Adrienne Giordano Page 11

  Yes, and Billy wanted to control that. Thanks to his mother’s patience, he’d spent his life learning how to perform behavioral interventions on himself. After the fight with Monk though, his restlessness had increased, his distractions had become more plentiful and he’d let his control slip when all he wanted was to hang on. And that made his already active mind spin faster, harder, longer.

  He needed a break. A break would allow him to lock that control in and not push his friends into such a state of frustration that they physically attacked him. He wanted to relearn how to let go. Wasn’t that what normal people did? They adjusted, learned to bend and see things from the other person’s perspective.

  He supposed he could start small. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

  Monk snorted. “What?”

  Jackhole. “You heard me. I said I was sorry. Be mature and accept my apology. It’s the only one I’m giving you.”

  “I accept your apology. I apologize as well. I lost it on you and you didn’t deserve that beating.”

  An awkward silence filled the space. Billy wiggled one foot so he could think about anything but the freaking weirdness of having a moment with Monk. “I gotta get better about figuring out where the line is. My line must be farther than everyone else’s.”

  “Your line is off the grid.”

  “I’m trying to figure out where Kristen’s is. She’s a tough one.”

  “Did you ask her?”

  Billy gave him a what-the-eff face. “She says it’s moving.”

  “Moving?”

  “I’m totally fucked. Sorry, Ma! But, really? Really? She gives a guy like me a moving line? How am I supposed to hit that target? I already told her I’d back off, which we’ve determined I suck at.”

  Monk shrugged. “I don’t think staring at her tits the other night was backing off.”

  “I don’t stare at her chest anymore.” Billy waggled his eyebrows. “At least not when she’s looking.”

  Monk cracked up. “You’re a jackass”

  “Yes, but I’m a male jackass.”

  “You’re so goddamned busy trying to figure out where the line is you don’t realize you already know.”

  Billy huffed. “Is any of that crap supposed to make sense to me?”

  “You gonna tell me you don’t have that voice in your head that tells you to stop? That you’re going too far.”

  “Of course I have a voice. Only mine is dyslexic. It yells ‘go, go, go!’”

  Monk did the face-scrubbing thing again. “That is fucked up.”

  Welcome to my world, pal. “Maybe, but it’s my fucked up.”

  “What else have you got to work with?”

  Billy lay back down on the bed, rested his hand over his forehead. “I do get pumped when I sense a reaction in people. I’m a junkie when it comes to that.”

  “What are you? Ten?”

  “When I get that feeling, yes. It’s euphoric. I love it and I can’t stop.”

  And wasn’t that the suckiest of all suckiest things to admit. Some people had alcohol or drugs. He had adrenaline. And lots of it.

  “Jesus, you need help.”

  “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  Monk angled his head back and forth as if contemplating the destruction of a foreign country. At this point, maybe he was. “This is fairly simple,” he said. “When you start to feel adrenaline popping, that’s your signal to stop. You gotta fight the addiction.”

  “Is there a twelve step program for that?”

  “No.” Monk moved off the dresser. “Your problem is you like being pain-in-the-ass Billy. You can’t decide how bad you want to change. When you want it bad enough, you’ll do it. How bad do you want it?”

  Billy stared at the ceiling, thought about Kristen and nibbling on that fantastic lower lip of hers. The way she smiled at him and was so easy to talk to. Her patience with his ADD-related issues was enough to make her damned near perfect. “Pretty flippin’ bad.”

  Chapter Nine

  Kristen nearly rocketed out of her chair when Jess threw the office door open and let it bang against the wall. For crying out loud. After a long day, a coronary wasn’t on the agenda. Plus, her sister had been told not to come back until Monday.

  As usual, she didn’t listen.

  “Hey, how about knocking? And why are you here?”

  “You won’t believe it,” Jess said, the tone of her voice rising enough for Kristen to recognize distress.

  “What happened?”

  “He’s cheating on me.”

  “Who?”

  “Alex!”

