Love Me (2 page)

He sat up straight and took out his proposal, handing her a copy and keeping one for himself to take notes on. She pulled a pair of reading glasses out of her purse and studied the document for a few minutes. He sat back in silence and allowed her the time she needed to read over the form. Truth be told, he took advantage of the opportunity to watch her.

And he liked what he saw. Perhaps too much. When was the last time he was so inescapably attracted to a woman? It had to have been before Nicole. Before he decided matters of the heart were better off being left out of his life.

He had married Nicole at a young age. When he’d been stupid enough to believe that happily ever after could exist outside of fairy tales. She had taken his heart and stomped it into the mud. Man after man had traipsed into her bedroom and he’d been powerless to stop it. Too weak to walk away…too eager to give her another chance.

It hadn’t been until she accused his best friend of accosting her that he’d snapped. Unfortunately, his transformation had come too late. He’d already lost the only person who had stuck by his side. Thomas would never forget the look in Jeremy’s eyes when he accused him of something so vile he couldn’t even comprehend it. And even worse? He’d broken his sister’s heart in the process. She had loved Jeremy—up until Thomas sent him running with his accusations.

“How long have you worked for MotoTek, Thomas?” Brianna looked up at him, her eyes focused and clear. Her voice ripped him from the past and he focused on her with no small amount of gratitude. Once he started reminiscing on his fucked-up past, it could be hard to shove the memories to the back of his mind under lock and key where they belonged.

But today he had a job to do. He leaned forward and folded his arms on the table, holding eye contact. That was one reason why people never told him no: eye contact. It made them uncomfortable, left them on the spot. They didn’t think straight, and then he had them. Backed into a corner like prey. It was why he was so good at what he did. Underneath the slick smile and the polished shoes, it was the hunt that lured him.

And Brianna Faulk was offering more than one kind of chase, whether she knew it or not.

“Six years.”

She nodded and nibbled on the tip of her pen. His eyes ate in every detail of her pretty little mouth—from the red lips to the little peeks of white teeth he got. If he looked hard enough, he might see the tip of her tongue…

“And your position is…?”

Wherever you want me.
He cleared his throat and pulled his mind from the gutter. What the hell was wrong with him today? “Head Marketing Executive.”

She crossed her legs and pursed her lips. “Tell me what you envision for my company, Thomas.”

“Of course.” He smiled and opened his copy of the proposal. “I know the Vegas market fairly well. I travel here regularly for MotoTek, and as I mentioned, my sister used to live here, as well. I know your customer base. I
am
your customer base. And I know you aren’t targeting
me
properly.”

“Really?” she said dryly. “What should I be targeting, then?”

“Exhaustion.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Exhaustion, Brianna. Every time I come in on that red-eye flight, I’m exhausted, and all I want is the closest place to put my feet up and have a drink. Every time I’m waiting to catch a flight, I’m bored out of my mind and looking for somewhere to kill time. You have a casino and hotel with a valid liquor license less than a block from the airport’s east parking lot. And I can’t for the life of me figure out why it’s the
casino
you’re advertising.”

Her brows knit. “Because it’s the casino that makes money. The lounge and hotel have ridiculous overhead.”

“Doesn’t matter. They’re what you sell.”

She leaned back in her seat and studied him flatly. “Do you have even the slightest idea how profit margins work?”

He forced a smile. She didn’t believe his reasoning yet, but she would by the time he finished his burger. “I understand profit margins. What
you
don’t understand is bait and switch.”

She parted her lips to snap a retort at him but the waitress arrived with their drinks. Thomas lingered over a sip of his drink and gave Brianna a moment to compose herself. She was still flushed. He was fairly sure it was anger, but he hoped, perhaps, that glimmer in her eyes was enjoyment.

Maybe she liked the challenge, too.

He set his drink down and licked away the burn of scotch. “I’ll be frank with you. Las Vegas casinos are a dime a dozen, and unless you’re the Bellagio, you’ll fail if you try to market yourself as a casino. You need to market what tired airline travelers want: a room to sleep in, a place within walking distance with food that doesn’t taste like airport fare, and a bar with the best cocktails this side of the runway. Position the restaurant with a terrace view of the casino floor, put slots in the bar, and you’ll have them hook, line, and sinker. I wouldn’t be surprised if people start missing their flights.”

