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After being in Vegas for so many years, Ryan McBride looked out at the skyline in front of him and feared he’d become immune to the extraordinary. There was always a brighter light, a bigger jackpot, a more beautiful woman.
He heard the gentle crack of the bathroom door and the tell-tale tap of high heels on marble behind him. He turned around and instantly, as a lightning-quick shock pulsed through him, Ryan knew his theory had been incorrect.
He could still feel.
Raw. Primitive. Instinctive. He hadn’t planned for this quick-trigger physical reaction to the woman walking toward him, and he couldn’t control it.
He’d heard of the little black dress. Mariela had helped Lisa pick out one heck of one, emphasis on little.
As in little lacy fabric. Little flyaway feather skirt with lots of leg. And very little left to the imagination.
She strode toward him confidently, with a megawatt smile on her face, looking like a model pacing a catwalk. He couldn’t believe this was the same Lisa from earlier. This woman wasn’t trailing in anyone’s wake or nervously flipping price tags.
This woman was confident, put-together, and downright sexy.
She flipped her hands out at her sides, palms up. “Will this work for the Mona Lisa?”
It would work for anywhere in Vegas. But Ryan hesitated in saying that, even though he didn’t quite know why.
“I guess that’s a yes.” She stood there, hand perched on her right hip. Ryan studied the curve of her body, framed by the angle of her bent arm. He wanted to slide his arm in there and wrap it around the small of her back, draw her close, and find out what other surprises she’d been hiding beneath that casual travel outfit and the expression of skepticism she’d worn all day.
“It is.” Ryan nodded, hoping he hadn’t totally given away his approval.
He wasn’t used to giving away his hand. And he still didn’t know anything about Lisa Fleming or her great-grandmother. Or how he was going to keep Pops from making this huge marriage mistake he’d surprised Ryan with earlier today.
“You ready to head down?” Ryan kept his hands firmly in his pockets so he didn’t make the wrong move and reach out for Lisa’s hand.
Or that inviting curve that flared just around her hip.
Pops had called this his engagement dinner and set all this in motion, but the key word for Ryan tonight was disengagement. Both in a matrimonial sense for Pops, and a mental one for himself.
Lisa didn’t say much as they wound through the hallways of the Renaissance Grand. Her head turned back and forth, as though she didn’t want to miss a thing.
“First time in Vegas?” Ryan fished for chit-chat as he pushed the button to the elevator which would take them directly to the Mona Lisa, at the top of one of the Renaissance Grand’s towers.
She turned her head away from a painting and back toward Ryan. “Believe it or not, yes.”
He held the elevator door back and gestured for Lisa to go first. “A Vegas virgin. Well, I hope you enjoy your trip.”
She looked at him, then dropped her gaze away. The curls on the top of her fancy twist hairstyle swayed slightly with the sudden movement. “Well, I will if I...”
“If you what?”
The elevator doors slid open to a lacquered world of gold and white and red and black. The color theme matched a deck of cards.
And Ryan wanted desperately to call Lisa’s bluff. To find out what she was hiding behind that open-ended sentence. But his hesitation cost him the moment.
“Mr. McBride,” an older gentleman with an Italian accent held open the door in front of them. “Welcome back to the Mona Lisa. Your guests have already arrived. Right this way, please.”
He gestured with his arm, ushering them into a world of metallic shine and good, old-fashioned Las Vegas high rolling. The Mona Lisa was reserved for the highest level of visitors to the Renaissance Grand. Celebrities, royalty, and those who weren’t afraid to pile up chips at the tables in the gaming area below.
Thanks to winning four Global Poker Challenge rings, Ryan now fell into the first category and the last. And in Las Vegas, Nevada, those two and a GPC ring were enough to get one treated like royalty. There weren’t many doors in this town that closed to Ryan McBride these days.
Except for wedding chapel doors.
But that was by his own design, and he planned to keep it that way. For both himself and Pops.
“Hey, there they are!” Pops almost bounced out of his seat the moment his eyes caught sight of his grandson. He waved an arm with high enthusiasm.
Ryan felt like everyone in the quiet restaurant had paused and taken note of them, thanks to his grandfather’s boisterous greeting. He’d always thought of himself as a “keep your head down” kind of guy, but it was hard to be mad when Pops was clearly acting from an enthusiasm more commonly seen in teenage love, not rekindled romances between people nearing the century mark in age.
Pops wasn’t the only one who was turning heads in the candlelit room. Ryan didn’t know what he was having a harder time believing. That Pops had turned back time and become an adolescent again, or that the quiet, unsure schoolteacher had the attention of every man in one of the most exclusive restaurants in Las Vegas.
Lisa Fleming had certainly captured his attention. He could usually shake distractions. Being able to do so was critical in his profession.
