“Did you remember to take out the trash?” she asked.

His shoulders slumped. “Damn, I knew I’d forgotten something.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, Al. Let me know when you hear from Monica.”

“Sure.”

***

Nigel walked into the breakfast room and gave Mags a kiss on the cheek. “I saw your bird from the window upstairs, Trev. I’d give that little totty a right seeing to if I were you, my boy.”

“But did you see her clothes, darling?” Mags asked.

“Hideous,” Nigel said with a little shudder as he walked to the sideboard and grabbed a plate. “Ah, a full English.”

Trevor ground his back teeth and forced himself to remain seated. He’d made a bad move last night, letting his parents see how they affected him. Allie had tried to pull him out of his dark mood. She’d succeeded. In fact, he couldn’t get the memories of her naked body out of his head. But at the diner, he’d acted like a beast to her. She was right, he was a bit of an asshole.

Nigel grabbed the seat Allie had vacated a few moments before.

Trevor ignored them both. He sipped his coffee and continued to read his email.

“Now, Trevor,” Mags said, “we’d like to talk about the wedding.”

He didn’t bother looking up. “I can’t stop you, Mother.”

“What about being my best man, Trev?” Nigel asked.

Mags heaved a dramatic sigh. “We shouldn’t have sprung the news on you like that last night. I know you were upset, my poor lamb.” She reached out and stroked a finger down his cheek.

Trevor wrenched his head to the side. “Hardly.”

Nigel snorted. “Threw quite a wobbler, you did. You always were a sensitive lad. But that’s neither here nor there. I think we should wear kilts. What say you, Mags?”

Trevor didn’t know how much more he could take. His mother’s pseudo concern made his eye twitch, and his father’s blithe attitude made him want to punch something. Nigel’s nose might do, for starters.

Mags closed her eyes and purred. “I love a man in a kilt. Of course, I love a man out of a kilt.”

“You naughty minx,” Nigel said. “Perhaps we should go upstairs, and I’ll show you exactly what one wears under a kilt.”

Trevor savagely stabbed at his phone while his breakfast threatened to make a reappearance.

“So, Son, what about it? Kilts?”

“I don’t give a damn what you do, old man. I will not be attending the wedding, so whatever your plans”—he tossed his napkin on the plate—“make them without me.” He pushed back from the table and walked out of the room.

Arnold hovered in the hallway, and with a sigh, Trevor stopped in front of him. “Find out how long they’ll be here. And please, do whatever is within your power to make them hasten their leave, yes?”

“Of course, sir.”

Trevor started walking on but stopped and turned around. “Oh, and Arnold?”

“Sir?”

“You really are a treasure.” His stoic butler’s cheeks actually turned pink. Allie’s little blushing problem was catching. He smiled as he walked to his office.

***

“What do you mean I’m fired?” Allie had worked at The Lucky Shamrock Hotel and Casino for four years. She’d never been late, never been rude to a customer. “I don’t understand.” Sure she was quitting anyway, but fired? Now she’d have that on her resume. Trevor.

Her manager, Rick—or as everyone called him behind his back, Rick the Dick, which was not terribly original, but perfectly accurate—shifted his eyes to the maroon-colored carpet. He took a deep breath, straining the already burdened buttons of his bright green vest. “I don’t know what to tell you, Allie. You’ve been a great employee, but we’re letting you go. Sorry.”

He scuttled away from her, but she hopped in front of him, blocking his exit. “He got to you, didn’t he?”

Rick hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know what you mean,” he muttered as he brushed by her and hightailed it to his office.

Trevor’s arrogant fingerprints were all over this. She’d come in this morning, like she had almost every weekday morning for the past four years, only to find Rick waiting for her with a pink slip.

Shelly walked over and put her arm around Allie, pulling her into a hug. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t know, or I’d have given you a heads up.”

In her late forties, Shelly’s choppy, white-blond hair and gamine features made her look a dozen years younger than she actually was. Allie was going to miss her.

“I know you would have.”

Shelly pulled back, a puzzled frown on her face. “What do you mean he got to Rick? Who’s he?”

“Hang on,” Allie said. She glanced at the man standing at the front counter, waiting to be checked in. Although she was royally pissed at both Rick and Trevor, this guy didn’t deserve to take the brunt of it. Besides, he was staying at The Lucky Shamrock, so his day was about to get worse. This place wasn’t exactly a five-star luxury experience. She put on her best customer service smile and attended him. After she was through, she walked back to Shelly.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” She waited for Shelly to nod. “It’s a really long story, but my dad owed this guy some money. He agreed to forgive the debt if I went to work for him.”

“Doing what, breaking kneecaps?”

Allie laughed. “No, but he doesn’t want me working here anymore. He wants my undivided attention.”

Shelly’s brown eyes bulged. “Allie, does this creep want you to sleep with him?”

Allie opened her mouth to lie, but nothing came out. She was so damn tired of lying. She wanted to pour out her troubles to someone else for a change.

“Oh my God.” With her hands on her hips, Shelly’s lips thinned into a frown. “You are so not doing this.”

“He hasn’t actually forced me do anything. But I’ve moved into his house and—”

“Well, you can just move out.”

“It’s not that simple,” Allie said. “I owe him.”

Shelly lowered her voice and leaned her head toward Allie’s. “You are not going to sleep with some creepy old man.”

“He’s not old. Or creepy. He’s…he’s kind of amazing in that department.” She felt the rising tide of heat fill her cheeks. The whole experience had been a wakeup call. Allie discovered she loved sex. At least Trevor sex. Then he’d turned defensive and cold at the diner and ruined it.

Speculation dawned in Shelly’s eyes. “You like him,” she accused, wagging her finger under Allie’s nose.

“Maybe. Except when he pulls crap like this.” She hiked her thumb toward Rick the Dick’s office.

“Oh, honey, I’m telling you, this will end in heartbreak. Some guy is trying to buy your affection. It’s not right. You deserve a man who will love and respect you. You’re a beautiful person, Allie, inside and out.”

She had no doubt this whole thing with Trevor would end in disaster. And heartache? Probably. Allie shook her head. “I’d better go before security tosses me out. And you’d better get to work before he fires you too.”

“He wouldn’t dare. I know where the bodies are buried. Screw work. Let Rick the Dick handle the front desk for a change. We’re going to have ourselves a three-martini breakfast.” Shelly grabbed her purse and tugged Allie toward the door.

Allie dug her heels into the carpet. “It’s not even ten o’clock.”

“It’s always happy hour in Vegas, honey.”

Chapter 9

Allie was a little drunk. Okay, maybe more than a little. She’d had two and half cosmos with her lunch—lunch being a bowl of communal pretzels sitting on top of the bar.

Simmons had told her to call when she needed a ride, but she was tired of being told what to do. On the sidewalk, she gave Shelly a sloppy hug good-bye before climbing into a taxi.

“Take care of yourself, kid,” Shelly said.

Outside of the mansion, Allie tossed a twenty to the driver before stumbling into the house. Inside was cool and dark. She leaned against the front door for a moment, wishing she had another drink. Her mouth was so dry.