Vegas Two-Step (9 page)

“Ew!” she groaned, pushing away the huge black Labrador retriever wriggling playfully in the twisted bedding. The dog’s eyes laughed at her and he reared up to deliver another determined kiss. Nellie blocked him, wiping away the evidence of the first kiss from her cheek.

“Dutch, down!” Jack commanded from the bedroom doorway. Dutch ducked his head and slunk off the plush bed as if he’d been beaten rather than reprimanded. “Sorry. He knows he’s not supposed to get on the bed. Guess he found you as irresistible as I do.”

Nellie couldn’t stop the pleasure flooding her heart, though by now she should have been used to his honeyed words. Lord knows he’d whispered more than a few into her ear last night. And again in the wee hours of the morning.

She smiled. “No problem. I like dogs. I guess I’m just not used to them waking me up with such an enthusiastic greeting.”

Dutch stared adoringly at his master. The dog’s tail thumped on the golden Berber rug, creating a tempo that matched Nellie’s heart. Did she look at Jack with such adoration? Was she turning into a lovesick puppy?

The only genuine canine in the room made another move toward the bed. Jack caught him by the collar and pulled him toward the open door. “Come on down. I got breakfast.”

Breakfast? He could cook? Jackpot. Of course, it might be nothing fancier than Lucky Charms or buttered toast, but Nellie couldn’t remember any man ever cooking anything for her, not even her own father when she went to visit him as a child. Where Nellie came from, the kitchen belonged to the women. The men could have the barbeque for steaks and such, but real cooking was done by the fairer sex.

She snorted at the thought. When it came to “fairer,” Jack Darby would have to be included. Damned if the man wasn’t as pretty as a Texas bluebonnet. Okay, not pretty, but definitely easy on the eyes.

She slid languidly out of the bed thinking her initial impression of the room last night was spot on. Modern, chic and elegant. The chocolate-and-gold-striped walls and billowing curtains were masculine without the gross special effects often found in Texas bachelor pads—beer signs, trophy bucks and pictures of fish. Modern furniture furnished the room and was personalized by framed family photos.

Nellie padded into the kitchen, wearing nothing but an old T-shirt of Jack’s emblazoned with Fishermen Use Their Poles across the faded front. She propped her fists on her hips and studied Jack as he raced from the six-burner stovetop to the Sub-zero fridge, balancing a carton of eggs and a quart of milk atop a huge tub of butter.

The carton of eggs popped open and two brown bombs hit the stone floor in rapid succession.

“Shit!” he muttered under his breath, trying to toe open the fridge door and close the carton at the same time. Nellie wanted to laugh, but the smoke rolling up from the frying pan atop the stove set her in motion.

“Ah, hell!” Jack said, slamming the tub and carton on the granite countertop. Before he could reach for the handle of the pan, Nellie beat him to it, setting it on a back burner and turning the flame off.

They both stared at the blackened lumps still smoking in the pan.

She couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “What was that supposed to be?”

Jack ran a hand through his dark hair, unintentionally ruffling it and making him appear bed-rumpled sexy. He sighed. “Well, it was supposed to be French toast.”

Nellie slipped her arms about his middle and gave him a squeeze. “Nice try.”

“Look, I really can make French toast. Any idiot can. It’s just been a while since I had anybody over. You know, since I needed to fix something like breakfast.”

Nellie smiled. Well, that said something. Perhaps Mr. Playboy Vegas wasn’t the Lothario she thought him to be. Suddenly she felt like dancing. Or singing. Or maybe just fixing breakfast.

“That’s okay. Tell you what. You go clean up those eggs and I’ll whip us up some breakfast.”

Jack crossed his arms and cocked his head. His blue eyes twinkled despite the frown he shot her way. “Why do I get cleanup duty?”

“’Cause you made the mess,” she quipped, scooping up the sizzling pan and looking for the trash disposal. “Plus, after you clean up the eggs, you can go relax with the paper or something.”

“Deal,” Jack declared, dropping a kiss on her hair.

Nellie set to work, keenly aware of how good it felt to be cooking breakfast in Jack’s kitchen. It surprised her at how comfortable she was. She could almost pretend it was a normal day—that she poured coffee for him every morning, fussed over the burnt mess stuck in the frying pan, and arranged his eggs and bacon into a smiley face and delivered it to him with a kiss.

Nellie shook her head.
Stop with the fantasies, Nell. Are you deranged? Remember, this is a fling! What you feel is not real. You’re Elle, not Nellie. Get real, sister.

