Their Million-Dollar Night (2 page)

He walked past her and seated himself at a table with a few familiar faces. But instead of concentrating on the cards and the game, he saw only the surprise in Roxy's blue eyes in his mind.

 

Roxy tried to remember everything that Hayden had said, especially the part about being friendly but never forgetting that business was the focus of her assignment. Keep the gambler happy and at the tables.

Max made that hard. Every time she dropped off another drink for him, or inquired about his needs, he flirted. And for the first time since she'd wakened in a hospital bed, scarred for life, she felt like flirting back.

He played and won for almost four hours before pushing back from the table. Since this was her first hostessing assignment she had no idea if she should try to make him stay longer.

“Are you sure you want to stop now? You're on a winning streak.”

“I'm sure. I want to take my hostess to dinner and see if my luck stays.”

“I don't know if I'm allowed to do that,” she said, knowing she wasn't lucky but not wanting him to know it. Every time she got close to grasping the brass ring of what she wanted from life, it slipped away. So she knew luck wasn't with her.

“You're supposed to keep me happy.”

She wanted to laugh at the way he said it. But didn't. “Then I guess I'm going to dinner with you. Where do you want to go?”

“I'll take care of the arrangements,” Max said. He pulled her out of the flow of traffic and reached for his Blackberry.

Immediately she knew she had to keep her head in the game with this man. This was a job. She couldn't forget it, no matter how tempting it might be to do so. This new assignment was much better than dealing and she didn't want to mess it up. “No, you won't. That's my job.”

“And you take your work seriously?” he asked, arching one eyebrow at her.

She sensed he was teasing, but she couldn't joke about work. Anyone who'd ever lived off the charity of others learned pride at a heavy cost. “Of course I do.”

“I thought you were new here.”

“New to hostessing. But I've worked at the Chimera for almost ten years now.”

“What did you do before?” he asked.

“Danced,” she said. She heard the longing in her own voice and cursed herself for it. She should have been prepared for the question. But most people she encountered either knew her story or didn't care about her personal life. Max was the first stranger to ask about her since…

“Why'd you stop?” he asked.

A simple little question. She closed her eyes for a moment. Years of practice and discipline gone in a few short minutes. Gone because she'd judged a man and his intentions badly.
Don't do it again,
she warned herself.

“Injury,” she said. The lie fell easily from her lips and she hated herself for it. She'd grown up in a world where lies were traded and accepted for the truth. She was becoming her own mother. Something she'd promised herself she'd never do. “But that's old news. Give me a minute and I'll get us a table for dinner.”

She turned away from Max and took out her cell phone to call the VIP office. Thirty seconds later everything was set up, and she and Max were on their way to the exclusive five-star restaurant on the fifth floor of the casino.

“Have you eaten here before?” she asked, hoping
he'd say no so she could slip easily into her role of tour guide. She led Max past the crowd at the front of the restaurant to the maître d', very aware of his quiet presence behind her.

“Yes. In fact, the chef/owner is a friend of mine.”

She smiled at the maître d', Henry, whom she knew from her years at the hotel. Henry winked at her and she relaxed a little. This new job was not what she expected. Or should she say that Max Williams wasn't what she'd expected. “Mr. Williams and I are ready to be seated.”

“Certainly, Ms. O'Malley. Follow me.”

Max put his hand on Roxy's back as they moved through the restaurant. She tried to ignore the heat from his large palm, but she couldn't. It made everything feminine in her pulse into awareness. That long-sleeping part of her, the part that had been dormant even before her accident started to awaken. That scared her.

She was grateful when they reached the table and took their seats. Max asked for the wine list and the sommelier came to their table.

“Do you have a preference?” he asked after the sommelier suggested some wines.

“I usually buy my wine by the gallon in the supermarket,” she said. Then flushed as she realized how that sounded. “I mean—”

Max chuckled. “I have cousins who own a vine
yard in the Napa Valley. They'd be outraged to hear that anyone in the U.S. still drinks cheap wine.”

“Sorry,” she said.

“Don't be. Have you ever tried South African wine?”

“Does Gallo make one?”

He laughed. “We'll have a bottle of the Thelema Chardonnay 1998, Stellenbosch.”

