What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(12)

“Trev’s gullible.” Georgie twisted off the top of her bottle. “No more talk about Bram, okay? I’m not letting him spoil my morning.” He’d spoiled enough, she thought.

They spent the next two miles hiking on a fire road that wound through the sycamore, live oak, and bay. Georgie relished the feeling of privacy. They reached a shallow creek bed. Sasha leaned over to stretch her legs. “I have the best idea. Let’s all go to Vegas next weekend.”

April knelt next to the water. “That town isn’t good for me. And Jack and I have plans.”

Sasha snorted. “Naked plans.”

April grinned, and Georgie smiled with her, but inside she felt the familiar pain of betrayal. Once, she’d been as certain of Lance’s love as April was of Jack Patriot’s. Then Lance had met Jade Gentry, and everything had changed.

Lance and Jade had been filming a movie together in Ecuador. Lance had played a dashing soldier of fortune and Jade was a nerdy archaeologist, definitely a stretch, considering her exotic beauty. During Lance’s early phone calls, he’d told Georgie how Jade was so absorbed in her work as a professional do-gooder that she seldom fraternized with the crew and that she spent so much time on the phone advocating for her pet causes, she didn’t always have her lines memorized.

But gradually the stories had stopped. And Georgie hadn’t noticed.

She turned to Sasha. “A trip to Vegas sounds just right. Count me in.” She imagined photos of Georgie York and her glamorous friend whooping it up in Sin City. If she followed the trip with a few months of serial dating as she’d originally planned, maybe the stories of “Georgie’s Unending Heartbreak” would finally give way to “Georgie’s Wild Nights.”

Sasha began to sing “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” Georgie made herself do a little dance. It was a good idea. A great idea. Exactly what she needed.



What do you mean you had to go back to Chicago?” Georgie hissed into her cell phone six days later. She was at a table in the Bellagio’s Le Cirque restaurant where Sasha was supposed to be meeting her to kick off their Vegas weekend.

Sasha sounded harried instead of her normal sarcastic self. “I left three messages. Why didn’t you call me back?”

Because Georgie had accidentally left her cell in her suitcase and only retrieved it on her way to the restaurant.

“We had a fire in the warehouse,” Sasha went on. “I had to get back right away.”

“Is everybody okay?”

“Yes, but there’s a lot of damage. Georgie, I know the Vegas trip was my idea. I’d never have stood you up like this if—”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine.” Sasha was cool in a crisis, but she also wasn’t the tough nut she pretended to be. “Take care of yourself, and call me when you know more. Promise.”

“I will.”

After Georgie hung up, she gazed around the hotel’s jewel-like dining room with its silk-tented ceiling and view of Lake Bellagio. Several of the diners were openly staring at her, and she realized she was once again alone at a table for two. She left a hundred-dollar bill by her water goblet and slipped out into the casino through the restaurant’s star-studded entry. She kept her head down as she walked past the Monopoly slot machines.

“I swear, you’re stalking me.”

She whipped around and saw Bram Shepard standing outside Circo, the sister restaurant to the one she’d just fled. He was predictably gorgeous in jeans and a pinstriped dress shirt with white French cuffs, a mix of casual and elegant that should have looked awful, but didn’t. The casino lighting had turned his lavender eyes into mercury. He was like one of the Seven Wonders of the World—except he’d been tarnished by too much acid rain.

“This is so not an accident,” she said.

“As a matter of fact, it is.”

“Yeah, right.” She moved quickly, trying to get away before anyone spotted them, but he fell into step next to her. “I had a benefit,” he said.

“I don’t care. Go away.”

“It was a corporate shindig. I got twenty-five thousand dollars for spending two hours at the company cocktail party mingling with the guests.”

“Not exactly a benefit.”

“A benefit for me.”

“It figures.” She knew a dozen C-list celebrities who made a living like this, but not one of them admitted it.

She walked still faster, but it was too late. They were already attracting attention, no big surprise, since last week’s lunch date was splashed all over this week’s tabloids. She’d wanted positive stories she could control, and there was nothing controllable or positive about Bram Shepard.

They passed a circular bar with a rock band grinding out a Nickelback cover. She couldn’t get away now, so she plastered on a smile. It was time she let him know her pushover days were behind her. “Let me guess,” she said as they wound through the machines. “You’re heading for the bedroom of an aging corporate mogul’s third wife. She’s paying you for extra services.”

“Want to come along? Imagine how much she’d cough up to get it on with both of us.”

“Thanks for thinking of me, but unlike you, I’m still filthy rich, so I haven’t been reduced to selling myself.”