Red Hot Obsessions (60 page)

Piper simply nodded. “That I do,” she murmured, lifting the last of her tequila to her lips. “That I do.”

28

“Aren’t you hungry yet?” Casey complained, tugging on his sleeve.

“Nope.” Tate kept his attention glued to the restaurant waiting for Piper to emerge. He was starving, but he had waited for more than an hour already, so he figured it couldn’t be too much longer.

If he’d been a smart man, he would have killed two birds with one stone and eaten the second they stepped through the doors. Then Casey wouldn’t be complaining that she was hungry and he wouldn’t be wishing he had a T-bone sitting in front of him right now.

He was an idiot all the way around. As soon as Piper and the cook climbed into their cab, he’d flagged down the next to follow. Jon and Casey hadn’t been sure why he kept stalling, but as soon as they saw the way he looked at Piper, they had their answers. It became a game, one they were eager to play.

In her classically playful way, Casey shouted to the driver, “Follow that cab!” The middle-aged balding man didn’t jump to do her bidding, but as soon as Jon dangled the promise of a forty dollar bonus, he suddenly developed a lead foot.

No amount of fast driving or skilled maneuvering could make up for the fact that they had to wait in a line, slowly creeping forward as each car ahead of them waited to drop off their cargo. Tate watched impatiently as Piper disappeared inside the massive hotel.

He’d soon followed and it took all three of them to locate her through the masses, but once they did, Tate was determined to keep her in his sights. If he looked away for even a second, he could lose her completely. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

“What if she went out the back door?” Casey questioned.

“She didn’t,” Tate growled.

“Maybe she choked on a chicken bone and needs you to come rescue her.”

He chose to ignore her.

“Maybe—”

“No, no, and no,” Tate interrupted her. For the last half hour this is what he’d had to endure. The constant what if’s from his annoying ex-girlfriend. She didn’t mean any harm, but Tate was so high-strung that he was likely to snap at the slightest provocation. Having been together as long as they had, he would have thought she knew that about him by now. Then again, she had always seemed to enjoy pushing his buttons.

“Can we go eat now?”

“Cas.” This time Jon stopped her. “Leave the man alone. Can’t you see he’s about to lose his mind? I don’t think you want to be standing in his way when the shit hits the fan.”

“Who said there will be any shit?” Tate asked, briefly turning away from his post to address his old friend.

“Oh, there will be shit,” he said confidently as he downed the last of his bourbon and raised his hand to flag down the bartender.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you, my friend, are delusional.” He paused to put in his order then turned to face Tate directly. “Your girlfriend—”

“Assistant.”

“Assistant,” Jon amended with an impatient lift of one eyebrow, “is having dinner with another man. Is on a
date
with another man,” he emphasized. “Are you really going to sit there and tell me there won’t be any shit?” He didn’t bother waiting for an answer. He turned away, sipping at his fresh drink and disengaging from the conversation.

Beside him, Casey slowly twisted her glass in small circles on the bar top. Tate resumed watch. “So why is your girlfriend—” Tate shot her a look of death. “Sorry,
assistant
on a date with another guy if you two have been seeing each other?”

“We’re not technically together,” he muttered into his drink.

“I’m sorry, you’re not
technically
together?” she questioned incredulously. “Then forgive my asking, but why the hell are we sitting
here
when we could be anyplace else? You know, actually having fun. I assume you are familiar with the concept.”

Tate didn’t have a good answer for that, so he didn’t bother to try. Frankly speaking, Piper was his and he did not like the idea of her spending her time with any man other than him.

“Do you love her?”

“No. I don’t love anyone,” he grumbled.

“So you don’t love your mother, your brother, your-”

“Of course I love them,” Tate snapped. “What the hell is your point?”

Casey shrugged. “My point is you do love someone.”

“It goes without saying.”

“Do you love me?”

Tate’s head whipped around and he looked at her, aghast. “Once, but not anymore.”

“That hurts, Tate Larson, but I’ll let it slide this time,” she warned playfully, her attempt to lighten the mood failing miserably. Her next question was more subdued. “Have you loved anyone since we split?” He raised his brow to say what-do-you-think and her expression dropped, growing more serious than he had ever seen it. “That’s not healthy, Tate. You need love to be whole. To be happy. Are you really telling me that you haven’t let anyone else into your heart in all this time?”