The sommelier left and Max turned his attention to her. She felt uncomfortable under his intense stare, as if she was naked but not in a sexual way. His gaze was probing as if he were trying to fit together all the pieces that made up Roxy O'Malley. She desperately hoped he couldn't, because Roxy O'Malley wasn't sure who she was anymore. Not a dancer, not a hot body, not any of the things she'd always been.

Finally she couldn't stand it anymore. “What?”

“What, what?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you are a beautiful woman.”

His words hurt in a way he couldn't understand. Because at one time she'd have tossed her hair and given him a smile that would have brought him to his knees. “Not anymore.”

She couldn't believe those words had escaped. “How long will you be in Vegas?”

“Long enough to convince you that you are beautiful.”

“That's not why you came,” she said, telling herself that he was here for the Vegas allure. The mindless flirting, the hours of gambling. The vacation from reality and real life.

“My plans have changed.”

“Well then, you won't be needing my company anymore. I'll let Hayden know.”

He took her hand in his, his thumb stroking over the backs of her knuckles as it had when they first met. “I'll still require your company, Roxy.”

She tried to tell herself that things hadn't turned personal, that she was still objective and just his hostess. But she knew she wasn't.

There was a promise of something in Max's eyes that she wanted to claim for herself. Something elusive and tempting, and she couldn't quite make herself ignore it.

A
fter dinner, Max excused himself to return several business calls. Sitting in his suite, he was aware of what his life had become. He was forty and successful but alone.

Alone by his own design, granted. But still alone. No mistress—he'd learned the hard way that even couching an affair in business terms didn't mean a clean break when things were over.

Harron had made several comments about the fact that Max was lacking a wife, a family. But Max had his family. They were paid employees and a small core group of lifelong friends.

There was a knock on his door. He hoped it would
be Roxy, but knew it wouldn't be. Instead it was the bellman with a FedEx box containing paperwork from his office.

He took the papers with him to the minibar and poured himself a Scotch. Looking hard at his life made him realize that in his quest to make sure no one thought he was riding his father's coattails, he'd created a vacuum. A place where no one existed except for himself.

Ah, hell, he was getting morose. He signed the papers, dropped them in the return envelope and then swallowed his drink in two long gulps.

He wanted Roxy.

He wanted to spend more time with the beautiful woman who could be charming until she remembered herself. Then she was awkward and shy. And he wanted to know why. He really did want to uncover her secrets, but he sensed she wouldn't share them. Not yet.

He also couldn't compromise her job. He made a quick call to Hayden and asked that Roxy's job be changed, explaining very little to his friend, but then Hayden was a man known for being quick-witted. “I'll be taking her out of the casino tomorrow for the day.”

“Don't allow my business to get in the way of your personal plans,” Hayden said.

“You are the one who extolled her virtues.”

“That's right. I did, but I didn't count on your interest interfering with my business.”

“I won't.”

Max hung up the phone then dialed the front desk and asked for Roxy, knowing that even though it was almost midnight she'd be available. Everyone was always available to him in Vegas. To be truthful, wherever he traveled he was seldom turned down. He waited while he was connected to her.

“Hello?”

Her voice was soft and sweet, husky with fatigue, and he knew that if he were a nicer man, he'd just hang up and let her get some sleep. But he wasn't feeling particularly nice tonight.

“It's Max.”

“Did you decide what time you wanted to start in the morning?” she asked, her tone warming a little.

Gambling was no longer the reason he was in Vegas. But he knew he'd have to keep that to himself a while longer. “No. I'm going back to the high-stakes room tonight. I need you there.”

She hesitated and he wondered if she'd tell him no. “Oh, sure, Max. Only, I went home so it'll take me at least a half hour to get back to the casino.”

“Why aren't you staying at the hotel?” he asked. He'd assumed she'd get a room while he was there. That was what his usual host, Jack, did.

“Hayden didn't ask me to. Actually, it never occurred to me you'd need me in the middle of the night.”

If she only knew how much he needed her.

“Pack a bag when you come back,” he said.

“For what?”

“To stay here until I leave.”

“I'm not sure my job covers—”

He didn't want to discuss the fact that her job description had changed. “I'll cover it.”

“Max, are you okay?” she asked.

