Книга - Vegas, Baby

Vegas, Baby
Theodora Taylor


It only took one kiss… Working two jobs to achieve her dream of moving to New York, Vegas showgirl Sunny Johnson needs to save every penny. So when CEO Cole Benton makes a bottom-line decision to close the revue show she dances in, she has no choice but to confront him for her sake and for the futures of all her friends on the chorus line.Cole expects to inherit the reins to his family's chain of luxurious hotels and casinos. That is until his grandmother drops a bomb–get married, or say farewell to his inheritance! And the worst part? His grandmother has already decided on the lucky bride–Sunny.So before his true motives can be revealed, one spontaneous kiss and sizzling-hot chemistry take over as Sunny and Cole fall into each other's arms. But is it now too late to tell Sunny the truth? Could Cole's high-stakes gamble cost him everything, including the woman he is beginning to adore?







It only took one kiss…

Working two jobs to achieve her dream of moving to New York, Vegas showgirl Sunny Johnson needs to save every penny. So when CEO Cole Benton makes a bottom-line decision to close the revue show she dances in, she has no choice but to confront him for her sake and for the futures of all her friends on the chorus line.

Cole expects to inherit the reins to his family’s chain of luxurious hotels and casinos. That is until his grandmother drops a bomb—get married, or say farewell to his inheritance! And the worst part? His grandmother has already decided on the lucky bride—Sunny.

So before his true motives can be revealed, one spontaneous kiss and sizzling-hot chemistry take over as Sunny and Cole fall into each other’s arms. But is it now too late to tell Sunny the truth? Could Cole’s high-stakes gamble cost him everything, including the woman he is beginning to adore?


“We’re supposed to be making our debut as a couple tonight at the Business Man of the Year dinner.”

“And that has what to do with you holding me against this wall?” she asked, looking very uncomfortable, but also still…something else.

“We’re supposed to be in the throes of a new romance, madly in love. Now, I don’t usually do PDA. Not really my thing, but in this case, if I were really capable of falling hard for somebody in a matter of days, I think I’d be okay with it. Don’t you?”

He could distinctly see a bead of sweat on her forehead now. “Are you hot, Sunny? Already? We haven’t even begun the class. Maybe we should turn on the air-conditioning,” he offered, not even trying to hide the fake note in his concerned suggestion.

“No, I’m fine, I—” She broke off, obviously flustered. “I just don’t understand what tonight has to do with right now. What you’re doing right now?”

“We’ve got fifteen minutes. Maybe we should practice.”

Before she could ask “Practice what?” he answered the presumed question, pressing his lips to hers for what was supposed to be a teasing kiss, a little light punishment for giving him a hard time about his car and work schedule.

Except it wasn’t teasing or little or light. In fact, when his lips met hers, he felt something zap through him, and he immediately became consumed, moving his mouth over hers, wanting more. He pressed his whole body into her as he kissed her, suddenly not caring if she knew how badly she affected him. Suddenly wanting her to know just how much he desired her, just how much he wanted in.


THEODORA TAYLOR

lives, reviews and writes in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When not reading, reviewing or writing, she enjoys spending time with her wonderful husband and attending dinner parties thrown by others.


Vegas, Baby

Theodora Taylor






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Dear Reader (#ulink_9ee5cc70-e754-5c78-8f93-73456d613336),

I loved the remake of Ocean’s Eleven and found the main antagonist, Terry Benedict, fascinating. I’m a writer who tends to be more interested in the villains than the heroes while watching movies, so he sent my mind into full spin. I hope you enjoy this tale about an ambitious, uptight businessman who gets thrown for a love loop by a sassy showgirl. Sunny and Cole are a smoking-hot couple, and their story sizzles like the Vegas summer.

My very best,

Theodora


To my lovely one-click readers.

I hope you love this story.


Contents

Cover (#u3dc35de4-1c35-571c-ad59-17d25c5bb926)

Back Cover Text (#u7e649b55-4843-503f-90e3-5105b5657095)

Introduction (#u976b4cf7-6706-50fe-a65b-6aabffc62894)

About the Author (#u3c107903-86d0-5900-8c9c-5d254f127422)

Title Page (#uca0f8a78-3613-5cb5-9bdd-8c7a0982605e)

Dear Reader (#ulink_7e9cf981-380c-5f99-b54d-0662479bec8d)

Dedication (#u2059eeff-be3e-567c-953f-e9140167bbf5)

Chapter 1 (#ulink_33f0a2af-736e-5a1d-bb67-88191e3ecdda)

Chapter 2 (#ulink_10af5646-1176-59d8-82cd-e0c75f5b6ecd)

Chapter 3 (#ulink_70cb8340-ff9b-5d42-9e3b-dc1bdcf6992f)

Chapter 4 (#ulink_f10e9a86-35ee-55d1-9e7e-bf1e333a9594)

Chapter 5 (#ulink_aafd926e-4ef5-5025-b983-2940968879a4)

Chapter 6 (#ulink_0f52ca82-6378-56e9-8016-0e2897aadf26)

Chapter 7 (#ulink_43d0a92f-4274-565a-80a1-dbd64e2fd443)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1 (#ulink_f09d6202-3991-5ad9-8b91-0c65453c5b31)

“You want me to do what ?”

Cole Benton didn’t shout, but he didn’t have to. His voice carried enough icicles to let the woman sitting in his black guest chair know he was beyond not pleased. It was the same tone he used with employees both on and below the executive floor when they were dangerously close to getting fired.

But his grandmother, Nora Benton, or as she liked to refer to herself, “the best damn showgirl this town has ever seen,” just crossed her long legs. She liked to show them off—to the point that she ordered her Chanel suits with a higher hemline than was normally deemed appropriate for her age set.

“You heard me, luv,” she answered, her Irish accent reinforcing her words with steely determination. “I’m telling you, it’s for your own good.”

“And I’m telling you, you need an MRI if you think I’m going to marry some showgirl...”

“Sunny’s not just some showgirl,” Nora said, patting her mane of wavy hair, which thanks to her twice monthly hair appointments, was still as glossy and vibrant red as it had been when she and his grandfather met. “She’s the granddaughter of Berta Johnson, my best friend in the entire world.”

Cole gave her a skeptical look. “Your best friend whom I’ve never met.”

“Only because she died quite a few years ago, when you were still in business school. If you’d have come to any of my last few Christmas events, you would have seen the show Sunny choreographs for herself and a few of the other Benton Girls every year. Then I would have been able to properly introduce you to Berta’s lovely granddaughter.”

Cole tented his hands on his desk. “Her lovely granddaughter, the showgirl.”

“What’s wrong with showgirls? Your grandda—God rest his soul—always said meeting me was the best thing that ever happened to him.”

A shimmer of affection for the original Coleridge Benton, a stodgy businessman who’d somehow ended up married to an Irish showgirl from The Benton Hotel’s revue show, made a brief pass through Cole. If not for his grandfather, he wouldn’t be where he was today, the Chief Executive Officer of The Benton Group, one of the youngest CEOs of any hotel chain in Vegas history. But irritation at his grandmother soon overtook Cole’s fond memory of his grandfather. Naming her chairman of The Benton Group’s board before his death, so that Cole was forced to take her seriously, despite the fact that she had nothing to do with the company’s day to day operations, was one of the worst business decisions his grandfather had ever made.

