Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (3 page)

The kid leaned his body into Moira. “Ya can’t ignore me all night, babe. I’m sitting right beside ya.” He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair. “I think you and I should go back to my room. You older ones always appreciate a good ride on a hot rod. What da-ya say?”

Two things were about to happen: If the kid didn’t take his hand off her, Steven would make sure he’d never be able to use it again, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let him talk to her that way. Giving Carlos a look, he pushed himself up from the table.

Carlos’s gaze followed him. “He looks pissed off, and that’s one man who you don’t want angry. If the kid gets out of this alive he can consider himself lucky,” he said to the man sitting in the middle position.

The man turned to look at him as he passed behind. “He’s a helluva big guy,” he muttered to Carlos.

“Kid doesn’t stand a chance,” Carlos said, shoving a new deck into the shuffler.

Moira jerked her head away from the drunk’s sticky, plump fingers and glared at him. Her eyes narrowed as a dark storm brewed in them. “Listen, Boy Wonder, I’m old enough to be your mother, so pipe down and play cards.”

“Ah, I get it,” the stud said, rolling his head. “You’re one of those frigid bitch—” Steven’s hand came down hard on the kid’s shoulder. “Hey, man.” The young man twisted then stopped when he saw the look on his face.

“Are you bothering my girl?” Steven growled from his six-foot-four advantage. He knew he was a wall of a man. He hoped the kid’s vision was still good enough to see it, too. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, friend. Play nice or leave.” His gaze swung to Moira. “Why don’t you take my seat.” Up close he realized how amazingly beautiful her eyes truly were, even though they were round with surprise.

The kid swiveled his head to look at her.

“Thanks.” She recovered quickly, giving the drunk a shrewd look. “He doesn’t like it when someone calls me a bitch,” she said, playing along.

She slid off her seat, her hand gently brushing his shoulder as if she knew him. He forgot about the kid for a second, his anger receding under her warm gaze.

“What the fuck, man,” the guy growled, his stance stiffening.

He put himself between Moira and the drunk. If the kid wanted to take a swing, he’d take the hit. “Maybe, you should go play somewhere else, pause for the cause, ya know,” he suggested as he took a step back, giving the young man a chance. The guy swayed a little, looking at him, sizing him up. Worse yet, he was probably seeing three of him. Steven jerked his head, indicating it wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.

“Yeah, guess so,” he slurred. “Sorry, man—really, your wife’s beautiful.” He patted him drunkenly on the arm and stumbled away.

When Steven turned, Moira stood behind him, laughing.

“That poor kid must really have blurred vision.” She raised her hand in the air for a high five. “And thank you,” she said, smiling, her green eyes sparkling with amusement.

He reached for her hand, but instead of slapping it, he curled his fingers around hers. He wasn’t laughing either. There was nothing wrong with the kid’s eyesight. All night he’d watched her. He couldn’t help himself. Her face was exceptionally sweet, and her kind eyes said so much more than she did. He had sensed something different about her as soon as she sat down. An aura surrounded her. He just didn’t know what to call it. When she smiled, it always reached her beautiful eyes.

From his vantage point, towering over her, he appreciated her perfect hourglass figure. Her breasts only showed demurely from the form-fitting little black dress she wore. A silver dolphin necklace sitting enticingly between her rounded curves told him she was everything he wasn’t used to. Nothing about her said brash or overstated. She was genuine and incredibly adorable. But he didn’t miss the fact that the look in her eyes became nervous with his touch.

He let her hand slide from his grasp until only the tips of their fingers touched, and then the warmth vanished. Sitting back in his seat, he could still feel the tingle. Those bedroom eyes peeking through her bangs made his heart stop when she looked at him. He couldn’t believe the absolute wild desire that swarmed inside him at the sound of her sensual voice. Who was this woman?

“Carlos, can I leave my chips here? I really need to find the ladies’ room,” Moira asked.

Carlos looked over at her. “It’s pretty busy. We’re not supposed to—”

“Save her seat,” he ordered, settling down in his chair.

“Yes, Mr. Porter.” She blinked at the quick exchange. “I’ll take care of your chips, Moira,” Carlos said.

“Thank you.”

He played absentmindedly with his short stack, her voice lingered in his mind like an echo. Something poked hard at his memory.
Different, she’s different
.

* * * *

Time ticked by, and eventually another dealer took over. He wasn’t nearly as entertaining, and the table emptied out quickly. The pile of chips in front of her boasted her luck. She wasn’t going anywhere, even if the dealer was as dry as a papier-mâché doll.

“Mr. Porter, would you like another card?”

She looked up, surprised that this dealer knew Mr. Handsome’s name as well.

“Maybe I’ll take a break,” he said.

She couldn’t help but take note of his voice. Strong but calm, it rumbled like thunder over distant mountains. Its sexy timbre set her nerves singing. She’d heard sexy on the VHF radio many times before. His—was the best she’d ever heard. The sound whirled in her ears for only a second and dropped straight between her thighs. What a ridiculous thought, but her legs flinched anyway. She gave him a friendly nod and smiled good-bye, turning her attention back to the movement of the casino.

