Secrets and Seduction Las Vegas (Sexy Italian Imports Book 1) (38 page)

She pulled the covers up to her chin and looked out at The Strip. The lights wouldn’t calm her tonight. Her life was a complete cluster…

“Fuck.” There, she said it. It didn’t make her feel any better, but it captured her mood perfectly.

How did she miss all the obvious clues? The night of their motorcycle ride, the women in the casino called him Carlos. Had he yelled at them so she wouldn’t hear where he worked?

The morning she’d brought him a birthday cake, he’d fallen asleep on the couch in his disguise.

He drove a beat-up Toyota.

All the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fit.

When she closed her eyes, all she could see was Antonio giving women private dances in dark corners of the club, their hands all over his body. The body she thought belonged to her alone. A paralyzing thought entered her mind. What if he slept with women he met at the club, just like the lap-dancer did. She sat up, tempted to drive back, wait for him to leave work, and follow him to see if he went home or—not.

She forced herself back to calm for the baby’s sake. “Deep breaths. Visualize yourself on a sandy beach.” She took a small amount of pride in the fact that she hadn’t had an anxiety attack tonight. And if ever a situation called for one, this was it.

With Dan’s help, she would somehow handle this. She had to. For the baby and for the man she loved more than anything in the world. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.

But her eyes popped open again. Maybe he didn’t want to quit dancing. Evidently, it satisfied some need within him for—what—a thrill? A sexual power trip? A stress release? She needed to get inside Antonio’s head.

After she talked to Dan, she’d pull a professional taboo and talk to Jarrodd. Antonio put her name on his file as a consulting psychologist, and she would use it to discuss confidential information with his therapist.

She had a plan of action, albeit a semi-unethical one, but her career came second. Her life came first.

****

That evening, Valerie packed everyone into her SUV and drove to the marina where Ryan docked his fleet of rental houseboats.

“Congratulations on your engagement, Sloan.” Ryan give her a sideways hug.

She showed him her ring. “Thanks, Ryan. And thanks for letting us party on your boat.”

He pointed to the biggest houseboat. “We’re taking the
SexSea
. Make yourselves at home. I’ll be with you shortly.”

They hauled their bags toward the boat, shouting and hooting, but Ryan took Valerie’s arm, pulling her aside.

“Vanana, something wrong?” He used her childhood nickname.

“Yeah, a big one, Ry. I’ll talk to you on the boat. I don’t want to ruin tonight’s booze cruise for them.”

He laughed. “So I’m your designated driver
and
your shrink?”

“I’ll double your tip, Captain.” She toted her overnight bag and boarded the houseboat.

“There’s a whirlpool tub.” Sloan yelled from the top deck. “And a slide that shoots you off the back of the boat! And you should see this bar! It’s completely stocked. We’re going to have a blowout!”

“Look at all the food!” Someone yelled from the kitchen. “Steaks! I’m going to grill us some steaks and baked potatoes.”

“Do it!” Three voices yelled their sorority’s motto.

Ryan took them out for a cruise of the Hoover Dam then headed off to find a place for them to swim. Sloan insisted on skinny dipping, so Ryan obliged and pulled into a secluded cove. The girls, excluding Valerie, peeled off their clothes and used the slide to plunge into the cool water of Lake Mead. Their screams reached Ryan and Valerie as they sat in the captain’s chairs on the fly bridge.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t be keeping an eye on them?” Ryan craned his neck toward the back of the boat.

“Positive. The last thing I need is for my brother to get hooked up with one of my rowdy sorority sisters.”

“But I could just look.”

“Seriously. Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Um, no, I don’t think so…oh, wait. I do. It’s um…Abby? Right?”

“That would be the one.”

“Okay. Enough of my monogamy issues. What’s eating you?”

How could she make it sound detached, as if she was asking for advice for one of her patients? She took a breath. “If a woman finds out the man she loves…”

Ryan’s face showed concern.

It was too much. A bubble of anxiety raced from her. “Oh, God, Ryan, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, shit.”

Her eyes filled.

Ryan immediately went to her, pulled her into his arms, and patted her back as she cried. “Okay, Vanana, it’s okay. Everything will be fine.” He rocked her for a few minutes. “Do you want me to beat up Antonio for you?”