  This is why she almost gave me a heart attack? “He’s important?”

  Disgusted, Jess flapped her arms. “Well, not so much that, but he is cheating on me. How humiliating.”

  Looking at Jess in a sky blue dress that clung to every millimeter of her thin, tanned frame, not to mention her long blond hair flowing over her shoulders, maybe Kristen could understand why it would be humiliating. And, for some childish reason, she found it mildly satisfying. Which on some level, brought on guilt. But finally, finally, Jess knew the horror of being on the losing end of a relationship.

  “I’m sorry you were humiliated. Who was he cheating with?”

  “I saw him at Aria last night. Someone told me she’s a front desk clerk somewhere. Can you believe that? A front desk clerk. I’ve barely been able to leave my bed today.”

  Cheating wasn’t the issue, but the front desk clerk apparently was. Maybe she’s nice? Unlike you. Kristen shrugged.

  “You don’t care. You’re too busy to worry about me, the troublemaker.”

  As if Kristen hadn’t spent most of her life worrying and cleaning up her little sister’s messes. So typical. “I never said that. Jess, I’ve barely seen you with him. How would I have a clue as to whether he’s someone special or not?”

  “If you took the time to talk to me instead of throwing me out of the hotel for two days…”

  Kristen gripped the arms of her chair, let them absorb her anger. “Don’t you lay that on me. You created that situation and I dealt with it. Had you been any other employee, I would have fired you. Plus, when have you ever taken the time to ask me how I’m doing?”

  No answer. No surprise either. Jess didn’t care enough about anyone else to bother and Kristen didn’t have the inclination to argue. She stretched a hand across the desk, laid her palm flat. “Look, I have the Secret Service coming here in less than two days. I don’t want to fight with you.”

  Jess scrunched her nose. “Well, that’s just fine. I guess I’ll leave because the queen bitch is too busy to spend time with her sister.”

  Pressure drummed inside Kristen’s chest, building until it reached her neck and, oh, the ache of it. That helpless suffocation that came from arguing with an unreasonable person. She felt…she felt…gah! Being called a bitch, particularly by the bitch in front of her, was getting tiresome. Extremely. “That’s the second time you’ve called me a bitch. It stops now. If it doesn’t, you are out of here. For good. And Dad will agree with me. Trust me on that. He’s well aware of what goes on around here.”

  Jess sucked air threw her nose and stuck her chest out.

  “Say it,” Kristen said. “Please. Give me a reason.”

  With that, Jess stomped from the office, shoving aside Billy, who stood in the doorway watching the abysmal exchange.

  He craned his neck to watch Jess go. “Your sister on a roll. What else is new?”

  She clasped her hands together and squeezed. That’s it. Just breathe. When her fingers cramped, she released them, shook them out and relaxed her shoulders. She focused on Billy. “She called me a bitch again. I work my tail off to help keep her trust fund intact and this is what I get? Being called a bitch because I don’t track her revolving love life?”

  He reached her desk in three long strides, his face all sharp angles and rock hard bone, and she pushed back in her chair.

  “Then tell her to fuck off. She
doesn’t deserve you. She should be on your side. All the time. And she’s not.”

  “She’s never on my side. No matter what it is. If I said the sun was out, she’d say it was cloudy. How did our relationship get to this?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s not your fault. You do a lot for her. At least one of us is on your side. Always. No matter what. I want nothing more than to slay your dragons. Every damn one of ‘em. She should feel the same.”

  That speech turned Kristen mushy and the girl parts got a little warm. She wanted to despise her reaction to him, wanted to lock it away, wanted not to feel this insane attraction.

  The girl parts weren’t having any of it.

  She sat back and crossed her legs, trying to look like a consummate professional rather than the starry-eyed, hormone-crazed teenager she’d reverted to. “Thank you. And, just so you know, that slaying the dragons line? That was a home run, fella.”

  His smile came lightning fast and he held her gaze long enough to send the simmering girl parts fully ablaze.