Her voice sounded sweet, but he heard the underlying pique. She didn't like to take orders. And for the first time since he'd met her he had a glimpse into the fact that she was more than a pretty, smiling hostess. Her annoyance wasn't unexpected because most people didn't like to be told what to do. But Max had found the easiest way to get what he wanted was to do just that.

“Fine. I'll see you in the lobby in thirty minutes.”

“It may take me longer than that.”

“Why?”

“I have to shower and then pack an overnight case.”

“What were you doing?” he asked. Jealousy pricked the back of his mind. Had she been with a man?
He
was her job.

And he was the one who was thinking this could be something more than gambler and hostess. He hoped he didn't turn out like his father, desperately seeing a relationship where there wasn't one.

He rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn't personal,
he reminded himself. But he knew that the reminder came too late. He felt something for Roxy whether he wanted to or not.

“Working out.”

“What about your injury?”

She hesitated and he knew that she wasn't at peace with it yet. Was it recent?

“It's fine.”

But something in her voice said it wasn't. “You never said what type of injury it was.”

“I'm not going to, either. I'll meet you in the hotel lobby in an hour, okay?”

“Why won't you answer me?”

“Because it's private and personal. Isn't there something in your life you don't talk about?”

There was a lot, but he had always had a knack for getting people to open up. It was one of the reasons he was so good at takeovers. He could find out exactly the qualm the other CEO had and reassure them that he'd take care of it.

“Max?”

“Yes, I have things I don't discuss. But I'm asking about an injury, not asking you to bare your soul.”

“I wish that were true, but my injury changed who I am.”

He wished he was with her so he could read her expressive eyes instead of having to rely on the phone line to figure this out. Not being able to dance must
be tied to her sense of self. He'd met dancers before. Knew that they'd usually spent their entire life practicing. Living at the dance studio and keeping their bodies in top shape.

“Tell me about it,” he invited.

She said nothing. The silence lengthened, but he knew she was still there. She was waiting him out, trying to see if he'd simply give up and hang up. But Max had made patience a priority when he was ten years old and had never forgotten it. His impatience at age ten had cost him time with his father. Something that had been rare in his childhood, and he'd never forgotten that had he waited an extra thirty minutes he could have gone on an extended weekend with his dad instead of spending time at the arcade with his boarding school pals. Nowadays he could wait for days—even weeks—for what he wanted.

“I'm not going to go away.”

“Yes, you will, Max. I can't do this right now. I'm just your hostess. I'm not willing to be your vacation fling. That thing you did in Vegas that
has to stay here
because it's a dirty little secret.”

He cursed under his breath. “You know nothing about the type of man I am if you think that I'd pursue a woman just to have a tawdry thrill to bandy about in the boardroom.”

“You're right. I
don't
know you.”

“Come to the casino with me tonight. Let me show you the man I am.”

She agreed and hung up the phone. Max left his suite and headed for the busy casino floor, hoping that by surrounding himself with people he could dull his need for Roxy.

It didn't work.

 

Roxy had three dresses and four approved pant-suits that Hayden had sent to her to wear for this assignment. But they weren't her style and she hated the feeling she got when she put them on—as if she was pretending to be someone she wasn't.

She took the pants from one of the suits and paired them with her favorite silk halter top. She now had to wear flats instead of heels, and she hated that. Grabbing her overnight bag, she left her house without a backward glance.

She drove the same car she'd had since she'd made headliner. It was a sweet BMW Land Shark convertible. And for the first time in a really long time she didn't have that sinking feeling in her stomach that stemmed from things lost. Instead she put the top down and let the cool summer air whip her hair around her head. She pumped up the music on the stereo, slipping in her favorite Dave Matthews CD when she couldn't find a song she liked on the radio.

She sang at the top of her lungs to “Ants Marching” and refused to let her mind dwell on the joy that had come from…a man. It had come from Max.

His phone call.
She never slept at night.
No one knew that.
His call had rescued her from tortured hours of trying to force herself to sleep. Trying to close her eyes and not see images of Alan's face. Or worse, images of herself on stage performing the way she used to before the audience gasped in horror seeing her bright red scars.

Her foot slipped off the gas. Why had she let her mind go down this path?