She laughed through her tears. “Would you?”

“No. But I’d hire somebody to do it. He’s a big dude!” He guided her to sit.

“He doesn’t know about the baby yet.” She took the tissue box he offered and mopped up her face.

He sat back in his chair. “Why not?”

“He had his book deadline. Then Dad’s accident. I’ve got the girls this weekend. I won’t see him until tomorrow night.”

“You’re going to tell him then?”

She sighed. “No.”

“Speaking for all men, the father of the baby deserves to know right away.” He lifted his beer bottle to his lips then lowered it. “Unless you’re thinking about…you know…ending the pregnancy.”

“No, not at all, Ry. I’m happy I’m having a baby. It’s all I can think about.”

“You said ‘
I’m
having a baby,’ not ‘
we’re
.’ Do you think Antonio will dump you?”

“No. He’s talked about a serious relationship.”

“What, then? What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s something I have to deal with. Something I have to work out with Antonio before I tell him about the baby.”

“Can I help?”

“I really wish you could, but I have to do this alone. Well, me and two of Las Vegas’ best psychologists.”

“Yeah, then definitely leave me out. I want to be as far away from that brain-trust as possible.”

“It is a daunting thing, being able to control people’s minds.” She dramatically flipped her hair over her shoulder and tried to make a smug face.

“You’re so full of shit, your eyes should be brown.”

A small laugh escaped her throat. “Have you ever
not
taken the free advice I’ve given you?”

“No, I’ll admit it. You’re better than Freud and Jung rolled into one.”

“That’s so far from the truth, it’s almost scary.” She waved a hand in the air. Now…” She stood and looked toward the back of the boat. “I’m going to pretend to be drinking like a party-fish with my girlfriends.” Her gaze met his. “Please, Ryan, I need you to keep my secret from everyone, including the family and Antonio, okay?”

“You can count on me.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. “Uncle Ryan.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “Cool.”

****

Sunday, the girls went home. Sloan volunteered to drive them to the airport on her way back to San Diego, and Valerie went from hugging them goodbye at her front door directly to the couch for a three-hour nap.

When she felt someone sitting next to her on the cushion, she smiled, keeping her eyes closed. She’d know that spiced wood and espresso scent anywhere. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Antonio answered. “You look so beautiful lying there.”

She opened her eyes and stretched, looked at him, then remembered seeing him Friday night, dancing for hundreds of screaming women. She collapsed back into the cushions and closed her eyes, hiding her pain.

“Everything okay?”

“Super.” She sat up and hugged him tightly, putting her head on his shoulder. “I’m just tired.”

“Too much bachelorette weekend?”

“Way too much. These women haven’t slowed down since college.”

“Or maybe it’s the Vegas Factor. People tend to get crazy when they come here.”

She looked into his eyes. “Do they? Do you see a lot of out-of-town people going crazy?” She was baiting him, and she shouldn’t.

He looked baffled by her question. “Why would I?”

“That’s true. You don’t get out much, do you?” She was getting nasty. Time to change the subject. “Are you hungry? I have a couple steaks left over from—”

“Yes! I’ll start the grill.”

She smiled as he stood and headed out to the patio. He was so adorably predictable. Walking into the kitchen, she spotted a stack of papers she’d left on the counter. Recipes for the mother-to-be printed from the Internet. She quickly opened a cookbook and was sliding them in when he walked into the kitchen.

“What are you hiding?” His voice sounded teasing, but she jumped and nearly dropped the book on the floor.

“Damn it, Antonio, why would you ask me that?” She picked up the book and shoved it back on the shelf, then braced her hands on the counter. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so testy.”

He came up behind her, put his arms around her middle, and rocked her. “Hangover? PMS?”

She murmured under her breath, “Go to hell.”

“What?”

She turned and wrapped her arms around him. “I said, oh, hell. Things have been falling apart lately.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She looked up into his eyes. “I really don’t. How about a movie after dinner? It might take my mind off things.”

“Absolutely. I’ll throw the steaks on.”

“I’ll zap some bakers and make a salad.”

“If you need to talk, baby, you know I’m here for you. Anytime.” He took the plate of steaks out to the patio, put the meat on the grill, and adjusted the flame.