Shoving her dreams of domestic bliss aside, she assembled a simple but yummy breakfast. She found cream-colored stoneware in the cupboard, dished up steaming scrambled eggs with sausage, wheat toast and sliced cantaloupe she found in a plastic container in the fridge, and delivered it to Jack with a kiss.

She added the kiss just to spite herself.

He slid one hand under her T-shirt and gave her naked bottom a squeeze. “This looks almost as good as you. Where did a Dallas businesswoman like you learn to cook like this?”

Nellie ignored the fact she wasn’t a businesswoman and drawled, “Why, I’m a Southern girl, sugar. We live to serve our men. And put meat on their bones.”

Jack pulled her into his lap. “Oh, you live to serve your man, do you?” He nuzzled the side of her neck, nipping his way up to the sensitive shell of her ear.

She laughed. “You’re a bad boy, Jack Darby.”

He kissed along her jawline. “You’re damn right.”

He gave her a smacking kiss and set her on her feet. “Now let me get to my breakfast, woman.”

With an exaggerated sigh, she fetched her own plate and filled her coffee mug, then returned to the table to watch Jack enjoy the breakfast she’d made him. He ate with gusto, not that she’d expect any less. After all, in her limited experience, he seemed to do everything with intent, enthusiasm and passion. And since that included the bedroom, she considered herself pretty lucky. At least for two more days.

Jack munched his toast thoughtfully, watching Elle as she shoveled the steaming eggs into her mouth.

God, he was lucky. Not only was Elle hotter than a two-dollar pistol, but she could cook.

She had toppled into his life like a sexy Texas angel, delivering him from his self-imposed funk. Making him want to smile, want to live big, want to sneak kisses in elevators, dream about wide-open skies. Making him feel that love was possible.

He wondered yet again about his father’s declaration about the right woman coming along and slamming into him like an out-of-control freight train.

Would his world ever be the same?

Was Elle the right girl?

She looked at him with eyes that were windows into her soul. It was as if he could see her every thought—the longing, the hope, the excitement, the fear, the resignation. Was she as scared as he was? Did she feel the same way?

He needed to play this cool. No need to rush her, scare her. They had time. These past few days were only the beginning. Dallas wasn’t far, and he had plenty of frequent-flier miles. He’d be in Texas on a regular basis with the ranch venture, anyway. He knew their blossoming relationship was meant to be.

“What do you want to do today?”

A furrow emerged between Elle’s eyes. “Gosh, I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean, I probably need to get going. I’m sure Kate’s got something planned. She always does, and since I’ve been…occupied lately, I should hang out with her.”

“Oh, so that’s what you call this…occupying time?”

Elle’s cheeks flushed yet again. She did that so easily. Man, she was cute. Jack wanted her for himself. All day. All night. And every moment in between. But he understood. Maybe he could figure out a way to share her. “Well, if you have plans…”

Elle set her coffee mug down. Her eyes focused on the swirls of cream clouding the surface. “Let me call Kate and we’ll go from there.”

“Wait—why don’t you see if your friends want to come over here?”

“Over here?” Elle jerked her cup, causing coffee to slosh over the rim. She darted to the counter and ripped a few paper towels off the roll.

“We could have a get-together…a cookout,” Jack said, lifting one shoulder to send a “no big deal” vibe even as he silently prayed for her to agree.

“A cookout?” Elle swiped the spill from the glass table.

“Are you a parrot?” Jack laughed. “I thought maybe we could grill the chicken we never got around to grilling last night. Then maybe swim, drink Coronas, or whatever.”

Jack watched Elle’s wheels turn. He could see her weighing the pros and cons, wanting to be fair to her friends but still be with him. Jack thought the cookout was a pretty good idea. He would be able to finally meet Kate, learn more about the real Elle Hughes. That was, if she agreed to it.

“Okay, that sounds fun. Let me call Kate and make sure she doesn’t have some big deal planned for today. She’s usually up for a good time.”

Jack lifted his hand and gestured her to go ahead.

“My phone’s upstairs.” Elle slid from the chair and he tried not to watch her as she walked out of the room. Shit. If she happened to glance back, she would see the naked hope in his eyes. Jack smacked his head as she disappeared around the corner. When had he become such a putz?

He cleared the dishes, loaded them into the washer, and poured himself another cup of coffee. He stared out at his back patio to see Dutch digging in a flower bed.

“Okay.”

Jack jumped at the sound of Elle’s voice behind him.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” she asked, rubbing his shoulder tentatively as if she were unsure about touching him in such a possessive manner.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered.

“Huh?” she asked as he turned and took her in his arms.

