MOB BOSS 2 (22 page)

Trina tried to forget about Jazz, to sweep yet another disappointment under the rug and go on with her life. But al she thought about was Jazz.

She headed for the kitchen, grabbed a bottled water out of the frig, opened it and took a long swig. By the time she made it to the bedroom, she was ready to crash the way she usualy did.

But the French doors that led to the bedroom balcony were open. Trina knew she was tired. She knew it had been a long day in a string of too many long days. But she hadn’t left any balcony

doors open. She knew that too. She never had time to so much as remember that balcony, let alone open its doors.

She hesitated, thought about going for help, then thought again. It could be as simple as the maid leaving the door ajar, or something equaly innocuous. Besides, she felt a lot of things, a lot of

emotions rushing al through her, but fear wasn’t one of them.

She stepped through the French doors cautiously, looking from the right, seeing nothing, and then looking left and seeing, to her shock although not to her surprise, her husband. Seated on one of

the loungers, in shorts and an open shirt, nursing a highbal.

Trina hesitated at first, and then walked up to the rail, looked out over the lively Vegas Strip, and then turned toward Reno.

He looked surprisingly relaxed, she thought, as if he’d been at the penthouse for many hours and had made himself at home. He also looked deliciously gorgeous. Certainly better than she had

left him a month ago in Seattle. He hadn’t looked at her yet, but was looking forward. Which, she knew, meant that he saw her far beyond mere sight.

“You work too hard,” Reno said, stil staring forward.

“I have no choice. My husband used to do the work of three men. I’m trying to keep it up.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why are you trying to keep it up?”

Trina swalowed hard. Here goes, she thought. Truth. Now or never. “Because I want my husband to be proud of me,” she said, and Reno quickly looked at her, the intensity in his eyes

stunning her. But she kept going. “Because I want him to know that I didn’t drop the bal. I want the PaLargio, his baby, to be exactly the way he left it when he comes back for it.”

Reno’s heart was pounding. “I’m back, Tree,” he said, heartfelt.

Trina wanted to leap for joy. She wanted to run into his arms and stay there for the rest of her life. But she’d been disappointed too many times before to take that chance.

“Why?” she asked him, staring right back at him.

Reno studied her, studied the strain on her face, the tenseness he saw in her frail-looking body. She was stil losing weight. She was stil kiling herself slowly.

Reno studied her, studied the strain on her face, the tenseness he saw in her frail-looking body. She was stil losing weight. She was stil kiling herself slowly.

“Why?” he asked her, turning her word back on her, as she had done to him.

“Why are you back?” she asked.

He sat his drink on the side table, stood to his feet, and walked up to his wife.

Trina immediately felt a rush of anxiety at his nearness, at his wonderful masculine scent, at his muscular bare chest. She placed her hands on his chest. He placed his hands on hers.

“Because I can’t live without you,” he said, staring deep within the most beautiful eyes in the world to him. “Because I’l die before I’l alow you to think that I don’t love you more than it’s

possible for me to love. Because you have it wrong, sweetheart.”

“I have it wrong?” Trina asked, the tears she thought she no longer had to shed, back.

“You got it wrong,” Reno said, wiping her tears away. “The PaLargio is not my baby. Not now nor ever wil be. Because you are. You are now and you always wil be. I love you, Katrina

Gabrini. And don’t you ever forget it.”

She was in his arms, and back completely in his corner, before his final declaration of love could even be uttered.

Reno was back. That was al that mattered to Tree.