“That’s really none of your business.”

“I think it is,” she scoffed, grabbing his arm to make him face her. “If this is about us, then we need to fix it, right here, right now. You can’t let what happened between us set the tone for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah? And what do you propose we do about that?”

“Follow my lead,” she said, tipping her head.

Tate followed the motion to see Piper exiting the restaurant. She had a flush on her cheeks and a smile on her face.

Game on
, Tate thought fiercely. He rose from the stool and grasped Casey’s outstretched hand. Together they joined the crowd of gamblers with their target in their sights.

*

Tom was more fun than she could have imagined. He was always smiling, always telling jokes and she could relate to him on a personal level. It didn’t get much better than that. Plus—and she knew it was only their first date and she didn’t know him all that well yet—he was way less moody than Tate. He didn’t fly off the handle, he didn’t snap at her constantly and he genuinely seemed to enjoy her company. The choice couldn’t be much clearer if it walked up to her and punched her in the face.

Tom was the better catch.

So why was she still thinking about Tate?

Maybe because every time she scanned her surroundings she seemed to see his face in the crowd. Like the guy standing beside the row of slot machines. He had that same air of confidence about him evident in the simple but commanding way that he stood, like he owned the room and everything in it. His body was similar, too. Tall, lean build with wide-set shoulders and a tapered waist. Even his clothes resembled Tate’s.

Piper peered closer, straining her eyes to see across the expansive space. Surely not, she thought, scrutinizing every small detail in a series of snapshots created by people interrupting her view as they passed by. But it was. It was definitely him.

What is he doing here
? she wondered. Then he laughed, a head tipped back, rip-roaring sort of laugh, and the crowd parted slightly, revealing the waif of a woman at his side, staring adoringly up at him.

God! It was like the man was determined to ruin her evening. Thoughts of violence sliced through her mind at an alarming rate and Piper felt the urge to act on each and every one of them.

“So where do you want to start?” Tom asked her, oblivious to her mounting rage.

She knew exactly where she wanted to start, and it was with that womanizing pile of dog crap with a cap of blond, run-your-fingers-through-me hair.

Moving without volition and completely against her better judgment, Piper propelled herself across the room. Tom called after her, but she couldn’t be stopped. Self-directed anger and a healthy dose of rage added a hard edge to her stride as she closed in on her intended victim.

People gave her a wide berth as she cut across the floor. Her eyes glued to the couple ahead, Piper saw red as the woman—Cas she thought her name was—reached up to brush a bit of hair off Tate’s forehead. How dare she touch him like that? How dare he let her?

She’d start with his balls and work her way up from there.

“What are you doing here?” Piper barked, halting just a few steps away. Close enough to see Tate’s shoulders stiffen. Slowly, he turned to face her, unwittingly giving her a full on view of the little hussy who passed her a curious look. Piper glared back openly. It wasn’t her fault that Tate was the way he was, but she instantly hated the woman on principle.

“Piper, what a pleasant surprise,” Tate said, smiling ear to ear, his blue eyes sparkling.

Sparkling!

Tom appeared at her side and she experienced a brief moment of pleasure at seeing Tate’s confident smile falter. “Oh, Mr. Larson,” Tom said, sounding surprised to see Tate there too. “I didn’t realize you were a fan of the casinos.” He held out his hand. Tate studied it like it was diseased before grudgingly fitting his hand into Tom’s.

“When in Vegas,” he said cryptically. “I didn’t realize you were a gambling man. Lose much money yet tonight?”

Piper recognized the jab for what it was, and if Tom had, he certainly didn’t let on. “Not yet, but the night is still young. How about yourself?”

“Not a dime, but then, I never lose.” Tate’s hard gaze shifted back to Piper.

Awkward silence fell like a pall over their intimate group, in which Piper and Tate were locked in a standoff while Tom and Tate’s…whatever she was, fumbled for something to say or do to expel the tension.

“Well, it was nice running into you,” Tom said finally, choosing to withdraw from the situation entirely, rather than continue to struggle exchanging pleasantries when it was obvious violence was on the horizon. He reached his hand out to take Piper’s. “But we should get going.” Piper tilted her head back to look at him and saw the silent plea in his eyes. He wanted to get out of there and she couldn’t blame him.