She stared at him, looking rather taken aback—and that was when he knew he had her. Most people were never objective enough about their own businesses to really see the marketable factors or how to position themselves based on their location. That was Thomas’s job. Come in, work the numbers, come up with the ideas, and help them start making some money.

Brianna frowned. “You’re forgetting one thing. The layout of the Golden Hand Casino isn’t conducive to what you’re suggesting.”

His respect for her inched up a notch. Though she’d been skeptical at first, she was open-minded enough to consider his suggestions. If only all clients were so forthcoming. “That’s where MotoTek and our investment capital come in. Not to mention a complete remodeling to upgrade your brand image to something a little more recent than 1972. I’ve already got a full floor plan worked out. It will be a complete revamp.”

She set her glasses down on the table and pursed her lips. “Like with Fremont Street. There’s been a lot of attention there over the past few years with the remodeling.”

Thomas nodded. “Exactly.”

“And you think you can pull it off?” She eyed him over her soda, her gaze calculating.

He leaned in, capturing her attention and refusing to let go. Something in her eyes sparkled, sending a fist of desire to his gut. “I have not a doubt in the world. When I’m finished with you, you’ll walk away
completely
satisfied.”

She choked on her soda and cleared her throat. “Wow. Okay then. Confident much?”

He smiled at her, and for once it didn’t feel fake. “I’m nothing if not confident of my abilities.”

“I see that.” She looked at him, her eyes hot and burning into his, and gave a firm nod. “I’ll go over the proposal and present it to my board of investors.”

Thomas smiled. “If you have any questions, you can call me on my cell. It’s on the last page.”

The waitress came with their food and Thomas took the free moment to watch Brianna. She moved with a sure grace that told him more than any resume could—she was confident and assured of her place in the world. He liked that about her.

And he wanted to know more.

They ate in companionable silence, and Thomas watched her from the corner of his eye. The whole time they ate, he plotted a way to get her to agree to see him again. When he’d held her in his arms on the sidewalk, she had piqued his interest with her spitfire attitude. Now that he had gotten to see the other side of Brianna…he couldn’t help but wonder what else lay hidden beneath her false calm exterior. And he wanted to find out.

Though he had generally avoided dating anyone over the past few years, he couldn’t help but want to break his “no business entanglements” rule. Going on a date with her would be a huge mistake. It would be sloppy. Stupid. And yet…he couldn’t resist. He might be happily single—but he wasn’t blind, deaf, or stupid. She was a one-of-a-kind woman, and he had no intention of letting her slip through his fingers untouched.

When he finished eating, he wiped his hands on a cloth napkin and sat back. “On second thought,” he said slowly, “I’d like to have some recommendations for a fun night out. Something to pass the time.”

She blinked at him and then reached into her purse for a pen and a business card. After jotting down a few notes, she handed it to him with a smile. “Here you go. Any of these should be fun.”

He took the paper from her, purposely brushing his fingers against hers in the process. She met his eyes at the touch and licked her lips. He held her gaze and didn’t even look at the list she made. “Which one would you go to?”

“Me?” She picked up her soda and took a long sip, looking away from him. “Well, I guess I’d do the show at the Mirage. It’s supposed to be excellent.”

“Great.” He shoved her note into his pocket. “I’ll pick you up at seven at the casino. While I’m there, you can give me a tour of the building.”

Her eyes widened. “I can’t go out with you.”

“Why not?” He rubbed his jaw and cast a look at her left hand. “I don’t see a ring on your finger. Are you seeing someone?”

She opened her mouth and closed it. “N-No. But I can’t just
–
”

“Great. It’s settled, then. I’ll see you at seven.”

She frowned. “I must decline.”

He met her eyes. “I must insist. I really would like to report back to my boss with some inside information on how the casino works. You could show me tonight when I come to pick you up.”

“Okay,” she said, her forehead wrinkled. “I can take you on a tour. But no show afterward. It’s not necessary for our
business relationship
for us to go on a date.”

He leaned forward and caught her hand, brushing his fingers across her knuckles. When she shivered, a wave of satisfaction mingled with a jolt of need. She wasn’t as unaffected by him as she pretended.

“I didn’t say it had anything to do with business, Brianna.” He pulled her hand closer, leaning over it to kiss her fingers. “I simply wish to get to know you better.”

“Well…” She swallowed hard. “We shouldn’t.”

“What will I do with my time here if you don’t go out with me?”

