Secrets and Seduction Las Vegas (Sexy Italian Imports Book 1) (4 page)

She woke herself with her own scream. Her climax, the throbbing pleasure washed through her, so intense her hands fisted in the sheets, she couldn’t let go. She was sweating, panting, and, God help her, writhing as her mind began the slow spiral back to reality. It took her a minute to realize what happened. An outrageous dream followed by the most incredible orgasm.

Her clock read 9 P.M., and she sat up, still pleasantly groggy. She slid out of bed, padded into the bathroom, and turned on the light. She smiled. What would it feel like to lead Antonio to her bedroom, pull him with her onto the bed, and let him make love to her?

“Oh, jeez. Troy.” She propped her hands on the countertop, closed her eyes, and hung her head. God, she forgot about him. Her parents loved him. Her sister found him for her. Her brother—well, Ryan was just a guy and liked hanging out with a pro quarterback.

Grabbing her toothbrush, she glopped on toothpaste and brushed. Troy was a long-term kind of boyfriend. Antonio, a one-nighter. And she couldn’t have both. She spat and rinsed. Smoothing on her night cream, she told the mirror, “Troy’s safe. But wouldn’t it be fun to try naughty for a change?”

****

Valerie woke early and restless the next day. Before the sun reached a high angle, she tied on a wide-brimmed straw hat and took off on her bicycle.

She covered every street in her community then headed out the security gate into the real world. After a few downhill miles, she turned toward her office.

Opening the back door with the code, she lifted her bike and brought it up the stairs with her. Firing up her computer, she Googled Antonio Daniato. Nothing. Then tried Grey Thornton. Fourteen thousand hits. Wow.

His official website listed a short bio with a murky photo of him, short hair, his features shadowed. She barely recognized him. The unofficial fan club site listed a lot more information but still very sketchy.

Her back door buzzer sounded, and she let Betina in. She looked like a movie star in hiding: huge, dark glasses and a scarf over her head. She pulled them off, plopped on the couch, and spread out. “Valerie, you don’t know how grateful I am for your help.”

She sat on the chair facing her. “I’m afraid things didn’t go well. There was a man there, I don’t know if he’s the blackmailer or not, but he saw me.”

Betina sat up. “Oh, no.”

“It’s worse than that. He found me.”

“He knows who you are?”

“Yes, and he’s threatening to expose me if he gets another letter.”

“What have you told him?” Her brow furrowed.

“Nothing. Yet. But if he’s not the blackmailer, and he gets another letter, I’m going to have to tell him I was acting on someone’s behalf.” Valerie hated to betray her cousin, but she couldn’t risk losing everything she’d worked so hard to achieve.

“Do you have to tell him everything?”

“No. I’ll keep your name confidential. And I have no idea why they’re blackmailing you, so that’s—”

Betina stood. “Maybe I should tell you.”

She held a hand up. “I don’t want to know. Not right now, anyway. Until this whole blackmail thing is history.” She walked to the coffee pot and poured two cups. “But in a few months, if you want to talk, it might be beneficial.”

Betina took the coffee cup in a shaking hand. “Is this considered a session? Do I need to write you a check?” She smiled.

Valerie laughed. “No, you don’t. But I do want a promise from you.”

She sat on the couch. “Don’t tell me. No more asking you to stand in for me?”

“Exactly.” Valerie sat next to her. “I’m not a brave person.”

“Too bad.” Betina winked. “Next month, I start filming a romance in Aruba with George Clooney—”

“That’s different. I’ll definitely help you with him.”

Betina squeezed her arm. “Seriously, Valerie, you saved my life. My marriage.”

Was Betina’s marriage in trouble because of an affair? “May I ask one question? Did the blackmail have anything to do with…an Italian?” She watched her cousin’s reaction.

The actress looked confused. “The blackmailer is Italian?”

“Possibly.”

“No, I can’t think of an Italian connection. But speaking of men, I saw your picture in the paper last week. Is it hot and steamy with you and that cute football player? Should I be looking for a dress to wear to a wedding?”

Valerie laughed and pointed to the back door. “Your time is up.”

