Hot and Bothered (16 page)

It was just too nice a day to ruin it. But when the silence kept hanging between them, she started to change her mind, knowing that she'd probably crossed a new line between them by bringing up personal stuff that perhaps should have stayed buried.

And it was a line she didn't understand no matter how hard she tried.

***

Back at the stables, Gideon and Rochelle removed their horses' tack, watered them, and then put them up. All the while, he kept his tongue.

He even managed to carry through with his silence as they checked in with Buzz and Jonsey, who were training a horse in the pen. Best thing really, because Gideon had been getting strange glances from the cousins ever since the Pink Ladies, so he'd stayed as far away as he could. How long he could manage that, he didn't know, but he'd sure try.

When he and Rochelle started to stroll around Rough & Tumble, he knew it wouldn't take all that long. It was a very literal small town with one main road and a few more branching off into what seemed like disconnected spots of nowhere dotted by houses.

But he almost wished he had enough time to turn over that last discussion in his head. Just why had Rochelle felt the need to talk about that friend shit with him? Was she creating space between them by pointing out that what they'd had was in no way emotional? Did she think that made it easier to be near her?

Well, it didn't. And, goddamn him, he hated that he felt like he was just another item on a long list Rochelle Burton carried around, checking off tasks as she completed them.

Sadly enough, that thought made him think of the women
he'd
been with. Did they all feel like they were on a to-do list after they'd been to-done?

Well, woe was he, he'd get over it. And once Rochelle was gone, she'd only be another memory to savor. No use in obsessing about what she'd said or didn't say or . . .

Hell, it was just no use.

As they walked down the road, away from the crumbling stone mining shack where a miner named Shoelace Brown supposedly hanged himself, leaving what was left of the structure haunted, Rochelle made another attempt to engage Gideon in conversation.

She glanced at his house, which was less than a block away. “Do you ever hear ghosts at night?”

“Why're you asking? Is there another book in this?”

“You never know.”

He adjusted his hat. “I've never heard a peep from old Shoelace, rest his soul.”

As they approached his home, with its half-done fence and the dug-up yard with cactus scattered around, he once again wondered if she was comparing it to her mansions and feeling bad for him.

Just as an angry embarrassment held him in its grip, he heard a sports car rumble down the road. Expensive, judging by the sound of the engine.

He looked over his shoulder to find a gunmetal gray Porsche Spyder with its top up and two people inside who were sights for sore eyes.

Bennett Hughes, billionaire and bachelor no more, stuck his hand out his window in a jaunty hello while driving past them and swinging the car toward Gideon's driveway. On the passenger side, the woman who'd kept the playboy from becoming a permanent lost cause hung out the window.

“We're baaa-ack!” said Liz Hughes, waving madly.

Ben cut the engine, and Liz sprang out, her bobbed red hair catching the sun, her slim ex-showgirl body encased in a smart black-and-white dress and on her feet high heels that emphasized how leggy she was.

“Is that who I think it is?” Rochelle whispered to Gideon, who doffed his hat to the couple while he and Rochelle moved toward the house. She had an affable yet curious smile on.

“Ben and Liz Hughes,” Gideon said.

“Oooh.”

She said it in a way that told Gideon she'd read at least one tabloid story about Ben's quickie Vegas marriage to the so-called gold digger, but here the couple was, a marriage of convenience gone right.

Liz strode over to Gideon, catching him in a hug as Rochelle introduced herself to Ben, who'd followed close behind his wife. Gideon denied the urge to keep a strict eye on Ben with a woman like Rochelle around, but Liz had cured her hubby of bad old habits.

As Ben approached Gideon, he listened to Liz greet Rochelle. Ben's wife recognized her name from her best sellers and was absolutely thrilled. Evidently, they'd get on just fine together.

The men patted each other on the backs, shaking hands.

“About time you came home,” Gideon said.

“It was a long trip, but I promised the ball and chain I'd give her a decent honeymoon since we had to put it off for so long.”