“With all due respect to my grandfather, he was the head of one hotel when he met you. One. I oversee a nationwide collection of The Benton Group’s hotel and casino interests.”

Nora’s gave him a withering look. “I see, you think being a billionaire makes you too good for a showgirl then? That’s what you’re trying to tell the best damn showgirl this town has ever seen?”

“No, growing The Benton Group into a force to be reckoned with means I don’t have time to date this girl you’re trying to set me up with or for this inane meeting—which by the way is not remotely urgent. You told my assistant this was important.”

“It is important, luv,” his grandmother insisted. “I’m not getting any younger, and I’m ready for grandchildren. And with that playboy brother of yours flitting about all over Europe...”

“You should just be grateful your other grandson is running the company so well and leave it at that,” he finished for her.

“Well, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands,” Nora said. “All you do is work, work, work.” She let out an exasperated sound, as though his work was a character flaw, as opposed to what kept her in luxury cruises and Botox treatments. “Quite frankly you need to get laid well and regularly, dearie. It would do you a world of good, just like it did your grandda. It’s time for you to have some fun—but only for three months, then you can settle down and give me some grandchildren.”

“You want me to marry a girl I’ve never even met after three months of dating?” Cole asked, both his face and tone incredulous.

“Three months is generous,” Nora informed him. “It only took your grandda three weeks to propose to me!”

Cole stared at his grandmother for a few long, disbelieving seconds before saying, “I have a two o’clock, so I’m calling this ‘urgent meeting’ to an end. Thanks for stopping by, Nora. Let’s never do this again.”

Nora let out a dramatic sigh. “I was afraid you might say that. I swear, the worst decision I ever made was letting your grandda take you under his wing after you got kicked out of boarding school. You’ve got too much of him in you and your brother has too much of me.”

Cole had already turned back to his computer and started typing in notes for his two o’clock with The Benton Group’s L.A. office. He was fully prepared to ignore Nora out of his office.

But then his grandmother said, “...and that’s why I’ll be handing over my shares in the company to your brother. I plan to make my announcement at the end of summer board meeting.”

Cole’s head shot up from the computer screen. His brother, Max, was the “brand ambassador” for The Benton Group. This basically meant he received a steady paycheck, which he spent on partying all over Europe. Which in turn meant his picture was regularly spread across the tabloids. It put The Benton Group in a negative light and the only reason Cole hadn’t cut him off was because he had enough shares in the company to make it difficult if he decided to sell them to an outside interest. However, if Nora gave her shares to Max, then...

“That would give Max controlling interest in The Benton Group. Why would you do that?” he asked his grandmother.

Nora shrugged prettily. “Well, unlike you, luv, he came to my Christmas charity dinner and he gave Sunny and her girls some very nice compliments on their show.”

“I bet,” Cole said with a derisive snort. His brother wasn’t the sort to miss an opportunity to flirt with scantily clad showgirls.

Nora went on, anyway. “He and I had a nice long talk the last time he was in town, and he explained to me that he’d be more than happy to stay on in Vegas and work at The Benton Group—if you weren’t in charge.”

Cole turned all the way around to face his grandmother. “That’s never going to happen. I’m the one who built this company into a nationwide outfit. I’ll be in charge of it until the day I die.”

“Yes, well...” Nora played with the short hemline of her skirt. “I do miss Max, and he’s promised that if I give him my shares, he’ll not only marry Sunny, but give me as many grandchildren as I want.”

Cole found himself once again staring at his grandmother in disbelief. “Do you have any idea of how crazy that sounds, Nora?”

Nora threw a dramatic hand across her forehead. “I do! I know it sounds crazy, luv. And of course, I’d rather Sunny marry you. You’re more the settling down type—unlike Max. But I’m just so desperate for grandchildren!”

Cole would never let a business rival see him blink, and he kept his face blank as he informed Nora, “You have grandchildren. Max and I are your grandchildren.”

“Hardly. Max, came out of the womb, a full blown flirt, and your derelict parents forced me to raise you, and—well, you know how difficult that was. I want a real baby, one who coos and giggles and calls me ‘Gran’—not ‘Nora,’ like I’m one of his employees.”

If Cole had a sense of humor, he might have found his grandmother’s antics funny, but he didn’t, especially when it came to money. “Nora, selling a controlling interest in the company I’ve been spent my entire career growing is not the way to get what you want.”

“Don’t you try to lecture me, Cole Benton. I’m not one of your underlings,” his grandmother responded. “Now you either do as I say and propose to Sunny Johnson by the end of summer, or I’m selling my shares to Max!”

Nora punctuated her threat with a slap of her hand on his desk. But then her face softened. “I know what I’m threatening sounds crazy and a bit harsh, Cole. But this...” She gestured around his highrise office. “All this work and no play. It’s not good for you, luv. It’s made you hard. Too hard. You need something other than this business in your life.”

What Nora didn’t seem to understand was that this business was his life, the only thing that made his heart beat faster, the only thing that had ever given him a true return on his investment.

And he wouldn’t abide anyone—even his own grandmother—threatening to compromise all the work he’d put into it.

“I’ve got to prepare for my two o’clock now. I’ll take your request under advisement.”

Nora jutted her chin into the air. “Max is coming in for the Businessman of the Year dinner on Sunday. Should I let him know he should stick around this time, and prepare to take his place as chairman of our board?”

Cole resumed typing. His grandmother may have had his grandfather wrapped around her thin finger, but Cole refused to take her bait.

And Nora seemed to understand that she was being dismissed.

She went to the door and put her hand on its chrome latch. “Understand, I’m not doing to this to hurt you or The Benton Group. I’m doing this because I care about you more than I care about this company.”

Whatever it takes for her to sleep at night, Cole thought with bitter resentment. But he refused to let Nora see that she’d actually upset him. He did as he always did, focused on his work.

After Nora left, Cole finished putting in his notes for his two o’clock meeting. But as soon as he hit the last keystroke, he picked up the phone to talk to his assistant, Agnes.

“Yes, Mr. Benton,” Agnes said when he buzzed her office line.

“Put in a call to Taylor Stratherford.”

“Junior or Senior, sir?” she asked. Taylor Stratherford Jr. was Cole’s personal lawyer, just as Stratherford Sr. had served as his grandfather’s personal lawyer. However, it was Taylor Sr., who also now served as the Non-Executive Director of The Benton Group’s board.

“Senior. Set up an in-person at his office as soon as possible. Actually I want to set up one-on-ones with every member of the board except my grandmother and brother.”

“Right away, Mr. Benton,” Agnes answered. She was too professional to outright ask why he was asking for these meetings, but he could hear the curiosity in her voice when she asked, “Anything else?”

Cole thought about it. “Yes, get the manager of The Benton Girls Revue on the line, and inform him of the following...”


Chapter 2 (#ulink_1310c6f1-454e-50df-8b03-b0dd425d750d)

Sunny came rushing into the backstage area of The Nora Benton Theater, still dressed in the yoga pants and tank top she’d worn to bed. And still chilled by what had happened less than thirty minutes ago back at her apartment.

She’d been so exhausted when she got home from her cocktail waitress shift on The Benton’s casino floor that she’d fallen asleep on the couch while eating a meal replacement bar. She lived alone—or so she thought. That morning, she’d discovered she had a roommate, when she woke up to the sound of the alarm on her phone going off and the feel of something pulling on her hand. She’d opened her eyes to find a rat staring back at her, its beady black eyes filled with determination as its mouth tugged on the bar in her hand.

