Accidental Billionaire (15 page)

“Yeah. In a gift bag. Didn’t open it though.”

“Did everyone get gift bags?”

“They may have.”

She finger-combed her hair on the elevator down, fluffing it now that it was free of the wind. She left it loose. “Maybe there was stuff in there we read and don’t even know we read it.”

“Maybe.”

“Aren’t you glad we didn’t split up?” The words had extra weight she hadn’t intended. Heat bit her face, but she didn’t know how to take the words back or blow them off.

Logan took her hand. “Yeah.”

They made their way down through an elevator that put them out on a faux cobblestone street. Pretty store windows invited them in, pop music played through the speakers, and the slot machines from the gaming area pinged in welcome. “I bet this is the right call. I don’t know how else to make those shots in the timeframe. The strip seems short, but we’d never get between those two casinos in an hour walking.” She was babbling in a kind of nervous excitement.

Logan brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. They neared the gaming area where the Eiffel Tower came down inside the casino so they were close. They asked the nearest dealer for directions and were pointed to an elevator. A staff member checked their watches and let them on. It took them up to an empty bridge. “This game is very elevator oriented.”

“Rawlings likes heights.”

“I thought he was just a player.”

“Maybe. You never know with Rawlings.”

The view from the platform was amazing. All of Las Vegas lay out before them. The weird part was that they were the only ones there – no other customers. Logan didn’t say anything about the rarity of having a tourist attraction all to themselves, but he was more used to the advantages of money. The deserted, high location reminded her of Leithville’s make-out spot. “We have a place called ‘the pointe’ back home.”

“Yeah?” Logan’s gaze was sharp on her, not the view. “What’s that like?”

She’d only been with her friends on picnics, never on a date, but he didn’t need to know that lameness. “It overlooks the town. Sparks of light in the inky dark. It won’t look the same after this.” Especially as he wouldn’t be there.

“I grew up in Palo Alto. Palm trees, perfect weather, stunning views. My parents divorced early and I traveled some with my mom.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I went to live with my dad after she passed. The four of us only traveled when Cleo and Dad weren’t fighting. So not much.” He tilted his head. “Then boarding school in Massachusetts. Different stunning views, amazing autumns. Tonight feels different though.”

Baylee knew he was talking about their date and not the game.

The game. She positioned herself with the Luxor behind her. Logan tugged her in front of him and held up his watch to get them both in the shot. Baylee was warmer and more secure than she’d felt in an hour. She leaned into him. He didn’t move. “Aren’t you going to take it?” She looked up over her shoulder at him.

Logan dug in his pocket and pulled out their remaining dollar. He folded it in half and handed it to her. “Hold this, too.”

Ah. The pyramid. Of course. Thanks, Uncle Sam. Baylee grinned big, the pyramid in her grip and the Luxor pyramid behind them.

They took the shot.
Upload.

The task button disappeared.

“How bad do I look?” Baylee asked. “Can we snap another selfie for posterity? I’d like one of us.”

Logan didn’t make a joke. He didn’t give her a rundown of what was wrong with her appearance. He cupped her cheeks, looking down at her with his rainstorm eyes. “Perfect. You look perfect.”

The word made her heart stop and then pound double-time. Her mouth went dry. “I…” She turned back to the bridge. It had painted sky ceilings and ornate black lampposts like New Orleans. Logan spun her around to face him.

Logan leaned down and kissed her. His lips were slow but the sensation was a rush, setting off more spins inside her than the slot machines. The sensations were more vivid than the colors of the strip. Logan lifted his mouth. Her gaze returned to focus to find he was just staring at her. Not with a guy-smirk, or assessment. But with bright eyes, like he’d opened a really great gift. He bent forward again.

The wearable tech beeped by her ear and flashed red.

Ten minutes.

The beep was new and unwelcome. Logan slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. His mouth went close to her ear as if the tech was listening. “Want to skip out on the game?” He rubbed the skin behind her ear with his fingertips. The movement was small and amazing.

Yes. She wanted to quit. Baylee tipped her head back and drew in a deep breath. “I don’t think we should.”

“Yeah. We don’t want to start out ‘us’ by being quitters.” Logan slipped his hand into hers and tugged her toward the entrance.