He couldn’t keep from tracing Lisa’s curves, from the way her stiletto heels made her calf muscles more clearly defined, to the upper thighs just barely peeking out through the feathered skirt, to her most womanly curves up a little bit higher. The realization that in the last ten minutes, he’d just checked out Pops’s step-great-granddaughter-to-be more times than he’d cared to admit confirmed the one thing he’d been forced to admit to himself lately.
Ryan McBride was losing his edge.
His passion for the game and the single-minded focus he needed to be great, to win, was slipping.
But apparently not his passion for a good-looking woman.
And that scared him even more than the thought of cashing in his chips and moving on to whatever would come next in his career and life.
Pops had already pulled out Lisa’s chair by the time they got to the table. “My dear, you look gorgeous.”
He kissed her gently on one cheek.
Ryan looked away, trying to keep his thoughts from shifting away from the curves he’d been noticing earlier and over to the curve of her lower lip—and what it would be like to give her a kiss of his own.
Something about her unexpected transformation tonight was throwing every part of him into overdrive. And it needed to stop. He had about ninety minutes over dinner to start laying the framework to get Pops to come to his senses. With the celebrity round later tonight and the full charity poker tournament taking up most of his next two days, he wouldn’t have much free time before the wedding date to execute his plan to stop the wedding from happening.
And as the maître d’ dropped the cloth napkin gently into Ryan’s lap, signaling the beginning of his dinner time, Ryan knew he only had a matter of minutes to come up with a plan.
“I hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Lisa said. She leaned forward and Ryan was once again distracted by some of her more prominent curves as they brushed the edge of the table.
He groaned a little bit in self-reproach, then looked the other way.
“No, they’ve taken good care of us here.” Pops patted Gina Mae on the hand. “Is something wrong, Ryan?”
Of all the times for Pops’s hearing aid to actually work. “No, sir. Nothing at all.”
Well, nothing except needing a plan, a new job, and to stop thinking about how downright hot the woman next to him looked.
Especially to stop thinking about how downright hot Lisa Fleming looked.
His edge wasn’t as sharp as it used to be, and he knew it. But he still knew he could spot a gold digger. And the way Lisa Fleming transformed herself from shrinking violet into full-bloomed crimson rose in just a matter of hours told Ryan his instinct was more than likely right on this one. She turned from caterpillar to butterfly with a seamless ease that showed she wasn’t new to this sort of dressing up.
“Great,” Pops said. “I ordered us some hors d’oeuvres. And a bottle of champagne. You can’t celebrate an engagement without a little celebratory drink, right, Gina Mae?”
The apples of her cheeks rounded and were brushed with the soft glow of candlelight as she smiled. “No. And this is definitely a celebration. Who would have guessed we’d be here after all these years?”
“Do you know how Las Vegas became the wedding capital of the world?” Pops leaned slightly toward Lisa.
She shook her head, and the angles and facets of her large golden earrings picked up the candlelight and reflected twinkles back. “No, I actually don’t. I don’t know much about Las Vegas at all.”
Pops leaned back, adopting the classic raconteur’s pose, and tapped his fingertips together in a triangle shape. Ryan recognized the signature move well. If he’d been at a table, he’d have gone all in. Pops was just that easy to read.
“In 1912, the state of California passed a three-day waiting period for issuing marriage licenses. They said it was to protect people who’d been drinking too much from making bad decisions. Anyway, Nevada decided they had no such issues, and responded with some marketing of their own. They said Nevada was the easiest place to make the best—or worst—decision of your life. Let the chips fall where they may, right, Ryan?”
“Of course, Pops.” Ryan actually hadn’t heard that story before, but he was too busy trying to turn empty thoughts into a plan to become California—in a manner of speaking—and stop the couple across from him from making a bad decision.
“You know, ladies, my grandson here is pretty good with the chips.” He nodded his head in affirmation of Ryan’s skills. “Son, you should take Lisa on a tour of the casino after dinner since she said she doesn’t know much about Vegas.”
Ryan flipped open his menu. “I’ve got to work tonight, Pops. I know you’ve got wedding brain, but the Shamrocks for Students tournament is all weekend long. It’s my last one, so I’ve got to be there from start to finish. Remember, we talked about this earlier in the week? Besides, I’m sure Lisa and Gina Mae are tired from their travel today.”
He didn’t want to be rude to Pops’ guests—even if they were proven to be the gold diggers he took them for, Pops hadn’t raised Ryan to be disrespectful. But he also hadn’t been raised to be a babysitter. Ryan had been raised to make hay while the sun was shining and to be the embodiment of a thousand other similar proverbs Pops quoted over and over through the years.
And tonight, he had to work. He had to give it his all one final time.
“Well, I’d forgotten about that. But, Ryan, this is Las Vegas. No one comes here to sleep.” Pops laughed as he spoke.