What he meant was that there'd been no honeymoon since neither Ben nor Liz had wanted to admit they'd been crazy about each other until they hadn't been able to hide it any more. They'd even had a true, very private wedding with all their friends at the saloon late last year, then taken off for a tour of the world.

“Ball and chain, huh?” Liz asked, poking Ben in the stomach.

He smiled down at her, wrapping her in his arms. As the sunlight brushed over them, Gideon wondered what Rochelle thought of Ben; after all, he'd banged a lot of women while he'd been slumming in the saloon, kind of like a Howard Hughes laying low. Women often called Ben a sun god, with his blond hair and matinee-idol looks.

But Rochelle . . .? She actually wasn't emanating any of the buzzing awareness
he
felt whenever
they
looked at each other.

Hell, yeah
, he cheered, until he reminded himself that he didn't give a shit, that she'd be out of his life soon enough, and he'd be able to get back to normal. Whatever that was.

Rochelle's voice shook him out of his thoughts. “Gideon, would you mind if we went inside to wet our whistles? All that walking made me thirsty.”

“Good idea,” Ben said, keeping hold of Liz. “How about one for old time's sake, cowboy?”

“I'll be glad to pour you some whisky,” Gideon said, “but I'm actually on duty myself.”

Liz and Ben looked from him to Rochelle, waiting for more.

“Long story,” Gideon said, thinking they'd probably already heard it from Kat, since they'd been in touch with postcards and emails.

Liz slid away from Ben to touch Rochelle's arm. “Do tell then. I'm sure these boys have a few things to catch up on while we have a drink.”

As the girls walked to the front door, Liz glanced over her shoulder at Gideon with the same suspicion Rochelle's cousins had developed this past week.

What's with you two? Anything going on here?

He rolled his eyes. Couldn't he escape this?

After they'd all gone inside and Gideon poured whiskies—the only booze he had in stock—Rochelle discovered that Liz used to be on stage on the Strip, and the ladies suddenly had a million more things to talk about. Ben jerked his chin toward the hallway, and Gideon followed him there, but not before he spoke to Rochelle.

“I'll be close enough to hear you call if you need me.”

She smiled that innocent, teenage-years smile at him. “If I see any creepers, I'll give a yell.”

Damn, that smile. It had him twisting and turning low in his gut and not in a bad way. But it sure wasn't good, either.

Ben was already in the third bedroom, which doubled as a work in progress, filled with home fixings Gideon intended to use on this area as well as the second bedroom. Paint cans, trays, rollers, wallpaper, and light fixtures all awaited him.

“The girls evidently need gabbing time,” Ben said. “It's nice that they hit it off.”

Before his friend could fire away with all the questions Gideon knew were coming, he got his time in first. “What're you doing in town? You've got your own mansion at Lake Las Vegas now and that home in New York for business. Are you slumming here again?”

Ben laughed. “Liz and I actually missed Rough and Tumble. We got back into the state yesterday and had a hankering for some nitty-gritty saloon time. We also have vacation pictures we've been holding back, and we thought everyone would get a kick out of them.”

With a gleam in his blue eyes, Ben took out his phone, fiddled with it, and then showed Gideon the screen. On it was a picture of Ben, Liz, and an ice-blond woman who was looking into the besotted gaze of a man with longish, hot-rod brown hair. It was almost like the two of them didn't know anyone else existed at that moment.

“Well, damn me,” Gideon said. “Cash and Molly. You left so long ago and went to so many places that I almost forgot you went to visit them in Singapore.”

Molly, an accountant, was on another job there. Cash, a former gambler who'd often worked the R&T poker table, had won her heart, and no one had been more surprised than Cash.

“I'm warning you now,” Ben said. “Don't ever visit them because they'll make a single guy like you sick.”

“That picture almost did the trick.” He thought again of Cash, a lone wolf, and his obvious devotion to Molly.