She gave him an inscrutable look, her hands clenched tight. “Take up a hobby. Go sightseeing. Get a
cat
,” she said tartly. “I don’t care what you do on your own time, Thomas.”

“My hotel doesn’t allow pets.” He idly fingered the corner of the presentation folder. “It’s one date. What do you have to lose?”

“What do I have to gain?”

He pressed a hand to his heart. “Ouch. That hurts.”

She snorted. “I doubt that.”

“Say yes anyway, out of guilt.” He bit back a grin. He could taste the victory on the tip of his tongue. “It’s the least you can do after I saved your life earlier.”

“You’re right. The guilt is overwhelming me,” she said sarcastically. But in her eyes, he saw the spark of amusement. She might be pretending to be annoyed, but she was having fun.

And miraculously, so was
he
.

“Come on. Give me one good reason why we can’t enjoy each other’s company for the evening? You can show me Vegas through the eyes of a local. Give me better insight into how I could market the Golden Hand.”

She chuckled. “Going for the business approach now that the date suggestion failed?”

He steepled his fingers under his chin. That’s exactly what he was doing. “Yep.”

She met his eyes and sighed. “Okay—but it’s not a date.”

He stood up and grabbed his briefcase, biting back a smile. It was
absolutely
a date. “I’ll pick you up at seven for our date.”

“You’re insufferable,” she said, a grin tipping up the corner of her mouth.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you. And here’s another warning.” He leaned across the table, his body brushing against her as he did so. She tensed and held her breath. He stopped at eye level with her—his face an inch from hers. “I go after what I want—and I want you.”

“Oh?” she asked breathlessly. “Do I get a say in this matter?”

“Yes. You can tell me all about it tonight.” He grinned and stood up straight, the check in his hand. “See you later, Brianna.”

Brianna nodded and smoothed her hair. “For our meeting.”

“And our date,” he called over his shoulder.

Chapter Two

Brianna leaned back in her desk chair with a sigh and rubbed her eyes. The financial projections on her screen looked grim. She hated that Thomas was right. But most of all, she hated that even now, Thomas Jones wouldn’t stop creeping into her thoughts.

Obnoxiously persistent even when he wasn’t here. Typical.

Why was he so insistent on taking her out tonight? Men like him normally didn’t give her a second glance; they were more interested in Bambi on the pole than Brianna behind the desk. He looked like he’d been a football player in high school. Some kind of jock. Just the type who would have scorned her back then, as the fat, ugly girl everyone shot spitballs at.

Just the type who should scorn her now.

She’d spent too many adolescent nights crying herself to sleep to entirely trust his motives. A football player had played nice with her once. Pretended to like her, invited her to Homecoming, then pulled a
Carrie
on her and left her at the mercy of the entire cheerleading squad. They’d used glue in the spitballs, that time. Shampoo hadn’t worked. Nothing had worked. She’d had to shave her head, endure the cue-ball taunts, and tell her mother she was going through a punk phase.

If her mother had known the real reason, she’d have fainted in a dead heap on the floor—and probably pulled her out of school faster than it would take Brianna to get the smelling salts and revive Scarlett from the vapors. Her mother had idly mentioned home schooling once. With a choice between torture or her mother’s idea of teaching, she’d chosen the torture.

She shook her head and glared at the screen. Enough with the maudlin thoughts. She had a company to run, and she wasn’t that chubby insecure little girl anymore—but she was realistic. There had to be another reason he was interested in her…but what? Did he hope to charm her into accepting his account?

That had to be it.

With a sigh, she checked the time. Five more minutes and she could clock out and head downstairs. She wasn’t sure if she should even bother freshening up. Since she’d come back from the lunch meeting with Thomas, she’d been putting out fires left and right. A customer had been caught counting cards. Another had passed out across the table, very close to a severe case of alcohol poisoning, and when a waitress had checked his pulse he’d woken up and claimed sexual harassment.

A fairly typical day on the job, and she was a mess. Exhausted. Irritable. Bleary-eyed. She was pretty sure she had mascara on her lips, and she was too tired to care.

Yet five minutes later, she somehow found herself in the employee bathroom looking at her frazzled reflection in the mirror. Hopeless. It would take more than a little foundation to fix this, more like a tub of spackle. She hadn’t thought to bring anything with her but her business suit, but maybe that was for the best. She didn’t want to look available. She didn’t want to look
desperate
, and give him reason to think she could be wooed into acceptance.