Us? Us. Us!

OMG.

The watch lit orange.
Cost initiated: art imitates life. Proceed or quit.

Baylee didn’t appreciate the distraction. She’d rather think about the kiss. Best kiss of her life.

“Art imitates life,” Logan said. “Where have you seen art?”

Baylee focused, thinking of the guidebook and what she’d seen in Vegas. “Living art? Our hotel lobby.”

“Could be. One way to find out.”

She liked how he was willing to give her idea a try, and didn’t argue for argument’s sake. They were going back to the hotel, and the hotel was where their penthouse apartment lay. The temptation to swing by the apartment was appealing. Maybe change into jeans, maybe kiss Logan on the couch. She resisted because the urge to finish the game also bounced around inside her.

They reached the lobby and were met by an unfamiliar woman rushing up to them. She waved a computer tablet. “Baylee. Logan. This way. Your shift is for the next hour.”

She was glad to be right, and now Logan was going to learn what a shift was.

The lady looked hard at Baylee. “We’ll have to fix your hair.”

Whatever. Baylee didn’t explain that she’d rode in on the wind, or that Logan had threaded his hands into it. They were separated and led into a dressing room where she was given a mermaid costume: scale skirt and bikini top. She brushed her hair out, and the tangles hurt like mad. She rubbed sparkle lotion onto her bare shoulders and arms as she entered the giant shell through the back door. She replaced a frowning girl she vaguely remembered from earlier in the game, who tossed out, “Good luck,” as she left.

Logan joined her. Bare-chested, merman pants, trident. Bare-chested Logan was something. Broad shoulders, tan skin, defined muscles. Wow. She tried not to stare or let the warm feelings take over.

Logan leaned against the blue plastic throne shaped like a wave and smiled at her, a slow, meaningful smile that held her and set off more warmth and tingling.

Casino customers walked by on the way to the front desk, or the front door. An old couple stopped and snapped their picture while telling them how to pose. She didn’t appreciate the interruption, and wanted to poke them along with the trident.

Logan blinked against the bright flash. “I never gave the people in the shells a thought before now.”

“Me neither.”

“They could have been working, or caught in a game like us, who knows.”

“Are you going to quote Shakespeare?
All the world’s a stage…”

“Maybe.”

A group of four girls, laughing, wearing club clothes, headed toward the exit. Their black, tight skirts were just this side of slutty. The one with the ruffled red blouse stopped when she saw them and pointed. She dug out her camera phone and waved her friends over. “Look at Neptune.” She slurred her words.

Her friend stopped fast, making the third girl bump into her. “What?” Her made-up eyes bugged. “Oh. Wow.” She took her cellphone from her bra strap. “Shellfish selfie.”

“You are something, Merman.”

Logan kept up a mannequin pose. The girls didn’t seem to notice Baylee. She needed the trident.

The girl with the ruffled top cocked her hip and winked. “I’m in room 520.” Her friend giggled and elbowed her. Irritation bit Baylee until they moved on.

A posse of guys with full tattoo sleeves passed through next. They didn’t pause for selfies; they paused to light cigarettes. Their smoke formed a cloud, turning them into walking cartoon characters. She was one puff away from swatting their cloud with the trident.

Their ink made her think of Logan’s brother and his drama. “What’s going on with Tate?

“Don’t know.” Logan shifted the trident from one palm to the other. “You have any siblings?”

Baylee shook her head. “My parents broke up when I was pretty young. Dad visits every now and again.”

“That sucks.” He kept his gaze on the lobby. “I don’t want it to happen to Tate. I’ll never do that to my kids.” His jaw tightened, and he frowned.

Noting how upset he was getting, Baylee went for a distraction. “We get kicked off if we’re late or fail the task, right?”

Logan shifted and his grip on the throne eased. “Yep.”

“The tasks should have prizes, too. It’s only fair.”

Logan traced his fingertips over her sparkling arm. “Pretty.” She grinned at his appreciation and he held up his wrist, checking out the wearable tech. He frowned. “My resource button is gone. We must only get one use.” He reached for her arm.

She drew back.

