He rodethe elevator down and made for the lobby to meet his handler, an Asian womannamed Marie. The click of his shoes over polished marble echoed with otherfootfalls, and as he approached a large round fountain, they were muffled bythe burble of people milling around. While he scanned the space for Marie,several well-dressed ladies looked him over and smiled. Hookers. He kept hiseyes moving. Other women smiled too. Not hookers. Where the hell’s Marie?
Eyescast toward the front doors, he circled the fountain when a dark-haired woman,her back to him, caught his attention. His eyes froze on her shoulders, thendarted to her long legs that tapered into red-lacquered heels.
Ohshit!
Shestarted to turn her head, and he ducked to the side, only to collide with atiny woman.
“Mr. Miller?”Blinking furiously, Marie straightened her jacket.
“Christ,I’m sorry!”
“Noneed for apologies, Mr. Miller.” She squared her shoulders. “Our new model justchecked in, and I must find her.”
“Beckett?”a familiar voice purred behind him. He groaned inwardly.
As heturned to face Yamila, Marie said, “And here she is now! Welcome, Ms. Hesham.Here is Mr. Beckett Miller, the man you’ll be modeling with.”
Justfucking kill me now.
.~ * * * ~.
Seated in a limo with Marie, Yamila, and another model, Beckettfidgeted as twilight settled over the city. He’d texted Andie throughout theday, though he hadn’t mentioned Yamila. Yet. He’d have to break that newsover the phone, just as he needed to talk to Tom—to make sure this fuckingcyclone coming at him didn’t grow legs. Pre-emptive moves.
As soonas he’d clambered into the limo, he’d texted Andie. Headed to the hotel.Need to talk. She was with Gwenn, so it might not happen for a while.
Thedriver dropped Marie and the model off at their hotel and continued on his way,leaving Beckett alone with Yamila in the backseat. He kept his nose glued tohis phone, pretending she wasn’t there, but she slithered along the bench seat,her hands coming at him like E.T. He shifted away from her, but she slid closerand tried to climb into his lap.
“What’swrong, baby?” She pouted. “Can’t we have a little fun? I remember another limoride when—”
Hegrimaced. “Not now, Yamila. I’m tired.”
Undeterred,a wicked smile on her face, she slipped to the floor on her knees, pawing andpurring as she positioned herself between his legs. “Come on, lover. For oldtimes’ sake.” Her hands glided over his thighs and latched onto his beltbuckle.
Thelimo stopped at a red light, and Beckett vaulted out, slamming the door on astunned Yamila. The chauffeur lowered the front passenger window and shot him aquestioning look. Beckett leaned in, Yamila’s indignant yelps in thebackground.
“I’llfind my way back.”
With anod, the driver pulled away. Beckett dragged a hand through his hair and exhaledin one enormous rush. Against the night sky, the casinos and hotels pulsedtheir garish light, cascading pinks and oranges over noisy people. Heshouldered his way through entire cross sections of humanity and dodgedfountains, taxis, and people trying to stuff flyers in his hand. Finding aquiet corner, he called Andie. Straight to voicemail.
“Hey,pixie, I really need to talk to you. Call me, okay? I miss you.” I love you.
Herb’snumber flashed on the screen, and Beckett answered.
“How’sthe shoot going, Beckett?”
“A fewglitches, but we wrap up tomorrow evening. I’ll be on a late flight to Denver.”
“Well,you might want to change your plans and head to Philadelphia instead.”
“WhyPhiladelphia?”
“The Flyerswant to take a look at you. Think you can pass a physical?”
“Hellyeah, I can pass a physical!”
“Whatabout a drug test?”
“Absolutely.Yes.”
“Well,son, get your ass in gear and book yourself a flight. I’ll email you thedetails.”
Becketthung up, letting the conversation sink in. Then he emptied his lungs in acaveman bellow and pumped his fist. People shot him peculiar looks, but thiswas Vegas, so he bellowed again and ran the whole way to his hotel. Never hadhe been more excited to go to the City of Brotherly Love.
When hehit the Palazzo, he went straight to his suite. The phone was ringing as he lethimself in, and he picked up. It proved a mistake.
“Whydid you leave me?” Yamila whined.
Isshe talking about the car ride? “I needed air.”
“What areyou doing for dinner?”
“Roomservice. Alone.”
“Thatsounds boring. I’m going out with a group of girls. Want to join in? Could be areally good time.”
“Like Isaid, not tonight.”
He hungup, changed into his gym clothes, and headed to the fitness center. When hereturned ninety minutes later, the message light on his room phone blinked red.Thirty-two voicemails, all from Yamila. Jesus! A call to room service,then he left the handset off the hook and showered.
He wasdrying off when his cell buzzed. Finally!
Pressingthe phone between his ear and shoulder, he wrapped the towel around his waist.“Pixie! God, it’s good to hear your voice. How are you? How’s Gwenn?”
Hechugged Gatorade while Andie enthused about her day.
“Sowhat’s next? Dinner?” He swallowed the last of the drink, tossing the bottle inthe trash can.
“Gwenn’sgoing out with Henry and his business peeps, which is fine. I’m a little off.”
Beckettstraightened. “What’s wrong?”
“Just alittle tummy upset is all. The thought of food is blech right now.”
“Well,I’m grabbing a Pellegrino. Get a drink so we can toast together.” Putting heron speaker, he poured the fizzing liquid into a glass.
“You’retoasting with Pellegrino? I’ll grab a ginger ale. What are we toasting?”
“I’mgoing to Philly.”
“What’sin Philly?”
Hefought to keep his voice even. “I’m reporting to the Flyers. They need aveteran defenseman for their playoff run, and they didn’t acquire one at thetrade deadline.”
Hervoice shrank. “When?”
“Tomorrownight.” Isn’t that fucking fantastic?
“Oh.Um, that’s great, Beck. Just what you wanted. I’m raising my soda to you.”
He tooka sip. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”
A beat,two, went by. “It