“I get you,” Ben said. “I never thought Cash would end up with any woman, much less her. But she's good for him. Who knew?”

As Ben pocketed the phone, Gideon shook his head. “I could say the same mushy things about you and Liz.”

“And they'd be well deserved.”

Fast, quick-draw, do something to stop him from saying
By the way . . .

“By the way,” Ben said, “I couldn't help but notice that you were walking around town with a best-selling author.”

Safe enough, so Gideon easily told him about being her bodyguard and about the creepers. That's all Ben needed to know.

His friend was chuckling, wiping a hand over his mouth to hide it.

“Jesus, what is it?” Gideon asked.

“I already talked to Kat. She mentioned who Rochelle Burton is besides a writer. She's your old flame, isn't she?”

“No.”

“Oh, cut the crap, cowboy. The night I gave you the Bettie Page lighter, you talked circles around the fact that you were carrying a torch for a girl. Rochelle's the one.”

There was no getting out of this. “Yeah, well, maybe I was feeling a little like a sentimental pussy that night, seeing as you and Liz had just gotten back together. I might've been in the spirit of things.”

“You might've been talking when you should've been shutting up?”

Gideon lowered his voice. “If I'd known Rochelle would ever show up to ask me to protect her, I wouldn't have said a word about her to you. But don't get excited; I'm not about to take a Cupid's arrow in the ass like you and Cash did.”

“Kat, too,” Ben said.

“We'll see about that one.” Gideon really would love to talk about Kat's issues instead of his.

He even tried to bring up her romance with Isaiah again, but Ben was a dog with a bone.

“Aren't you afraid that Liz is out there, regaling Rochelle with stories about you?” he asked.

Gideon chuffed. “Rochelle knows almost all my stories.”

Absently, he touched his thumb to his gunpowder mark, which even Ben didn't know the story behind, then lifted his water glass and took a quick shot of it to hide his reaction. Ben still surveyed him.

“Anyway,” Gideon said, squirming out of this, “Rochelle's cousins—you know Buzz, Jonsey, and Tucker Burton—have kept her informed about me, as much as she ever cared to listen. That's why she's already informed.”

“So you're telling me there's a woman in your family room who's actually pretty well acquainted with who you are? Miracles do happen.”

As Ben took a drink of his whisky on the rocks, Gideon thought how true it was that Rochelle was the only person, much less woman, who might know a few more intimate things about him than anyone else did.

Thankfully, his friend lay off the discomfiting topic. “So, any big plans in body guarding today?”

“Just stopping by the Rough and Tumble at Rochelle's request.”

“She wants to show the town that she wasn't run off by that creeper, huh? Good girl.”

Gideon swirled the water in his glass. “You should've been there, Ben. I can't think of another time when the saloon felt so alien to me as it did when Dillinger was making her feel bad about Cherry's book, and then that second creeper appeared. It's true that you and me have seen a hundred fights in there . . .”

“And been part of a few . . .”

“But how strange is it that it only took a creeper with some cherry juice to make it feel like an entirely different place?”

Ben gave him a long stare, and there was no kidding about it—only a genuineness that scratched at Gideon.

“Quick-draw,” he said, “it feels different because your woman nearly got hurt there. It matters.”

Gideon's first instinct was to deny that, but then the truth seeped into him.

It did matter. Too much, and not only because he wanted to take the Rough & Tumble back, making it the place that had always sheltered him with its tough love.

It mattered now because of Rochelle, too.

“What a shame!” Liz was saying to Rochelle in the family room, where they'd sat on one of Gideon's threadbare but clean sofas. “My dining club's going to open in a few weeks. Are you sure you can't stay for the big night?”