But she didn’t want to look like death warmed over, either.

She washed her face with a damp paper towel and re-applied her makeup, slicking her lips with a sheen of cherry red. The tired blond waves of her hair were beyond recovery. She frowned, held her hair up off her neck, then twisted it up into a messy bun, fiddled a few pencils from her purse, and used them to pin her hair into place. It left her with a tumbled spray that looked as if she’d deliberately left it this messy, falling artfully into her face and wisping out from the bun. It would have to do.

Her reflection looked back at her with lips pinched in disapproval. What was she doing? It had been years since she’d tried to look good for a date…or for a man. Part of her had died with Michael. The part that made her feel like a woman. She wasn’t sure what was looking back at her from the mirror with wide, worried eyes: a woman or an androgynous business professional.

She shrugged out of her jacket, tossed it onto her desk chair, and flicked open the top two buttons of her blouse. A woman. Tonight she would be a woman, and even if she wasn’t really dressed for a date, at least she looked a little less uptight.

Though she wouldn’t let him past her defenses.

He had an agenda and she was part of it. This was simply another kind of business. Men like him knew how to schmooze, and thought their abs, shoulders, and cocks were just more bargaining chips on the boardroom table. He’d try to bag her and the deal all in one.

She squared her shoulders and slipped out through the casino and to the door. The hot Vegas evening opened before her like a sweltering, wet mouth. She perched her sunglasses on her nose. A few feet ahead, a man stood with his back to her, motionless beneath the shadow of the walkway’s overhang. Even from the back, she recognized him. The way he carried himself was distinctive. Underneath that practiced slickness was a certain grave, quiet authority and a brooding restlessness that spoke louder than the glib spiel he’d trotted out over lunch.

His white dress shirt clung to his back and biceps. She wondered if he’d done that on purpose. Dazzled her. Taunted her with the hard lines of his body. Made her want him until she wasn’t thinking about anything else.

If he thought she’d stammer and drool her way through dinner, he had another thing coming.

She lifted her chin and strode forward. She would get through this evening with dignity. “Thomas.”

He tensed, then turned. “Brianna.”

His gaze roamed her body, darkening with each moment, heated. When his eyes met hers again, the molten intensity there stole her voice and ran titillating fingers down her spine. He had this down to an art form, didn’t he? Slick.

“You look lovely,” he said.

“I’m wearing the exact same thing I had on at lunch.”

“A little less of it, actually.” He smiled, but something about it caught her. It wasn’t a real smile. It was too smooth, too practiced.

She tilted her head, studying him. He was smiling because it was appropriate at the moment, she thought. Not because he meant it.

He raked another look over her. “But if you’re that worried, we can swing by your place—”

“No.”
Her heart seized. She forcibly lowered her voice and took a slow breath. “I mean, no. I’m fine, really. There’s no need.”

His brows rose with a subtly mocking tilt. “I’m not a serial killer. You can show me your house without fearing I’ll come back and kill you in your sleep.”

“I’m sure Ted Bundy said the same.” No way he was getting inside
her
house.

“I don’t think Ted Bundy would be able to bring himself to ruin your beauty.”

Oh, God. Was it going to be one of those nights? Brianna sighed. “That is the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

“Then you haven’t heard the rest of my repertoire.” This time his small, withdrawn smile was a touch more genuine. “But it got you to relax a little bit.”

She couldn’t stop her laugh. “Yes, it did.” She glanced at the door of the casino. “If you’ll come inside, I can give you the tour.”

“No need. I checked out the layout earlier. A little mystery shopping just to get the lay of the battlefield.”

“I didn’t even see you. When did you—?”

He caught her chin in his fingers and tipped her face up to his. Her voice shriveled in her throat. His eyes glittered in the descending red-gold twilight. “I told you when I want something, I’ll go after it. I want this account. And I want you.”

She swallowed. Her throat was as dry as the desert. “You can’t have us both.”

“We shall see.”

He truly was insufferable. And irresistible. And insufferable. She took a step back from him, wresting from his grip. He wasn’t really after her because he wanted her. He was using her—and she needed to remember that. “Yes, we
shall
. But you should know I’m onto your games. You can’t seduce me into a contract.”

