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“If Mom were alive, I wonder if she would agree with you,” Beau said, thinking of the circumstances surrounding his mother’s death. He wasn’t intending to be cruel, reminding Redman of what had occurred, but he refused to be like his father—balancing a wife’s needs with a gambler’s schedule.
His brother Aaron felt the same way and had never married. Their profession just didn’t mix with having the type of marriage partnership he’d want, so he had given up thinking about it long ago. At least, that’s what Beau had told himself after the phone call, while sitting home alone, the only one at the table for Christmas dinner.
Sailor had called earlier in the week with an offer Beau couldn’t refuse. She said she could comp him in the Presidential Sunset suite at the Estates, The Benson’s ultra-luxurious collection of private accommodations overlooking the Strip and the resort’s private lake. When Sailor also offered to have The Benson’s private jet pick him up the day after Christmas, he jumped at the chance.
It was an opportunity to have some fun, leaving behind the cavernous and otherwise empty Brooks ranch estate in Montana. He would make money playing poker and betting on sports, but that was more of a job to him. Craps was the game he truly had fun with, and he was certain it would help him escape his holiday blues.
As his limousine pulled into the driveway that accessed the private entrance to the Presidential suite tower, he recognized Sailor from his Atlantic City trips. But it was the woman walking out after Sailor who he couldn’t help but look at. She exuded confidence just by the way she pushed her wavy blond hair behind her ear. He recognized that aura of confidence. She’d had it twenty years ago when he’d gotten her fired.
Damn. This is going to be awkward.
Sailor clearly deferred to Alessandra, nodding and whispering something to her as the driver opened Beau’s door. Maybe Alessandra was in charge of casino marketing. Given their history together, he was surprised she’d had Sailor bring him in. Maybe she’d forgotten the incident, or at least ignored what had happened. After all, it was a long time ago.
“Welcome to The Benson, Beau.” Sailor smiled like they’d been friends for a long while. He knew it was Sailor’s job to make him feel comfortable, and he also knew she was very good at it. Happy gamblers spent more money, and that made for happy casino executives.
“Mr. Brooks, welcome,” Alessandra said. Her tone seemed like an attempt at being warm, but Beau sensed her distance. Was she still angry after all these years? Or did she not recognize him?
“Beau, this is The Benson’s president, Alessandra Caro,” Sailor said, introducing the two.
“Pleased to see you again, Alessandra.” Beau extended his hand and took a step toward her. He moved nearer than he should, but he wanted to get close to her, examine her face. She was as beautiful as she’d been twenty years ago. And he could tell by her sardonic smile that she was as fiery as she’d been twenty years ago, too.
Sailor looked at them. “You two know each other?”
Alessandra answered first, her tone flat and detached, “Actually, yes. We met several years ago. I had completely forgotten.”
“But I did not,” Beau said. He didn’t believe she’d completely forgotten about him. But maybe this was her way of laying the foundation for a fresh start.
Sailor was apparently oblivious to Alessandra’s tone. “That’s outstanding! Hopefully there’ll be time for you two to catch up!”
Alessandra’s face remained impassive. “Oh, I doubt that. But I’m sure Mr. Brooks will have a fabulous time under your care, Sailor.”
She’d changed, Beau thought. More serious. Maybe the responsibility of running this large resort was on her mind. The last thing she had time for was greeting a high-roller. And probably the last high-roller she’d want to greet would be Beau. But she’d feel obligated to do so for anyone likely to spend that much money.
He smelled the scent of her skin—lilacs and vanilla—underneath her crisp white button-up. He had a quick vision of undoing those buttons and seeing for himself how her skin would feel. He bet it was as soft as it was twenty years ago. That vision was followed by a desire to push up her tight pencil skirt and run his hand along what he suspected would still be a well-toned thigh.
Beau didn’t want anything serious; he knew that time had passed for the two of them. But he admitted to himself that a female distraction would improve his outlook. They’d ended on bad terms, that was for sure. She had a right to be angry at him, he supposed. But that was twenty years ago, and it obviously hadn’t hurt her career.
The fact that all of Beau’s gambler colleagues were at the Magnum tournament this week had added to the sour mood he’d wanted to improve. He had tried to ignore his anger as The Benson’s limousine drove him by the glittering buildings of the Las Vegas Strip. The tournament itself didn’t matter to him. Even if the lying executives at Magnum had wanted him back as a customer, he would never play there again because of what they did.
Beau didn’t need their stupid tournament. He knew he could make more money on the side action, playing poker with all the gamblers in town. He would win at poker, roll the dice at the craps table, and hopefully, get a chance to spend more time with Alessandra Caro, who by that time, had taken a step back from him and was beckoning him toward the private elevator. The challenge of rekindling a romance with her would add an element of fun to his competitive nature.
“Sailor and I will be happy to show you to the Presidential Sunset suite. We want to ensure you have everything you need during your stay with us,” she said, again smiling, but with that distant look on her face.
Beau could guess why she was keeping him at arm’s length, despite the extraordinary chemistry they’d had together—chemistry they maybe still had. He didn’t see a ring on her finger, so it wasn’t that. It was probably because of what happened when they were younger—so much younger. He wondered if he could break through whatever anger she still harbored. After all, the courts eventually ruled Beau had done nothing wrong, allowing him to keep his winnings.
Then there was also that overall seriousness she now cloaked herself with. She was probably no longer the type who mixed business and pleasure. And he knew with certainty that he would try to convince her to do just that.