He didn’t leave. Instead, he took a step toward her. “Moira, maybe you’d like one, too?” he asked.

She swiveled in her chair not really believing that a man like him would ask her anything other than if she knew what time it might be. He’d been kind to her earlier by sending the kid packing. She thought he was simply one of those rare gentlemen doing his civic duty. For a brief moment she peered at him, and then around the casino. Would she? Should she? This man seemed to make butterflies the size of eagles swoop in her belly.

“I…” She shook her head, her gaze straying back to his. He reached his hand out in a courteous gesture to guide her off her chair. He didn’t look like he wanted to take no for an answer.

“I promise I have better manners than Boy Wonder,” he said quietly in response to her hesitation.

She smiled at his reference to her earlier remark. “I suppose I could use a walk.” She placed her hand in his. The moment his skin touched hers, she felt the same electric shock as before. Her stomach coiled, and her heart squeezed tight. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“My name’s Steven Porter,” he said, looking at her with a warm smile in his brilliant blues.

“Moira.”

Up close, the small lines around his eyes became visible. He had to be in his forties. No matter what age, perfect symmetry made beautiful people, and his strong jaw and high cheekbones were attractive from every angle. Northern European descent maybe, she thought.

“It’s nice to meet you, Moira.” He gently pulled her arm to wrap around his, reminding her of the golden oldies when a man actually escorted a lady. “Why don’t we take a walk along the strip? There’s a place I think you’ll like down the street, and we can stretch our legs.”

She nodded, but didn’t trust herself to say anything. His incredible strength rippled from his body, setting hers on high alert. There wasn’t anything on him that looked soft. She’d give her next three paychecks away if he didn’t have a six-pack under that expensive dress shirt. He tenderly placed his hand across her back, the warmth of his skin seeping through her dress as he led her toward the Grand Palms lobby.

“You’re not American, are you?”

She leaned away from him in surprise. “How would you know that?” she asked, smiling. She couldn’t help it. She wasn’t good at being elusive. A poker player she was not.

“I think”—he paused, breaking out in a half grin—“that I heard you say ‘eh’ more than a couple of times.”

“What? No I didn’t,” she said, unable to squash the smile curling her lips.

“I’m pretty sure you did.” He gave a slight nod as the valets waiting in front of the hotel gestured toward him. “You are most definitely Canadian.”

“Well, I guess I’m caught then. Yes, I’m from Canada.”

The wind swirled the desert heat around them as they walked down the long driveway toward the strip. The large palm trees that bordered the roadway rustled above their heads. Bright spotlights pointed upwards toward the fronds to highlight the rough bark and height of the trees.

The traffic on the strip had eased by midnight, but black stretch limos, taxi cabs with signs of enticing women perched on their roofs, still raced along the famous stretch of pavement known as the Las Vegas Boulevard.

Steven’s gaze lingered on her, and suddenly the air grew even warmer. “What part of Canada?”

“British Columbia.”

“So is it a holiday or a convention?” he asked.

“It’s a wee break.”

They joined the crowds of people that walked along the wide sidewalks.

“You know I did worse tonight than I have in the last three nights. You distracted me every time I heard you laugh.”

“It’s a bad carpenter that blames his tools,” she teased. “You’re probably lousy all the time.” Holy God, what was she doing? Flirting, that’s what. She surprised herself with how easily it came out.

He laughed, placing his hand over hers. “I was glad you didn’t wander away from the table early—very glad.” His voice lowered with meaning, and the octave sent a ripple of excitement through her.

“And the fact that I’m not wearing a ring made you even happier?” she asked.

“That might be true, too. To be honest I kept waiting for a husband or a boyfriend to show up, since none did, well—I took a chance.”

“You’re a gambling man.”

“I have a little voice in my head that doesn’t steer me wrong too often.”

“Ah good, you hear voices.” Laughter bubbled up, and although she tried to suppress it, she couldn’t.

He barked with laughter, and his entire face lit up. “Okay, I guess that did sound a little odd, didn’t it?”

“Only if you talk back to them,” she said.

Good grief, he was amazing. She’d never seen a man who looked liked him in person. He belonged on the cover of a magazine like
Forbes
or
Rolling Stone
with a headline that read,
Holy
God in heaven, who made this guy?
Then again, the cover would probably combust into flames on its own if he ever graced it.

He kept her close to him, their arms locked together as they wandered down the massive sidewalk in no real hurry. For a change, she didn’t have to zigzag when she walked. People got out of Steven’s way when they saw him coming. It kind of reminded her of a small pleasure craft opposing a deep sea. There’s no arguing with size unless you’re stupid or preoccupied.

Lines of people gathered around the lake in front of the Bellagio Hotel. “It looks like the water show is about to start,” she said as they approached. “I remember this. I came just after it opened. It took my breath away.”

He steered her toward the crowds gathering at the balustrade that kept visitors away from the water. “Let’s stop.”

He worked his way through the people, keeping a warm, firm hand around hers as he guided her to the front, placing himself behind her so she could have the best view. She couldn’t believe he’d done it so easily. Everyone just moved aside for him. A cockeyed grin slipped onto her lips as she wondered if he could part the Red Sea as well.

