Hell on Heels (5 page)

S
tunned that he'd called her bluff, Monica now found her back to the wall. She studied him intently, scrambling to figure out what made him tick. She almost never underestimated an adversary. In her experience, all men were motivated by one of two things, money or sex. Given his financial state, offering twenty grand had seemed a sure bet.

How could she have so grossly miscalculated him? She needed this cowboy to keep things running until she could line up a buyer. And that could take time.

She swallowed. Hard. “Look, when I offered you . . . I-I never really thought . . .”

“You never thought what?” He smirked. “That I'd take you up on it? I guess you should have considered that possibility before you threw it out there.”

She bit her lip. “Are you saying you'd really pass up all that money just to humiliate me?”

His demeanor softened almost imperceptibly. “I never came with the intention of humiliating you, Ms. Brandt. That was all your doing. You're the one who resorted to rudeness and threats. I've done nothing here but follow your lead.”

“All right. I concede your point.” She dropped her gaze, hoping a meeker approach might appeal to his sense of chivalry. “Look, Ty, I'm sorry if we got off on the wrong foot, but please try to understand how stressful this situation has been for me.”

“Apology accepted,” he said, “but I still ain't working for you.”

“But it's not fair of you to just walk out on me like this,” she said, “Not when you know I
need
your help.”

“I tried to help . . . initially, but my help is not really what you want, is it?

“Tell me what I need to do to make it right, Ty.”

“There's something you gotta understand here. It was never my intent to leave you high and dry, but you led us down this path. My decision has nothing to do with money and everything to do with your mistrust and suspicions.”

“But I just apologized for that. C'mon, Ty, there's too much on the line here to let personal animosities get in the way.”

“This matter was decided before I ever walked in here. I don't know how much clearer I can make myself. I. Don't. Want. To. Work. For. You.”

Damn it all! She'd always held her own in the boardroom. She'd even managed to one-up Evan in the end, but the normal business tactics of coercion and intimidation had completely failed with Ty. He was the proverbial mountain that wouldn't be moved. She'd never felt at such a disadvantage before, which made no sense. Didn't she hold all the cards?

“Quit playing games with me,” she snapped. Admittedly she'd screwed up, but she wasn't ready to grovel. “Tell me what you want.”

“You really wanna know what I want?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

“I want to rebuild this hotel just as Tom and I agreed to do the day he had the stroke.”

“How can I know you're even telling me the truth? How can I be certain that discussion wasn't the cause of his stroke?”

His lips curved into a smug smile. “I guess you'll just have to trust me. Is that really so hard for you, Ms. Brandt?”

“
Trust you
?” She gave a derisive snort. “That's like issuing a blank check. Do you think I'm crazy?”

He cocked his head. “To be honest, I really don't know
what
to make of you.”

She blew out an exasperated breath. “Then that makes two of us. I don't understand you either.”

“I'm not that hard to figure. In fact, I'm well known as a straight shooter. So is Tom. If this is the way you're gonna go about things, you don't know him at all. If you want me to stay on, you'll honor his wishes. Those are my terms.”

“That's not what we're negotiating here! I'm selling this place, whether you like it or not.”

“If that's the case, we're already done talking.” He turned to go.

She grabbed his sleeve. “Wait! How do you think Tom would feel if he knew you walked out on me?”

His expression darkened. “Don't try to make this about Tom.”

“Why not?” she argued. “
You
just did.”

“This isn't about Tom,” he insisted.

“Look, this situation doesn't work for either of us. Surely we can come to a resolution.”

“I want to rebuild,” he said. “You want to sell. I don't see much room for compromise.”

“You could always buy me out,” she offered. “As long your offer is fair, I'll sign it. It doesn't do me any good to hold onto this place.”

“Buy you out?” He gave a dry laugh. “Do you think we'd even be having this conversation if I had tens of millions lying around?”

“Then find some investors to back you,” she suggested. “There are plenty of REITs looking to pick up hotel properties.”

“REITs?” he repeated blankly.

“You know, real estate investment trusts.”

He set his jaw. “Tom and I were
partners
. I'm not going into business with a bunch of strangers. And I'm sure as shit not going to answer to a board of bean counters.”

She rolled her eyes. “Where are you from? The freaking stone age?”

“Maybe I just have a different outlook on things.”

“I can see how well
that's
worked for you,” she scoffed. “Why don't we take a look at your books, shall we?” She strode to the desk, flipped open a file, and scanned the printed columns with her index finger. “Let's see now . . . how about we start with all the room comps?”

His mouth compressed. “Tom and I agreed to comp the rodeo cowboys. They always draw family members and the like.”

“Not enough of ‘the like.' Your largesse cost you fifty thousand last year. And that's not even counting their food and beverage credits.”

He shrugged. “What's a few beers?”

“A few?” she snorted. “It looks here like your cowboys must bathe in beer.”

“Told you I'm not into bean counting, Ms. Brandt.”

“Don't you have any financial sense at all?” she asked. “I would have thought Tom at least—”

The line between his brows deepened. “I told you we have a different
way
of doing business.”

“You call this
business
?” She laughed outright.

“We did just fine 'til South Point opened a few years back. That place is brand-spanking new and even has a full-size events arena. How can we compete with that?”

“Look, Ty, even if you did rebuild, you'd be in no better shape the way you run things. Do yourself a favor and sell. The property is actually worth something. A great deal probably. You could walk away with more than enough to buy yourself a ranch back in . . .”
Where the hell was he from?

“Oklahoma,” he supplied. “And for the record, I already have one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Five thousand acres. Near Tom. It was my grandfather's place.”

“I don't get it. If you have a ranch, what do you want with a hotel in Las Vegas?”

