Secrets and Seduction Las Vegas (Sexy Italian Imports Book 1) (5 page)

As the bed was wheeled out, Monica and Dr. Pappa were left alone in the room. She’d be the peacemaker. Holding up a hand in surrender, she said, “I honestly didn’t call you a pinhead.”

He stared at her. “I’ve been called worse.”

“Like old fart?” If the situation with Katie wasn’t so sad, she’d be laughing.

He raised an eyebrow then pulled her IDs out of his breast pocket, along with a badge on a lanyard. “Here. You checked out okay.”

She could tell he was annoyed, but she didn’t have time to deal with a bruised ego. “Thank you, and I’m sorry if I offended you.” She slid the lanyard over her neck and walked to the table where she’d set her purse. When she turned back, he was looking at her legs.

His voice rumbled low. “You don’t dress like a doctor.”

The look he gave her would have melted a weaker woman. He was one hot specimen, and she would love to get to know him, but her energy was needed elsewhere. She looked him up and down as she brushed past him on her way to the burn unit. “You don’t dress like an old fart.”

****

For the next eight hours, the burn unit staff worked in sync with Monica’s requests. Exhausted, she emerged from the unit, carrying her purse and shoes and wearing hospital-issued green crocs and purple scrubs over her dress.

Shuffling along in the direction she was told would bring her to the doctors’ lounge, Monica could barely keep her eyes open. Pushing open the door and finding the room empty, she heaved a sigh of relief. She shoved two big chairs together and plopped down, falling asleep instantly, as she’d learned to do years ago as a resident.

“Monica.”

The sexy male voice woke her from a dreamless sleep, and made her smile. She knew exactly who it was.

“Monica, come on. Let’s find you a bed.”

“Mmmm. I’m not that kind of girl, Dr. Pappa.”

“Joe.”

She cracked one eye open and looked up at the big hunk. “Joe? Joe Pappa?”

He leaned over her, smiling. “Can the jokes wait until morning?”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t dare make jokes. You’d revoke my access.” She sat up and stretched. He moved back, but not a respectful distance, and his eyes ranged over her body. If she wasn’t so tired, she might be offended or at least aroused. But as it was, she just needed a few more hours of sleep, and if he could arrange a real bed, she’d let him leer at her all he wanted.

She followed him through a door in the back of the lounge to a cluster of cubby-sized rooms, each sparsely furnished with a bed, night table, and lamp. But to her, right this second, it looked like a suite at the Waldorf.

He handed her a set of clean scrubs, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and gestured to the shared bathroom. “Don’t forget to take your contacts out.”

She nodded and stepped into the bathroom. “Thank you, Joe Pappa.” As she shut the door, his chuckle faded. Taking out her clear contacts, she slid her glasses on and brushed her teeth.

When she emerged a few minutes later, he was sitting on her bed, texting from his phone. He stood and moved close to her, bending to look into her eyes through her glasses.

“So that’s the real color of your eyes?”

He was a handsome man, but she didn’t have the energy to flirt. “Mm hm.”

He took a step out the door. “I hear Katie’s doing well.”

“It will take a while, but she’ll be okay. You have a great team.”

“We do.” He looked like he wanted to say more. “Well, I’ll be in Room C if you need anything.”

“Night.” She tried to smile, but it came out a yawn.

“Good night, Monica.” He stepped out, pulling her door closed.

She lay down, checked her phone, and set an alarm for 5 A.M. Five hours sleep would be a blessing. She turned off the light, but before succumbing to slumber, played the name game. If Monica Kane married Joe Pappa, she’d be Monica Pappa. She cringed. Monica Ann Pappa. “Sounds like a ’60s music group.”

She plumped her pillow. She barely knew him and already was attaching her name to his like a high-schooler. “Must be tired.” Long-distance relationships, especially between doctors, had probably a ten percent chance of survival.

The way he looked at her, though. “Mmmm.” Maybe the delicious Dr. Joe Pappa would prove her prognosis wrong.

****

Troy took Valerie for a drive up Mount Charleston that evening and thoughtfully brought a picnic. Laying her back on the blanket, he kissed her and gently ran his hand up her side, his palm cupping her breast. She smiled. Was that his signature move?

“I want you, darlin’.” His southern accent evoked pictures of pecan pie and live oaks. “I know it’s only been a month, but I think it’s time we spend the night together.”