Sunny let him have it, letting the bar go with a scream. And an hour later, she could still see the ridges on its long tail as it ran away with its treasure. She’d never be able to unsee it, and she had no idea how she was going to manage to get to sleep when she returned to her apartment after today’s rehearsal, knowing that it was still there, probably lurking somewhere inside one of her walls.

With a shudder, Sunny brought her thoughts back to her present situation. How to get to the backstage dressing room without being seen by Rick.

It was exactly eleven a.m., which was their call time for their monthly rehearsal in full makeup and costumes. But Rick Rizzo was old school. Being exactly on time was the equivalent of being late in his book. He wanted all his dancers backstage at least fifteen minutes early, and if he saw her skulking through the shadows, she’d likely hear about it.

She also didn’t want him to see the dark circles under her eyes. She’d never quite gotten around to telling the Benton Girls manager that she’d taken a second job as a cocktail waitress in the main casino. Technically, it was none of his business, but Rick was half stage dad, half control freak, and the show paid pretty well by Vegas standards with a salary, 401(K) and vacation benefits. If he saw how tired she looked without tons of concealer slathered underneath her eyes, he’d badger her until she confessed that she was planning to leave the show in late August in order to attend graduate school at New York Arts University.

They’d given her a generous scholarship, but it wasn’t enough to cover any of the extras, like food and books, or rent, which was no joke. The school was located in Manhattan and didn’t provide housing for grad students, but even a place in the outer boroughs of New York would set her back. So her plan was to work two jobs and save as much money as she could over the next three months.

But there was no need to tell Rick any of that yet. She knew how he’d respond: What! You’re leaving us? I gave you your first job. Bobby and I had you over for Thanksgiving Dinner every year after your grandma died, and this is how you repay me?

Sunny knew Rick had come to count on her, not only as one of his best dancers, but also as his “work wife”—a combination of gossip buddy, friend and backstage administrator whenever Rick went on vacation. And she knew he deserved better than her just handing him a two-week notice out of the blue, but she hadn’t worked up the courage to tell him.

Luckily, he was on the phone as she snuck past him backstage, telling whoever was on the other side of the line off good.

“How could you do this to me? Do you know who I am? Rick Rizzo! I made The Benton Girls Revue. And you think you can screw me over like this? I don’t think so!”

Sunny rushed toward the dressing room, happy she’d escaped Rick’s notice, but sorry for whoever was on the other side of that phone.

“Ooh, twin, you’re lucky Rick didn’t see you!” her friend Prudence said when Sunny dropped into her usual seat in the long line of makeup mirrors, after changing into her Benton Girls costume. Sunny’s and Pru’s costumes weren’t topless, but they didn’t leave much to the imagination, either, basically string bikinis, dripping in fake jewels. However, they did match, and since she and Pru were the only two black Benton Girls, with similar builds and the same big bouncy curl extensions, they often called each other “twin” when they were in costume.

“I know, right!” Sunny answered, slathering concealer onto the dark circles under her eyes. “The only reason I got away with it was because he was already yelling at somebody else on the phone when I walked in. I’m guessing it’s one of the newer dancers.”

The poor girl had probably called Rick to bow out of rehearsal, not realizing that Rick morphed from a loving dance dad into your worst tyrant nightmare when you broke one of his rules—like not skipping out on rehearsal without at least forty-eight hours’ notice and/or a doctor’s note for a fatal disease.

“Poor thing. But they’ve got to learn some way. I know we did.” Pru said. She nudged Sunny with her elbow. “One more thing you’re not going to miss about this place when you’re gone, right?”

Sunny gave her friend a grateful smile. Pru was one of the few people she’d told about her plan to study dance pedagogy at New York Arts University, and she’d been nothing but supportive. They’d both started out in the chorus line at the age of twenty-two, and were both now twenty-seven. A half decade was a long time to shake your can-can for tourists, many of which were only there to see the topless girls. Pru didn’t blame her for wanting to move on.

She just wished Rick would feel the same way.

As if summoned by her thoughts, their boss suddenly appeared in the doorway.

His face was lined with disgust, and she waited for him to inform the room that one of their newest hires had just been fired, but instead he said the last words she’d ever expect to come out of his mouth.

“It’s with a heavy heart that I have to inform you that The Benton Girls Revue has just been cut from The Benton’s line-up of shows.”

Stunned silence met his announcement until Pru stuttered out, “You—you mean tonight’s show has been cut? Just tonight’s show, right?”

Rick shook his head. “I’m sorry, Pru, honey. I wish I could say it was just for tonight, or that management was just cutting back the number of shows we put on. I suggested all of that and even offered to take a pay cut. But Mr. Benton’s assistant wasn’t hearing any of it. She said The Revue is cancelled. No more shows—not even a farewell one. Order came from The Third himself.”

Cole Benton III or “The Third” as some of the longer-time employees called him. Sunny had never met the CEO of The Benton Group herself, but according to Nora, he wasn’t anything like his grandmother, all work and no play with little to no sense of humor. Still, Sunny wouldn’t have expected this from The Third. His grandmother had started out a showgirl and surely he knew how much Nora treasured The Revue. Not only was the theater they performed in named after her, but she also came to see the show the second Tuesday of every month, and she’d even had the Benton Girls perform at her annual Christmas event to raise money for Lung Cancer awareness, which had taken the lives of both Sunny’s grandmother and Nora’s husband.

As if reading Sunny’s mind, Rick said, “Sunny, aren’t you besties with Nora Benton?”

“Not exactly,” Sunny answered. “She and my grandmother were very close friends.”

“Sunny’s grandmother was our first African-American showgirl here at The Benton, and then she went on to become one of our most prized seamstresses behind the scenes,” Rick informed the group, his voice somber and reverent. He held his hand out palm up toward Sunny and said to the rest of the dancers, “So you see, Sunny has both a personal and a historical stake in making sure our show goes on, and we can continue the story her grandmother began.”

Well, she wouldn’t quite put it that way. Though Sunny was proud of her grandmother for integrating The Benton Girls, that didn’t mean that she herself wanted to stay with the show forever like her grandmother had.

“Sure, I can give Nora a call,” she offered. “Though I’m not sure how much she can do.”

Rick waved his hand in front of his chest. “No, no, no. Not Nora. If she had any power in this organization, I’m sure we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

True, Sunny thought. Nora loved The Revue. If she had anything to say about it, The Benton Girls would have kept going forever.

“No, we need you to go to the top dog himself,” Rick told her. “In person, so he can’t just deflect your call. How about it, Sunny? Will you go plead our case with The Third? Figure out a way to keep one of the last revues in Vegas going, so we’re not all out of a job?”

Sunny wanted to say no. She wasn’t exactly a master negotiator.

However, everyone in the dressing room was looking at her now with beseeching eyes, including Pru, her best friend, who really needed this job and the benefits it provided to support both herself and her little brother.

“Okay,” Sunny found herself saying against her better instincts. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Benton. I’ll go talk to him right now.”


Chapter 3 (#ulink_fdb04cca-3d43-5824-b6e6-2ea0139f0ce4)

The Benton Group currently had holdings all over the United States, but Cole Benton had maintained the flagship executive offices near the top of the hotel’s original forty-story building. So Sunny didn’t have to go far to confront The Third. After getting back into her street clothes and borrowing a cardigan from Pru to wear over her tank top, it was only a matter of simply walking on over to The Benton’s main bank of elevators.