  “It wasn’t a line. It’s true.”

  She looked down. Danger, Kristen, danger. But, God, she was starting not to believe that.

  “Why did she call you a bitch?”

  “She came busting in here complaining her boyfriend dumped her. I didn’t even know he was her boyfriend. She’s had so many men in and out of her life, it’s hard to keep them straight.”

  “That Alex guy?”

  “You know him?”

  He scratched his chin. “Sort of. We met the other night. Jess showed up here with him Friday night.”

  Perfect. Not only had her sister called her a bitch—twice—she’d completely ignored Kristen’s directive to stay away from the hotel. Also twice. “After I told her not to come back?”

  “Yeah, but I busted her ass out.” He grinned. “She wasn’t happy.”

  He’d thrown Jess out. A rush of satisfaction consumed her. It took nerve to push a Dante out of her family’s hotel. He did that for me. “It didn’t occur to you that her father owned the hotel?”

  He shrugged. “You told her to stay away. I knew you didn’t want her here and I took care of it. Slaying your dragons, babe. Slaying your dragons.”

  “The things that go on in my own hotel. Amazing.” She slid her hand, palm up, across the desk. “Thank you.”

  Billy rubbed his fingers over her palm then clasped her hand. “You’re welcome. Just wear the shoes with that green dress.”

  “Anyway, Jess was mad because I apparently didn’t care that her so-called boyfriend dumped her for a hotel clerk.”

  Still clasping her hand, Billy squeezed it. “Oh, man, that’s priceless. A hotel heiress gets dumped for a desk clerk.”

  She leaned forward, slid her hand from his and dragged her fingers up and down over his. “I was rather entertained by it.”

  “Kris?”

  “Yes?”

  “You need to stop doing that with my fingers. It’s causing major problems for me.”

  She snapped her hand away. “I’m sorry.”

  “No sweat. Just don’t be offended when I stand up and my shorts are tent-poled.”

  Totally inappropriate. Did he even understand he did this? Kristen slapped her hands over her face. “Billy!”

  “Hey, letting you know. That’s all. Normal male reaction to a sexy chick.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Add horny to the list.”

  And oh, the girl parts took a hot flash. Between him and Jess, her brain might bleed. With Jess came disappointment and Kristen had learned to prepare for that. Billy though, she hadn’t been ready for him. With him, she suddenly didn’t want to prepare herself. Or at least she didn’t want to need to prepare herself. How twisted. If she didn’t prepare, and he disappointed her, she’d be disappointed and not ready for it. But if she bulked up her reserves and self-protected, she’d miss out on the surprises he constantly inflicted.

  No way to win.

  Billy smacked his hands on the desk. “Back to why I’m here. Your signal jammer will arrive tomorrow morning. I’ll get you all set up. Your security recommendations for the senator’s party are almost done. Monk is proofreading, and I’ll give you those tomorrow as well. That’s the bonus for you wearing the hot shoes.”

  “Again with the shoes?”

  “They’re smokers.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Thank you for the update. Now go. I have work to do.”

  He jumped out of the chair, headed for the door and stopped. “What do you know about this Alex guy?”

  “Not a lot. I’ve seen him around the hotel. His family owns a local bank. They have money, but they’re not considered A-list. Why?”

  He tapped his fingers against his legs. “Did Jess say what hotel the other chick works at?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Well, Ms. Dante, I’m curious if they’ve had any cars stolen from their lot.”

  * * *

  Kristen stared at him, nibbled her bottom lip and sent his mind places she’d slap him for. He’d take that slap. Maybe a few more too.

  “You think Alex is involved in the car thefts?”

  Billy shrugged. “I find it curious he’s dating a hotel heiress and a clerk from another hotel. Could be he likes banging hotel people. What do I know?”

  “I think you know a lot and if you’re wondering, maybe I should ask around. I’ll check with Jess about what hotel it was. I know most of the owners and managers on South Beach and might be able to find out if they’ve had any thefts.”

