Hell on Heels (Hotel Rodeo #1)(12)

Her mother had been only too eager to palm her off on nannies and then ship her off to boarding school. She’d only reappeared in Monica’s life because of Evan. Monica still hadn’t dared break the news to her social-climbing mother about their split. That call would only induce the migraine she was barely holding at bay. She probably should make the call, but Vivian would hardly care about Tom.

She glared at the mountain of financial records the cowboy had dumped on her desk and then flicked a glance at her diamond-bezel Tag Heuer Aquaracer. He was late. She’d been trying to meet with him for the past three days, but he’d avoided all contact with her after delivering the reports. No wonder. It hadn’t taken long to decide what to do with the hotel after she saw the state of the financials. The only logical move was to unload it.

Monica snatched up her phone and then threw it back down again. She’d texted him several times already, but he hadn’t picked up her calls or answered her texts. Now he was fifteen minutes late.

She inhaled, counted to ten, and then exhaled with a huff of exasperation. Was this just some passive-aggressive strategy to unsettle her? Maybe. Then again, she was probably giving Ty Morgan way too much credit—the dumb cowboy probably didn’t know how to tell time.



Ty stepped off the elevator and made his way to her office, his booted feet striding with singular purpose. He didn’t knock but walked right in. Although good manners dictated he doff his hat for a lady, he tipped it instead. He’d always had a way with women, but this one was an exception to every rule. “You wanted to talk to me, Ms. Brandt?”

“Yes, I did.” She rose and came around the desk. “We need to discuss your employment.”

She wore a very short black dress. He couldn’t help noticing that it had ridden up high enough to reveal a mighty fine pair of legs—tanned and toned. He was quick to can those thoughts, reminding himself she was a bitch on heels and probably sported a dick bigger than his under that skirt.

He gave a hard laugh. “Then this is going to be an awfully short conversation, Ms. Brandt, because I quit.”

Her brows pulled together. “What did you say?”

“I came here to resign.”

“I don’t think so.” Her gray eyes narrowed. “You can’t just walk out on me without notice.”

“The hell I can’t. Just try and stop me.” He dropped a heavy key chain on her desk with a clatter and slapped his security badges down beside them.

“Oh no you don’t, cowboy!” She confronted him, toe-to-toe, but even in four-inch stiletto heels, the top of her head barely touched his chin. “You have to give me sixty days’ notice.”

“Sue me,” he shot back before turning on his boot heel and heading for the door.

She intercepted him, proving surprisingly agile on her stilts. “Come on now, I recognize a ploy when I see one. You can screw yourself if you think I’m going to let you use a threat of resignation to extort money from me.”

“Maybe that’s how you New Yorkers low-crawl one another, but it ain’t how I operate.”

“Look, Tex—” She flashed that annoying Ivy League smirk.

“It’s Ty,” he growled.

“Whatever.” She waved. “You have a vested interest in this operation. If you cooperate with me, I’ll ensure you come out with a fair share. I’m even willing to offer you a generous severance package when we’re done—a golden parachute, if you will—but you need to keep things running until I can disperse the assets.”

“Sweetheart, you can disperse my ass along with everything else. ’Cause I just resigned.”

Her mouth compressed into a tight line. “Listen to me good, cowboy. I need you to stay long enough for me to find a buyer. If you walk out on me like this, I swear I’ll hammer you to the wall.”

Yup. Based on that claim, she had a dick all right and a set of brass balls to go with it.

She extended her index finger either to poke him in the chest or maybe just to make a point, but he grabbed her wrist before she got a chance. “I don’t take kindly to threats,” he said, deliberately soft and slow.

“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. Now let go of me.”

He released her.

“Does this mean we have an understanding?” she asked.

“Darlin’, I’m not the one who’s having trouble understanding.” Why the hell couldn’t he get through to her? He shook his head with a feigned look of sympathy. “Poor Tom. His hotshot daughter’s not just slow-witted but hard of hearing, too.”

“Come on now,” she ignored his taunt. “There must be something I can offer to change your mind.”

“My, my, Ms. Brandt, that sounds awfully close to begging.”

“Is that what you want? For me to get on my knees and beg?”

“It sure would be a nice start, but maybe you can go ahead and kiss my ass while you’re down there.”

She arched a brow.

“You set the tone here, Ms. Brandt, not me, but I beg pardon if I offended.” He doffed his hat. “I shoulda said I cordially invite you to kiss my ass.”

“Ten grand,” she blurted. “Stay sixty days and I’ll give you a ten-thousand-dollar bonus.”

Ty shook his head. “This ain’t about money. This is real simple, Ms. Brandt. I just plain don’t want to work for you.”