However, when she got inside the first elevator car that opened up for her and pushed the button for the 35th floor, her head began to fill with righteous steam. Seriously, how dare Cole Benton just cut their show without even a little bit of warning? What a prick, she she thought, as she walked past the empty receptionist desk, rehearsing the polite but passionate plea Rick had all but written down for her.

Sunny came to an abrupt pause in the doorway of the outer office. Then she checked the nameplate on the door. The wood-and-glass sign declared this to be the office of Cole Benton, the CEO of The Benton Group of Hotels and Casinos. However, his outer office was not only sparse, with just a simple black desk and a black leather couch to appoint it, but it was also empty, the chair behind the secretary’s desk currently without an occupant.

Sunny hesitated, all revved up with nowhere to go. What should she do? Wait for the secretary on the couch? Hope that she’d be back sometime soon? Or...

Her eyes went to the closed door, which was painted black, as if Mr. Benton truly wanted a soul to think twice before entering his inner sanctum. And it worked. Sunny’s stomach churned at the thought of actually going in there.

But she ignored the butterflies writhing around in her belly and concentrated on taking one step, then another, then a few more after that, until she could take no more. She was right at his office door now. She had no choice but to run away or to knock.

Her main instinct was to run away. She hadn’t even worked up the nerve to tell Rick she was moving to New York. Did she really think she had what it took to confront Cole Benton face-to-face?

But she had to do this, she decided in the end. For Rick, and her coworkers, most of whom she considered friends. She took a deep breath and raised her hand for what she hoped would be a polite but firm knock on Mr. Benton’s door.

Before her knuckles could touch the dark wood, the door swung open, and suddenly her field of vision was filled with a dark tie and a well-cut suit, covering what looked like a lean, well-muscled chest.

Her gaze traveled up. The man staring down at her had dark brown hair, a square chin and a set of green eyes so intense, they put her in mind of a hawk. She’d noticed his official corporate photo a few times downstairs in the lobby, him unsmiling with the hotel’s famous choreographed water fountain in the background. Just looking at him standing there in front of shooting jets of water had made her feel cold, as if looking at a picture of a snow-peaked mountain.

But now standing in front of him, his eyes were just as icy as they’d been in the photo. However, this time his gaze didn’t make Sunny feel cold. In fact, it burned into her, rooting her to the spot with electric attraction.

And maybe he was just as stunned by her appearance, because he also went still, as if someone had hit the pause button on his brain. But only for a moment, and then his crystal green gaze began a slow descent down her body...and all the words she had prepared suddenly flew out of her head.

They stared at each other like this for moments on end, him the hawk, her as scared and speechless as a mouse.

“Yes, what do you want?” he finally said, with only the slightest uplift on “want” to let her know this was actually a question. His voice was dark, precise—like a gun shooting bullets.

Sunny cleared her throat. “Hi....um, I’m—”

“I know who you are.”

“Really?” The words came out as a squeak. She tried again. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He crooked his head as if he were trying to decode her, even though as far as Sunny knew, there was nothing to decipher. “My grandmother speaks very highly of you for some reason.”

“Oh, Nora, of course,” Sunny said, relaxing a bit at the sound of her friend’s name. “That’s so nice of her to say nice things about me. I’ve had a lot of fun helping her with the Christmas Lung Cancer event over the years. Though, I’ve, ah, never seen you at any of those events....”

This observation caused that green gaze of his to shutter. “No, I was too busy running the corporation that provides all the money for Nora’s charity events.”

This made Sunny’s nose crinkle. “Too busy even for your grandma? I mean if my grandma were still alive and asked me to come out, anywhere, I’d make the time.”

Cole’s lips thinned. “I suppose we have different ways of showing our relatives we value them. I think keeping my grandmother rich beyond her wildest dreams is enough, whereas you seem to think I’m neglecting her if I don’t show up at her little Christmas party.”

Sunny shrugged. “Money’s nice, for sure. Believe me, I know that,” she said, thinking fleetingly of her dream to move to New York. “But if I had to choose between a big old pile of money, or family, I’d choose family every time.”

Cole gave her a grumpy look. “I can see why she likes you if you go around spouting crap like that.”

“Excuse me, it’s not crap—” Sunny broke off before her temper could get away from her. Yes, Cole Benton was an ass who couldn’t be bothered to support his own grandmother, but unfortunately, he was the ass who could get The Benton Girls Revue back up and running. She had to be nice to him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Benton, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” She pasted on a smile and went back to the script Rick had gone over with her. “I’m actually here as a friend of your grandmother’s to talk with you about your recent decision to cancel The Benton Girls Revue.”

Mr. Benton’s mouth twisted up. “Oh, that,” he said, his monotone making it clear how unenthused he was to pursue the particular topic of conversation. But then he surprised her by stepping back, and holding the door open for her. “I suppose you’d better come in.”

She did, glancing around the mostly black-and-white room before tentatively sitting down on one of the hard black guest chairs. The whole office put her in mind of a chessboard, and she had the feeling that the association was intentional, as if to say to visitors, “once you step into Cole Benton’s space it’s game on.”

And it became clear who was the king on this board when Cole Benton sat down in the much larger chair behind his white desk, steepling his hands over its glass cover. “Talk.”

Sunny swallowed and folded her hands in her lap. “As you know, The Benton Girls Revue is one of the oldest revues in Vegas, and even though I know it comes with its share of costs, it does still break even.”

“Barely,” Cole added. “And I’m not a fan of breaking even, especially when there are plenty of other shows interested in that space. Shows that would cost less and bring in a higher profit.”

“I understand,” Sunny answered. “But when you add in The Revue’s long history, anyone can see that you can’t put a money amount on its value.”

“Only if they don’t have an MBA,” Cole answered. “I’m assuming you don’t.”

What. A. Jerk. What complete and total jerk, she thought, trying to keep the lid on her temper. “No one knows the value of that history more than I do. My grandmother was the first black Benton Girl, and it really makes me sad to think her legacy won’t be able to continue on—”

“So that’s how our grandmothers met?” Cole asked. “While kicking up their heels on the Benton Girl line?”

“Yes, and that’s why—”

“Save it,” Cole said with a bored expression. “You’ve way overestimated the nostalgia factor. I’m a businessman first and foremost in all things, so I don’t care how old The Benton Girls Revue is. The fact is we’d make more of a profit selling the costumes and set pieces we’ve used in it than we would keeping the show going, and that’s what I value most, the bottom line.”

Sunny had tried. She’d really tried, but she couldn’t hold her temper back any longer. “Look, Mr. Benton. I’m not here about your bottom line, I’m here about the people who signed on to do a job in good faith and then had the carpet pulled out from under them today. Good people.”

The man behind the desk threw her a skeptical look. “Let me guess, good people like you.”

“Yes, good people like me,” she agreed. “I have no shame in admitting I need this job to hit my life goals. But also, good people like my best friend, Prudence, who has a younger brother she’s supporting all by herself. Two weeks severance isn’t going to cut it for her.”

“Life goals like what?”

Sunny blinked, a little thrown off track by his response to her passionate speech. “What?”

“You said you have life goals that you need this job to support. What are they?”

Sunny frowned, all sorts of discombobulated. “You really want to know...?”