“I'm sure.” Rochelle and Liz had gotten on like peas in a pod, and she was tempted to attend this grand opening, and not only because they were getting along so well. Liz's plans for her new restaurant sounded incredible. The woman had dreamed of opening an old school, Rat Pack–era Vegas club for a long time, and after marrying Ben, her ambitions were being realized. House specialties would include things like a grilled surf 'n' turf and drinks named after movie star legends. There'd be a lounge singer at night, a Hollywood-style bar, and a dark-wooded, red-walled martini-time atmosphere.

It was
so
her thing. But there were conventions and signings and many more things in Rochelle's near future.

Hadn't Gideon told her she should slow down, though?

“Come on,” Liz cajoled. “Reschedule just one book signing or something. Your fans can adjust their calendars.”

Very,
very
tempting . . .

“It does sound amazing,” Rochelle said, “but I hate to pull the rug out from under any bookstore or my readers.”

“Okay, I get it.” Liz crossed one long showgirl leg over the other, holding her whisky in a hand with diva fingernails tipping it. “I never missed my gigs, either, unless I was deathly ill. But if you change your mind about coming to The Ruby Room . . .”

“Someday I'll be back to see it.” Rochelle smiled, realizing that she wasn't offering up a line. She liked the vibe of the Vegas area, where it still felt as if the West was a little wild, liked how friendly the people were—unless you counted the creepers.

Liz put her drink on one of the manila folders Gideon kept on his coffee table in lieu of coasters. “I'm sure your bodyguard man won't say it, but he certainly wouldn't mind a repeat visit from you.”

Rochelle shifted on the sofa. Liz had been dropping implications about Gideon the entire time the men had been out of the room, weaving him in and out of conversation. So far, Rochelle had only smiled in response, dodging any answers. But she'd gotten enough of a feel for Liz to know that the woman wasn't an idle gossip, so she went with the Q&A now.

“If you're hinting at what I think you're hinting at,” Rochelle said, “you should know that Gideon is all business.”

Liz laughed, tossing back her head, her red-bobbed hair glossy and shimmering. “You just keep telling yourself that. I saw the way he looked at you.”

Looked . . . at her?

Panic—or was it delight?—blind-sided Rochelle. She and Gideon had an understanding, and it didn't include the kind of looks that Liz Hughes should be noticing.

“My bodyguard has to look at me,” she said. “It's his job.”

“Now don't be coy. You two have totally done it.”

Rochelle only widened her eyes and took a sip of her whisky, all innocence.

“I can tell these things,” Liz continued. “I'm a big believer in fate. People don't crash into each other's lives just because. There's a reason your path crossed with Gideon's again, and there's a reason he's looking at you in the way he is.”

As Rochelle was about to parry, there was a knock at the front door. When whoever was on the other side opened it, Rochelle sat on the edge of her seat until she saw Kat Jenkins poke in her short-haired head.

“Who snuck into town?” she said with a huge smile.

Liz bopped out of her seat and went straight for Kat. Rochelle almost did a double take at the sight of the rougher woman giving Liz a girly hug, laughing.

So Kat
did
know how to smile.

Rochelle decided to sit tight until they'd finished their greeting, but when Kat saw her sitting on the sofa, Rochelle got up, gesturing to her drink.

“Hi. Can I get you anything?”

She was expecting a
Yeah, a rewrite of your Cherry book
, but Liz was already pulling Kat away from the door and into the family room. Rochelle started to move toward the kitchen for that whisky—and maybe a refill for her, too.

“Don't bother,” Kat said, stopping Rochelle from going anywhere as Liz brought their new guest to an old recliner. “I'm only stopping in. I heard from a customer that Ben's Porsche was in Gideon's drive, so I came on over. My weekend bartender's in charge right now, but only 'coz it's dead, and when the usual bunch of tourists inevitably show up, she'll give me a call.”

Sounded like
she
had her get-up-and-away-from-Rochelle excuse all prepared, didn't she? Kat certainly had her opinions about Cherry, and if she didn't like Rochelle because of them, there wasn't much to do about it.

Still, Rochelle might've liked some smoother sailing between them.

