Hot Number (31 page)

Grimly, Sadie acknowledged that it was time
to pull her life back on track, starting with figuring out what she
wanted that life to be.

She threw off the duvet and planted her feet
on the floor. Her head hurt like the devil, but at least it wasn’t
spinning anymore. A couple of cups of coffee and a handful of Advil
should put her to rights. She reached for the phone to call room
service, but it rang before she could pick it up.

Cassie?

Not Cassie. Nick.

“Sadie, I’m glad you’re awake, because I need
to see you.” Nick’s clipped voice told her he was in full-blown
sheriff mode. “As soon as possible.”

And no wonder he sounded like that. She’d
made a first class fool of herself last night. The man probably
didn’t want anything to do with her, despite that impossibly hot
sex in the coffee room. Actually, that made what happened later
seem even worse.

Sadie tried to ignore her skin-crawling
embarrassment and forced a light tone. “And good morning to you,
Sheriff. What transgression have I committed this time? I’m sure
you must have a very long list after last night.”

She could practically hear him grinding his
teeth.

“Sadie, I don’t want to have an argument with
you over the phone. I really need to see you.”

“Nick, did you tuck me into bed last night?”
she blurted out, surprising herself.

A long pause. “I guess you don’t remember
much, do you?”

“Unfortunately, it’s all pretty vague.”

“You don’t remember basically passing out in
my arms?”

“I do remember that, but not much else. It’s
all so inexplicable. I didn’t even finish that last drink, but I
remember feeling incredibly dizzy and sleepy by the time you came
barging into Tiny’s suite.”

He gave an audible sigh. “Sadie, you were
completely wrecked. What did you have to drink up there?”

She flashed her mind back to Kev handing her
that giant mojito. “Less than one mojito, actually. The one they
gave me was too big to finish.”

“Who gave you that drink? Was it the blond
guy—the one who was all over you?”

The eagle-eyed sheriff hadn’t missed a thing.
“Yes. He brought it to me.”

“You didn’t see it being mixed, did you?” It
was more of a statement than a question.

Her mind went blank, then understanding
flooded her in a nauseating rush. “No,” she gulped, forcing back
the bile in her throat. “Do you think it was doctored?”

“You managed to tell me which glass you were
drinking from, and just to be on the safe side, I had one of my men
grab it. We sent it to the lab this morning. It’s more than
possible that the guy dropped a roofie or a GHB in your drink, or
any of dozens of other drugs. If the tests come back positive,
we’ll go to the police. If you want to swear a complaint, that
is.”

It was too upsetting to even think about such
a decision right now. She could barely get her head around what
might have happened if Nick hadn’t burst into the room. “We’ll
see,” she managed. “Anyway, thank you for taking care of me. I
don’t know what else to say.”

“Just don’t put yourself in a situation like
that again, Sadie. You almost gave me a heart attack,” he said in a
tight voice.

A complex mix of guilt, tenderness and who
knew what else clogged her throat. “Don’t worry. I won’t. I’m not
normally this careless of my safety, Nick. Really.”

“Vegas has a way of messing up even the
smartest people,” he said in a gentle voice. “I guess that’s why
they call it Sin City. So, don’t get too down on yourself.”

The knot of tension in her stomach began to
unravel, but then his voice turned cool and professional once more.
“Sadie, can we get together this morning? Like I said, there’s
something I need to talk to you about.”

And I’m not going to like what I hear.
“I suppose I could be talked into breakfast. But you’ll need to
give me at least half an hour. As you can imagine, I’m still a bit
of a wreck.”

“Fine. It’s nice out, so how about we meet at
The Terraces in forty-five minutes?”

“Sounds lovely. Just make sure you have a big
pot of coffee ready.” She replaced the handset, her hazy brain
trying to analyze the possible reasons why Nick had been insistent
on a meeting. She didn’t like a single one of them. He’d sounded so
official, so quintessentially Sheriff. Whatever he was planning to
say to her, she would have wagered all her blackjack winnings that
her Vegas fling was about to go from bad to worse.

And that was really saying something.

* * *

Death warmed over
.

