her lower back he escorted her through the lobby. As they strode toward the elevator, Tagg gestured to the ceiling adorned by a chandelier sculpture made up of thousands of multicolored glass flower blossoms catching and reflecting light. “I always get a kick out of those petals up there. Feels like a scene out of a fairy tale,” he said.
Callie stopped and lifted her gaze. “They are sort of surreal. I’ve heard about them. Seeing them is something else.”
“So, you’ve never stayed here?”
She shook her head. “No, never. I’ve only been in Las Vegas for the rodeos, but not for years.”
They rode the elevator to the top floor and Tagg walked her to the Worth suite. It was an indulgence, something his brothers had wanted, and now he was glad they’d insisted upon it. He opened the wide door and let her enter first. She walked in slowly, glancing about. The square footage of the suite was bigger than some people’s homes. Roomy and elegant with richly appointed furniture. The view from the expansive window looked down onto the Strip.
“This is nice, Tagg. I see what you mean about stretching out.”
“The Worth men like space.”
Tagg showed the bellboy where to deposit the luggage, directing Callie’s bag to the master suite and his to the bedroom beside it. Then he glanced at his watch. “We have just enough time to get settled before dinner.”
Thirty minutes later, they arrived at a small hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant that only the locals knew about off the Las Vegas Strip. The second Tagg walked in, the rich scent of olive oil and garlic and freshly baked bread perked up his appetite. John had raved about the food and Tagg was grateful to get away from the crowd of tourists in hotel row.
He found the Cosgroves sitting in a corner booth lit with candles and decorated with a flower arrangement. Tagg made the introductions and helped Callie to her seat before taking his. John Cosgrove and his wife, Sadie, were in their early sixties but could keep up with anyone half their age. Tagg had always considered John not only a friend, but also a mentor back in his rodeo days.
They talked horses and rodeo and Penny’s Song. Callie and Sadie had both grown up on a cattle ranch, so they had a good deal in common.
“Not only is John a horse rancher, but he owns his own rodeo,” Tagg said to Callie.
“That’s how I met Tagg here,” John said. “He busted a few of my prize stallions in his day. He knows horses. And what about you? How did you get involved with this guy over here?”
Callie’s face colored. “Oh, uh …”
Sadie sent her husband a warning look. “John.”
“Callie is a neighbor. She’s Hawk Sullivan’s daughter,” Tagg announced.
John grinned. “Is that so?” He darted a glance at both of them.
Callie nodded. “Yes, that’s right,” she said, then turned to glare at Tagg.
He returned her look with a simple smile. He liked honesty. He wasn’t into pussyfooting around an issue.
Callie cleared her throat. “I’ve just returned home from going to school and working in Boston. I found out about Penny’s Song and knew I wanted to be a part of it. Tagg and I, we are … are working together on the project.”
“I’ve had some dealings with your father,” John said, catching Tagg’s eye before focusing on Callie. “He’s a smart negotiator.”
Callie blew out a breath. She was uncomfortable talking about her father. “Thank you for that. I know you’re being kind.”
Sadie steered the conversation back to a more amiable subject. “Tagg, did you know that Blue Yonder sired a stallion? I hear he’s a beauty, too.”
“Is that so? I bet he’s spoken for already.” Tagg inhaled deep. He’d wanted to buy that Arabian for the past three years, but the owner wasn’t selling. The stallion had pure bloodlines and ancestry that could be traced back to Spain. “The Kents refused to even talk to me. Can’t say as I blame them. If I had that horse, I wouldn’t let another horseman get within a hundred yards of him.”
“There’s a list a mile long and an acre wide bidding on the foal.”
“What’d they name him?”
“Wild Blue,” John said.
Tagg pursed his lips. “Great name. I guess that ship has sailed. I’d bet my last dollar they keep him themselves.”
Sadie shook her head. “You never know.”
Tagg shrugged it off. He didn’t think so, but he wouldn’t argue with her.
The food was delivered to the table—pasta with scallops and shrimp and about a dozen other things in a lemon wine sauce. There was no shortage of garlic, either. Tagg couldn’t remember eating a better meal.
He glanced at Callie. She’d ordered an antipasto salad that overflowed the plate. He was glad to see she’d eaten more than half of it already. She wasn’t shy when it came to eating, but she did tend to eat lighter fare. And she’d refused the red wine that flowed into everyone else’s glasses.
He watched her sip a glass of water carefully, then say something to Sadie. Callie looked elegant tonight. Dressed in black, her creamy skin glistened under candlelight and the play of light skin against dark hair and eyes made him stir with desire. He remembered how she looked minus the dress. It was a memory never far from his mind—a memory he’d like to duplicate.
After dinner the Cosgroves drove them back to the hotel and bid them both good-night. They made arrangements to see the horses after breakfast the next morning.
He entered the penthouse suite after Callie and walked straight to the bar. “Are you tired?” he asked.
“Not really.” She set her purse down on the sofa and looked out the window to the bright lights below.
He remembered Callie had been drinking rum during that time in Reno, so he poured her a rum and cola and spilled two fingers of whiskey in a tumbler for himself. He brought the drink over to her. “You should be. It’s been a long day.”
She turned from the window and stared at the tumbler in his hand. “Oh, no. No, thanks. I’m not … thirsty.” Her shoulders stiffened.
Tagg raised his brows. She seemed pensive and nervous for some reason. “Okay.” He set the drink down on the cocktail table behind him and when he turned back to Callie, she was staring out the window again. “Everything all right?”
She nodded.
He edged up beside her and glanced out the window, sipping his drink. “You’re not drinking tonight. Is that because you don’t want a repeat of Reno?”
She turned to him, her gaze warm and soft. “I didn’t sleep with you because I’d been drinking. If that’s what you think.”
He furrowed his brows. “Seems I wasn’t doing much thinking that night at all.”
A low self-deprecating
