He snapped his seat belt into place. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”
“My pleasure,” she said, wondering again what he was doing here. Most high rollers would have hit the tables the minute they arrived. Their luggage could have ended up in Timbuktu for all they cared.
She still harbored doubts about him, magnified by his unusual attention to his luggage. What could be so important about his bags? Was he smuggling in drugs to cover his gaming habit?
She doubted it, mentally shaking her head. She must be watching too many late night reruns of
Miami Vice
. He really didn’t seem the type to engage in illegal activities. But what type was he? She wanted him to fit neatly in her little box for high rollers, but he didn’t and that bugged her. Besides, she hadn’t had the time to delve deeper into his background.
Recalling that one moment when he’d looked her over and smiled his roguish smile, she fervently hoped he wasn’t going along to hit on her—that was the one part of her job she didn’t like. High rollers sometimes thought she was part of the guest package—typical men. But she’d learned how to handle their expectations, and though Damian was very attractive, she had no intention of getting involved with one of her guests.
“Wow, those mountains are beautiful—all those shifting colors and shadows,” he said. We don’t have any mountains at home. They’re pretty cool.”
Funny man. He was commenting on the scenery. Maybe he was as nervous as she was. But why? The thought nagged at her. “Yeah, sunset in the desert, it’s the best.”
“So how long have you been in guest relations?”
She guessed they’d exhausted the scenery. “About two years.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah, I like it a lot.”
Did she sound enthusiastic? She hoped so, because she did like her job. She enjoyed the challenge of keeping whales and high rollers happy. Snagging tickets no one else could get, setting up tours for the adventuresome, and getting reservations at posh restaurants kept her busy and engaged. Didn’t give her much time to think—and that was a good thing.
“Do you mind if I ask what kind of surname is de Los Santos?”
She turned onto a side street, leading to an airport parking area. “Sure, no problem. It’s Latino like your last name.” She glanced over at him. “My father is from Spain and my mother was Puerto Rican.”
“Your mother…did you say
was
?”
“Sorry, slip of the tongue. Didn’t mean to hint at my family’s history. It’s not very interesting.”
“You might be surprised what interests me. Did you mean—?”
“Yes,” she replied. “My mother is deceased.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how that would be. I have a large family back home. Sometimes they drive me crazy, but I wouldn’t want—”
“Thank you, but it was a long time ago.”
As she turned into short-term parking, she breathed deeply, trying to dislodge the tightening in her chest and wanting to swipe away the tears burning at the back of her eyes. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and ran her finger over the nubby head of the plastic animal lodged there. She breathed deeply again, struggling to regain her composure. It had been over ten years since she’d lost her mother. When would the hurt wear out? When would the grief not be so fresh?
He lightly touched her shoulder. “I can be an idiot sometimes. Please, accept my apology.” He sounded so sincere, her face flushed with heat and she knew she must be blushing. But she couldn’t afford such feelings, especially with a client.
“Apology accepted.” She needed to change the subject. “What’s your family background Do you have any brothers and sisters?”
“Too many.” He shook his head. “There’s five of us, three boys and two girls. My family is Mexican American from San Antonio, Texas. Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“One brother.” She spotted a parking space and pulled into it. She turned off the engine. “Guess we’re here.”
He grinned. “I’m ready. Lead on.”
She liked his grin and appreciated him trying to lighten the conversation after they’d blundered into her own personal tragedy. Actually, she liked everything about him, especially his sensitivity. And that was what scared her.
#
Rafael stood in the baggage claim area, hands thrust in his pockets, feeling as unnecessary as a ruptured appendix in an operating room. Adriana leaned over the baggage clerk’s desk, pointing at his computer screen. She handed the clerk his luggage claim tickets.
“Can you put a tracer on these numbers?” she asked.
The baggage clerk squinted at the tags. “Sure, no problem. Just give me a minute.” He jabbed at the computer, his fingers flying over the keys.
Adriana had moved behind him, watching his efforts. “See, there they are.” She pointed at the screen. “Whoa, back up. Flight 1341, where is that?”