She pulled into the parking lot of the casino and parked, but couldn't make herself get out of the car. Suddenly everything was there. Every emotion and fear that she'd been running from, every damned thing she'd thought she'd left at her small house was in that car with her.

She put her head forward on the steering wheel and tried to recapture the joy, but it was gone. Dave Matthews kept singing, but now she felt that bittersweet emotion that came from hearing something happy when all you felt was sad.

She switched off the radio and forced herself from the car. She put the top up and locked the doors before walking toward the shimmering lights of the Chimera. The ultimate illusion, she reminded herself. She'd learned early on that illusion wasn't bad. And
the Chimera offered her an illusion of herself that she easily embraced.

She forced herself into the lobby, a smile firmly in place. She could do this. In fact, she had done this every minute since she'd come awake in the hospital. She'd learned that most people were fooled by a smile and a quick assurance, because most people didn't like to dwell on things like her attack.

“Roxy.”

She stopped and looked at Max. He held a cigar loosely in his left hand and watched her with eyes that seemed troubled. He looked sophisticated and urban. The trappings of success fell easily on his shoulders and in the glittering crowds of Vegas she saw him for what he really was.

There was no illusion in Max Williams. There was only a solid core that made her realize he was the real McCoy. He was successful and sophisticated. She crossed to him and stood, unable to think of what to do next.

Then she remembered the old Roxy, the one who'd been so bold in life. What would she have done? She'd have wrapped herself around his arm and said something flirty. No matter what she felt inside.

“Roxy?”

She shook her head to clear it. She needed to get her emotions under control. Hayden was counting on her to make sure that Max stayed in the hotel and
gambled. And she didn't want to let her friend down. “Sorry, Max. Let's hit the tables.”

“Not yet,” he said, cupping his hand under her elbow and leading her out of the hotel and into the lushly landscaped gardens. There was a box-hedge maze that was illuminated by the light of the moon and subtle horticulture lighting.

“Where are we going?” she asked. She hung on to her illusion of happy Vegas girl by a thread.

“Somewhere quiet.”

“Why?” she asked, closing her eyes as she inhaled the aromatic scent of his cigar mingled with the scent of jasmine. For a moment she felt as if she were somewhere else. Someone else. But who?

He stopped and trailed his fingers up her bare arm, leaving gooseflesh in their path. She shivered, opening her eyes and looking into his clear gray gaze.

He was watching her with an intensity that made her hyperaware of herself. Of her femininity and his masculinity. Of the elemental differences between the two of them. She put her hand on his biceps and felt the solid strength in him.

This was a man who could handle everything life threw at him. She wondered if she could learn how he did it. If she could figure out what made him tick and use that knowledge to help herself. Yeah, right, she thought. The main reason she wanted to know what made him tick was that she wanted to know
him.

Wanted to lean up and kiss him. To see if the fire in his eyes would be matched in his embrace. To taste his kiss and see if it would be as exciting as she knew it would be. But he was still a stranger, and she was wary of letting any man too close too quickly.

He ran his finger down the line of her cheek and traced it over her lower lip. “We are out here because I want us to be. And you are supposed to cater to my every need.”

His every need. “I'm not sure what you're insinuating. But I've never been that type of girl.”

“I know that. I'm not insinuating anything. I don't want you to be my hostess, Roxy.”

She swallowed. “Okay.”

“I want to be free to spend my time with you. To take you out of the hotel and away from the gaming room.”

She didn't know what to say. She only knew that this job had lasted only one day, and she had no desire to go back to dealing. She was going to be out on the streets. She'd have to sell her car.

“I want us to get to know each other,” Max said.

She shook her head. She'd have to find another job. “I'm not ready to date.”

“Yes, you are,” he said. His breath brushed against her face and she leaned into his body, wanting to kiss him. Wanting to feel his lips on hers and see if it would be the intense experience she sensed it would be. She realized that she was falling for the Vegas
fantasy. Rich man, beautiful woman, whirlwind romance.

She pulled back, turning away from him and walking toward a bench a few feet away. “You're too bossy.”

He didn't follow her, just stood in the middle of the path, taking a draw on his cigar and watching her with enigmatic eyes that saw too much. “I'm used to being in charge.”

“This isn't your boardroom and I'm not one of your employees.”