His eyes flashed. He stepped closer so quickly that she stumbled away from him. Her back hit the wall of the walkway. His hands rose to brace himself against the brick on either side of her head, trapping her. Trapping her with his tall, hard body hovering close, radiating a heat so palpable it caressed her, wrapped around her heart, squeezed it tight. She caught the scent of his aftershave and something deeper, clean and bright as ocean air.

“Make no mistake.” His voice was low, dark, vividly intense, each word like a smooth velvet touch. “I don’t seduce potential clients to get the
yes
. I get the
yes
because I’m damned good at my job. What we’re doing here?” His gaze dipped to her mouth. “This thing between us has nothing to do with the contract. Nothing at
all
.”

She flattened herself against the wall and fought to get her breathing under control. She couldn’t look weak in front of him. Couldn’t look vulnerable. “I’d love to know your agenda, then.”

“Explain why I have to have an agenda to ask you out on a date.”

“Because I’m not exactly your type.”

He raised a brow. Cool and in complete control outwardly, but in his eyes she saw frustration. “I have a type, now?”

“A big ex-football player like you?” She tilted her chin up, glowering at him.

She thought to challenge him, but instead of offering a verbal response he dipped his head. His breath skimmed over her cheek, and she caught a sound in her throat. He was burning her and he never even touched her. The slightest brush of stubble set her skin on fire. His lips drew close to her ear. Close enough that she felt the two syllables he whispered: “Soccer.”

“Wh-What?”

“I was a soccer player. And I dated whomever the hell I wanted.”

Brianna closed her eyes. Her stomach was a riot, her body tingling. She had the feeling Thomas Jones did what he wanted rather often. She couldn’t let him think he could do whatever he wanted with
her
.

But then his fingertips grazed her cheek. Their tips were rough, the fingers of a man who used his hands for more than clicking
next
on a PowerPoint presentation—but their touch was gentle. Almost tender. Coaxing her to open her eyes and look at him.

His gaze captured hers. So dark—dark as a night she could lose herself in. As a little girl she’d been afraid of moonless nights; the world outside would seem to vanish into a gloomy half world where, if she weren’t careful, she’d be swallowed into that shadowed place and never find her way back again.

Thomas’s eyes were those moonless nights, and she was terrified he was already pulling her into the dark.

“It’s simple,” he whispered. “A man and a woman find each other attractive. The fact that we met in the high-stakes corporate pit of a Ruby Tuesday’s doesn’t matter. There is no agenda. Let it be as simple as it is.”

But could it be that straightforward? She’d trusted the simple and apparent truth too many times in her life and had been torn apart by lies every time.

Thomas was no different.

She set her jaw and pressed her hand to his chest, gently pushing him back. “Then let’s be perfectly clear,” she said. “I find you to be arrogant and obnoxious, and I’m not interested in starting a non-business relationship with you.”

“Your words say one thing, but your eyes say another.” He smiled. It was a slow smile, slow as molasses, and just as dark. “But I won’t argue with you. Let’s go.”

He withdrew, powerful arms bunching under his shirt as he pushed off the wall and freed her from the paralyzing envelope of his heat. He offered his arm with a sardonic tilt of his head.

“Shall we?”

No,
she thought, and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow anyway. Damn it, he was right. She might be saying no, but her body was saying yes. Very loudly.

“I hope you like Mexican,” he said and led her down the walk.

He flagged a cab. As they settled into the back, his gaze burned her. Thomas murmured their destination to the cab driver, but Brianna hardly heard him. She was too busy staring out the window, trying to make sense of her jumbled thoughts.

Nothing good could come of this date. The man had a motive, no matter what he said. He was too persistent. Too focused on her, turning the full force of his admittedly irresistible—and obnoxious, she couldn’t forget—allure on her. He wouldn’t want anything to do with her if he knew who and what she really was. He didn’t know she was a widow, with three kids at home.

Somehow she didn’t think that’s what he signed on for when he asked her out. If she told him about herself, he would probably run away from her faster than the human eye could see. He would go away and she would be free to go home to her safe house, on her safe couch, watching her favorite television show.

Why, then, did she open her mouth to do exactly that…and close it without another word? She knew what to say. What to do. But she didn’t do it—and she had no idea why. After all, the most she could expect out of tonight was a one-night stand, and those always left her feeling cheap and slightly dirty. Like she was compensating for something. She’d never learned to let herself go and just enjoy it, like so many other lucky women did. She always doubted herself, just as she did now.

Because she hadn’t the slightest damned clue what he—or she—really wanted.