It was a trite expression, but Sadie couldn’t
think of a better phrase to describe how she had appeared in the
bathroom mirror half an hour ago. She never did well when her hours
of sleep numbered fewer than the fingers on one hand. The hot
shower and a liberal application of makeup had helped, but she
suspected that when Nick saw her his hair would stand up in spikes.
At least she could wear the trendy new sunglasses she bought the
other day to hide her blood-shot eyes. Along with pink shorts, a
sleeveless white tank top and pink Crocs flip-flops, she hoped she
might at least pass for somewhat cute and breezy.

If Nick’s tone of voice over the phone was
any indication, she had a hunch she would need all the help she
could get to make it through this meeting without it turning into
another disaster.

The main entrance to The Terraces was on the
hotel’s third floor. The inside-outside restaurant descended in
three outdoor terraces to ground level, as if carved into a
hillside. Nick, seated at a second level table, spotted her and
waved as soon as she reached the hostess station. From fifty feet
away, she could read his grim expression clearly. The tight-lipped
smile didn’t reach his narrowed eyes.

He’s going to tell me it’s over
between us. It’s been fun, Sadie girl, but your time’s up. Your
little Vegas fantasy is over.

The least she could do was endure the
dismissal with dignity.

Fixing a smile on her face, Sadie wended her
way to his table. Nick stood and pulled out a chair for her,
seating her directly across from him. A patio umbrella shaded her
from the morning sun—annoying, since it meant she lacked a good
reason to keep her sunglasses on. Still, she made no move to take
them off.

He filled her cup from the coffee carafe.
“You must still be bone-tired. If there was a drug in that drink,
it’ll take time to get it completely out of your system.”

She dumped cream in her coffee and stirred it
with vigor. “I won’t pretend I’m not a wee bit exhausted, but I
suppose I managed more sleep than you did since you both put me to
bed and woke me up.”

“I learned to do without much sleep when I
was stuck in places where a rocket or a grenade might land on my
head any second.”

Holding the cup with both hands, she took a
careful sip of the hot coffee. “A small benefit of armed
hostilities, I suppose. But they say almost all truly successful
people sleep very little.”

Oh, God. Did she have to pick this very
moment to babble some inane chit-chat? She couldn’t remember
feeling more uncomfortable, and Nick looked the same.

He clasped his hands on the table in front of
him and leaned forward, knitting his dark brows. Her heart
clutched. For an instant, she saw Professor Anthony Bligh sitting
across from her. Her father used the same body language when he was
on the verge of scolding her, or insisting that she do or not do
something.

“Sadie, I won’t beat around the bush. You
know I’ve got something to say. Waiting any longer will just make
it all the harder.”

She forced a laugh, even though her stomach
had torqued into a brutal knot. “You make it sound like I should
take a shot of brandy first. Or bite down on a stick.”

Nick showed no reaction to her feeble parry.
“Casino security has reached a formal determination that you’ve
been counting cards at blackjack. I’m sure you know that card
counting isn’t illegal, but it does make you subject to immediate
expulsion and blacklisting. I’m afraid you’re required to check out
of the hotel immediately. And you won’t be allowed to play in any
other casinos in Las Vegas. Or anywhere else in the country, for
that matter. Ever.” His mouth was a grim, unhappy line. “I’m sorry.
I wish I had better news for you.”

She clattered her cup down onto the saucer
with trembling hands. This was the last thing she’d expected from
him, and it shocked her to the core. Nausea swamped her in a wave
and crawled up her throat. She desperately forced it down,
determined not to make a fool of herself in public. She’d done that
enough already.

After a few moments of silent struggle, her
pride reasserted itself. Shaken or not, nauseated or not, she
wouldn’t let him see how badly he’d wounded her. She’d done nothing
wrong—at least at the blackjack table—and he knew it, too. She
could tell by the look on his face. “Well, I have to say this gives
new definition to the word
arbitrary
. If I understand you
correctly, I’ve been convicted without trial and summarily evicted
from the premises. No presentation of evidence, no hearing, and not
the slightest attempt to afford me natural justice. Have I got that
right,
Sheriff
?”

