12
Thad wasn’t an indecisive person. His job required instant decision-making, yet all through their client dinner in the hotel dining room, he wrestled with whether to tell Olivia about the photo. She knew someone had it in for her, and nothing good would come of showing it to her. The aria she’d sung this afternoon might not have been up to her standards, but it had given him goose bumps. One look at that photo could completely derail her. It would be like showing a horror movie to a kid who was already spooked.
But Olivia wasn’t a kid.
As Henri escorted the last of their guests from the hotel dining room, Thad and Liv headed for the elevator. He inserted his room card and pushed the button for the top floor. “Something came for you in the mail.”
“I didn’t see anything.”
“I grabbed it before you could open it.”
She cocked her head, waiting. He hesitated. “It’s from whoever’s playing mind games with you.”
“What is it?”
“A photo. You don’t need to see it. There’s no new information, and nothing will be gained from looking at it.”
“Don’t you think that’s for me to decide?”
“That’s why I’m telling you.”
The bell dinged for their floor. She nodded slowly, considering.
The door opened. He blocked it with his body to keep it from closing but didn’t get out. “You sang again today, and you can’t let something this stupid derail you. That’s why I’m asking you to let it go.”
She touched his arm. “I understand you’re looking out for me, but I have to see it.”
He’d known she’d say this. They stepped into the empty hallway with its plush carpet and softly glowing wall sconces. “I’m going to tell you what it is first,” he said.
She stopped walking. “Okay.”
“It’s a photograph of a gun.” He kept his voice calm and level. “A Smith & Wesson pistol.”
She sucked in her breath.
“My guess is that’s the kind of gun Adam used.”
She gave a short, tense nod.
“I suspect whoever is behind this wants you to think it’s a photo of the real thing, but it’s been copied from a site on the Internet.”
“I want to see it.”
“Leave it alone, Liv. There’s no point.”
“I have to see it.” She set off toward their rooms, her stilettos sinking stubbornly into the carpet.
He came up next to her. “If you even think about freaking out, I’ll never let you forget it.”
“Fair enough.” She passed the door to her suite and stopped in front of his, waiting for him to unlock the door. He needed to prepare her as best he could. “One more thing . . . There’s a bullshit message written across it.” He hated what he was about to tell her. “It says, ‘You made me pull the trigger.’ Now go ahead. Do your big freak-out just like whoever’s behind this wants you to do.”
Maybe he’d said the right thing because he liked the way she set her jaw. “Open that door.”
His suite was identical to hers, and she saw the opened envelope lying on the table. She marched toward it and pulled out the photo. He prepared himself for the worst, but instead of looking stricken, she looked mad as hell.
*
Thad hated sitting in the passenger seat with Olivia driving, but she’d insisted, and he’d only look like a sexist troll if he’d pressed her.
“You didn’t have to come with me,” she said, as they sped along I-78 toward Plainfield, New Jersey. “As a matter of fact, the way you keep twitching around and scowling makes me wish you hadn’t.”
“I like to drive, that’s all.”
“So do I. And I’m a better driver than you are.”
“You’re deluded.”
“I haven’t forgotten our Breckenridge trip. You speed.”
“Says the lady going six miles over the limit.”
“Six is reasonable. Twelve isn’t.”
She had a point.
Adam’s hometown of Plainfield, New Jersey, lay about an hour west of the city. It was late afternoon, the day after Thad had shown her the photo. Tomorrow night, they’d be flying to Vegas, and they couldn’t get there fast enough, although it bothered him that she hadn’t once brought up their agreement since they’d made it.
“You could at least have rented a decent car.” He sounded sulky.
“Excuse me, Mr. Big Shot, but I don’t need to rent a Rolls. I’m perfectly fine with a Mazda.”
“Because you’re not six foot three,” he retorted.
“I’m also not a whiny baby.”
If he kept complaining, he’d only prove her point. Until today, he hadn’t thought twice about riding with a woman driving, so sexism wasn’t his problem. What specifically bothered him was being Olivia’s passenger.
He’d never regarded himself as controlling. He respected women. Appreciated them. Hell, he worked for Phoebe Calebow. But when he was with Olivia Shore, all of a sudden, he wanted to call the shots, something she clearly wouldn’t allow to happen.
He tapped his foot against the floor mat. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish on this trip.”
“I don’t, either. But I’m tired of feeling like a victim, and I need to do something.”
“What exactly?”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
Meaning she had no clue. As she pulled onto the freeway exit ramp, he stretched out his legs as far as the Mazda would allow. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s find a nice Holiday Inn and do what we’ve been wanting to do ever since we met.”
She stared straight ahead, but he saw her blink. “This isn’t Las Vegas.”
“Almost. We’re leaving tomorrow night, remember? And neither of us signed anything. We can change our minds any time we want.”
The troubled crease that formed between her brows made him regret bringing it up. “As soon as we cross that line,” she said, “everything will change between us.”
“It’ll change anyway,” he pointed out, trying to regain lost ground. “You’re the one who set the ground rules. Once the gala is over, we finish our commitment to Marchand, and we never see each other again, remember?”
She turned onto a four-lane road with modest houses set on large, wooded lots and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “There are so many people we can have sex with, but how many of them can we rely on? Can we trust? How many understand each other the way we do?”
It sounded as if Olivia Shore was trying to move him into the friend zone, something he wouldn’t let happen. “Our agreement stands,” he declared, as if he were the only one who had a say. “Our last night in Las Vegas. You. Me. A bed. And a long night of sin.”
*
A long night of sin . . . She had a good imagination, and all the erotic images that had been plaguing her for weeks played in her head like a film on fast-forward. How could she help that with Thad sitting right next to her? As the Plainfield, New Jersey, sign slipped into view, she imagined what it would be like to be in bed with him. Explore his body. Hold him naked against her. Feel him inside her.