The women chatted as they finished their coffee, then Betina left, and Valerie went back to searching for information on Grey Thornton. Taking notes, she lost track of time, and when she looked at the clock, it was noon. In her mini-fridge, she found a slightly expired yogurt, then in her receptionist’s desk, strawberry Pop-Tarts. She left Sally an IOU, ate the tarts cold, and kept working.

After an hour, her desk phone rang, and the caller ID showed her sister’s number. In her practice as a plastic surgeon, Monica occasionally treated people who carried emotional scars a surgeon couldn’t fix. She referred these patients to Valerie for therapy.

She put her sister on speaker phone. “Hello.”

“I’ve given your name to a musician with a rock band. He’s got issues with sex addiction.”

Valerie smiled. “Great. Maybe I’ll ask for some pointers.”

Monica hummed for a few seconds. “Things are getting serious with you and Troy?”

Valerie sat back in her chair, spun toward the windows, and looked out at the mountains. “Not too serious. He’s ready, but I’m not.” Monica set them up a month ago, after she removed a tattoo of his ex-girlfriend’s name.

“Don’t feel you have to rush it. But I’m excited for you. This is the longest you’ve dated anyone since Bryce.”

“I’ve been a little busy since I moved back here, sister. The office, volunteering, committees—”

“Priorities, Val. Which is more important? Work or life?”

Valerie heard the warning tone in her voice. She teased, “Work
is
my life.”

“Uh. You have your face stuck in books more than you have it out in the sun. You need to hold on to Troy. He’s perfect for you.”

Perfect according to her family’s standards. “Monica—”

“Hey, I just know what tangles you get yourself into by focusing on your work instead of your love life.”

Valerie groaned quietly. Work always came first. Even today, her day off. She clicked on the weather link and saw the temperature reached 102. She gave her bike a sideways glance. It would be a painful, uphill ride home. She swallowed her pride. “Mon? When you’re finished at the office, would you swing by and give me a ride home? I rode my bike here and lost track of time.”

“Do you hear yourself? You’ve got to get a life outside that job.”

“Yes, sister. You’re right as usual. Can I have a ride or not?”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

Valerie hung up and logged onto the NFL website. She searched on Troy’s name and touched the picture of him on her monitor. Definitely a cutie. Why didn’t she have the same toe-curling sexual attraction to him that she felt for Antonio?

****

Two hours later, Monica dropped her little sister off at her house. As she drove out through the gates, her phone rang. She answered, “Dr. Kane.”

“Monica, it’s Nancy, Rena’s personal assistant.”

“Hi, Nancy.” This was a strange call. Rena was a patient of hers. A film star who also became a friend over the years.

“Rena asked me to call.” Her voice broke, and she cried softly. “Her twelve-year-old daughter was in an accident. She’s in stable condition here at Cedars Sinai in LA, but she was burned.”

“Oh, no, not Katie.”

Suddenly, Rena’s plaintive voice came over the phone. “Please, Monica, I need you here. Katie needs you. The studio’s helicopter is in Vegas, and they’re gassing it up and filing a flight plan right now. Please, will you come?”

Monica was near tears as she listened to her friend. Katie was a beautiful young lady, shy and sweet. “Of course. It’ll take me fifteen minutes to get to the airport. Hang in there, Rena, everything will be fine. Cedars is one of the best hospitals in the world.”

She heard Rena sobbing, and the assistant came back on the line. “Go to the private airport. I’ll have someone meet you at the parking lot.”

Making a U-turn toward the airport, she called the online dating service guy she was on her way to meet for an early happy hour. “Geoff, it’s Monica. I just got an emergency call, and I need to get on a helicopter to LA. A patient’s daughter has been in an accident, and they’re flying me out there.”

“What kind of patient keeps a helicopter in Vegas?”

“She’s an actress. The helicopter is her studio’s.”

“You know, Monica, I’ve been stood up before, and I’ve heard some creative excuses, but yours is the best yet.”

She sighed. “I’m sure it sounds outlandish, but if it would help, I’ll take a picture of the chopper and send it to your phone.”

“No. I believe you.” He didn’t sound like he did.

“How about tomorrow? Same place, same time?”

“Sure. See you then. And bring a picture of that chopper.”

Pulling into the airport, she was directed to park in the lot next to the hangar. She didn’t blame Geoff for his skepticism.

