throw those my way, I’ll just change back into my clothes and then we can sit down and iron out the details of the evening.”
“After all you went through to access my room, shower, and get ready for me? I thought a maid’s uniform was the standard outfit, but a bellhop is clever. I love ingenuity in a woman. Let go of the towel,” he said.
Terri’s stomach dropped. Surely, she hadn’t heard him right. “Excuse me?”
“Marx promised you’d fulfill all of my fantasies,” he said, his voice soft and easy. “Drop the towel and come here.”
Her stomach started to churn. How the heck was she going to get out of this predicament? “We’re not eating first? Marx said you’d feed me.”
“I plan to do that.” He shrugged off his coat and threw it on top of her things. “After I’ve satiated our other appetites.”
Other appetites? Holy crap! She could get off from just listening to him. Terri forced herself not to be seduced by his voice and tried to see how far the door was from where she stood. If she took off, would he chase her? Somehow, he didn’t look or sound like the chasing kind. He sounded like he got his way often and people, like the faceless Marx, had no problem doing things for him.
“I don’t believe in being naked while my client is clothed.”
“Client?”
“That’s what you are this evening, mister…”
He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his pants, drawing attention to his masculine thighs and the bulge behind his zipper. Nice size.
“Rod.”
He didn’t sound like a Rod. It must be short for something.
“You are my client, Mr. Rod, unless, of course, Marx said otherwise.” Who the hell was Marx, and what if the girl he’d sent arrived while they were talking? Terri decided to speed things up. As soon as he was naked, she was grabbing her money and sprinting out of there. “I have to see what you are offering before I decide if you’re worth the towel drop. That’s how I work.”
Silence followed while Terri’s heart hammered in her chest.