Liz had totally ignored Kat's refusal of the booze, and she went to the kitchen herself, talking over the counter as she poured.

“Kitty Kat, it isn't like you're an upstanding Harvey Girl waiting tables at the Rough and Tumble. Have a splash with us and live a little. I double dare you.” She made a show of pouring more than usual into the glass.

For some reason, it seemed that Liz had a magic way with Kat, and the woman shrugged in acquiescence.

“All right, I can have a little.”

“Lovely!” Liz topped off the drink. “Rochelle and I were just talking about Gideon.”

Great.

Kat glanced at Rochelle with those big blue eyes that might've seemed affable to others. “What's there to say about him?”

With an amused whisper that would keep her voice from carrying to the men down the hallway, Liz said, “He's sweet on her. Or can't
you
tell? I noticed the second I saw them.”

“Didn't notice,” Kat said, blank faced.

If Rochelle didn't know that Kat had a boyfriend, she would've thought that maybe the woman was into Gideon. They'd known each other forever just like everyone who'd grown up in or around Rough & Tumble did, so maybe throughout the years, something more than a friendly relationship had developed. Rochelle had never heard that they'd gotten together, but you never knew.

At any rate, Rochelle didn't exactly love talking about this with the woman. “Liz is stirring the pot. She thinks it's romantic that he's my bodyguard, and she wants to make something of it. No biggie.”

Liz returned to the room, handing off the whisky to Kat, who immediately put it on the table, and not even on a folder.

“It is romantic,” Liz said.

Kat rolled her eyes. “Rochelle's right, though: Gideon's just doing his job.”

Liz waved a hand at Kat dismissively. “Oh, you. Isaiah needs to come back from his schooling and get you in a better mood.”

“So I've heard,” Kat said. “But Isaiah ain't the only problem here.”

Time to address that cherry-colored elephant in the room.

Rochelle spoke to Liz. “The creepers aren't the only ones who are unhappy with Cherry's story. Kat's expressed some disappointment, too.”

Kat interjected. “You know this ain't so much about Cherry herself.”

It was also time to pay the piper for how she'd avoided including any Rough & Tumblers in her research, leaving them out of Cherry's fictional life. “I've actually been meaning to talk to you about that, Kat—or at least something similar. Aren't there stories about Howard Hughes taking drinks at the R and T back in the day?”

Kat frowned. “There are tales, pretty much from old codgers who take an afternoon tipple at the bar every once in a while. Why?”

“If you don't mind, I'd love to have you introduce me to them. You're right—local input would be invaluable, and my next book's about Faith Domergue, Howard Hughes'—”

Liz busted in. “Little mistress! I want to read it!”

Kat wasn't as immediately won over with Rochelle's olive branch. “Are you just suckin' up to me now because I'm suddenly useful?”

Le sigh
. But Rochelle got the feeling that this was a woman who had more pride than most, so she went with it. “I might be.”

Her straightforwardness made Kat's frown fade. A hint of a smile lifted her mouth.

“Well, points to you, lady.” She took up her whisky. “I might be able to arrange a sit-down with some townsfolk. We can start off with Jimmy Beetles. He had a great uncle who supposedly met Howard Hughes at the saloon.”

Oy. Rochelle remembered Jimmy Beetles, the stocky greasy-haired nomad biker from the R&T. But if she had to talk to him, then she would.

Liz guffawed. “You'd sick Beetles on her? For shame, Kat.”

Kat was laughing softly into her drink, and Rochelle wondered if she'd only been putting her through the wringer. Had she passed muster?

Rochelle leaned back on the sofa. “Just name a time before the week is done, and I'll be there for Jimmy Beetles.”

“My helping you won't make you and me friends, you know.”

“I'm sure there's a lot of work and maintenance that goes into that, Kat.”

The woman slapped her knee, looking at Liz, laughing from her belly up in a way that was entirely sincere. In the middle of her mirth, she even said, “She's got some vinegar with her sugar!”

