Love Me Read online

  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 s
wallowed 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.”