She touched his cheek. “I don’t know, Troy—”

“You can wait as long as you want. Just know that I’m ready now. And when you’re ready, you call the play.”

He lost her with the football jargon. “Thank you for being patient with me.”

“I’ll always be patient, Valerie. Always.”

She smiled. He was sweet, charming, a gentleman. She liked him and truly tried to feel something more for him. But lately, her dreams featured a tall, dark, handsome, mega-built man with an Italian accent who held her in his arms.

She pursed her lips. Reality check. Antonio was holding her over the edge of the Stratosphere Tower, ready to drop her to her social death.

****

That afternoon, with Katie stable and her parents assured of a good outcome, Monica said goodbye and headed to the heliport. Halfway through the hospital, she spotted Joe talking to a resident. She kept walking, not wanting to disturb him, but wishing she had a chance to say goodbye.

He ended his conversation and jogged to catch up to her. “Leaving us?”

Pinching the skirt of her yellow silk dress between her fingers, she smiled. “Got a date tonight.”

He walked beside her, his head hanging forward, his hands in his pants pockets. “Someone special?”

“I’ll find out in a few hours. It’s our first.”

He laughed. “I can’t remember what a first date feels like. Or any date, for that matter.”

She looked at him through her lashes. “I can’t believe that. You’re a bigshot here. The women must hound you.”

“No. I don’t have time.” He opened the door for her and walked with her to the helicopter.

“Dr. Pappa…” She held out her hand. “It’s been a pleasure. Thank you for the professional courtesy.”

He wrapped his big hand around hers for long, hot seconds. “You’re welcome, Dr. Kane. I hope we meet again.”

She turned and climbed into the helicopter and strapped herself in, sliding the headset on. She looked through the window to wave at Joe, but he was on his phone with his other hand over his ear to block out the noise of the rotors starting.

The pilot gave her the thumbs up, she returned it, and they lifted off but immediately set down again after instructions from the hospital sounded through the headsets. The pilot told her, “We’ll be carrying another passenger.”

He jumped out and opened the door, and Joe stepped in and sat beside her. Putting his headset on, he spoke to her through the microphone. “Mind if I ride along?”

Her heart thudded, he belly tingled, and she was smitten.

The trip seemed much shorter this time, and when they landed in Las Vegas, he got out with her and walked her to her vehicle.

He shook his head. “Why am I surprised that you drive a pickup truck?”

She shrugged. “I like to haul stuff.”

He let out a startled laugh. “Stuff? Lady, you’re extraordinary.”

She looked into his eyes. “I’ve never been called that before.”

He touched her arms then drew her close. “I’m the first man to appreciate it in you.” He slanted his lips over hers, firm, assured. The hot sun warmed her skin, while his kiss turned her insides to lava.

She set her hands on the lapels of his white lab coat and kissed him back, wanting to deepen it, to invite him home with her, but it was too soon, the timing wasn’t right.

Too quickly, he pulled away and released her. His voice was low, filled with the promise of passion. “I’ll call you, Monica.”

“Bye.” She swallowed her eagerness, not wanting to jinx the moment by saying too much.

He brushed his fingertips over her cheek then turned and jogged back to the helicopter.

She slid into her truck as she watched them take off and turn west toward LA. Blowing air out her tight lips, she ticked off the reasons a long distance relationship would never work. She turned the key in the ignition and heard a beep from her phone. A text message. It was from Joe. “Don’t go on that date tonight.”

She smiled, her heart filled with hope despite her pessimistic tendencies.

What crazy excuse could she use today with online dating service guy?

****

A week later, Valerie and Troy entered Caesar’s Palace on the red carpet for the Las Vegas Big Brothers/Big Sisters Gala. She smiled at the cameras as the paparazzi yelled, “Troy.”

“You weren’t kidding about this being fancy.” He tugged at his tie and his hand shook as he held her elbow. Troy’s gaze darted nervously. Sweet guy. Her big, tough football player hadn’t been raised in the public eye the way she had. Celebrity status was new to him.

“You look nice in a tux.” With a pat on his hand, she reassured him.

The opulently decorated ballroom sparkled with the sequined gowns of Las Vegas’ society women, whose escorts clumped in groups, looking like flocks of penguins.

