Hell on Heels (Hotel Rodeo #1)(17)

“I do,” she asserted confidently. “It’s done now and won’t happen again. As of this moment we’re business partners, Ty. Nothing else.”

He reached out to graze the pad of his thumb over her lips. “I wouldn’t be so certain about that, Sugar.”



Monica managed to hold her breath until the door closed behind him. She then exhaled a long gush of air and collapsed into the chair. Her legs still felt like jelly. She’d never acted so recklessly before, but thankfully the condom dilemma had jolted her out of a lust-induced lapse of reason before it was too late. She consoled herself that the damage wasn’t irreversible as long as she kept things under control from this point forward, but feared that might be more easily said than done.

He might be gone, but she couldn’t deny that a powerful attraction remained. Maybe Ty lacked Evan’s urbane polish, but he had undeniable charisma—not to mention impressive physical attributes. She quickly shoved that dangerous recollection from her mind, but not before her inner muscles gave a squeeze of protest.

Her initial antipathy toward Ty had been rooted in the belief that he was an opportunist who’d caused Tom’s stroke, but her preliminary review of the accounts revealed no evidence of wrongdoing and nothing to warrant a full audit.

Perhaps she’d misjudged him. She was emotionally vulnerable when he’d walked into the hospital room—angry and bitter about Evan, and in a state of despair over almost losing Tom. Lashing out at Ty had been a knee-jerk reaction. It wasn’t her finest moment, but she was used to being in control and had looked for someone to blame. The cowboy had presented an easy target.

Her feelings were now completely muddled where Ty was concerned. She wasn’t actually starting to like him, was she? She couldn’t deny the attraction even if she wanted to, but she’d just have to find a way to deal with it, even if it meant resorting to something with batteries—though finding one Ty-sized might present a challenge.



Ty left Tom’s, or rather Monica’s, office feeling like a loaded gun. He couldn’t even recall the last time he’d had a case of blue balls—probably nigh on twenty years. Although he knew any number of women who’d be more than willing to take care of his problem, a couple of them even in the hotel, it might be best to just take matters into his own hand. Deciding that option was the safest one, he headed down the hall toward the owner’s suite.

The elevator dinged as he passed, the doors opening to a pair of shapely legs. His gaze tracked appreciatively upward over generous feminine curves until it finally rested on Cassie Alexander’s familiar face. She was a voluptuous brunette with big, brown, bedroom eyes. She liked dirty talk and noisy sex. She also happened to be on his short list of women who’d be happy to solve his problem. He was quick to stomp that dangerous thought.

“Ty!” she gushed with a bright smile. “I was hoping to catch you. You didn’t answer my text. I’ve been waiting in the lobby for over thirty minutes. Did another meeting run late?”

He whipped out his phone to discover the last message he’d thought was from Monica was actually Cassie. Shit. He’d forgotten the appointment he’d made with her right after his fateful lunch with Tom. The stroke had immediately followed the phone call, and he hadn’t thought of it, or her, since.

Her smile wavered. “You didn’t forget about me, did you?”

Shit. He’d done exactly that. “Ah, hell. I’m sorry, Cassie. I’ve been real preoccupied. There’s some unexpected complications that came up.” He laid a hand on her arm. “I apologize that I didn’t think to call you—”

“It’s no problem, Ty. Really. These things happen. But if it would ease your conscience, I’ll let you make it up to me with dinner. How about we talk about it over the rib eye at Carnevino? They claim it’s the best in town.” She glanced beyond his shoulder and her eyes widened. “Or did you already have other plans?”

Ty didn’t have to turn around to know it was Monica, but he did anyway. She swept a quick gaze over Cassie. He’d seen that look a dozen times before, a woman assessing the threat of another woman. Monica might claim their relationship was pure business, but under it all she was still a woman. And women always tried to stake a claim to any man they got sexually involved with. He might have been amused by the hint of jealousy in her eyes if he hadn’t found himself in the middle of what could easily become a messy situation. It’d be best to handle it up front before it became something ugly and festering.

“Excuse me, Ms. Brandt, there’s someone here you should meet.”

“Oh?” She approached with a pasted-on smile.

He made the introduction. “This is Cassie Alexander of Adams & Alexander Architects. She’s one of the up-and-coming architectural designers in Las Vegas. Cassie, this is Monica Brandt, the new CEO of Brandt Morgan Entertainment.”

Cassie’s brows lifted. “But isn’t Tom—”

“My father recently suffered a stroke,” Monica volunteered.

“I’m so sorry,” Cassie offered sympathetically. “How is he doing?”

“Not well, I’m afraid, which puts me in charge of his business affairs for the foreseeable future.”

“I see.” Cassie nodded. “If that’s the case, perhaps you’d like to join Ty and me for dinner. We were going to review some conceptual sketches I made for the new hotel.”