Mr. Benton heaved a huge sigh. “You’ve already seen how much I value the bottom line, so you should just assume that I also value my time, since it’s worth a lot of money. Believe me, Ms. Johnson, I don’t waste it with questions I don’t want answered.”

Sunny adjusted herself in the black chair. “All right. I haven’t told Rick or your grandmother this yet, so I’d appreciate you keeping it to yourself until I do.”

She paused, waiting for him to promise, but he just stared back at her. The king on his chessboard, refusing to make any concessions to a mere pawn.

“I recently received a scholarship to earn an MFA in dance pedagogy—that’s basically like dance education—at New York Arts University. They’ll cover my tuition in exchange for me agreeing to teach in their dance program for low-income neighborhoods for the two years that I’m there. But they don’t provide room or board, and room and board isn’t exactly cheap—even in the outer boroughs where I’d be living...”

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful, like he’d never even considered how the other half lived before.

Probably because he hadn’t, Sunny thought to herself before continuing on. “So you see why I need this job at least until August, along with all the other hard working dancers in The Revue.”

For some reason, Mr. Benton smiled. Smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Yes, yes, I do see now.”

She waited for him to expand on that statement, but he continued to sit there, his brow crinkled, like he was running some sort of calculation.

Sunny looked from side to side. “Does this mean you’re actually thinking about not cancelling the show?”

“Depends,” Mr. Benton answered.

“On what?” she asked when he once again fell quiet.

He sat forward. “On what you’re willing to do to make sure the show goes on.”


Chapter 4 (#ulink_e6c123e7-628d-5553-a71e-b0cde370f733)

Cole watched as the showgirl’s eyes widened slightly, like a rabbit suddenly caught in a trap. He continued to study her every reaction, while calculating his next words. He could tell she was confused. Very confused, but he didn’t rush in with an explanation. He hadn’t gotten to the top of his business by not carefully evaluating each and every one of his business rivals before and after they sat down on his chessboard, and he considered this showgirl, Sunny Johnson, a business rival.

One who happened to be extremely sexy, with long legs and soft curves that made his hands itch to do more than talk business.

She was fascinating, not at all what he’d expected, not just because she was African-American—though Nora choosing someone outside their race for him to wed had certainly been a surprise. She was so opposite of most of the people he associated with in Vegas. Vegas was a town built on big gambles and everyone who worked there from CEOs to the guys who cleaned the pit floors tended to hold their cards close to the chest. But not this woman.

It was the wide-open expression that had really thrown him at first. Every emotion she felt shone clearly on her face. Starting with her initial attraction to him when they first met in his doorway, soon followed by her irritation and righteous indignation as she defended the jobs of her fellow dancers, and eventually careful pride when she told him about the little scholarship she’d gotten to NYAU.

In fewer than ten minutes, he’d figured out that she wasn’t quite the parasitic gold digger he’d assumed she must be when Nora had first brought up her name. But then again, she wasn’t exactly a helpless damsel in distress, either. He’d found that out when he tried to run roughshod over her pitch to save The Benton Girls Revue and gotten an earful back.

She wasn’t jaded, but she wasn’t easily manipulated, either. Cole valued frankness and candor in many of his business dealings. But in this case he had the feeling that straight-up asking her to help him deal with his grandmother’s outrageous demand wouldn’t go over too well, even if she truly did need money to fund her move to New York.

“My grandmother...she likes you a lot,” he said carefully. Then he waited for her to respond.

“I like her, too,” Sunny answered. “She’s a wonderful woman, and she always made sure my grandmother had a place at The Benton. I’m fortunate to call her a friend.”

Cole didn’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed that his grandmother apparently wanted him to marry her biggest fan.

“Yes, she is an extraordinary woman.” Extraordinarily presumptuous, he thought to himself. “And unfortunately, she’s in declining health these days.”

Declining mental health—and that was technically only Cole’s opinion as of now, but tomato-to-mah-to.

Sunny’s eyes widened and she seemed truly worried. “Oh, no, I’m sorry to hear that. I saw her at one of our shows last week and she seemed in perfect health. She never said anything.”

Cole lowered his eyes, which he hoped was a good enough approximation of upset. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to show any feeling at all during a business negotiation, he wasn’t sure what it would even look like. “It’s not something she likes to talk about. Her good days are pretty good, but her bad days...” He deliberately let that sentence trail off. “Her bad days aren’t something I like to talk about, either.”

Especially now, when he was trying to convince this showgirl that his tough-as-nails grandmother was in declining health.

He pushed forward to the next topic. “But you’re right. I’ve been focused mainly on establishing The Benton Group as a national contender in the hotel industry over the last few years, but my grandmother had an episode this morning, and it made me realize, blood really is more powerful than money.”

Especially when that blood holds more power than she should in your corporation, he thought with an inner glare. Why his grandfather had willed Nora so many shares without limiting her power to use them, he had no idea. But if and when he ever got married, Cole knew he wouldn’t make the same error in judgment with his own wife.

Sunny put a hand over her chest and her eyes went soft as she said, “It is. It truly is. I miss my own grandma every day.”

“Ms. Johnson, I’m just going to level with you. My grandmother doesn’t have long. To the end of the year if she’s lucky, and it’s become important to me to make her happy during these next few months.”

Sunny nodded. “Of course. I completely understand.” She pursed her lips. “But how do you figure cancelling The Revue will make her happy?”

Cole kept his face composed while scrambling for an answer to her question. “The truth is cancelling the show was my way of trying to put some limits on her activities. I want her to get the rest she needs.”

Sunny frowned. “Knowing Nora, she definitely wouldn’t appreciate that.”

“No, I suppose she wouldn’t. But now that I know there’s a sympathetic person on staff who knows about the situation, maybe I could see my way to reopening the show, at least for the next few months. Especially if it would make Nora happy.”

Sunny sat forward, her eyes full of worry for his grandmother. “I will do anything to make sure she doesn’t overdo it when she’s visiting us.”

“She won’t appreciate being coddled,” Cole warned her sharply.

“I know she won’t. And I won’t coddle her, I’ll just make things easier for her, I promise. If you put the show back on, you won’t regret it.”

He nodded as if he were giving her idea of helping out serious consideration as opposed to leading her straight into his trap. “The only thing is that even the show isn’t enough to make her happy these days. You won’t believe what she— No, I don’t want to drag you into this.”

But Sunny shook her head. “No, tell me. Maybe I can help.”

“You could, but it would be weird. I couldn’t...”

“Please tell me, Mr. Benton.”

Cole put a reluctant tone into his voice as he answered. “The thing is my grandmother is very fond of you.”

He pretended to hesitate some more and waited for Sunny to prod him along, so that she could think this whole conversation was her idea.

“Yes, you told me that,” she said, right on cue. “But what does that have to do with the state of her health?”

“She’s so fond of you, that her wish—I guess you could call it her dying wish is that I...”

Again he stopped and waited.

Sunny was leaning all the way forward in her seat now, her pretty brown eyes wide with curiosity.

“That you what?” she asked.

“Marry you.”

He could hear Sunny’s breath catch, and he again went silent. Biding his time. Like the predator she had no idea he was when it came to business.

“Are you serious?” she finally asked after a few opens and closes of her mouth.

He laid a solemn hand on his chest. “Believe me, Ms. Johnson, I would never ever joke about something like this.” Lie through his teeth, yes. But joke? Never.

“I don’t...I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he answered, his mind working furiously behind his calm eyes to figure out how to make this next thing sound less like a threat and more like a win-win for both of them. “You want something from me and I need something from you for my grandmother.”

