Shattered Dreams (Vegas Dreams Book 2) (6 page)

“This is a beautiful house,” I said. “Why do you want to sell it?”

“Why did you want to sell yours?”

“Old memories. Old life. It was time for a new one.”

“I feel the same way.”

“Are you leaving Vegas?” I asked.

He shook his head. It shouldn’t have mattered, and I shouldn’t have cared. So why did I?

The table was prepared and ready. I had to hand it to him, for a man of the male persuasion, he’d done a great job. Everything was perfect.

He pulled a chair out for me, and I sat down. He sat beside me, flattened a hand over mine. “Is anything wrong?”

“It’s just, this all seems so much like a—”

“A what?”

I felt ridiculous and frustrated.

“A lot of trouble to go through. I mean, if you want me to be your agent, I will. You could have made an appointment or met me at Rae’s office. You didn’t have to go through all this to get me to take your listing.”

Just. Stop. Talking.

“It’s not a big deal. I wanted the chance to speak to you in private.”

Of course he did, because this was a date disguised as a party disguised as a real estate deal. And I was an idiot. I gripped the side of the table so hard my hand hurt.

He stared, at me, at my hand trembling beneath his. “Maybe you should try the wine.”

I didn’t want to
try
the wine, I wanted to ingest it, all of it, immediately. He’d gone to great lengths, luring me here through Rae. Why?

“So, tell me your timeline for this place?” I asked. “Have you thought about the list price? Will you live here while the house is for sale, or are you going to live somewhere else?”

“I don’t live here. Not anymore. For the moment, I’m renting a place near my office.”

“You live somewhere else and leave this place empty?”

“I let some relatives of mine crash here for a while. They moved out a couple months ago, and I decided it was time to get rid of it.”

I twirled some stringy pieces of fettuccini around my fork and bit into the pasta, tried to pretend my head wasn’t spinning in a million directions. He reached over, using his thumb to remove a bit of excess sauce from my chin. Great. Even in a dress that said “come hither,” I’d managed to look like a slob.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“About the food?”

He ran a finger up my bare thigh.

“About everything.”

I didn’t like being teased. The suppression method, the “let’s not talk about what’s really going on here,” may work for his needs, but it didn’t work for mine. He wasn’t just beating around the bush, he was circling it like a dog chasing his tail.

Screw it.

“Do you like me?” I asked. “Is that why I’m here, why
we’re
here, alone?”

“You’re
here
because I need a good agent, and I believe you are one.”

He averted his eyes. I tossed my napkin on the table, stood.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “We haven’t finished dinner yet.”

“
You
haven’t finished. I have.”

“Have I said something to upset you?”

“I just, I should go,” I said.

“You’re angry.”

“I’m fine.”

 “So, your arms crossed in front of your chest and the pissed look on your face, like you want to slap me isn’t the look of someone who’s angry?”

“Do you want to know what I think?” I asked, hands pressed onto my hips.

He leaned back in his chair. “I’d love to know what you think.”

“You’re reaching out and pulling away at the same time. You like me, but you’re too caught up in whether I could like you back because of all the shit I’ve been through.”

He made no argument, no attempt to deny it. “Fair assessment.”

“
True
assessment.”

“Somewhat.”

“I’m not made of glass,” I spat. “I wish everyone would stop treating me that way. I’m not sure what
you’re
doing, but I’m trying to learn how to live again, and I don’t need this ... this ... whatever this is.”

“I like you.” He allowed his words to sit, marinate for a minute. “And yes, I have been wondering how long it would take before you decide to embrace the attraction you obviously feel for me.”

The nerve.

“Excuse me?”

“No, I won’t excuse you. You wanted to talk feelings. Let’s talk.”

“Are you always this blunt?” I asked.

“If you mean honest, yes. I see no reason not to be.”

Up to this point, he’d been poised, reserved. I couldn’t accept he felt anything more than pity for what I’d been through. Even if he did feel something more, I’d sworn off the idea of having a man in my life.

“You don’t even know me,” I said. “Not really.”

“I want to know you. And you want to know me. I know you’ve suffered. I’m not Damon. You will never have anything to fear from me.”

“I’m not into one-night stands. Not anymore. I hated myself for it. I can’t do it again, and I won’t do it to you.”

“Is that what you think I’m after? One night?”

“What else could you possibly want?” I asked.

He gripped me by my wrists, jerking me onto his lap, leaving me no choice but to straddle him.

“I don’t want to—”

“Yes, Sasha. You do.”

He covered my mouth with a single, soft kiss. I arched my back, fighting an internal battle, warning myself of the consequences of submitting, giving in to him. This was risky. I was his client. I tried to resist, to push him back with my hand, but my limbs were limp, useless.

Clarity surged through me. “I’m your client. Are we ... I mean ... can we ...?”

“We’re just kissing.”

“Yes, but, kissing can lead to other things.”

“Tell me to stop and I will, Sasha.”

Never before had my name been spoken with such impassioned desire. Logic and reason no longer registered. His mouth moved from my lips, kissing their way down to my neck. Every inch of me wanted to relax, wanted to live in the moment, but I couldn’t.

I started to speak then jerked back, thinking I heard a sound behind me. And then ... slow, steady, claps.

A sense of uneasiness gripped me as I broke from his embrace, realizing we were no longer alone.