Nick shook his head. “That’s not the way it
works here, Sadie. You know this isn’t a legal matter. Casinos are
private businesses, and they have every right to make up their own
rules and enforce them.”

Everything Nick said was true, but that
didn’t make it right or fair. And it didn’t make it hurt any less
by virtue of it coming from his mouth. Why did it have to be him
who delivered her sentence? If the Desert Oasis had to impose the
ultimate penalty, why did he have to act as the executioner? It
felt terribly wrong.

Bleakly, she wondered if he had even tried to
protect her. “Let me ask you this. In this little travesty of
justice, were you the prosecutor, judge and jury, or are you merely
the designated hangman?” She let her hurt and contempt flow out
freely.

Nick hesitated, his jaw so rigid she thought
it might crack the next time he moved his mouth. There was no trace
of the warmth she had seen in his eyes and felt on his lips last
night in the coffee room. If anything, she thought his face
betrayed guilt.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, Sadie, but
I think you have the right to know. The chief of security is the
one who made the call.”

At least it wasn’t Nick, but it didn’t make
her feel much better. Not given how he was treating her. “How nice
that I merited the head man’s attention. But why then did he send
one of his underlings to do the dirty work?”

A cheap shot, maybe, but she couldn’t hold
back her bitterness.

He ignored the question, no doubt recognizing
the pain behind the words. “Carson refused to accept my
recommendation. I’m sorry.”

She sat there, waiting for him to say
more—say anything that would make this horrible blow hurt less. But
Nick kept his mouth firmly shut, his expression shuttered.

Frustrated, she finally broke the silence.
“So, that’s all there is, then? I’m sorry, and sayonara,
Sadie?”

“What do you want me to say?” he shot back,
his face coming to life with frustration. “That it sucks? Yeah,
damn right it does. But there’s nothing either of us can do about
it, so we’d better just get on with our lives. Can we just try to
do that?”

“Get on with our lives?” She kept her voice
low and cold. “I’m going to get on with life, you can be sure of
that. And I’m going to start by hunting down your chief of security
and letting him know precisely how I view his Gestapo tactics.”

He shook his head again, muttering under his
breath.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not
harboring any illusions that I could change the blockhead’s mind.
But sometimes the attempt is even more important than the outcome,
isn’t it?” Sadie leaned forward to lock her gaze on his. “Maybe you
should join me, Nick. You fought against injustice all over the
world, didn’t you? I know my situation is just chump change
compared to what you used to do, but there are principles at stake
here, and one of those principles is standing up to bullies like
your boss. Are you really just going to roll over and take
this?”

His eyes widened, and he paled under the
bronze of his tan. But he didn’t say a word. He simply stared at
her, looking more pissed off by the second until he shifted his
gaze away. She waited him out, praying he would say the right
words, praying he would make some kind of attempt to defend
her.

Finally, he grimaced. “If I did that, it
would cost me my job.”

She paused, caught off guard by his
admission. She easily understood the risk, but how could he stand
working under the thumb of a scheming, tyrannical man who made his
life miserable? He’d told her how much he hated working for Carson.
There was no way a man like Nick Saxon should be chained down to a
job like the one he had.

“Yes, I expect it would,” she said, gentling
her voice. “But
not
fighting back will cost you your pride.
And maybe that’s even worse.”

He snorted. “That’s damn easy for you to say,
Professor, all cozy and coddled in your tenured faculty position.
Let me turn the tables on you. Could you give all that security
up?” His icy voice startled her. She’d wounded his pride, and he’d
lashed back hard.

“A rather sharp but well-taken point,” she
said, trying not to feel defensive. The last thing she wanted to
think about right now was her own job. “Give me a couple of moments
to think about that while you refill my coffee.”

He poured her a full cup, then refilled his
own. “Thanks,” she said, stirring in cream as she tried to give his
question a fair assessment. A few days ago, even given how upset
she was about the Eagleton Prize, her answer would have been an
unequivocal no. But now? Would she be willing to give up her
position at the university and everything she enjoyed there merely
for the sake of a principle?