“That's a personal question that I ain't inclined to answer.”

His reply was quick and defensive.
Interesting.
The cowboy had something to hide from his past. She wondered what he'd run from. Maybe his face was pasted all over
WANTED
signs back in Oklahoma.

“Tell you what, Ty, since you're so hell-bent on keeping the hotel, I'll make you a deal.”

“What kinda deal?' he asked warily.

“I'll give you sixty days to buy me out. Fair market value less two and a half percent. I'll cut you that break, but I'm not about to lose my ass on this. If you haven't found financing by that time, I'm selling to the highest bidder. In the meantime, you have to agree to keep the place running.”

“What about the bonus you offered?”

Her gaze was level with his chin, requiring her to crane her neck. She hated the advantage his height gave him. It was the reason she always wore heels—to level the playing field. She was five foot seven. Her stilettos made her close to six feet, which allowed her to stand nose to nose with most men, and even gave her a slight advantage over Evan, who was only four inches taller than she was, but Ty had her by half a head.

“The twenty grand you refused?”

“No, the ten I accepted along with the—”

“Okay,” she blurted. “You already called my bluff. I'll give you the twenty. Half now and the rest in two months. I'm being square with you here, Ty. Let's make this happen.” She almost groaned as Evan's favorite words spilled from her mouth. She'd been his protégé for five years. It would probably take as many for the stink to wear off.

Ty cocked his head in thought.

She waited, fighting the urge to tap her heel.

“All right,” he said at last. “I can accept that deal . . . with the provision that I still have the last word on operations.”

“Absolutely not! I'll make all the final decisions.”

“That ain't gonna fly with me, Sugar. Tom let me have free rein. If you want me to stay, you've got to let me handle things my way.”

“Equal say,” she countered. “Partners. Just like you and Tom.”

He shook his head. “Tom and I are like-minded, but you and me? We're never going to see eye to eye on anything.”

“Probably not,” she agreed.

“Look, Ms. Brandt, one of us has to wear the pants in this relationship.”

“
Wear the pants?
What chauvinistic bullshit! I can't even believe you said that!”

“Told you I'm old-fashioned. 'Sides,” his gazed roved slowly and suggestively down her body, “you look mighty fine in a skirt.”

She fought a ridiculous surge of satisfaction that he'd taken notice. “Don't you know I could call you out for sexual harassment?”

“Could you now?” He stepped into her space. “Maybe you need a bit of sexual harassment, Ms. Brandt,” his voice was suddenly low and smooth as silk. “As a matter of fact, I think you need a whole lot of it.” She retreated a step. He advanced two. “You see,” he continued, backing her up to the desk, “I was raised in the belief that anything worth doing is worth doing right.”

His hands came down on the desk, braced on either side of her. His musky masculine sent washed over her, sucking the air out of her lungs. Evan wore outrageously expensive Clive Christian 1872. Ty Morgan wore “pure cowboy” vintage 1982—earthy, tangy, and tantalizing.

“I don't understand,” her voice came out breathless. He was way too close, not just invading but dominating her personal space. “You're not making any sense.”

He smirked. “Then I guess I need to couch this in terms you're sure to comprehend. The way I see it, Ms. Brandt, we're now negotiating a merger.”

“A merger?” she repeated dumbly. Then understanding kicked her brain into gear. “Let me go, Ty.”

A taunting grin slowly stretched his mouth. “But I'm not touching you, Ms. Brandt.” That part was true. His body loomed over hers, but he wasn't actually touching her. He held her only by his sheer, seductive force of will. “That's not to say I don't
want
to touch you,” he continued lazily, his face hovering inches from hers.

“This is totally unprofessional.” Her breath hitched as he wedged a denim-clad knee between her thighs.

“Yup. Sure is.” He released a hand from the desktop and slid it into the space he'd created between her thighs. His gaze held hers as he ran it slowly up her leg. Evan had smooth, meticulously manicured hands. Ty's were big, callused, and rough on her skin.

“No panty hose, Ms. Brandt?”

“It's too damned hot for them here,” she murmured, her heart pounding as if she'd run the New York Marathon. She shut her eyes on the sensation of his fingers inching slowly upward. She should push him away, but for some inexplicable reason, she couldn't bring herself to move. What the hell was happening?

“It's hot, all right.” His voice rumbled low in her ear, sending an echo of ripples down her spine. His fingertip traced the lace edge of her panties and then skimmed lower. She squirmed with a little moan. “How long has it been?” he asked.

Her eyes snapped open. “My sex life is none of your damn business.”

His fascinating green and gold-flecked eyes held hers captive as he teased and stroked her silk-covered mons. “That's where you're wrong. I've decided to make it my business.”

“You need to stop this. Now,” she gasped, growing almost frantic.

“Is that really what you want?” He slipped his hand beneath her panties. He slid his fingers fully into her wetness, stroking, circling, and caressing. “Evidence suggests otherwise, Ms. Brandt.”

She bit her lip, trying to stifle her sounds of pleasure as her world spiraled out of control. She was damned close to coming and he hadn't even kissed her!

“I know exactly what you need.” A wide swipe of his arm cleared the desk. He slid his other hand under her skirt to remove her panties and lifted her onto the top of it. Gripping her hips, he dragged her to the edge of the desktop, then stepped between her thighs. He brought her hand down between them, closing it over his very large erection.

“Getting straight down to business? Aren't you at least going to kiss me?”

Her annoyance only seemed to amuse him.

His mouth stretched into a slow, wicked grin. “Oh, I intend to do that all right. Where I come from it's considered ungentlemanly to fuck a woman senseless without kissing her first.”