“You want me to help you trick her?” Sunny asked. He could practically see her struggling with her conscience.

It must be tiring to have one of those, he thought to himself. “I want you to help me make my grandmother happy,” he rephrased.

“And making Nora happy...what would that entail?” Sunny’s voice was hesitant, but Cole could tell she was mulling the idea over, which meant he was in.

He somehow kept the smirk off his face as he answered. “There would be a whirlwind romance for a couple of months, and then we’d announce our engagement—probably at one of my grandmother’s events.”

“Like her August Children’s Charity ball?”

He pointed at her. “Perfect.” Nora had been nagging him to attend that stupid event for years and this year it would be the weekend before the end of summer board meeting. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

“It would make Nora very happy to have us announce it there.”

“And if I agreed to this...to making Nora happy, it would just be pretend, right? We wouldn’t have to...be intimate. Would we?”

This time Cole let the silence drift on for much longer than he knew was suitable, even in business. He was aware this question was meant to be a deal closer. He should just say no, there wouldn’t be anything intimate required and leave it at that—he knew that would be enough to close the deal and ensure that his playboy brother didn’t get his grubby mitts on his business.

However, he found that he didn’t want to make the woman sitting in front of him this guarantee. He surreptitiously let his gaze roam down her body. Her yoga pants and tank top combo, while not the jewel-covered bikini she was required to wear for The Revue, only seemed to accentuate her curves. An image of himself disrobing her, yanking that thin cardigan down her arms, and pulling that tank top over her head to reveal what lay underneath flashed into his mind.

He considered himself already married. To his job. The occasional discreet one-night stand arranged when he found that his other needs were getting in the way of his concentration at work. But obviously he’d let the time between one-night stands go too long, because he found himself suddenly unable to focus on the business at hand. Maybe Nora had been right about the needing to get laid part.

In any case, he found himself going off script to say, “Ms. Johnson, you are doing me a great favor, so this arrangement can be whatever you want it to be.” He then asked her, “Do you want it to be intimate?”


Chapter 5 (#ulink_02137881-f256-53fa-8bcb-13625cd8988b)

“Do you want it to be intimate?”

Sunny felt something catch in her throat and then there came a flood of emotion, suffusing not just her cheeks but also her entire body.

And though she barely knew the man, suddenly she was wondering what it would be like to kiss him. The lines of his face were so sharp and hard. Did they soften when he kissed a woman? What would his hands feel like on her body? She could almost feel them now, disappearing underneath Sunny’s cardigan, pushing it off her shoulders—

Sunny! she chastised herself. What are you thinking? Get it together, girl!

Obviously she’d been single way too long. It had been a year since her breakup with Derek, the one that had inspired her to finally apply to grad school, and apparently the longtime drought was making her mind go to some seriously inappropriate places.

She averted her eyes, trying not to notice how rock solidly handsome Mr. Benton was in real life, how much hotter and sexier he read than his picture downstairs, as she answered, “I think it’s probably best if we keep this strictly professional, don’t you, Mr. Benton?”

Cole’s face remained impassive, but she could sense him smirking behind those green eyes. “Professional it is behind closed doors, but you do understand that when we’re out in public, we’ll have to at least act intimate...for my grandmother’s sake.”

Sunny thanked the heavens for her melanin, because she could once again feel her cheeks burning. “Yes, I understand, Mr. Benton.”

“Then perhaps you should call me Cole.”

Sunny bit down on a rising panic, wondering how she’d come up here to fight for the survival of The Benton Girls and had somehow ended up agreeing to pose as Cole’s fake girlfriend.

“I understand...Cole.” His name felt foreign in her mouth. “What exactly would I be expected to do?” she asked him.

Strangely, this question was the one that finally drained the sexual tension out of the conversation. “Yes, good question,” Cole said, leaning back in his chair, as if some spell had been broken and he was able to return to his businessman persona. “Let’s talk terms...”

* * *

“What did you do?” Rick screamed when she came back to the Nora Benton theater about an hour later. He was on the phone, but that didn’t stop him from catching Sunny up in a bear hug. “Sunny’s here. I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you for tonight’s show. Six p.m. sharp,” he yelled into the phone to whoever he had been speaking to.

When he hung up he looked at Sunny as if she were made of magic. “Cole Benton’s secretary called a few minutes ago. She said the show was back on for at least another three months. How did you do it?”

Sunny shook her head, feeling sick to her stomach. “It’s a long story,” she said. “And you’ve probably got a lot of calls to make if you want to make the six o’clock call time. Maybe I can help you with that?”

“Oh, sweetie, would you?” Rick said, handing her the second sheet of the dancers’ contact info list. “You truly are an angel. One of my best dancers and you got Benton to put the show back on. I still can’t believe it.”

“Actually, only one of those things are true now,” Sunny said with a grimace. “I can’t be one of your dancers anymore.”

“What!” Rick responded to her announcement. His voice could probably be heard all the way on the pit floor, which only made Sunny more reluctant to go on. This was going to be way harder than quitting her cocktail waitress job, but she stuck to the script Cole had given her, even if it made her feel guilty as hell for outright lying to her stage dad.

“Well, Mr. Benton—ah, I mean Cole—said that he’d bring the show back, but he’d need someone to help him with his grandmother, Nora, and he offered me the job.”

“So you’re going to be Nora Benton’s caretaker now?” Rick asked.

“No, not exactly. Technically, I’ll be her assistant. I’ll be accompanying her to the show every month, helping her plan her August charity ball. Stuff like that.”

“Why does Nora Benton suddenly need an assistant?” Rick asked. “She has more connections in Vegas than pretty much anybody else on the planet, and she’s a total control freak. She’s never needed any assistance before. What’s changed...”

Rick’s voice trailed off, then his eyes widened. “But The Benton Group doesn’t allow its employees to date. Cole Benton wants into your pants! That’s why he agreed to put the show back on, but made you take a job as his grandmother’s assistant. He’s into you!”

Sunny felt her cheeks warm for the third time in as many hours. Seriously, she was beginning to long for the days when the most embarrassing thing she did was wear a rhinestone bikini every night on stage. “I’m sure that’s not it,” she said, trying to keep her voice as demure as possible, despite knowing that was exactly what Cole Benton wanted people to believe, and that Rick was already playing right into his made-up story of a whirlwind romance.

“And I’m sure it is,” Rick said. “But I’m not going to complain. You got the show back on, so I’m happy. Good job, Sunny!”

“Um...thank you, I guess,” Sunny said, trying to decide whether she should be offended that Rick was more than willing to pimp her out to what he believed to be a predatory new boss if it kept The Revue going.

Rick soon redeemed himself with a sad look. “But baby girl, I have no idea how I’m going to replace you. I mean who’s going calm the dancers down enough to go onstage after I finish screaming at them?”

Sunny threw him a surprised look. “You knew I was doing that?”

“Of course I did,” Rick said. “I’m like God, I know everything that goes on in my backstage. But seriously, I’m going to need a name. I’ve got a doozy of a rant I’ve been writing out in my head for weeks, and I’m pretty sure there’s going to be tears from some of the newbies. Do you think Pru can handle backstage mama duties?”

Sunny laughed. “I think she’s ready, I really do.”

“She better be!”

Sunny had to give her incorrigible boss a warm hug then. “I’m going to miss you so much, Rick,” she said, meaning it.

