Was I jealous? A little. I couldn’t remember the last time a woman in my life had genuinely loved me. And was that my fault because I had partied too hard and played the field? Probably. At the time, when my bed was filled with beautiful women, sometimes in multiples, it had been a hell of a time. Didn’t mean it didn’t suck now though. If I were being brutally honest, it hadn’t always been fun either. Not every time, not every woman. Sometimes there had been awkward moments in the morning and angry moments of expectation from women who wanted more. Sometimes the sex hadn’t even been that great. Vanilla sex. Going-through-the-motions sex. Masturbating-with-another-person sex.
It’s hard to have a meaningful connection with a woman who you just met.
I’d had the connection with Mia. It had felt very, very real to me.
Now I felt fucked over and pissed off and had to keep retreating to my room in the suite to pace back and forth and check and recheck my valuables. I had left Mia in there alone for at least five minutes on two separate occasions but nothing seemed to be missing.
Miles wanted to go out and party after the impromptu wedding reception ended, and Cash said he was up for some blackjack. It was either that or spend the night wide awake in my room cursing a certain redhead and wondering what the hell it was about her that had her still taking up space in my head. For five months I had been churning over what had gone down between us, and now it was worse. Because now she’d looked me in the eye and denied stealing anything, and fuck it all, I wanted to believe her.
I wanted to find her. Talk to her. Kiss her.
Instead, I went out with Miles and Cash and got loaded and lost a bunch of money.
Because that would teach her a lesson, damn it.
“I’m out,” Cash told me, pushing his chair back. “I’m about even, so I’m calling it a night.”
“It’s five in the morning,” Miles said, after gesturing to the dealer to deal him a card. “I don’t think that’s calling it a night.”
“It’s five?” I asked, shocked. “Damn. Time flies when you’re drunk and losing money. I’m down like two grand. I’m going to get a coffee and come back.” I was about ninety percent sober. The coffee would get me back to right.
“I’ll be here,” Miles said. “This table is hot right now. Get me a coffee.”
“What kind?”
“A coffee. Black. None of that fancy shit you drink.”
I laughed. “Got it.”
Cash walked across the casino with me in the general direction of the lobby. He headed toward the elevators with a wave and I continued to the coffee shop. Even at the early hour, or late, however you chose to look at it, there was a line. Everyone needed their caffeine fix. I got in line and studied the snacks lined up alongside the queue. Nothing looked appealing. A burger sounded better than a granola bar.
“Hi, what can I get you?”
My head snapped up.
I knew that voice.
The last time I had heard it it had been tossing a snide remark at me.
A certain redhead was behind the counter, her hair piled high on her head in a messy bun. Her face was drawn, her freckles bright spots on the pale backdrop of her skin. Her eyes widened when she saw me. “James.”
“Mia,” I murmured, wondering how it was possible that she was a cashier as well as a maid in addition to being a con artist and thief. That seemed like a lot to juggle.
Then, without warning, her eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped to the floor.
* * *
Mia
* * *
When I came to, I was on the floor, staring up at James. God, he was so good-looking. His face was filled with concern. He also was slapping my cheek gently in some weird attempt to revive me. I turned away.
“Stop. I’m awake.” I feebly tried to push his hand away but I had the strength of a feather.
“Are you okay?”
That seemed a pointless question. I was lying on the sticky tile floor of the coffee shop, my legs bent at an odd angle. “I’m fine,” I said, even though my mouth felt like it was full of marbles and my vision seemed to be at half-power. It was like a filter had been dropped over my eyes, making everything extra bright yet slightly fuzzy.
I hadn’t managed to completely switch shifts with anyone. I had struck a deal with Griffen that if he stayed late and covered the first four hours of my shift Saturday, I would work the last four hours of my shift and then his next shift Sunday morning. It had seemed like a great plan, allowing me the opportunity to sleep for about three hours. I hadn’t thought I would be able to function working straight through without at least a little sleep.
Apparently, I couldn’t do it on three hours’ sleep in twenty-four hours either.
The shift manager, Flores, was hovering beside James. “Mia? How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Two.” I didn’t have a concussion. I had just fainted from a combination of no sleep and not enough to eat. “Flores, give me a hand. I’m fine.”
But James was already gripping my hand and slipping an arm underneath me to shift me into a sitting position. “Whoa,” I said, when momentarily I got dizzy again. “What are you doing back here?” I asked James as my eyes were suddenly level with his chest.
“He jumped over the counter to rescue you,” Flores said. She looked totally smitten by him. She wasn’t even looking at me, but was gazing at him in adoration. “He was a complete hero.”
Flores had a grandson about James’ age, so if I wasn’t sitting on my ass on the floor, it would have been entertaining to see her insta-crush. I knew the feeling. When I’d crashed into him back in December, he’d made me speechless.
James was brushing a hand over my cheek and feeling the back of my neck. “You’re really… clammy,” he said. “Are you sick?”
Clammy. What a fantastic way to describe how I felt. “No. I’m tired. Did you really jump over the counter?”
He shrugged. “I guess. You scared the shit out of me when you went down. It was like a sack of potatoes dropping.”
“I’m a clammy sack of potatoes. Got it.” I rubbed my forehead. Yep. I was cold and damp to the touch. “I guess I deserve that after my parting crack to you last night.”
I’d been pretty proud of that smart-ass response in the moment, but now it seemed unwise to piss off the man who was holding me upright.
“I’m just glad you’re okay. Should we call an ambulance for you?”
“Good grief, no. That’s totally not necessary.” Not necessary, and expensive.
“Mia, let’s get you into the back room,” Flores said. “We’re gathering a crowd of onlookers.”
Fabulous. Not.
Then James scooped me up in his arms and I felt decidedly less grumpy about the whole situation. Unlike me in my jeans and polo shirt, he was in a suit, minus the jacket. He looked sexy and scruffy and rich. I knew I was beyond fatigued when I had the thought that I wanted to lick him.
When I took in a deep breath to steady myself, I caught a whiff of alcohol. “Are you drunk?” That might explain the chivalry.
“Not so much anymore. But I have been up all night. After the wedding, we went gambling.”