He was faster. He hit her Resource button. “Resource. Baylee would like a prize. Resource. I would like Baylee to get what she wants.” Her resource button faded from his Home screen.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

The smart watch said,
See Lucy for diamonds
.

That was an easy puzzle. She looked at Logan to see if he got it. Logan was eying the top of the shell – ‘cause like what record label kid didn’t know
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
.

Logan poked at the ceiling with the trident. There was a little latch. “Come here.”

She moved closer.

He lifted her up, and his arms were hard and strong against her knees. She braced on his shoulders with one hand, watching sparkles transfer from her skin to his. She tilted back and pulled the latch.

A small box tumbled out, hitting the bottom of the shell. It was similar to the box that their wearable tech had come in. Oh. They were right. A present. Logan scooped it up and offered it to her.

How sweet. Baylee shook her head. “That’s your prize.”

He popped the lid.

A ring with a blue stone sat in the center of the box. Logan read the attached card. “Oval cut benitoite from California set in platinum.” The stone was deep indigo blue and gorgeous. Logan handed it to her. “For you.”

It was truly lovely. The rush of pleasure came from a combination of being with him and the gift. “Have you ever given a girl a ring?”

“No.”

“Is this weirding you out?”

He smiled like he was going to make a joke and then tilted his head. “No.”

Baylee took the gift. It wasn’t weirding her out either. In fact, she felt warm inside, connected to him. The rest of their shift, they talked about college. Her plans for Texas Tech. His plans for Stanford. Then they talked about family. “If I give Cleo part of the company, she’ll give Dad the divorce.”

“He’ll get one eventually.”

“Or, I can let the deadline run out, and the board will assign voting rights of my shares to Dad. He’ll give them to Cleo, and then she’ll stop playing these games.”

“Will she?”

He blinked and looked up, thinking hard about the question.

“I’m not trying to be mean. I just think that might be who she is. Maybe you should let her and your dad work this out without you giving up your company.”

“But I can fix it for my dad and for Tate.”

“If you give up part of a company you want that your mom left for you.”

“Right.”

“Your dad picked her.”

“It’s my dad.”

“I know.” Baylee traced the iridescent scales on her skirt. “I get it. My dad throws money around like crazy, and I cover for him with my mom.”

“She probably knows.”

A weight lifted from Baylee’s shoulders. Mom probably did know. Dad was who he was.

The lady reappeared. “Okay. Shift’s over.”

What next? Baylee checked her watch. Logan did the same. It had been an hour. “So, no resources, clues or clothes. Where do we go from here?”

Logan held his arms wide. “Where do you want to go? Back to where we started? A lot of this stuff was in your guidebook. Did it feature anything else?”

“The gondolas. But I don’t know if they were really featured or if it just seemed that way because I wanted to ride in one. It’s number one on my sightseeing list.”

“Then we’ll do that.” Logan dropped his arm around her waist. Skin against skin. It made thinking more difficult. “No money, no car service. How are we going to get there?”

“We walk, rich boy.”

He grinned, not minding the teasing. “And when we’re there?”

“We’ll look for a clue, or some of the other couples. It’s just a feeling, but I think it’s right.” It felt right, like being with Logan felt right.

The walk took fifteen minutes with her mermaid skirt hiked to her knees. There were catcalls, photo snaps, and curious looks – but they weren’t the strangest-looking couple on the strip. When they got to the boats, the guy looked at their watches, identifying them as game players, and waved them on board. She was half glad to have guessed correctly, but riding in the boat with Logan for the pleasure of it, not as part of the game, would have been just as okay. Their boat was black, shaped like a canoe with a tall point on each end. The gondolier wore black pants with a red sash around his waist, and a black and white horizontal striped shirt with a red scarf.

Logan sat beside her on the royal purple seat cushion. The black point of the boat carved through the teal water. To her right, cream-colored buildings lined the waterway. The music overhead was Italian and romantic. The view to her left was Logan. He had a small smile and was staring at her.

“What?”

He cupped her jaw, and his mouth landed on hers. His lips were warm, and his tongue touched the center of her bottom lip. Her mouth opened, and she pressed closer. Warmth spread through her, radiating from her mouth through every vein and pulse point, not sparks, but rolling waves, like the water they were riding on.