Troy let out a breath and adjusted his tie. “I’ve never been comfortable in this type of setting.” He looked at her. “But you look like a million bucks tonight.”

“Thank you.” Valerie had gone shopping and found a floor length, black sequined sheath that hugged her breasts and accentuated her curves. She’d pulled her hair up in a chignon and slid her feet into perilously high-heeled sandals.

She smiled, feeling sexy and a little brazen.

They picked up champagne glasses and wandered until they found Monica and their brother Ryan, who both came without dates, and the four of them made the circuit of philanthropists and celebrities.

The mayor gave Valerie and her sister friendly kisses on the cheek and shook Ryan’s hand. Valerie introduced him to Troy. After talking football for five minutes, the mayor turned to Valerie. “May I speak with you privately?”

Ryan’s turquoise eyes locked with hers and his brows rose.

She shrugged her shoulders as the mayor guided her off to a corner, looked around as if to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in with a frown. “I got a call from Antonio Daniato this week.”

A flush of panic washed through her and she swallowed hard. “Oh?”

The mayor looked at her face. She must be as red as her lipstick. “He wanted to know about you. I assumed he was interested in you romantically, but he asked about your involvement in committees and charities.”

The music started, a ’70s cover band, and they were loud.

She leaned closer to the mayor. “What else?”

“Well, nothing. I mentioned the shelter and this event, but—”

Valerie swayed, felt her chest tighten. Oh, God, Antonio was looking for a public event to humiliate her.

The mayor grabbed her arm. “Are you all right, dear?”

She choked back the anxiety attack threatening to send her running. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been feeling well. I think I’ll find Troy and ask him to take me home.”

“Of course.” He gestured toward the dance floor. “I see Ryan right behind you. Shall I get him?”

She smiled, wanting to reassure him. “No, really, I’m fine. You know how it is. I’ve been starving myself to fit into this dress…”

He nodded. “I completely understand. You go, but call me when you feel better. I’d like to get a handle on this Daniato thing.”

She leaned in for a kiss on the cheek and went to find Troy.

Ryan stood beside the dance floor, and she put her hand on his arm. “Where’s Troy?”

“Monica stole your date.” He nodded toward their sister and Troy dancing to Springsteen’s “Born to Run.” Monica danced gracefully and the quarterback—she tried not to wince—did the best he could. They looked like they were having fun, which was all that mattered.

“Take me out on the dance floor. I have to talk to Troy.”

“Uh uh. I don’t think I want to get near whatever he’s doing.” Ryan’s unique colored eyes sparkled. “Looks dangerous. He could hurt himself and others.”

“I need to talk—”She spotted a face across the dance floor. Too late. Her stomach contracted. Antonio walked directly toward her. His tux fit him perfectly, his white shirt emphasizing his Mediterranean skin tone and the gold cufflinks at his wrists catching the light. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

Oh, God. Her breath panted from her lungs.

His hand held a folded paper; his eyes held malice.

Chapter Five

Antonio’s intense gaze moved down her body slowly, making her tingle as though his fingers touched every inch of her.

“Valerie.” He held out his hand.

She removed her hand from her brother’s arm and automatically extended it.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, his eyes fixed on hers. Was he playing with her before he moved in for the kill?

She pulled her hand from his and unconsciously rubbed the spot he kissed.

Antonio turned his dark gaze on Ryan. “Is this your date?”

Was he just nosy, or was he leading up to something? “No.”

“Nice manners, Val.” Ryan had a ridiculously amused smirk on his face. “I’m her brother, Ryan. And you are?”

“Antonio Daniato.” They shook hands. “A friend of your sister’s.”

She pursed her lips. “Friends? Is that what we are?” More like enemies.

Ryan looked at her sideways. “Okay, Valerie, this is a side of you I’ve never seen.”

Monica and Troy joined them. Monica grabbed Ryan’s arm and sang along to Elton John’s “Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart.” Ryan adopted a falsetto and sang Kiki Dee’s lines, and the two discoed onto the dance floor.

Troy sounded slightly breathless as he stood next to her and possessively put his hand on her elbow. Perfect timing.

Antonio’s gaze moved from her arm, where Troy held her, to her date’s face. When recognition flickered in Antonio’s eyes, a smarmy sense of pleasure washed through her.