“Nothing,” he answered, hauling her against him and delivering a kiss on her delicious lips. She tasted like coffee and sex so he deepened the kiss. When he finally lifted his head, they were both breathing heavily.

“Let’s not start something we can’t finish,” she said against his shoulder.

“Who says we can’t finish it?”

“Me.” She gave him a playful push. “I’ve got to go back to the hotel, change, grab my suit and stuff.”

Jack allowed himself to be pushed back, but not before he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ve been having a good time, Elle.”

“Me, too,” she whispered, watching his hand cradling hers. “I didn’t know I would feel so… I mean…”

Her eyes caught his, held his gaze. He could see her searching for the right words. The moment was so tender, so poignant, yet he knew the words would be left unsaid, hovering just out of reach. It was all too strange for both of them.

Elle laughed. “I can’t even remember what I was going to say.”

He returned her laugh, wanting to tell her he felt the same way, that his life was spinning out of control. But the moment had been broken. “So, just how many friends are you bringing this afternoon?

“Three others to be exact. Is that okay?”

“Absolutely,” he said as he steered her from the kitchen toward the stairway. “I’ll ask a few friends over to even out the numbers.”

“Good. I told Kate there’d be some hot guys. I have to dangle a carrot.”

Jack tugged her up the stairs. “Hello. Hot guy? What am I? Chopped liver?”

She scampered a few steps ahead of him and turned, jutting her hip out. “And so humble too.”

He leered. He could see straight up the T-shirt that brushed her mid-thigh. The view was awesome.

Elle squealed and scrambled to the top of the stairway. He was right behind her. He figured she probably needed help getting dressed. Or something.

“Here, girl. Let me help you.” Trish took two of the bottles containing bright liquids. Kate had been adamant they bring the makings for martinis. Several different kinds of martinis.

“Thanks, Trish,” Nellie said, smiling at the willowy attorney who looked as if she’d leaped from the pages of a high fashion magazine. Nellie wished she had Trish’s earthy, sophisticated vibe. She always seemed in control.

“And why do we need all these drinks?” Billie complained as she chugged up the stairs carrying a plate of brownies she’d bought at a gourmet supermarket and then placed on a plate so they’d look homemade. Dressed in an odd combination of parachute shorts, a tiny tank top and chunky silver rope necklaces, Billie cast grumpy brown eyes at the front door.

“Uh, ’cause it’s like a party, Billie,” Kate drawled, not able to hide the disgust in her voice. Kate’s impatience with Billie was as perpetual as Billie’s complaining. Kate spun around dramatically and pressed the buzzer beside the enormous oak door.

Billie rolled her eyes. “You’d think she was supplying a frat party. I’m only going halfsies on what I drink. I’m not paying for all of this stuff.”

Nellie stifled the urge to chuckle. Billie had pieces displayed at various museums around the country, not to mention commissioned work for five-figure sums. Even Madonna had a Billie Nader. The thought of her being so stingy with her money was amusing. Of course, Nellie could understand it. She felt the same way and she had plenty of old Texas oil money in the bank.

Before she could reply, the door swung open.

Damn, but Jack Darby knew how to fill up a doorway.

“Ladies,” Jack said, bestowing a smile on each of the women. “Welcome.”

“Jack.” Kate nodded, doing her best imperious-lady-of-the-manor impression. “Thank you.”

Typical Kate. Nellie shot Jack a smile and shrugged. Her over-the-top friend hated to be grandstanded by anyone, much less a mere man. Even one as sexy as Jack.

His lips twitched at the cheekiness in Kate’s voice. “Ah, the slippery Kate. We meet at last. And I’ve heard so much about you.” His eyes caught Nellie’s. They twinkled like waves on a lake in summer.

“I hope she didn’t tell you the truth,” Kate drawled. “You probably wouldn’t let me in if she did.” She raked her eyes over Jack with practiced ease. Kate loved to shock, loved to defy, loved to make people just a tad bit uncomfortable.

Jack ignored the bait. “Well, come on in.”

“We brought drinks, lots of booze,” Billie said, sliding by and turning to offer her hand. “I’m Billie Nader. I met you at Marilyn Turner’s benefit last year.”

“Of course.” Jack smiled, taking her hand. “Nice to see you again. And you too, Trish.”

“Jack.” Trish nodded, as elegant as a Nubian queen.

All three women sauntered into the huge living area just past the open foyer, leaving Nellie alone with Jack.

“Hi.” She smiled, unable to keep her sudden nervousness at bay.

Jack leaned one tanned arm against the doorjamb, preventing her from slipping by. “Hi, yourself, pretty lady.”