“I’m sure I can find something to do, Bill. That’s ok. No one needs to be my babysitter.”
Had Lisa read his mind? Ryan thought it was funny she’d used the same description he’d been thinking.
The waiter walked over to them with a chilled bottle of champagne and held it out before the guests of honor.
“Well, I don’t want you to be lonely. This is a weekend for celebration.” He tapped the cream-colored label affixed to the front of the cool green glass bottle. “And this is the perfect way to start.”
As the golden liquid poured into the flute in front of him, Pops lifted the glass. White bubbles foamed at the opening, like miniature fireworks in a fluffy sky. “To our new family. And new beginnings. May we all be grateful for the chances we’re given and the love in our lives.”
Bill turned his head away from the younger generation and looked straight at the woman he planned to marry. Gina Mae effortlessly raised her glass and clinked her stem with his in the age-old salute of toasting.
Ryan was surprised to not hear any affirmations of Pops’s words from Lisa. She sat straight as the neck of the champagne bottle next to her, shoulders back. She raised her glass slightly, but although her eyes were focused on the lovebirds nearby, Ryan could clearly see she was looking through them, not at them.
He took in her whole face carefully, as studiously as he’d cataloged all her curves as they’d walked to the table earlier. The lower lip he’d traced with his own thoughts was now pressed deliberately and tightly against her narrower top lip. She’d curved the corners up enough that anyone who gave her a casual glance would think she was smiling.
But Ryan knew better.
She was hiding something.
The fire in his belly that had been missing for a while came back with the kick of a white-hot ember. Ryan wanted to know what she was thinking. And once he figured it out, he wouldn’t be afraid to use it to his advantage in this current matrimonial situation.
“What?” Lisa placed her glass on the table in front of her and looked at Ryan. “Is something wrong?”
Ryan raised his glass. “Not at all.”
She didn’t look convinced. But, he figured, that was okay. He wasn’t particularly convinced everything was going to plan for her, either.
The waiter came back and brought several plates of appetizers, placing them in front of Ryan.
“This is courtesy of the Renaissance Grand, Mr. McBride. It’s a pleasure to have you dining with us tonight,” the maître d’ stood just off to the side of the table.
“It’s always a pleasure to be here, Jerome,” Ryan replied politely. Everyone at the Renaissance Grand knew him and took care of his every need—even ones he didn’t know he had. Once he announced he was leaving the tour, would they still place large, round croutons topped with a tomato and kalamata olive mix in front of him? Or were his days of bruschetta, drinks on the house, and a concierge who took care of last-minute ideas and whims soon to be a thing of the past?
If that’s what happened, he’d just have to deal with it. Besides, he didn’t know if he’d even stay in Las Vegas. After years of calculating an opponent’s next move, next card, Ryan didn’t know his own next step.
He’d made the decision to move on, but unfortunately, it was not soothing the sense of restlessness that had been hanging around his soul for almost a year now.
The small party moved through several courses quickly. Ryan let Pops do most of the talking. If he was honest, he just didn’t know what to say to Gina Mae or Lisa, knowing that all he truly wanted was for them to get on a plane and go home before they’d brought any permanent change to Pops’s life. And his own.
Pops smiled, looking like a high schooler on his way to his first prom. Ryan hadn’t seen his grandfather look so at ease in years. Ever since he’d moved out to Las Vegas, there had been a sadness around him that Ryan couldn’t place.
In the last few hours, though, Ryan could see the grandfather he used to know. The one who cracked jokes, who loved a good adventure, who always had a helping hand and a listening ear. Ryan had almost forgotten that side of Pops.
But he couldn’t help but feel like it was back for all the wrong reasons. And he just wasn’t going to be an enabler. It stood out to him that Pops had forgotten the whole conversation they’d had on Monday about the Shamrocks for Students tournament.
Ryan hadn’t wanted to admit that age was catching up to Pops, but forgetting the tournament, keeping secrets about bringing Gina Mae to Vegas and these crazy wedding plans—something just didn’t make sense right now.
Actually—nothing made sense right now.
This whole spur-of-the-moment Vegas wedding scenario didn’t make sense.
And neither did the fact that Ryan couldn’t keep himself from catching glances at Lisa Fleming out of the corner of his eye.
“Lisa, I’m sorry my grandson seems to be working tonight. You can come help your Nana and me pick out flowers for the wedding.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to intrude. I’m sure there are plenty of things for me to do in Las Vegas.” Lisa shook her head, then turned toward Ryan with a practiced smile. “Not everything around here has to lead to trouble, right?”
The only trouble he could see was looking right at him. Once he got this lady in the black lace dress and her great-grandmother back on a plane to Texas, Las Vegas would have a whole lot less trouble in town.