“Me, too, sweetheart.” Then he leaned back, and held his finger up. “Go take one for the team with Cole Benton, but be careful with that one. He’s good lookin’, but he’s a shark. Don’t let your heart get involved or he’ll eat you alive.”

A chill ran down Sunny’s spine. She had the feeling she should be taking Rick’s warning seriously, even though she was the one who’d agreed to help out Cole.


Chapter 6 (#ulink_fef98567-ed9f-5822-9beb-9c40d6d3a823)

On Tuesday morning Sunny had two jobs. By Tuesday afternoon, she only had one...and no idea what to do with herself. Her new job was pretty much fake, a cover story to get around The Benton Group’s nonfraternization policy, which would hopefully help sell their whirlwind romance. Though Cole Benton didn’t exactly strike her as a whirlwind-romance type of guy. Their first date wasn’t scheduled until Sunday night, some business dinner, which she didn’t even have to shop for, because Cole’s secretary had emailed that she’d be sending over a dress for the event. So she had a lot of time on her hands. A lot of time.

The first few days, she spent deep cleaning her entire apartment and setting up a bunch of traps for the rat who’d stolen her meal replacement bar. There were no signs of him in the cabinets, thank goodness, but she doubted she’d seen the last of him. Quite frankly her apartment was a dump, chosen shortly after she and Pru had given up their lease due to Pru’s parents dying in a car accident and her having to take over as her high-school-aged brother’s only guardian. Sunny’s apartment was cramped and in a questionable neighborhood, but it was also cheap and right on a major bus route, so she never had any trouble getting to work. The good had outweighed the bad—until her furry roommate had showed up.

After that it hadn’t been worth the amount of sleep she’d lost, because she kept jerking awake, thinking she heard the quick movement of tiny feet inside her walls.

By the time Saturday night rolled around, Sunny was a wreck, still tired, and bored on top of it. But for the first Saturday night in her working life, she had no boss to report to, no dances to perform or drinks to serve, no friends to go out with since they all were Benton Girls performers—nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs.

She’d already read every book in her apartment, and choreographing a whole new routine for her Sunday girls’ dance class at the Balzar Community Center had only occupied her time for a few hours. By five, she was nearly out of her mind with boredom, and thinking she should use some of her hard saved money to buy a TV. Something she’d never bothered with before, because she was usually too exhausted to do much more than fall into bed when she got home from either of her jobs.

People call New York the city that never sleeps, but really it was Vegas that never shut down, not even for national holidays, not for one single neon weekend. There was always work to do in Vegas. But here she was now with nothing to do.

Just then her doorbell rang, and she was more than a little surprised to see who was standing on the other side of the door when she opened it.

Before she could even work up a pleasant hello, Cole Benton held up a manila envelope. “Your confidentiality agreement,” he said. He looked very, very annoyed. Even though he was the one who had shown up at her front door unannounced.

“You want me to sign a contract?” she asked, blinking as she tried to catch up.

“Yes,” he answered, then he pushed past her, barging into her apartment without invitation.

“Please come right on in,” she said, closing the door behind him.

He either didn’t pick up on her sarcasm or didn’t care. He looked around the apartment for a few seconds, then he pulled the contract out of the envelope. “Sign there and there. It’s pretty standard. You won’t say anything about any of this to anyone, including Nora.”

Sunny wondered if she’d ever get used to hearing him call his grandmother by her first name. She knew her own grandma wouldn’t have put up with that even for a second. But she had the feeling The Third—she meant, Cole—probably got away with a lot of behavior most people couldn’t.

She signed on the line above her printed name, “You couldn’t have just mailed this to me?” she asked. “I thought we weren’t supposed to start pretending to date until tomorrow night...”

She trailed off when she saw that Cole wasn’t listening, instead his phone was to his ear.

“What time do you think you can have the moving truck meet us here?”

“Wait, why is a moving truck coming here?” she demanded.

Cole kept talking as though she hadn’t said anything. “Couple of hours? Great.” He then frowned at something the person on the other side of the phone had said. “I don’t know. I’ll ask her.”

He lowered the phone and glanced at Sunny. “Do you want the movers to pack you up? Or do you want to do that yourself?”

Sunny screwed up her face. “What? When did I agree to move?”

Cole put the phone back up to his ear. “She’s not sure. Just tell whoever you get to be ready for an either-or situation. I’ll touch base later. Thanks.”

As soon as he hung, she informed him, “I’m not moving to...” She realized she had no idea where he was trying to make her go, and finished with a tepid, “Wherever you’re trying to make me move.”

Cole picked up the signed contract and flipped through it before turning the found page around and pointing to a paragraph. Sunny read it. Something about her agreeing not to do or say anything that would cast him in the bad light.

“How is living in my own apartment casting you in a bad light?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No man of my standing would ever let his girlfriend live in a dump like this.”

“It’s not that bad,” Sunny argued, her voice sounding a little weak even to her own ears, as she tried to keep her eyes from straying over to the water stains on the walls.

“It’s a dump,” he repeated. “And judging from the deal I saw going down in the nearby stairwell, probably not at all safe. You move in with me until my assistant can set you up in a decent apartment.”

Sunny’s first thought was to argue with him. No one told her what to do or where to live.

But then the image of the rat with her protein bar in its mouth floated across her mind. She could still hear distinctly the high-pitched click-suck of its teeth.

“Exactly where would this apartment be?” she asked. “It would have to be something I could afford on my own.”

“That’s something you can discuss with Agnes when the time comes,” he said, sounding brusque and bored with this whole line of conversation.

Sunny tried not to bristle. She supposed she should just be grateful he hadn’t decided to make a big deal of her easy acquiescence. “I... Um. Don’t really need a moving truck,” she mumbled. “Everything I have fits easily into two suitcases. I’ve been getting rid of a bunch of things before I go to New York.”

He brought out his phone and started texting. “All right, I’ll have Agnes call off the moving truck. Pack up and I’ll drive you back to my place.”

“You don’t have to drive me—”

He cut her off with another disapproving stare. “If your car is anything like your apartment, I think I do.”

She thought of the bus, which had served her well over the year she’d been living there. “The bus gets the job done,” she said, feeling the need to defend Las Vegas’s transit system.

Cole didn’t even look up from his smartphone. “I’m telling Agnes to pull out one of the cars from my garage. You can probably handle the Mercedes.”

“Really, you don’t have to—”

Cole crossed his arms across his chest. “So is the plan to keep me waiting instead of packing your bags quickly?”

Sunny pursed her lips. Cole was acting as if everything he was commanding was the most logical thing ever, but she wasn’t a doormat.

“You know you’ve got me thinking...” she said.

His eyes narrowed, but he remained quiet, waiting for her to go on. He seemed to have two modes of communicating, Sunny noted to himself. Either issuing commands or using silence in a way that felt as though he were carefully wielding a weapon.

She continued on, anyway, even further convinced by his weaponized silence that she should try to gain some sort of upper hand. “You’re trying to sell us as a couple, and that’s why you want me in an apartment I probably couldn’t afford on my own and driving a nicer car than I would buy if I had one. Obviously, you’re used to dating a certain type, and I’m not it.”

“No, you’re not my usual type,” he agreed. However, a heat sprung up in his eyes when he added, “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever dated. But I don’t think I’m going to have any problems convincing others that I’d be more than willing to take you on as a lover.”