Nellie tried to shrug off her tenseness. Lord, she’d been naked on the stairs with him just five hours before. She forced a breezy smile. “Am I invited to this shindig or not?”

“There’s a price for entering.”

“Oh, really? No one else paid.”

“They don’t have the right qualities.” Jack reached up and tucked a hank of hair behind her ear. His actions were tender, his words heavy with meaning. She swallowed.

“What’s the price?” she asked.

“Just a kiss.”

“Oh, that doesn’t seem like so much.” She rose up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss across his mouth. “There.”

“Nope.” He wagged a finger. “That will get, uh, maybe a toe in.”

Nellie laughed. “A toe? Come on. It was worth more than that.”

“Try again.” He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.

She wanted to run her hands under his trendy little T-shirt and then let her tongue trace the bottom curve of his lower lip, but her hands were full of bottles of appletini mixers and the foyer could easily be seen from the warehouse of a living area where the others had gathered.

Nellie sighed and pressed her mouth to his again, allowing her tongue to flick out and taste his lips teasingly. Jack let her take control of the kiss, seeming to satisfy himself with a passive role. She could feel herself slipping under his spell, entering that place where all else ceased to exist—a most wonderful place.

Jack grabbed the bottles from her hands, simultaneously breaking the kiss. “Come on in, then.”

Nellie fell back to earth and followed him into the living room.

Trish and Billie lounged on the large sectional couch while Kate busied herself unloading the booze at the bar. Four guys ranging from hulking to lithe were also in the room. Two were engaged in a heated discussion about illegal recruiting practices, whatever that was, one stabbed his BlackBerry with a small black pen, and the other brooded at the end of the bar. All of them turned and stared at Nellie as she followed Jack into the room.

“Guys, this lovely woman is Elle Hughes.”

A chorus of “hey” shot her way. Nellie tried to paste a smile on her face, but she felt damned awkward, no way around it. She wasn’t used to being center of attention. Plus, she prayed both Trish and Billie remembered her pretend name. They’d practiced in the car on the way over.

“Elle, the two guys by the window are Jay Busby and Nick Jones,” Jack said. “Both are assistant coaches for UNLV. Tim Heyward, the guy checking his e-mail, is my best friend from college.” He rebuked the slightly nerdy looking guy with a hard look. The man slid the BlackBerry into his pocket with an apologetic smile.

“And that mountain over there is my business partner, Dave O’Shea,” Jack finished.

“Nice to meet y’all.” Nellie nodded, purposely making eye contact with each of Jack’s friends. She looked at her own friends. Kate was ignoring everyone, plunking down glasses and wrenching lids from the bottles she’d brought. Trish and Billie cast uncertain glances at each other. Were they wishing they had made other plans?

“Has everyone else been introduced?” Jack asked.

Mumbled introductions were made, none overly friendly. Nellie cast a doubtful glance Jack’s way. He looked stymied. He gave a shrug and pulled Nellie into the kitchen.

“Good Lord,” Nellie groaned, setting the bottles of liquor on the countertop. “This feels like a junior high dance. Girls on one side, boys on the other. We shouldn’t have done this. It’s too hard to have an intimate get-together with people who don’t know each other.”

Jack started pulling the steaks from the fridge. “Hey, chill. They’re grown-ups. Liquor will loosen them up. Looks like your friend Kate brought enough for an army.”

Nellie sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“Here, help me with these. I’ll get them on the grill and then we’ll go make nice with the boys and girls.”

Nellie hesitated. It didn’t feel right abandoning her friends in uncharted territory. After all, weren’t she and Jack the hosts? Wouldn’t it be totally rude to just leave the guests to their own devices? Nellie decided that maybe she was thinking too hard. They
were
all adults.

She followed Jack out the door and helped him put the foil-wrapped potatoes on the grill. He placed the marinating steaks and chicken on the side plate, and lit the tiki torches around the pool.

When she and Jack returned to the living room, it was as if the good-time fairy had waved her wand over the group. Nellie sent Jack an incredulous look. Music boomed through unseen speakers, Kate passed out mixed drinks while cracking jokes, and Dave and Trish held hands.

“Told you,” said Jack as he took a martini glass from Kate’s hand.

“Told her what?” Kate asked, shoving a glass into Nellie’s hand.

“Nothing.” Nellie nodded toward the glass. “What’s this?”

“A cosmopolitan. Your favorite drink.” Kate’s eyes communicated more than her words. Oh, right, Nellie thought,
be
the name of the drink. She took a sip. Not bad, she mused, not bad at all.

