Lillian Bellagio to wait for his response to her invitation, he wanted to gather as much information as possible about Bellagio’s grande dame. Of course, when his mother was alive, she’d only had bad things to say about Lillian. Although he knew he hadn’t escaped the bitterness she’d carried with her until she died, he’d moved on.
Having a mother addicted to meth had taught him early on that he wanted no part of the drug world. Instead of getting high after school or playing a sport, he’d worked. He’d wanted out of the bad neighborhood, away from the desperation and he would happily work 365 days a year to make it happen.
More than once before he’d graduated and left home, his mother had raided his earnings. It had taken him four years to earn enough money to buy his first business. Eight months later he sold it at a one hundred and twenty-three percent profit. Within a year, he’d caught the attention of Gig Marlin, a low-profile but highly profitable venture capitalist willing to share his knowledge, and Jack had started making money hand over fist.
Along the way, Jack had kept track of Bellagio and educated himself about the shoe business.
Every once in a while, he’d just gotten lucky, but most of his success had come from someone else’s lack of foresight or ineptitude and his ability to buy out of their weakness and sell into someone else’s greed. Fear and greed made the world go round, he’d discovered. Right now, Lillian Bellagio was probably sweating bullets from fear of what he could do to her and the Bellagio name.
Jack glanced over at Amelia as she fiercely gripped the steering wheel at the ten o’clock and four o’clock position, ever ready to reach for the clutch.
Her hair flying all over the place, she was so focused on the road ahead that she probably didn’t know her skirt had ridden above her knees. The wind whipped at it, giving him peeks of her pale thighs. The tops of her knees were pink, probably from exposure to the sun. She had incredibly fair skin. Further down, he caught sight of her painted pastel toenails and flip-flops that sported a pink sunflower.
He could see her hearth-and-home upbringing warring with ambition and desperation now that her marriage plans had fallen through.
Jack could tell exactly what she needed. She needed to untwist her panties and go a little wild, have some fun. Then she wouldn’t feel so sad about her loser fiancé. Jack could help with that in exchange for information about the Bellagios. As long as she didn’t ask too many pointed questions like she had earlier, both of them would enjoy the process.
Noticing that they were nearing Key West, he motioned. “Pull over, Earnhardt. I’ll take it from here.”
“Why? I like this,” she protested. “I can keep going.”
“You may not like it when you hit traffic, Magnolia. You’ll be using the clutch a lot more.”
Realization hit her face and she frowned. “In that case, you can have it,” she said and pulled to the side of the road.
He got out of his seat and stretched as he walked to the driver’s side of the car. Amelia stepped from the car and wove on her feet. He shot out his hands to steady her.
“Whoa. What’s up?”
She grinned, exhilaration flooding her face. “That was so cool,” she said.
Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks pink and she was licking her lips. She looked like she’d just had really good sex, he thought, and temptation rushed through him. He wondered how wild he could get her in bed. He might just find out after he’d gotten everything else he wanted from her.
TO EASE HER INTO KEY WEST mode, Jack bought her a margarita at an open bar, where they sat and did some people-watching. Afterward, they strolled through the Audubon House.
“Watches are outlawed down here,” he said, pointing to her wristwatch as she dawdled in the Audubon shop. “But we don’t want to miss the sundown celebration.”
“Okay. I’m just going to get a few of these for my dad. He loves birds,” she said and purchased several postcards.
She joined him in a fast walk to Mallory Square, passing by the sounds of Cuban and rhythm and blues music spilling from the bars. Food stands offered ice cream, drinks and hot dogs. A colorful array of characters filled Mallory Square, including a live tin man statue, a juggler and people hawking everything from hemp bracelets to hair braiding services.
“It’s like a carnival,” she said, doing a double-take when she spotted a guy with dreadlocks down to his hips.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Definitely not like your boss lady’s genteel home. No cucumber sandwiches here.”
Amelia smiled at his comparison. “She might be tough on the surface, but I think there’s more to her than the grande dame.”
“What makes you say that?”
“A few things she’s said. I won’t deny that she expects a certain performance level and good manners, but if you pass muster, I get the impression she can be a caring person.”
“Madame Bellagio—caring?” he repeated in disbelief.
“You shouldn’t be so prejudiced. Lillian really misses her son and hardly ever gets to see him. She doesn’t want to intrude in his life, but I can tell that it hurts her that he lives so far away and visits her so rarely. Just because she’s wealthy and she married one of the founders of one of the most successful shoe companies doesn’t mean she’s totally snooty.”
“It doesn’t?” he said, clearly fighting a grin as he rubbed his index finger over the edge of her nose.
“No, it doesn’t. Haven’t you heard that everyone is like a rainbow? More than one color? Some colors stronger than others?”
“No,” he said. “Did you learn that in Sunday School or Girl Scouts?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, forget it. You’re impossible.”
“Impossible, but accurate,” he said, slipping his hand around her elbow and guiding her toward the wrought iron fence at the edge of the Square. “Front row is standing room only, but it’s worth it.”
Leaning against the tall fence, she silently watched the orange ball of the sun dip below the horizon. She sighed at the beauty. “That was lovely,” she said, glancing at Jack. “Thank you.”
“There’s a custom,” he told her. “It’s like New Year’s Eve at midnight. You’re supposed to kiss at sundown.”
Quickly glancing around, she observed that no one else was kissing. She shot him a suspicious look. “And you also own some swamp land you’ll sell me at a discount?”
He laughed. “Had to try.” He circled her wrist with his thumb and forefinger. “Come on, Magnolia. Let’s see if we can work off some of your tension.”
“I didn’t say I was tense.”
“Trust me, babe, your body is screaming it.”
She scowled at him. “I’m dressed in very casual, beachy attire.”
“But your panties