“Uh, Los Angeles. His bags went to Los Angeles.” The clerk shrugged.
She shot the man a look. “What’s the next flight back from LA?”
Por Dios
, she was good, Rafael realized. Not to mention how attractive she was. From this angle, he could study her to his heart’s content. She was completely focused on getting his luggage for him and not paying attention.
By today’s standards, her suit was demure, the skirt reaching to the middle of her knee. Even so, it revealed her shapely calves, rounded and taut. And the long suit jacket, double-breasted and buttoned tightly beneath her chin, did nothing to disguise the curve of her hips or the swell of her breasts.
As she leaned over the desk, one wave of her long, auburn hair fell forward, partially obscuring her features. Not that he needed to see them. They were indelibly imprinted on his mind.
When he’d commented on the mountains, he’d been thinking of her eyes. The mountains here seemed to change colors, shifting shadows of dark purples and blues, like the color of her eyes. He groped for the right word: indigo. That was the word he wanted.
But as beautiful as her eyes were with their long black lashes, it was her mouth that turned his guts inside out. Full-lipped and sensual, curved at the corners as if she were secretly smiling, her mouth was the stuff of dreams.
Wet dreams.
She shook hands with the baggage clerk and walked toward him.
He drew himself up and banished his lustful thoughts. His face turned warm at her approach, and he hoped she couldn’t read his perverted mind. He bent his head and studied his loafers, coughing loudly to clear his throat.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Just a touch of allergies. Guess I’m not used to the desert air.”
“When I was a child, people moved here to escape their allergies. But they planted so many trees and bushes from back east that they brought the allergens with them.” She shrugged. “People can’t seem to leave well enough alone.”
“You’re right.” He raised his head and gazed at her. The florescent lights overhead made her red-brown hair shimmer, emitting sparks like a flame.
“I finally managed to get a definite answer from the airline. Your bags will be on the eleven o’clock flight from Los Angeles tonight.”
Checking his watch, he said, “That’s three hours from now. Too long to wait. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. How about having dinner with me?”
“I...I... Normally, I’d be more than happy to show you Vegas, but unfortunately, I have a prior commitment.”
“Oh, okay,” he said. He could feel the smile fading from his face. He ducked his head again, wanting to hide his disappointment.
“I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow night,” she said.
His head popped up. “Really, tomorrow night? It’s a date then.” His face was tight, stretched from ear to ear in a shit-eating grin. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. She couldn’t go out tonight, but she’d agreed to a date for tomorrow. Now he really had something to look forward to.
They were quiet during the drive back to the hotel, exchanging only perfunctory words, which was more than okay with him. He didn’t want to break the spell, didn’t want to give her a reason not to go out with him tomorrow night.
When she dropped him off at the entrance to the hotel, Adriana assured him that his luggage would be in his room by midnight.
Letting himself into his empty rooms, he wondered what he should do with himself for the remainder of the evening. He wasn’t much of a gambler and though he was hungry, the thought of eating alone downstairs didn’t really appeal. Maybe he’d order room service and a movie.
Switching on the light in the larger of the two bedrooms, he found clothing spread on the king-size bed—a complete change of clothes. There was a pair of Polo slacks and a pullover similar to those he was wearing, along with new boxer shorts and socks. Picking up the shorts, he was surprised to find that they were his size.
How could she have known unless she’d paid more attention than he realized? The thought gave him pause. Entering the bathroom, he discovered a full complement of toilet articles: a razor, shaving cream, comb and brush, toothbrush and toothpaste, and deodorant.
She’d thought of everything, and her thoughtfulness made a lump rise to his throat. Maybe it was just more of her efficient customer service, but he couldn’t ignore the consideration and personal touch that had gone into the gesture.
He strode into the living room and grabbed her card from the coffee table. She’d probably already left for her commitment, but the least he could do was to leave her a voice mail, thanking her.
She surprised him by answering on the third ring.
“You didn’t have to do it, but it’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me,” he said.
“Damian?”