She watched him from the kitchen. “You’re available any time except Thursday through Sunday, right? Then you belong to anybody with a twenty dollar bill.” She was still in the anger phase of dealing with this issue. With a sigh, she grabbed a knife, taking pleasure in stabbing the potatoes to vent them. She should calm down before he came back inside.

He walked in carrying two bottles. “Beer?”

“No thanks.”

He put one of them in the refrigerator. “Too much last night, huh?”

“Mm hm.” She hated lying, hated keeping secrets, but until she could talk to Dan and Jarrodd, she would be doing a lot of it.

They ate on the patio, the warm evening breeze making Valerie mellow and sleepy. “Monica’s engagement party is Friday.”

“What time?”

“Cocktails at six, dinner at seven.”

“Okay if I meet you there? I’ll need to leave right after dinner.”

“The manuscript?”

“Yes. My deadline is Monday, and I have a few chapters to finish and revisions to send off to the editor.”

She watched his body language for signs that he was lying. He was good at covering up. “Sounds like you need time to write. If you want to take the whole week to finish your book, that’s fine with me.”

He had a strange look in his eyes. Did it sound as if she was pushing him away? She didn’t want to damage their relationship, so she lied—again. “I have late appointments tomorrow and Tuesday and a meeting on Wednesday evening. I promised to help Monica shop for a wedding dress Thursday after work. It’s going to be a hectic week.”

“Okay. Whatever you need, Valerie.” He smiled. “But I’ll be lonely.”

He cut a wedge of beef and dipped it in steak sauce, put it in his mouth, and chewed as if nothing in the world was wrong. As if he wasn’t hiding a monumental secret from her.

She crossed her arms. Doctor Valerie Kane, Psy.D., one of the top three psychologists in Las Vegas. How the hell did she end up with a man who had such an extreme character flaw?

Before she could stop herself, she opened her mouth. “Hey, I’m lonely every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Don’t worry, you’ll live through it.”

“What the f…” He sat back in his chair, his brow wrinkled. “Do you want me to leave?”

Chapter Thirty Two

Valerie put her elbows on the table, covered her face with her hands, and spoke through them. “No, Antonio, I’m so sorry. I’m really not myself today. I seem to be taking out my frustrations on you.”

“Sweet, it’s okay.” He put his fork down and stood, walked behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders, expertly massaging. It felt heavenly, and she dropped her arms to her sides and let his strong fingers ease away her tension. When her head nodded forward sleepily, he helped her up. “You go pick out a movie. I’ll clean up the kitchen and meet you in there.”

She put her hand on his chest and looked up into his eyes. “Thank you for understanding.”

He pushed her gently toward the door and patted her behind. “Sometimes we just need to vent.”

She’d told him something like that once—about his anger issues. Now, ironically, she was the one with anger issues. And it wasn’t good for her or for the baby. She would fall asleep during the movie so Antonio would leave. She couldn’t deal with him—with this situation—any more tonight. Looking through her movies, she stopped at
American
Gigolo
then at
Striptease
. Would he take offense to either of those? She pulled out an old favorite that had nothing to do with the craziness that was his weekend job.

****

Valerie didn’t have to pretend to fall asleep during the movie, it just happened. She woke alone on the double recliner at midnight.

He’d covered her with a soft blue blanket, turned off the television, and dimmed the lights. How sweet. He hadn’t deserved her nastiness…wait, yes he had. For hiding a huge part of his life from her? For that, he’d deserved serious bitchiness.

She stood, and, in a snit, wadded up the blanket and threw it on the chair. How should she handle this? Should she confront him? Or would he tell her about his weekend job, given enough time?

Problem was, they didn’t have time. She was pregnant, and that wasn’t something she could put on hold until he felt ready to confide in her. Stretching, she laid a hand on her belly. “Little one.
Bambino
.” Would a good way for her to break the news to Antonio be to toss him the baby name book and tell him to choose one of each gender?

She sighed, picked up the blanket, and folded it neatly, rubbing the fuzzy cloth on her chin. Only eight months to buy a gazillion nursery things and learn how to use them. Would she be buying them alone or with Antonio? How would he react when he found out about the baby?