Liz only toasted Rochelle, looking pleased that she'd had a hand in easing some tension between the women.

Not that it was
all
gone, because Kat had something more to say as her laughter tapered off.

“So,” she said. “What
is
with you and Gideon anyway?”

Damn. “He's my . . .”

“Bodyguard, yeah, yeah. But I'm talking about the past, not the present.” Kat leaned forward. “A long time ago, you left the ranch real sudden, and Gideon slunk around for the rest of the summer. I don't know what happened exactly, but I'm just here to tell you that if you mess with him
ever
, I'll . . .”

She left it there, as if not used to making threats to other females.

But how could Rochelle be offended when the woman was only taking up Gideon's back? Her own cousins were the same way when it came to defending her. Or, at least, they would be, if they knew the extent of what had gone on with Rochelle and Gideon.

She let Kat's threat roll off her. “Gideon and I have nothing going on. Even if we did, he knows I'll be leaving town soon anyway, so why start something big up? He's known I'd be leaving since the day I arrived.”

The explanation sounded so flat to her, so . . . unappealing. But why? Did she
want
to stick around?

Impossible. And Gideon knew it as well as she did.

Someone cleared his throat from the hallway, and they all turned toward it.

Gideon and Ben were standing there, looking as awkward as hell. How much had they heard?

Embarrassment inched over Rochelle's skin, and he seemed just as bothered while he sauntered toward the door. No man liked to be talked about behind his back, especially when it came to ridiculous things like a romance between two people who were the last ones to ever have a romance.

Just sex
, she thought again. Disposable, fun, thanks-for-the-memories sex.

Why did she have to keep reminding herself?

Ben saved the day. “Gideon got tired of showing me the paint cans in his guest room. How about some Rough and Tumble time?”

Liz was already starting to clear everyone's glasses, even Kat's, which she'd still had in hand. The woman frowned, watching her drink go.

From the kitchen, Liz said, “Sounds great to me, baby.”

“Then we're off.” Ben held his hand out for her.

It was as if she was dying to get away from the heightened tension in the room, and she rushed to her husband and out the door in record time.

Kat got up, sending Rochelle a curious look, then headed for the door, too.

That left Rochelle and Gideon alone, him waiting for her to exit, his mouth set in a line.

No use avoiding what he'd heard, and as Rochelle got to her feet, smoothed down her shirt, then walked to him, she said, “You knew I was leaving.”

“Of course.”

And with a stiff sweep of his arm, he ushered her out, off to the saloon, where they wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

***

So there it was, Gideon thought as they walked to the R&T with the group. Rochelle was really leaving at the end of next week.

He'd known those were her plans, sure, but hearing her say it so nakedly back at his house had felt like a belt across the back leaving a punishing mark.

Had he thought that the sex was going to turn her into a one-man woman? Had he thought that their increasingly intimate talks were a sign of her falling so hard for him that she couldn't bear to put town behind?

It was like he'd fallen for her seventeen years ago and he'd been hoping this whole time that he'd get her to see that she'd made a mistake by taking off on him . . .

The thought gnawed at him as they walked behind the others, the near-distant rock music from the saloon cluttering his mind. Thank God for the loud bliss of the Rough & Tumble, because this was the last thing he should be thinking about: Him and Rochelle. Rochelle and him. This was an equation that didn't add up either way.

When they arrived, Ben held open the door, and Gideon caught a glimpse of Harry inside the dim saloon, waiting by the entrance with his tanked arms barred over his considerable chest. Earlier, they'd made plans to meet here and had confirmed a time back at the house while Gideon had been chatting with Ben. Gideon needed a break anyway, so having his partner here was another blessing.

God knew Gideon needed a break.

As Rochelle entered, he unthinkingly put his hand at the small of her back, guiding her. He'd done it a million times with a woman, but when he realized that he was stalking that blurred, ever-changing line between him and Rochelle once again, he removed himself, his skin vibrating.