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“When are you going to see him again? I’ll watch Portia, tell the idiot you live with you have to go somewhere for business, then take that beautiful man to our adjoining suite in the Bellagio for the weekend.”
“Izzy! Have you lost your mind?”
“No, have you? Most people don’t get second chances and here’s yours not twenty minutes away, just waiting for you to rip off every piece of his tailored linen shirt and pants.”
“You are too much.” Cheryl’s eye roll barely hid the heat creeping up her spine as she envisioned such a weekend. A silent movie played in her head causing a fluttering below which she hadn’t felt in a long time. Ten years to be exact.
“The look in your eyes tells me you’ve had the same thoughts and it also tells me you did more than casual conversation last night.”
“Nothing happened. We were in the back hallway of the club with over one hundred people not fifty feet away.”
Izzy’s face dropped. “You mean you didn’t get down and dirty in one of the bathroom stalls?”
“No!” Cheryl shouted, then stage whispered. “You’re reading way too many of those romance novels.”
“Don’t tell me the idea didn’t cross your mind.”
“I’m ignoring you now.” Cheryl’s brain catapulted back in time when it would’ve happened exactly that way. They were insatiable for each other and it didn’t matter where they were when the mood hit—and it always hit.
Izzy’s expression sobered. “Regardless of what happens between the two of you, you’re going to tell him about Portia, right?”
“Absolutely not.”
Izzy’s brow furrowed. “Portia has a right to know her real father.”
Cheryl looked away from Izzy’s accusing glare. “No good can come of it.”
“Every little girl needs her father.”
“No, no they really don’t.” Cheryl pressed her palms against the cool glass of her desk. “Can you honestly tell me my lifeis better by knowing my father, Frank Barnett, New York mob boss? I wish I never found out about him.”
“You make a point, but he did help us when we needed it.”
“And he made sure I paid the price for that favor. I’m just saying knowing a parent isn’t always a good thing.”
Izzy lowered her head and Cheryl immediately regretted her sharp words.
“I didn’t mean—I would’ve done anything to help you, and I would do it all over again.”
“I’ll never forget what you did for me. If it wasn’t for you I surely would’ve been dead, but I think you’re making a huge mistake not telling Nick about Portia. Plus, Portia looks exactly like him. I couldn’t believe the resemblance when I met him the other day. Her smile, the glint in her eyes. It’s crazy.”
“I know.” The constant reminder of Nick in her daughter’s face made forgetting him impossible.” Cheryl rested her head in her hands. “I’m so screwed.”
Four days later, Cheryl convinced herself there was no reason she couldn’t carry on with her life as always regardless of what Nick thought. In reality, Cheryl had no reason to even go near the Strip. Izzy would handle Club Wicked’s account as planned, and she would continue to run Selective Services from home just as she’d done in L.A. Once Johnny got the jazz club off the ground in Vegas she would tell him she wanted to return to L.A. which was the original plan. She might just have to move it up a bit.
She refused to let Nick invade her life or disrupt it. As she’d told him the other night, too much time had passed and whatever they had was done and gone.
The buzzing of her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She swiped at the call and put the phone to her ear.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“My car won’t start,” Izzy said. “Can you come to the Bellagio and pick me up?”
“See the concierge, I’m sure their car service can take you home. After all, we rent two of their top suites on a monthly basis. It’s the least they can do.”
“True, but I thought we could have a drink at the casino bar. You know, start the weekend off right.”
“It’s Thursday?”
