* * *

Trying to suppress a grin, Cal shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled beside her. She was easy to wind up, which made doing so impossible to resist. He hadn’t been able to resist kissing her, either. He’d only gotten a brief taste, but he wanted more. Cal wanted to strip her out of that suit and see what she wore underneath. Monica could make plain white cotton look fuckable.

He moved around her to open the driver’s side door. “In you go.”

She shot him a glance and mumbled a thanks.

“Where are we headed?” he asked after climbing in next to her. And that’s when he noticed the fuzzy steering wheel cover. Hot, vibrant pink. “Did you skin a Muppet?” He pointed at the furry wheel.

“Yes. I’m sadistic like that. You should see what I did to Miss Piggy.”

Cal leaned his head back and chuckled. This was a glimpse of the true Monica. It was the only sign of frivolity she’d shown all day, and he was heartened by it.

She reversed out of the parking spot and sped off. “What sounds good? Steak, sushi, Italian?”

“I’m flexible. Tell me about this foundation. Apparently, it keeps you so busy that you can’t take time to eat a proper lunch.”

“How do you know that?” She stopped at a red light and glanced over at him. “Has Stella been tattling on me?”

“Yes, she was quite vocal. Goes from zero to doing a ton in three seconds flat. Her engine doesn’t idle, either.”

Monica shook her head. “Are you saying she talks a lot? At least I hope engine isn’t a euphemism for something else.”

He shuddered. “It’s not. Stella is an attractive woman, don’t get me wrong, but not my type. She gave me an earful about you, though. You’ve not been taking care of yourself, not since breaking up with Reggie.”

“Oh my God, she told you about Ryan?” Monica slapped her palm onto the stick, slammed the car into gear, then tore out at the green light. “Stella and I are going to have a little talk tomorrow.”

“Oh, do stop. She didn’t mean any harm, she’s worried about you.” He hadn’t meant to get the poor lady into trouble. After all, Cal had peppered Stella with questions like a chat show host, and used his most disarming smile to do it. The older woman had given Cal all the dirt. How wonderful, handsome, and successful Ryan was. Everyone adored him. Ugh. The dismal chap sounded like a right Herbert.

“Well, she can worry silently next time,” Monica said, “with an idling engine.”

Cal shifted in his seat. “So what was wrong with him?”

“There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a really great, wonderful guy.”

Cal narrowed his eyes. “According to Stella, you broke up with him.”

“Wow, she really did fill you in, didn’t she?”

“Was he a snorer?”

“Wha—”

“A bit of a slob?”

“No.” She took her eyes from the road for a moment to throw a glare in his direction. “Calum, I’m not going to discuss my boyfriend with you.”

“Ex-boyfriend. What does he do for a living, this paragon?”

She remained silent.

“Is he a vicar or something? Is that why you dress the way you do?”

“He’s not a minister, there’s nothing wrong with my clothing, and I’m not talking about him.”

“Solicitor? That’s almost as bad.”

Monica tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “He’s an accountant.”

“Dear God, an accountant. He did this voluntarily? That’s a thousand times worse than a solicitor.”

“I don’t want to discuss him—are we clear on that?” She slowly turned her head to stare at him.

“I’m just curious, love. No need to be so cross.”

“Are we clear?” She didn’t look away from him, not even when the cars behind them started to beep their horns.

Her gaze met and locked with his. Monica was so lovely, especially when she was angry. Her stubborn little chin jutted out when she became well and truly hacked off. He reached out and caressed that cleft with his thumb. “Clear.”

Her breath caught at his touch. She wasn’t as unaffected by him as she pretended. Good to know.

Jerking her head away, she faced forward before speeding through the intersection. They were only a few blocks from the Strip now. Tall neon signs became visible, shooting upward toward the night sky. Blue, pink, purple, gold. All of them vying with one another for attention.

“Did he squeeze toothpaste from the bottom of the tube?” Cal continued. “I hate those people. So superior and smug about their dental hygiene.” When she didn’t respond, he carried on. “Didn’t put down the lavatory lid?” Still, she kept schtum, not uttering a word. “Wait, I’ve got it. He didn’t reciprocate with the oral, did he?”

As he watched her, Monica’s lips flattened, and her eyes narrowed slightly. “I said—”

“Because personally, I like performing oral. Knowing my partner’s satisfied makes me satisfied. I’m a giver, but not every man is. Was that your Brian?”

“Ryan,” she said through clenched teeth. “And he was perfectly satisfactory in the sex department, since you’re so freakishly curious. I was always very, very satisfied.”

“Ooo, two verys—he must have been dreadful. And you’re doing it again.”

“What?” She’d turned onto the Strip, and they hit another red light.

Tourists lined the street up ahead, staring at a casino fountain. Its pastel-lighted jets of water were synchronized to Beethoven. Opus 15, if he remembered correctly. Cal had always liked that one. “You’re lying.”

“One more word, Cal, one more, and I’m kicking you out of the car.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again just as quickly. He’d pushed her to the limit. And Cal couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such fun.

Chapter 5

Monica parked at the front door of a casino and couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. Cal had finally shut up about Ryan, after she’d threatened to dump his ass on the side of the road. She’d been halfway serious too. What was Stella doing, spilling all of Monica’s personal business? Cal had probably acted all charming and winsome to get the information, but Stella should have more discretion.

Monica didn’t want to talk about Ryan. Not to anyone—especially not to Calum Hughes. But he was relentless. Normally, she appreciated tenacity in a person, but not when all of that determination was directed at her.

After handing her key to the valet, Monica silently entered the building with Cal by her side. Inside, the sights and sounds were jarring at first. Machines jangled and strobed bright lights. People yelled and laughed, and a Bon Jovi song blared overhead.

Monica had spent a lot of time hanging out in casinos—the restaurants, pool parties, clubs, and blackjack tables. Not so much in the last couple of years, though. She sort of missed the atmosphere.

As they began moving down a long corridor lined with shops, Cal stopped and placed his hand on her upper arm. “Hang on a mo, I’ll be right back.” He left her to jog into the gift store, where all sorts of memorabilia filled the front window—T-shirts, coffee mugs, shot glasses. Monica watched people drift in and out of bars and the sportsbook as she waited.

Cal came back a few minutes later, empty-handed. “Ready.” He laced his fingers with hers and brought them to his mouth for a quick kiss.

Holding hands with him made her heart patter like a teenager’s on her first date. “What did you buy?”

“Mind your own business, nosy parker.” His tone was chiding, but his eyes sparkled.

He was pushing every one of her buttons tonight. He seemed to have a knack for it. And all that sex talk in the car had her thoughts heading in one direction—imagining herself with Cal. It wasn’t hard to do. She’d seen his bare chest this morning. Did he have any other tattoos? The old Monica would have made it her duty to find out. The new Monica tamped down her raging curiosity.

“Where are we headed?” he asked.