Hayden had lost when he’d gambled, but he hadn’t minded the loss.
“Want to make another wager?” Deacon asked. “Only this time—”
“I’m not looking for Ms. Right like you were.”
“Why aren’t you, Mac?” Deacon asked. His friend always called him by that nickname. It was a holdover from when they’d first met and Deacon had needled Hayden about being the “Mac Daddy.” The big guy with lots of cash.
“You know I already tried marriage and didn’t find it to my liking,” he said, playing off the incident as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience, instead of a life-defining moment.
“But you didn’t make it to the finish line, so to speak,” Deacon said.
“I got close enough,” Hayden said. No woman was ever again going to get him to stand in front of a church full of his friends and family and wait for her. There were few feelings he could recall as clearly as the humiliation and anger that had simmered in his gut as he’d faced all of his guests and told them that the bride wasn’t coming.
Was it getting closer to forty that was catching up with him or was it Deacon’s happy union?
“That doesn’t mean it won’t work with another woman. This one looks fine.”
“Deacon, stop staring at her ass or I’m going to send the surveillance video to Kylie.”
Deacon put his hands up and backed away. “I thought you might want a little of the good life.”
“I think I’ve already got it.”
“Yeah, well, if you change your mind, I’m here and I’ve got good advice.”
“On what?”
“Romance.”
“I don’t need advice from you, Prescott.”
Deacon flipped him the finger and walked away. Hayden leaned against the wall opposite the glass storefront, continuing to watch the lady unpack her boxes. Damn it had been a long time since any woman had gotten to him like this. Why did it have to be Shelby?
He couldn’t stand outside her shop forever, so he pushed away from the wall and entered.
She straightened and her auburn hair fell in waves down the middle of her back. She had a phone tucked between her shoulder and ear as she pulled items from the open box.
“I haven’t seen him yet. I’ll check in on Friday like we planned. Please don’t call me again.”
She disconnected the call, turned on her heel and froze. Her jaw dropped and he knew she’d spotted him. Her face went pale as she reached behind her and braced one hand on the countertop, on top of her cell phone.
He walked through the room with a long, easy stride that he strove to keep nonchalant. He schooled his features and forced himself to treat her the way he’d treat any other businessperson who’d leased space from him. He wasn’t a first-rate gambler for nothing. He knew how to bluff with the best and how to keep his emotions under wraps.
But he couldn’t resist slipping his hand deep into his left pocket and rubbing the top of his left thigh where he had a tiny tattoo of a medieval knight’s fist wrapped around a bleeding heart. It was his constant reminder that he no longer allowed his emotions to be a part of his sexual relationships.
It took a lot of guts for Shelby to come back to Vegas after what she’d done. It took the kind of gall of someone who had nothing left to lose. And she’d not only come back to his home turf but taken up residence in his kingdom.
She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But she’d changed. Before, she’d been kind of wild—more untamed. The kind of woman who’d made his dad crazy because she was obviously eye candy.
God, he’d been an ass when he was younger. He hoped like hell that Shelby hadn’t been aware of that part of him. But he suspected she must’ve been. Otherwise why would she have taken the million dollars his dad offered and left him?
“What are you doing here?” he asked silkily.
“I own this place,” she said.
God, her voice was still soft and sweet. Everything he remembered about her was the same. She still looked twenty-two. It wasn’t fair that time had been so kind to her. He’d be able to handle this reunion a lot better if she’d gained weight, had gray hair, something like that.
“I meant in Vegas,” he said, leaning in closer and putting his hands on either side of her, caging her between his body and the counter. Ten years had passed, but right now it felt as if she’d just left him. That had been more than enough time to get rid of any lingering anger, but seeing her again had brought it all to the fore. He wasn’t ready to let her go.
He’d never forgotten Shelby’s voice. The way it sounded when she was happy. The way it deepened when she came in his arms. Or the way she’d sounded on the phone during that hurried conversation when she’d explained that she had to leave.
“I’m working,” she said now.
“I remember a girl who used to say she’d never work a day in her life.”
“I changed my mind. Money has a way of running out.”
“Even the cool million you took from my dad?” he asked.
But when he saw the color leave her face and watched her pupils dilate, he didn’t have the rush of adrenaline that he’d thought he’d feel. Instead he felt big and mean, like the bully his father had always been.
“Of course it did,” she said. But inside, a part of her was aching. It had been easy to forget the implications of what she’d done while she’d lived on the East Coast. Distance had provided a kind of barrier for her.
Shelby Anne Paxton stared at the man she’d almost married for his money. She’d been looking for a rich boy to marry and Hayden had been looking for a nice-looking girl to annoy his dad. She couldn’t explain it even now, but there’d been a connection between the two of them that she’d always thought went deeper than his money and her looks.
He’d changed in the last ten years but not nearly enough. He still had a thick head of dark hair that curled rakishly over one eye. He had bright blue eyes that had always been able to see past her defenses, and thick lips that made her remember how they’d felt on hers.
Damn, where had that come from?
“Did you know this was my hotel?” he asked.
“Yes, I did,” she said softly. There was no way she was going to tell him that his father had flown to Atlanta and suggested she bid for this location. Suggested was really too nice a term for what he’d done. Alan MacKenzie had practically blackmailed her into coming back here. He’d threatened to leak the information about her gold-digging past to several magazines. Bêcheur d’Or was gaining an international reputation for class, and the last thing she needed was negative exposure. But Alan had also dangled a carrot—he’d offered her anything she wanted, within reason, if she agreed. Shelby knew he expected her to ask for money.
Yes,