With an unimpeded view of the lake, the dark water rippled with the wind against its surface. The Tuscan backdrop of the Bellagio began to darken, indicating the show was about to start. As the last light extinguished, Steven slid his arms around her, pressing his body against her back, and resting his hands on the ledge in front of her. She shivered, the goose bumps covering her body. It was just the anticipation of the show that was doing that—right? God help her!

Lights winked on beneath the surface of the dark pool, and the first spout of water shot from the darkness. A sweet ballad floated through the air from hidden speakers. The symphony of water and sound exploded at the same time, causing the crowd to cheer. A racing trail of spray, arcing into the air in perfect timing with the melody, captured the crowd’s attention.

Her legs wobbled when his sensual timbre whispered close to her ear. “Still as beautiful as you remember?”

His cheek gently brushed against her hair. Whether he had done it on purpose or by accident, it had the same effect. Her heart clanged like a ship’s bell in her chest. “It’s amazing.”

She tried to keep her concentration on the water, instead of him. His scent drifted to her, an enticing hint of aftershave luring her. The warmth of his body resting gently against hers set off more explosions in her than the water show.

A roar of applause followed the display. She turned in his arms, expecting him to back away, but he didn’t. They were inches from each other, and the look in his eyes held a mixed message—heat, interest and uncertainty. Her breath caught in her throat. Giving him a weak smile, she said, “I think it’s over.”

“Beautiful,” he murmured, looking at her with a warmth she’d never imagined coming from his ice blues. She must have looked frightened because he backed away from her with a small knowing grin.

“It was,” she said quickly, putting her attention on the pavement.

* * * *

They reached the entrance leading into the Bellagio. People struggled to open the heavy doors, using both hands and sometimes their feet. Steven drew the fifteen-foot-high door open with one hand, holding it so she could enter. “So I suppose it’s a convention or a break for you, too?” she asked.

“Business,” he said.

“Are you from Nevada?”

He placed his hand on her back, gently steering her in the right direction. “No, Los Angeles.”

“Why is it that everyone I talk to around here is from Los Angeles?” she mused.

“Ah, because there are a lot of people who live there?”

She darted a look at him. “I guess that would be one reason.”

They found two comfortable chairs in a semiprivate corner of a small lounge tucked away in the labyrinth of floral colored paths that crisscrossed the casino. He let her sit down before he took his seat. He looked like a model, had impeccable manners without being slimy, and actually listened when she spoke—interesting. She had to get the hell away from him.

Her ex-husband certainly didn’t have manners. Heck, he’d even let the door slam in her face a few times after walking through it. But then again, she really wasn’t the kind of woman men held doors open for. In fact, she really wasn’t a woman anymore at all. At least she didn’t feel like it. She hoped that one day she could find the person she used to be. So many years of dealing with professional alpha males had made her hard and spiny. She hadn’t had a choice. It was either that or become a puddle of water that many men would splash through with their boots.

The waitress approached them. “Mr. Porter, nice to see you again,” she said demurely. She didn’t even turn to look at Moira.

Steven gave the waitress a friendly nod just like she’d seen in the casino as he said, “A glass of Merlot, Chateau Petrus if you have it.” He turned his gaze to her to make sure that’s what she wanted. When she nodded tentatively he said, “I’ll have a scotch, Macallan, thirty-year-old.”

Her alarms started to go off. The fear factor struck eight point something on her “don’t be an idiot” scale. Beautiful women surrounded them. Why had he asked her for a drink? “I don’t think I’ve ever had Chateau Petrus before.” She peered at him, trying to figure him out.

“I think you’ll enjoy it,” he said, his jaw tightening with a grin. He removed his jacket and draped it over the arm of his chair. “Do you live in Vancouver?”

“Ah, so you’re one of those rare Americans where the corners of the earth don’t stop at the border.”

“No, I’ve been to Vancouver many times. They did a great job for the 2010 Olympics, could have used a little more snow though.” He chuckled. “It’s a beautiful city, but most of the time I’m there for business.”

“It is a nice city, isn’t it? I’ve lived there all my life.” She clasped her hands around her knee because she had the desire to grab something to steady herself. Clutching the armrests of the chair would make her look ready for an execution, but that was about what it felt like. How many seconds would it take him to realize she was tough as nails and just as gnarly.

“Are you here by yourself?”

“No, I’m here with some of my officers. We came this morning. Well—yesterday morning now, I guess,” she said, glancing at her watch.

“Officers?” He looked bemused. “You’re just too sweet to be a police officer.” He paused and raised his brows. “I hope that’s not going to end up being an insult?”

She laughed. “No.” She shook her head. “Maritimes Officer, the Canadian Coast Guard type.”

“Really? And what do you do for them?”

Still trying to figure out why she was sitting here with this man she said, “I work in the Port of Vancouver.” To her it felt the same as saying
I’m a welder or a steelworker
. In fact, she felt more man than woman most of the time. She’d lost her soft edges long ago.