Before Nellie knew it, she’d done two shots of tequila, learning “lick it, shoot it, suck it,” and was on her third drink, a delicious appletini. She sipped the fluorescent concoction and watched Jack flip the sizzling steaks on the built-in grill next to the pool. Earlier she’d slipped into the pink bikini, covering it with a silky cover-up that brushed the top of her knees. The other girls had put on their suits and joined the guys in the pool for a game of volleyball. Kate had tried to talk her into playing, but Nellie knew she’d be no use to the girls’ team. To be honest, her ears felt flaming hot, her teeth absolutely numb, and the whole world seemed to be rocking more than a bit. Perhaps she shouldn’t have tried those tequila shots.

“Elle, maybe you’d better slow down on those martinis,” Jack said, taking a swig of his beer and pushing her shoulder so she sat upright on the stool. “You’re kinda listing.”

“I’m fine.” Nellie waved a hand in his direction. “I drink these all the time.”

He quirked an unbelieving brow. “Really? ’Cause I’m pretty sure you’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not,” she huffed, sliding off the stool. Her feet hit the stone pavers below but her body kept moving. She righted herself before her knees connected with the stone. “See. I’m fine.”

“Right,” he said, removing the tilted glass from her hand. “Slow down, okay? I don’t want you to get sick. You mixed this with tequila so we could be in for a real show.”

She couldn’t stop the annoyance from burgeoning even though she knew he was probably right. “Don’t worry, Jack. I’m a big girl.”

Nellie tottered toward the lip of the pool, intending to dip a toe into the water. She tried to glide gracefully, but the horizon rocked a bit. The Nevada sky blazed with color as the sun sank below the terracotta horizon. Peach clouds streaked the deepening sky, framing the golden orb fading away like an old warrior. A dry breeze filtered through the palms flanking the backyard oasis and tousled Nellie’s layered hair.

Trying for the sophistication of a fifties starlet, she allowed her cover-up to slide from her shoulders to the natural stone below. She sucked in her belly, straightening her spine. She’d never worn a two-piece swimsuit before and didn’t feel comfortable strutting around in it. Perhaps she should play volleyball with the others. At least she’d be half-hidden by the water. Shrieks drew her attention to the middle of the kidney-shaped pool.

“Whose team am I on?” Nellie called out above the whooping.

Out of nowhere a ball hurtled in her direction and conked her right on the head.

Off balance from the three drinks she’d downed, she fell gracelessly into the shallow part of the pool.

Cool water closed over her and she flailed about, trying to gain her footing. Panicking, she couldn’t find the bottom of the pool. Her feet finally hit the hard surface, but not before she inhaled what felt like a gallon of water. Chlorine blasted a path through her nostrils and she emerged sputtering. For a moment she couldn’t suck in any air. She slapped the water, feeling as helpless as a baby in a bathtub. Everyone else in the pool stood staring at her, seemingly frozen in place. Finally, huge racking coughs shook her frame. Water spewed from her nose.

God, it hurt. Burned. Her lungs were on fire.

“Elle!” Nellie heard a splash and then Jack scooped her into his arms. She didn’t have time to appreciate the security he offered. She could feel the contents of her stomach churning. She was about to vomit.

“Out,” she moaned, motioning frantically for him to get her out of the pool.

Jack lifted her like a child and climbed the steps. As soon as her feet hit the patio, she bolted for the nearest greenery and emptied her stomach of the assorted alcoholic beverages she’d drunk, plus a good deal of Jack’s pool.

“Oh my God,” she groaned, sinking to her knees. Her whole body trembled as she clasped the nearest planter to keep from falling over. She hadn’t been sick since she was in high school. She’d forgotten how much she hated to throw up.

Nellie felt a cloth on her forehead. Jack. “Here, babe.”

She grabbed the napkin and wiped her mouth. She kept her head down. She didn’t want to look at Jack. Or any of the others, who were bound to be watching the melodrama.

“Are you okay?”

She cringed. She could read the reproach in his words. His concern veiled his real intent—to say “I told you so.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, still afraid to meet the censure in his eyes.

“Come on. Let’s get you upstairs. We can dry off and you can slide back into your jeans. Then we’ll tackle those steaks. Okay?”

What? No lecture. No tough love, stew in your own juices, fix your own problems? Nellie knew she was still under the influence of the tequila, but surely Jack wasn’t that cool. She’d just barfed in his oleander bushes.

“Nell? You okay?” Kate called from behind her.

“Yeah. Just swallowed half the pool. I was never much of a swimmer, you know.”