Is Tiffy practicing my seduction tips on that guy? That guy? Really? He’s like ten years older than her. He’s huge. Like six foot four at least. And he’s got to weigh two-twenty. I bet he shops at Big & Tall. She cannot be serious. No way is she interested in him.

And that just pisses me off more. Because, oh, hell the fuck no. I do not dish out trade secrets to a one-night stand only to have her go use them on a worthless prospect. Anyone can see he’s all wrong for her. He is not a possibility. Not at all.

I sit there at my table, sipping my beer as I process what’s happening and how I feel about it. I’m not jealous. I’m not. I’m pissed off. Why the fuck did I give her tips? I charge good money for that shit. Hell, I made Katie sign a six-week contract and I haven’t even given her one tip yet.

And yet Miss My Father Owns This Town is practically giving them away to every wandering eye in the whole place.

And that’s a lot of wandering eyes. All the employees know who she is by now. Britt is chatting them up like they are old friends, probably taking notes.

There it is again. Holy fuck, Tiffy just licked her lips and practically winked at that guy. And Britt saw the whole thing as she set down a dainty cup of chocolate mousse in front of two-timing Preston.

Hell the fuck no. I never let my clients work my magic here at the casino. Otherwise I might lose business. Hell, I’ve helped more than one cocktail waitress hook a rich dude over the past nine months. They paid dearly for it. And signed a NDA. Trade secrets are trade secrets. And I have spent years coming up with my methods. I’m not gonna let her get away with practicing them on this asshole for everyone to see.

I push away from the barstool, straighten my t-shirt, and walk over to ask her just what the fuck she thinks she’s doing.

Chapter Eleven

 

“Do you want some?” I ask Cole, spooning out some chocolate mousse from the little dish they serve it in here. “It’s so good.” I pop the spoon in my mouth, savor the taste—which is not that good, but I’m working it—and then lick my lips and trace a fingertip daintily over a small spot of misplaced chocolate.

His eyes are trained on my mouth, just like Fletcher said they’d be. Damn, he was right about all of it. Cole has been responding to every trick. Not in an obvious way, of course. He’s reserved. And you don’t go from little sister to sexy girlfriend in one thirty-minute business lunch.

“Uh… ah… no, thanks, Tiffy.” But he smiles warmly at me, then his gaze darts back down to my lips as I give them one last swipe with my tongue. “So the account in Reno is good. I took care of that little issue. But”—he smiles and shakes his head—“we’re a big corporation. And San Francisco is having issues with the new merger. Your father called me while I was in Reno and filled me in. He might need us to go back there and lend a hand.”

Shit. I’m just getting started here with Fletcher’s tips. If we go back to San Francisco, then we go back to our old life. Cole will never start seeing me in a new light if my father is there running interference. My father isn’t exactly a jerk to my boyfriends—when I have one—but he’s one of those overprotective types. He’s always warned me about people who will like me for my money and not myself.

Cole is wealthy. He’s from a very rich family with old money, like us. So Cole wouldn’t be an issue in that department. But my father sees Cole as a family member. He’s never hinted that we’d make a good couple. So it’s much better to make this change away from home.

“Can’t we do it remotely? I mean, a video call is pretty much the same thing as being there.”

“Maybe,” Cole says.

My optimism soars.

And then I see him.

Fletcher Novak is walking this way.

Shit. He’s got a look on his face that I can’t exactly read because I don’t know him that well, but it doesn’t look happy.

“Miss Preston,” he says. Cole’s back is to him as he approaches, so Cole has to turn in his seat. “Nice to see you again. You’re positively glowing today. What happened to make you so happy?”

“Ah…” I laugh and dart my eyes to Cole. “Well, I’m just happy to be having lunch with my favorite co-worker.” I beam a smile at Cole.

“Can we help you with something?” Cole asks with a hint of suspicion in his voice. “I mean, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for us to socialize, Mr. Novak. I’m sure you can understand after your allegations last night.”

Oh, shit. Fletcher’s got a weird look on his face. Like he’s about to say something I might not like.

“Tiffy and I worked—”

“Fletcher?” All our heads turn to a blonde girl as she grabs Fletcher by the arm and spins him around. She’s seething mad. Her lips are pressed tightly together and she’s clenching her jaw. “I called your room earlier, but they said you weren’t there.”

“Ummm…” Fletcher looks at me and for a second I think he might actually tell her where he was. “I didn’t get the message.”

“You lying piece of shit. I was watching the girl at the front desk when she called up to your room after I waited around for an hour to see if you’d show your pathetic face.”

“Look, ah—” Fletcher stops short, like he’s about to say her name but he doesn’t remember it.

“Lisa,” she spits out. “Lisa! How could you not remember me? You fucked me—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Cole interjects, standing up from his chair. “Miss… Lisa?” He drops his voice and hopes she will do the same. “Is there a problem here?”

But Lisa doesn’t answer him. She slaps Fletcher across the face so hard it makes a crack. And even though there are probably fifty people in this bar, it goes silent and everyone looks at us.

Fletcher doesn’t even flinch. He just stares at me.

“Lisa Watkins. That’s who I am. One of Novak’s many, many, many one-night stands. And who might you be?” Her words snap out of her mouth, and Cole actually withdraws a fraction, thinking she might slap him next.

“I’m the general manager of this hotel, Miss Watkins. And if you’ve got a problem with one of our employees, then you can talk to me about it. But you may not assault him. We can talk privately if you like.” Cole reaches for Lisa’s arm, but she sidesteps him and puts her hands on her hips.

“I’m not going anywhere. And neither are they.” She points to a group of girls standing off to the right with the same pissed-off expression on their faces.

“Oh, fuck,” Fletcher mumbles under his breath.

“Do you know them?” Cole asks Fletcher.

“Know them!” Irate Lisa exclaims. “He’s fucked them all too! He’s nothing but a man whore, Mr. General Manager. And he’s your employee. And I’m gonna make sure everyone knows that this show is—”

“OK,” I say, standing up and interrupting her. “Miss Watkins, I’m Tiffy Preston, the owner”—which is not really a lie—“of this hotel. And I’m going to have to ask you to come make your complaints in private. We’re not going to have a scene here in the restaurant. You’re not going to assault my employee. And if you try either of those things again, I’ll call the police and have security hold you until they come.”

She takes a deep breath and then her anger gives way to frustration and what might be shame. “He used us, Miss Preston. He used us like—”

“I understand,” I say, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a push towards the casino. “Let’s talk about it in my office, OK? And then you can tell me everything in private.”

Cole buttons his suit coat. “I’ll come with you, if that’s OK.”

Lisa Watkins sniffles, and gives him a nod. “But we all have to come, Miss Preston. He did this to all of us.”

I motion to the girls off to the side. “You’re all welcome to come.” I smile sweetly at Lisa and then she turns and begins to walk out of the restaurant. Cole follows her and I steal one quick glance at Fletcher.