“Yeah, we should take off,” Piper said, infusing as much hatred as she could into her stare at the couple in front of her. Casting one last, meaningful look at Tate, she slid her attention to the woman standing behind him. “It was nice meeting you,” she said caustically.

“Oh, you too. It was a pleasure.” Piper didn’t know if the woman was pleasantly aloof or just plain stupid, but she had the nerve to stretch out her hand. Reflexively, Piper took it, squeezing a little harder than was necessary.

Her smile was thin and brittle. “Piper.”

“Casey.”

Instantly, she recognized the name and her eyes widened. “Casey? As in Tate’s ex-girlfriend Casey?”

Casey’s cheeks colored the faintest shade of pink and her head lowered slightly as she let her arm drop back to her side. She sidled closer to Tate, as if to shield herself. “Guilty as charged.”

“Ah, it’s all so much clearer now.” Piper’s head bobbed up and down slowly and the haze of anger clouding her vision intensified. “So, how long have you been in Vegas, Casey?”

“Since Friday. I flew in once I found out that Tate and my brother would be here. It feels like forever since I got to spend time with both of them in the same room.” She laughed, a high-pitched sound better suited to a teenage girl. Piper would just bet that Casey here had been a cheerleader once upon a time. She just oozed that bubbly, dimwitted personality stereotype to a T.

“What a coincidence,” Piper crooned.

Sensing she was on the edge of losing it, Tom leaned down, putting his mouth against the shell of her ear. “Piper, don’t make a scene,” he whispered.

Piper considered his words, but chose to ignore them. Why not make a scene? Why not announce to the world what a jerk Tate Larson was? It would serve him right if every woman in the room, hell, in the state, shunned him. It wouldn’t hurt for him to sleep in an empty bed for once. Or maybe it would. Maybe it would kill him. Yes, kill him indeed.

Digging her feet in, Piper cast an accusing look at Tate. “We came in on Friday, too. Is this the first you two have seen each other, or having you been sleeping together the whole time?”

“Excuse me?” Casey pressed a hand to her chest.

“Is that jealousy I’m sensing, Piper? Why, I didn’t think you were capable of such a thing.” Tate smirked, causing his dimples to appear.

She didn’t care if she sounded like a jealous ex or scorned lover or whatever the hell she was to him.

“You wish,” Piper growled, lunging for his throat.

Tate didn’t even flinch. And that infuriating smile grew wider.

“Piper, calm down.” Tom took hold of her arm and began pulling her away. “Let’s go before this gets any uglier.”

Piper didn’t calm down. “Oh, believe me. Nothing could be uglier than the ugly truth!” she shouted. A few heads turned to see what the commotion was.

Pure malice flashed across Tate’s face. “You need to let go of her,” he growled, stomping after them. “Right now.”

“Don’t tell him what to do,” Piper snapped, now willingly allowing Tom to guide her away.

“Back off,” Tom warned over his shoulder. His pace quickened, forcing Piper into a near jog in order to keep up. His body language screamed pissed off and she suddenly felt a note of guilt coupled with embarrassment at having caused a scene. She’d lost her cool and ruined their date.

“I’ll back off when you get your hands off of her.” Tate was on their heels, his fists balled at his sides.

Outside, Tom whirled around to face him head on. “I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two, and trust me, I aim to find out, but what I do know is that Piper is here with me. And from what I can see, she”—he pointed to Casey, who was running on her pointy heels to catch up—“is here with you. You’ve made your choice, pal.”

“You may have come here with her, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be leaving with her.” Tate held out his hand. “Come on, Piper. We need to talk.”

Tom stepped in front of her, putting himself bodily between them. “She’s not going anywhere with you. Go back to your date. You’re not wanted here.”

Tate laughed darkly, tipping his head back to look at the stars. Without warning, he lunged at Tom, shoving him with both hands flat against his chest. “
You’re
not wanted here.”

Tom stumbled but quickly regained his footing. “Get back,” he told Piper, motioning her away as he stood tall before Tate. “Wrong move, buddy.”