Gideon’s eyes veered away from me. He released his lips from mine, his head turning to the side in slow motion. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Gee, don’t let me interrupt,” the woman said.

I poked my head around him, staring at the brunette standing at the entrance to the kitchen. I wondered how long she’d been standing there. Gideon had bolted the door behind me when I walked in, so who the hell was she, and how had she gotten in?

Gideon rested his hands on my upper thighs like he was protecting me.

“Who is she, and how did she get in your house?” I asked.

“Yes, Gideon,” the woman giggled. “Same question.”

She was dressed in a simple, blue-and-white-striped sundress and flip-flops. It was tight and short, but it covered her ass better than my dress covered mine.

Gideon cleared his throat. “Sasha, this is Mandi.”

“Who is she to you?” I asked.

He paused, not wanting to answer.

“Gideon?” I asked.

“She’s my ex.”

Ex what—girlfriend? Wife? Now I understood why she’d traipsed in without knocking, like she owned the place. She probably did.

“Relax,” Mandi said, swishing a hand through the air. “We’re very over.”

“As in?”

“Divorced. I’m just here to hand over a few things—house key, garage door opener, stuff the realtor needs to show this place since he’s finally decided to take my advice and sell it. I’ll be out of here in a jiffy, so you two can get back to your ... whatever it was you were doing.”

She cupped a hand over her mouth, giggled.

Gideon’s jaw was clenched. Tight. She hadn’t been expected, and he seemed irritated she was here. “You said you wouldn’t be in town until tomorrow.”

It seemed silly to mention it now.

She was here.

The ship had sailed, and we were all on it together.

 “What can I say, I got here early, and unlike you, I have a life that doesn’t revolve around a job. Although,” she squeezed her eyelids together until they were almost closed, “from the looks of things, maybe you
are
taking a little time for yourself these days. Whatever gets your rocks off.”

“Mandi!”

“Mandi, what?” she retorted. “Calm down, Gideon. Forgive me for wanting to pop in, leave my things, and be done with it so I could enjoy the rest of my weekend like you’re enjoying yours. I never expected to find you here. Have to say though, you’re still full of surprises. What number is she since we broke up? Twenty? Twenty-five?” 

“Why don’t you leave your stuff and get out?” I said.

While I wasn’t always adept at handling men, women were another story.

Before Mandi could respond, a man appeared behind her, his tropical shirt unbuttoned halfway, showing off a bushy mound of gray chest hair. He looked like he was about fifteen years her senior and, judging by the blingie man-jewelry dripping from his neck, he had money. In his free hand, the one that wasn’t holding a partially chugged bottle of champagne, he held up a hand at Gideon and said, “Hey, man. How’s it goin’?”

Mandi whipped around. “Babe, why don’t you wait for me in the other room? I’ll just be a minute.”    

I used the diversion to remove myself from Gideon’s lap in the most ladylike way possible, even though I lost my balance and almost toppled in the process. My head was back where it belonged again. I didn’t want to be here anymore.

Gideon clasped my hand in his, not letting me go. “Stay, please.”

“I’m leaving,” I said. “Let me go.”

I hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but after living with a monster for so long, I couldn’t help it.

He raised both hands in the air, respecting my wishes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
            “Uhh ... hello?” Mandi snapped her fingers at Gideon. “Focus, please.”

“Leave everything on the counter.”

“Yeah, but what about the paperwork?” she replied. “You said you’d have it ready for me to sign.”

“Again, tomorrow,
not
today.”

“Can’t you just call the realtor and see if she can swing it by tonight ... while I’m here?”

 “She can’t bring it by tonight,” I replied. “She has plans. Well, had plans. You’re interrupting.”

“Hold on a minute.” Mandi’s pointer finger shot out like a dagger. “You’re the realtor, aren’t you?”

I started for the door without responding.

Mandi followed me.

Gideon followed Mandi.

“Sasha, stay,” he said. “Don’t leave yet.”

Again, I didn’t respond.

“Oh, this is fun,” Mandi said. “Don’t run away because I’m here. Take a few more minutes, get what you came for tonight. I can wait ...
that
long anyway.”

I pivoted, planning to zing her even better than she’d zinged me, but Gideon spoke first. “Stop it, Mandi. Now.”

Mandi’s Sugar Daddy was slumped over on the couch in a drunken stupor. I didn’t get it. She may have been a vain, self-serving woman, but she was a ten in the looks department. Even I could admit it. And, at one time, she’d had Gideon. To go from him to a guy just for his money—I didn’t get how some women did it.

I walked outside. Gideon followed me to my car. Even though I didn’t want to say anything, I knew I had to say something, or he’d probably follow me out of the driveway too.

I turned. “This is a job to me. Nothing more.”

It was starting to feel like a lot more though. After experiencing his kiss, I couldn’t look at him without thinking all manner of impure thoughts.

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “This isn’t just a job. What happened between us before—you wanted it as much as I did.”

“You don’t have any idea what I want. You made an advance. You put your hands on me. It was all you. I’ve been through enough. This isn’t a game to me.”

“It isn’t a game to me either.”

I stuck my key into the ignition and fired it up, grabbed the listing folder from the passenger seat, and flung it into his hands.

He could find another realtor, and he could find another plaything.