His clipped words actually felt like a compliment. A rather sexy one, but Sunny forced herself to stay on her original course. “That’s great,” she said. “But the problem is you’re not my type, either. The people in my circle—including Nora—might find it hard to believe I’m really with you. Like not just a fling, but seriously into you with the possibility of getting married.”

The heat drained out of his gaze. “What exactly is your type, Sunny?” he asked and she felt a chill go up her back.

“Well, my last serious boyfriend ran a homeless shelter. We met while he was asking people to sign up to volunteer there, outside of Trader Joe’s.”

Cole crooked his head, like the whole idea of actually doing good in the world was a completely foreign concept to him.

Maybe it was, Sunny thought unkindly, wondering, not for the first time how she’d ever gotten herself into this mess.

“You’re saying you’d prefer that I’d be more charitable,” Cole concluded. “Fine. Tell me what charity you like, and I’ll have Agnes make a donation.”

She gave him a leveled look. “I was actually thinking more charitable, like doing. Like if people saw us doing charitable things together, maybe they wouldn’t have such a hard time buying my story.”

Cole crinkled his forehead. “So you want us to spend time together, helping people. Fine, I can do that? Tell me how.”

“I guess you could come with me to my community dance class tomorrow. It’s all girls, and we’re always looking for guys to help us with lifts.”

“What time?”

“Seven—I know that’s early. But a lot of my girls are Catholic, and have to be done in time for second Mass at St. Peter’s.”

Cole brought his phone back out and started typing. “It’s not early for me. I’ll have Agnes clear my schedule.”

Now it was her turn to shake her head. “You work on Sunday mornings, too?”

“Of course I do,” he answered, like she was the odd one because she didn’t.


Chapter 7 (#ulink_bd6c00ae-14b4-526c-9f1f-6daf17e57342)

Sunday morning, Cole woke up way earlier than usual, and in a foul mood. He’d tossed and turned the entire night, a certain part of his anatomy reminding him with increasing insistence that Sunny was now living in the penthouse apartment he kept at the top of The Benton. Living with him. She was right there, in the very next bedroom, her soft, curvaceous body lying underneath a couple of sheets and a thin blanket, which he’d only have to pull back to...

He’d been forced to take care of himself around 3:00 a.m. like a high school boy, and even that hadn’t been enough. Now he was wide-awake with a mind that didn’t want to shut back down.

With an aggrieved grunt, he got out of bed. His master bedroom, and the rest of his penthouse were done up like his office downstairs, with white floors and walls, and sleek black furniture. However, the chessboard feel of the place didn’t give him his usual satisfaction, because whatever was going on with Sunny, it didn’t feel like he was currently winning. Even though the house was always supposed to win, and he was the CEO of the house.

He went into his home office, which was located right across the hallway from his bedroom to get a head start on the work he’d normally be doing on a Sunday morning, if he hadn’t agreed to accompany Sunny to her silly dance class.

* * *

“Are you seriously working at five-thirty on a Sunday morning?” he heard her ask behind him a couple of hours later.

He turned around to give her a peevish answer about the difference in income levels between him and the guys who didn’t work on Sunday mornings, but the words got stuck in his mouth as he studied her appearance in his office doorway.

He was used to the type of women who slipped out of bed before he did to fix their hair and make-up. Sometimes they even spritzed on a little perfume.

But Sunny looked as if she’d just climbed out of a tumble dryer, rumpled clothes, glossy curls going every which way, including up. However, that combined with her bountiful curves, barely contained by the drawstring pants and tank top she’d worn to bed sent a lightning bolt of lust straight through him.

Instead of putting her in her place, he had to work hard to keep the physical strain out of his voice. “Did you need something?” Other than him inside of her, right now?

“Coffee,” she all but groaned. “I can’t even think about a shower until I’ve had at least one cup.”

He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had even dared to approach him for anything other than morning sex without having taken a shower first—and often not even that. No, Sunny was definitely not his usual type. Not even remotely.

Yet, he had to turn around in his swivel chair for fear of what his smaller brain would compel him to do if he had to look at her another second.

“In the kitchen. It’s an automatic pot. The housekeeper sets it up every day.”

“Thanks,” she said to his back. “Can I bring you back a cup—”

“No,” he answered, before she could even finish asking the question.

“Okay,” she said carefully. Then she mercifully walked away, giving him the time he needed to get himself back under control.

* * *

He was still in a bad mood when he followed Sunny into the Balzar Community Center, which was located in an area of Las Vegas he’d only visited how many times? Oh, wait, that would be never, because he’d never had any reason to test out the fallibility of his Lo Jack system.

“Your car will be fine,” Sunny teased, apparently reading his mind as they walked through the building’s front door.

She’d had the nerve to come out to the living room dressed in a pink leotard, tights and leg warmers. She was either better at hiding her intentions than he’d originally given her credit for, or she honestly had no idea what the sight of someone with her kind of curves dressed in an outfit like that could do to a man.

Either way, he took a moment to resent the hell out of her for making it so he could barely look at her, because he was working so hard at keeping himself from tenting his pants. It didn’t help that she looked happy and in good spirits, like she’d gotten the best sleep of her life, while he’d tossed and turned all night.

And now she was teasing him about worrying about his Bentley, which probably cost more than this entire building.

Time to teach his pawn a lesson and put himself back in control of the chessboard, he decided.

“We’re early,” he pointed out as Sunny led him down a narrow hallway with paint peeling off the walls. “Is there a reason for that?”

Sunny shook her head, “No, it just worked out that way—”

She broke off with a squeak when he took her by the waist and pressed her back into the one area of wall where the paint was still smooth. He let his body settle into hers, reveling in her softness, as he breathed in her scent. Shower gel and the apple she’d eaten for breakfast.

“What—what are you doing?” she asked him, her voice breathless with confusion...and something else.

He liked the something else part. Liked it a lot.

“We’re supposed to be making our debut as a couple tonight at the Businessperson of the Year dinner.”

“And that has what to do with you holding me against this wall?” she asked, looking incredibly uncomfortable, but also still...something else.

“We’re supposed to be in the throes of a new romance, madly in love. Now I don’t usually do PDAs. Not really my thing, but in this case, if I were really capable of falling hard for somebody in a matter of days, I think I’d be okay with it. Don’t you?”

He could distinctly see a bead of sweat on her forehead now. “Are you hot, Sunny? Already? We haven’t even begun the class. Maybe we should turn on the air conditioning,” he offered, not even trying to hide the fake tone in his suggestion.

“No, I’m fine, I—” she broke off, obviously flustered. “I just don’t understand what tonight has to do with right now. What you’re doing right now?”

“We’ve got fifteen minutes. Maybe we should practice.”

Before she could ask “practice what,” he answered the presumed question, pressing his lips to hers for what was supposed to be a teasing kiss. A light punishment for giving him a hard time about his car and work schedule.

Except it wasn’t teasing or light. In fact, when his lips met hers he felt something zap through him, and he immediately became consumed, moving his mouth over hers, wanting more. He pressed his whole body into her as he kissed her now, suddenly not caring if she knew how badly she affected him. Suddenly wanting her to know just how much he desired her, just how much he wanted in.

And apparently he wasn’t the only one affected by their kiss. Her hand came around his neck, telling him by the way she pressed herself forward into his erection that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Oohhhh! Teacher’s got a boyfriend! Teacher’s got a boyfriend!”





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