“Yes, and I can’t thank you enough. Please, bill me for the cost.”
“I wouldn’t think of it. Just part of our service.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, please accept the clothes and toilet articles as gifts of the resort. It’s the least we can do.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” He hesitated, knowing what he wanted to ask. He mentally shook himself—he’d never felt this bold before. “I know of only one way to properly thank you, Adriana. You don’t mind if I call you by your first name, do you?”
“Of course not, please do.”
“Break your date,” he urged, taking the plunge. “Let me take you to dinner so I can return the favor. I’m your client,” he reminded her. “And I won’t take no for an answer.” He couldn’t believe he had said it. It wasn’t like him to be so forward. But tomorrow wasn’t good enough. He wanted to be with her tonight.
There was a long silence on the other end and then she said, “Okay, you’ve convinced me. I can’t say no to a guest.”
#
They’d settled on the Chinese restaurant at the hotel. Even though it was full to bursting and with a long line of people waiting to get in, Adriana moved to the head of the line, conferred with the hostess and managed to get them a tiny booth at the back of the room.
Watching her in action again, he shouldn’t be surprised at the preferential treatment she received, given her job, but her command of the place somehow diminished his gesture of taking her out to dinner. Hell, he was being silly. All that mattered was that she’d broken her date and agreed to go out with him. And as long as they were at her hotel, he’d need to get used to the fact that she could command the entire staff.
But tomorrow night would be different. He would take her to a place where he’d be in charge, someplace with soft candlelight and low music. If she’d go out with him again. She’d agreed to tomorrow in lieu of seeing him tonight. What if she didn’t want him to monopolize her time? She must have other clients. But he wouldn’t think about that for now; he’d enjoy tonight and make certain she wanted to see him again.
He gathered his legs and fit himself into the booth. He couldn’t believe he was already thinking about tomorrow night. It was like the old song:
I’ve got it bad and that ain’t good.
He snapped open the white linen napkin and draped it over his lap. “Is it always so crowded?”
She glanced up from the menu and gazed at him for a moment. “This isn’t crowded for Vegas. Wait until the weekend.”
Another blunder on his part. As a frequent high roller to Vegas, he should know how crowded the city got. He’d need to be more careful. If he wanted to spend time with her, he couldn’t keep messing up.
“I meant the restaurant. I know the casinos are jam-packed.”
Frowning, she said, “I don’t know where you stayed before. Caesars, maybe? But Xanadu, like MGM and Treasure Island courts the family market, which means alternative entertainment and busy restaurants. It’s an inclusive approach to the Vegas market.”
“I see.”
As a professor, he didn’t have much experience with the corporate crowd, except his brother, which he didn’t count. Her enthusiasm for her job was a little over the top. Was everyone in the corporate world as enthralled with their jobs as she was? It would take some getting used to.
“Have you decided what you want to start with?” she asked.
“Egg rolls?”
She laughed. Her laughter warmed him. Like her speaking voice, it was deep and throaty, filled with sensual promise. “Why don’t we try something a little more interesting, like pot stickers? Have you ever had them?”
“No, can’t say I have. My specialty is Mexican food.”
“Because of your background?”
“More than that. My parents own a chain of Mexican restaurants in San Antonio. As a teenager, I spent my summers waiting tables.” He grinned. “I can talk intelligently about tamales or enchiladas or fajitas. But I’m afraid my knowledge of Chinese cuisine is limited.”
She snapped her fingers and smiled. Her face lit up, her complexion glowed. “So your family is in the hospitality industry. That’s great. Isn’t it exciting?”
“Ah, yeah, it’s great,” he agreed.
Actually, he couldn’t have disagreed more. Both he and his twin brother had made a conscious decision to leave the family business. Luckily, their older brother, Carlos, was going to take over the restaurants when his parents retired.
Maybe it was different in her job, but his memories from working at his folks’ places weren’t pleasant. He remembered the sweltering kitchens, greasy counters, obnoxious customers and insignificant tips as if it was yesterday. Studying for his doctorate had been a walk in the park in comparison.