  “Would they share that with you?”

  “Some would. The others will need incentive. I’ll do the you-tell-me-your-secrets-I’ll-tell-you-mine routine.”

  “My kind of girl.”

  She sighed. “If hotels are being targeted and mine is the first to have problems, the other owners will want to be ready.”

  Had to love a woman who knew how to work a situation. “Any idea where I can find Alex?”

  Grabbing her notepad, she scribbled something. “I’ll get you his address. Jess asked me to open a house account for him two weeks ago. The business office will have his contact info.”

  “Excellent response, Ms. Dante. Next question. You got a car around here I can use? Something low key? Boring.”

  Still jotting, she shifted her gaze to him. “Why?”

  “My camera and I are about to do a little old-fashioned surveillance.”

  “Billy—”

  He held up his hands before she reamed him. This was her place and he had no interest in drawing her fire. Again. “It’s nothing. I’ll follow him and see what he’s up to. With the right car, he won’t know I’m there.”

  She tapped her fingers on the desk. “Promise me you won’t get caught. You’re a contractor for my hotel. I don’t need you getting into legal trouble. Signal jammer aside, that is.”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  After huffing a breath—and drawing attention to her chest—she shook her head. M.H. really wasn’t happy about this. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. It should only take half an hour. Come back then and I’ll get you a car.”

  * * *

  After Kristen’s meeting, Billy squeezed his six-foot-three body into her Aston and decided if they were going to be traveling by car together, they’d be making arrangements for something with more leg room. This trip, she drove him to a two-story, pristine duplex on Palm Island just off the causeway.

  He surveyed the area where the waning sun washed over the driveway. He knew Kristen’s father lived on Palm Island with some of Miami’s wealthiest inhabitants and security was tight. Yep, if tourists wanted to have a gander, they needed to check in with the guard at the entrance to the island.

  Somehow, Billy didn’t think this conservative duplex belonged to her father. From what he knew of Tom Dante, the man liked flash. Still, red tiles on the roof gave the concrete block stucco some sass, and a small patch of grass was well-tended and anchored with hardy red and
yellow flowers. All in all, a nice, well-kept home.

  “Where are we?”

  She stepped to the garage door, punched in a code. “My house. You wanted a car and I’ve got one.”

  The door slid up in silence. Impressive. An older model dark green sedan sat on the right side of the two-car garage. What was M.H. doing with this piece of shiznet car? He glanced at Kristen still standing at the entrance to the garage, then did a quick walk around the car. A few scratches here and there and paint chips on the driver’s side door. Banged up just enough. Not to mention boring as hell. Perfect.

  “Whose car is this?”

  “It’s mine.”

  Billy spun back to the Aston, its metallic flecks gleaming in the Florida sun. “You went from this P.O.S.—” he pointed to the sedan then to the Aston, “—to that?”

  “Hey! Filter.”

  Screw the filter. “Sorry, but still. Hell of a shock.”

  “The green one is my old car. It’s seven years old.”

  Why she kept that drab grandma car when she had the Aston, Billy couldn’t fathom. “So, the green one is what, the airport car?”

  “What’s an airport car?”

  “It’s the car people leave at the airport when they travel because it’s such a piece of crap no one would bother to steal it.”

  “That’s a good idea, but no.” She waved at the sedan. “It just sits here.”

  “Why?”

  Now she stared at the car. Studying it. “I can’t let it go.”

  Considering he didn’t own anything but his clothes and camera, understanding emotional attachments to items would never be his strong point. Which meant he was far from qualified to analyze the fact that she couldn’t dump a crappy sedan when she had an Aston Martin. Call him crazy, but that was fudging ridiculous. He nodded though, pretended to understand. “You should sell it. Or, even better, donate it. Someone can make use of it.”

  But M.H. was still staring at the P.O.S. car.

  “Maybe.”

  Maybe nothing. “Kris, you’ve got this smoking hot Aston. What the hell do you need this one for?”