She’d been on a few first dates through the online service, and she’d heard a couple of wacky excuses from men who hadn’t been interested in a second date but wouldn’t just come out and say it.

Within minutes, she was buckling herself into a sleek, modern helicopter and fitting headphones over her ears. The one day she actually fussed with her hair, and it would be flattened. She returned the pilot’s thumbs up, and they were off.

She looked down at her clothes. Today was her office-only day, and she wore a frilly new dress, yellow silk, that her personal shopper said brought out the green in her eyes—as if the color needed to be brought out—a bright, grass green that people constantly mistook for tinted contacts.

She crossed her legs and looked at her rose-pink toenails peeking out of Ferragamo sandals with three-inch heels. She was dressed like a model not a doctor. When she arrived at the hospital, she’d have to borrow some scrubs and Crocks.

The flight went faster than she calculated, and when they touched down on the hospital roof, the pilot helped her out, kept her bent over, and delivered her to a security guard, who gestured over the chopper noise for her to follow him.

In the emergency room, Monica spotted Rena’s assistant, who gave her Katie’s room number. She walked in and found the room empty, except for the little form on the bed resting quietly. She tiptoed to the computer, saw Katie’s file on the screen, and began reading.

A hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, and a male voice said quietly, but with authority, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Chapter Four

Monica turned to confront the perpetrator and had to look up, way up, even in her three-inch heels. The blond Adonis stared at her with gray-blue eyes, his full lips turned down in a frown, his lantern jaw working. Grinding his teeth?

“I’m Dr. Kane.” She jerked her wrist out of his hand. “I’ve been called in by the family.”

“You might not know how this works,” he hissed, “but you need to check in with the head of the E.R. before you start practicing medicine here.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t have time to sit in some old fart’s office and chat about hospital policy. I need to see Katie’s chart, examine her wounds, and get her to the burn unit. Stat.”

“Lady…” He pushed the computer stand out of her reach. “Before you do anything, you need to show your credentials and get approved for temporary access.”

“Fine.” She set her purse on a table and found her wallet. She pulled her driver’s license, hospital ID, and licensure. She handed them to the stud in the white coat. “Hope the old fart is happy.”

He smiled. “Very happy.” He glanced at her name then handed them to an R.N. passing by. “Barbara, would you please run these and bring Dr. Kane a badge. Oh, and give her a login?”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

Monica was surprised by the respect shown this man. She never received that kind of treatment at any hospital. She looked at the badge clipped to the doctor’s pocket, but it was flipped the wrong way out.

Rena came into the room with her husband, Mark. When she saw Monica, she pulled her into a bone-crushing hug and started wailing.

Monica shushed her, patting her back and reassuring her. Mark wrapped himself around the two women. He was crying, too. The blond doctor stepped out of the room and closed the door. At least he had
some
manners.

When Katie’s parents regained their composure, the three of them moved to stand at the side of the bed.

“What do you think?” Rena’s voice quavered.

Monica held her friend’s hand and calmed herself before speaking. “I haven’t been able to look yet. The doctor is still checking my credentials.”

“What?” Mark said too loudly, and they looked at Katie, who didn’t stir.

“It won’t be long.” She said it more to convince herself, to calm her anxiousness. This kind of bureaucratic red tape could take hours.

The door opened, and the blond doctor came in and stood next to Rena and Mark. “We’re ready to move Katie to the burn unit.”

“We have the best cosmetic surgeon in the region here…” Mark’s voice sounded angry as he gestured to Monica. “…but she can’t look at our little girl because some pinhead doctor is holding up her access.”

Monica bit her lips to keep from smiling as the “pinhead doctor” gave her a searing look.

Mark shook his head. “Sorry. Dr. Kane, this is Dr. Pappa, the head of the E.R.”

She shut her eyes for a moment, feeling a rush of warmth to her cheeks. Not only had Mark called him a pinhead, but she’d called him an old fart.

A knock on the door brought the burn unit doctor and two orderlies, who unplugged and unhooked Katie’s tubes and cords from the wall.

Dr. Pappa addressed Rena and Mark. “You two, go with Katie. I’ll see what can be done about Dr. Kane.”

Monica’s gaze shot to his. What was he implying by that remark?

He looked levelly at her, as if daring her to challenge him.