His eyescrinkled at the corners. “I should be thanking you.”
“Why?”
“Well, thanksto your accusation—as false as it was—the hotel has kindly offeredto pay for my stay while I’m here. Not only that, but they’repaying for the wedding too.”
“You’re gettingmarried?” Emma didn’t know why she was surprised at the thought.Lots of people got married in Vegas but usually they were drunken,idiotic teenage celebrities, not middle-aged men who surely knewbetter. Unless he was suffering some kind of mid-life crisis?
His eyesnarrowed at her tone. “Let me guess, you think the only people whoget married in Vegas are the kind that don’t know any better?”
Emma pressedher lips together as her face burned. Something in his tone toldher he wasn’t the type to forgive easily. Each time she opened hermouth, she made things worse. She’d apologised. Why wasn’t thatenough?
She tried toimagine how she’d react in his position, if she’d been the one inthe towel being dragged away by hotel security. She’d like to thinkshe’d be reasonable, and even try to laugh about it after enoughtime had passed. What was this guy’s problem?
“Mr Spencer,I’m mortified for over-reacting and causing you such embarrassment.I know nothing I can offer you or ever do could make up for it, butcould I buy you a drink?”
“You know,you’re right. Nothing you could offer me will ever make up for it.”He ignored her offer and stalked away.
CHAPTERSIX
At nine o’clock onTuesday morning Emma had the pool area to herself. Most of theother guests were probably still in bed, sleeping off the effectsof a big night out. She slipped off her thongs, shook out her toweland lay it across one of the sun lounges she had dragged into theshade. The desert air was dry and suffocating. Warmth from thepavers seeped into her feet and she quickly stretched out on thelounger and picked up her novel.
She still couldnot believe she was here in Las Vegas, the city of lights, wealthand extraordinary beautiful people.
Last night atdinner in one of the hotel’s restaurants, she’d seen men flashingwatches that cost more than her annual salary. Model-thin womenboasted the latest fashions, with perfect make-up and hair but whatsurprised Emma the most were the families.
Las Vegas wasthe last place she’d ever think to bring a child on vacation. Notthat she had one of her own.
Emma slippedthe small photograph that she used as a bookmark out of her noveland stared at it. The corners were dog-eared, and the picture hadfaded somewhat but she carried it everywhere.
Taken almosttwenty-five years ago, it was a picture of Dad and her, when shewas three. Dad wore a white singlet with a pair of shorts and heldthe hose while tiny Emma, wearing a pink polka-dot bikini dartedthrough the water. His face was softened with a rare smile—rare forher, anyway—and Emma’s head was tipped back as water trickled downher face. It was proof that he had loved her once.
But she had noactual memory of that. The things she did remember were thatDad had loved Michelle more. In Emma’s memory, when Dad looked atMichelle, his face transformed from expressionless to proud. Hisshoulders broadened and he stood straighter. Pride shone in hiseyes and burst from every pore. When he looked at Emma, it was likehe was looking at any other kid on the playground. She hadn’tmattered.
She tried toshake the memory off. She’d loved her father for the seven yearsshe’d known him; hated him for the twenty years he’d been gone.Before he’d left, she’d done everything she could to try and winhis love and affection but had failed every single time. Dad hadn’tabused her or mistreated her. He’d listened to her ramblings butthen turned his attention to her sister. That’s when he’d reallycome alive. Emma remembered him throwing back his head and roaringwith laughter over a tale Michelle had regaled, or a joke she’dheard in school.
He neverlaughed like that when Emma told him something.
After he’d leftwith Michelle, Emma had driven herself crazy trying to work outwhat’d she’d done to make him leave. Maybe she’d been too annoying,or too needy. Maybe he’d gotten sick of her trying to compete forhis attention so much.
Over the years,Emma had told herself it was his loss. She’d gone about her studieslike a woman possessed and graduated in the top three percent ofher class. Schools had fought to get her, and she’d had her choiceof placements, selecting an inner-city primary school that not onlyhad a waiting list for students, but for teachers as well. She’dloved her job, loved her students, loved the life she’d made in thecity with Amber and Tash.
So why did itstill matter what her father thought?
Because shewanted to show him the woman she’d become all by herself. Becauseshe wanted to prove to him that she’d been worth loving afterall.
Emma glanced upat her surroundings. A couple of birds chattered in a nearby tree,but that was the only sound over the distant hum of trafficnoise.
Inhaling a deepbreath, she eased it out slowly and looked around. The sun hadn’tyet broken over the tops of the nearby buildings but casteverything in a lovely, golden glow. She loved the sandstone thatsurrounded the pools, and the ornate pots decorating the gardens.The matching fountains and elegant topiaries made her dream ofluxury summers in Italy. White roses flowered near a set of stepsleading inside the opposite wing of the hotel. A thick canopy oftrees set back from the pools provided natural shade, and withoutthem, Emma would have burnt to a crisp.
Across the poolclosest to her, a door opened and voices drifted across the wateras a young couple chose sun lounges and stretched out to soak upthe sun’s rays.
Emma tucked thephoto back in her book and set it aside, got to her feet and headedfor the pool. She wasn’t brave enough for a bikini, althoughyesterday when she’d peered through the windows to the pool area,all the women had been wearing them. She dipped one foot into thepristine pool water and sighed with satisfaction. Cool but notcold. Using the elegant ladder, Emma lowered herself into thewater.
She’d swept herhair up into a ponytail to keep it dry as she dog
