Chapter Eighteen
A short time later, Alisha laughed out loud at the frustrated expression on Brett’s face when she won forty dollars on the penny slot machine. She’d led him to two identical machines that were side by side and unoccupied. After convincing him to only bet twenty dollars, she’d challenged him to match her spin for spin until one of them lost. He’d enjoyed it until his balance had gone below five dollars and hers was nearing sixty.
“Did you see that woman trip? I hope she’s okay,” he said as he pointed toward the other side of the casino.
Alisha scanned the room for a woman either on the floor or righting herself after a fall but didn’t see either. “Where?”
“Next to the man in the orange shirt.”
“I don’t see a man in an orange shirt.”
“They must have left.”
She turned back and looked from his suspiciously happy expression to the credit balance on his machine. He now had sixty-three dollars and change. “You cheated!” She gave his shoulder a shove.
He continued to look pleased with himself. “I merely took advantage of a loophole in your rules. You stated that we both start with the same amount, but you never stated we couldn’t add as we please.”
“It was implied.”
“Which may work in kindergarten, but would never hold up in the business world.”
Alisha’s chin rose. “You did not just go there.”
His chin rose as well.
She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t care if you’re five or fifty, cheating is cheating. If you want to play with me, go back down to your original balance or the game is over.”
“You’re taking this far too seriously.” There he was, dismissing how she felt again. Her temper rose.
“And I expect an apology for the kindergarten dig.”
Some of his smugness left. “I can see how that might have sounded—”
“Might have?” Oh no, he was not getting off that easily.
“Let’s cash out and go for a walk.”
“Seriously? You’re so afraid of losing that if you can’t cheat, you’ll quit?” She told herself to drop it, but she couldn’t. Rachelle had said that Spencer had always been in competition with Brett. Did it go both ways? She didn’t like to think she might be a pawn in a game she had inadvertently wandered into.
A storm raged in his eyes that belied how he was attempting to rationalize his reaction. “It’s just a game.”
“Is it? Or are you a sore loser? How do you handle losing in real life?”
“I don’t. I make sure I win.”
“No matter what?” Nothing he was saying was making her feel better.
“You’re naive if you think anyone in power follows the rules. We make them.”
“Wow.” The coldness in his tone was new to her experience with him. Here is the dragon Spencer said destroys all in his way. How can this be the same man who seems so considerate the rest of the time? “This is a side of you that’s hard to like.”
His eyes darkened, and he looked away. “I added money as a joke. I thought it would make you laugh. It didn’t. Let’s go.” He punched the button to return his winnings to his card.
She didn’t move. He’s not in charge of my emotions. I am. I may not like what he’s saying, but how I respond is my choice. If he is looking for someone to cower and apologize whenever he is less than pleased, he picked the wrong woman to spend time with. “I didn’t take you for someone who runs away.”
He froze. “I don’t.”
“Then don’t dismiss what I said or how you made me feel. Don’t talk down to me. I’ve seen you do it with Spencer, and it’s why he doesn’t go to you with his problems. You are not better than me, but you talk like you think you are. Which man are you? The kind, gentle man who took care of me when I was sick—or the condescending asshole I thought you were the first time we met?”
He turned toward her slowly, and one of his eyebrows arched. “I am not condescending.”
She gave him a moment to internally review what had come out of his mouth a moment before. Then she said, “You owe me an apology.”
His jaw tightened, then relaxed. “I respect your job. I shouldn’t have used it to make my point.” She held his eyes during a standoff that lasted a few long minutes. Finally, he sighed. “I’m sorry. I can see you’re right about how I talk to Spencer, but I didn’t see it until you challenged me that first day. When I heard my own words come out of my father’s mouth, I didn’t like the way they sounded.”
She reached across and put her hand on his thigh. “I can understand that.”
His hand covered hers, and the connection turned intimate. “I don’t want to be the man you thought I was that first day.”
“Then don’t be.” She said the words with conviction. Maybe she was nothing more to him than a win over his brother, but he seemed to genuinely want to be a better person. Like her, maybe he was on a journey of self-awareness and improvement.
Or maybe that’s what I want to believe.
He chuckled. “You are not the least bit intimidated by me, are you?”
“Should I be?” Her breathing became shallow, and her body began to warm. She struggled to focus on the topic of their conversation, yet there was his nearness and the way he was looking at her.
He leaned over, brushed his lips across her cheek, and whispered, “I need someone like that in my life.”
He needs someone like me? She shuddered with pleasure on more than one level. Do I dare let myself believe that for even a moment?
As if he sensed her inner conflict, he raised his head and said, “The machine won’t let me put less than five dollars back on, but let’s finish the game.”
She nodded, still flushed and dazed from the nearness of him. The outcome of the game was the last thing on her mind.
He punched in a code that added five dollars in credit back to his machine, then brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “For luck,” he said.
They both hit the “Bet” button at the same time. She won two dollars. He won $800. She pulled her hand free and framed her face in amused outrage. “That is not right.”
He turned toward her, leaned over, and gave her a brief, gentle kiss on the lips. “I’d say it is. With you, even when I lose, I win.”
See, that’s where we’re different. If I play, I could lose everything.
His words echoed through her, and the feel of his lips lingered on hers. Had they been alone, she might have launched herself into his arms.
I don’t want this to end.
But where do we go from here?
As he and Alisha strolled the deck after dinner, Brett marveled at how quickly the day had flown by. The sun was setting on the ocean horizon, and it saddened him to think they’d only have one more day together before they reached Grand Turk and he flew home.
Unless I stay.
When they stopped to lean on a railing and watch the sunset, his eyes were drawn to Alisha’s smiling face instead. He put an arm around her as if to brace her from the wind, but he didn’t try to hide the truth from himself. He enjoyed holding her. Being with her felt good. So damn good.
She rested her head on his shoulder and let out a contented sigh. He gladly would have stood there indefinitely.
A day of Ping-Pong, shuffleboard, and mai tais would normally have left him feeling restless, but it hadn’t. Even when he traveled, he worked. Between his cell phone and his computer, he was usually able to keep up with everything at the company almost as well as if he were in his office.
He hadn’t checked his e-mails all day, and he hadn’t felt tempted to. His stomach churned—either at that thought or due to the variety of foods he’d ingested at dinner. When he’d told the chef he wanted the meal to be special, he hadn’t anticipated hours of endless courses.
She glanced at Brett’s face. “You look a little green. Are you seasick?”
“No, just too full. I should have paced myself.”
She chuckled. “Everything was amazing. The chef obviously wanted to impress you. How many times did he say, ‘It is my honor, Mr. Westerly’?”
He shrugged. “I get that a lot.”
She hip-checked him. “Watch the ego, you’re already bloated enough.”
“Bloated?” He looked down at his still-flat abs. “I would offer to prove I’m not, but I’ll let my stomach settle first.”
Alisha laughed. “Charming. Is that a line you use with all the ladies?”
He thought about it and answered honestly, “No, but I don’t need to impress you.” When he saw confusion enter Alisha’s eyes, he realized how what he’d said might be taken. He hadn’t meant that he didn’t care enough to try to impress her, he meant that she was the first woman he felt comfortable enough around to just be himself. With her, he wasn’t Brett Westerly, wealthy businessman. He was just a man spending time with a woman he couldn’t get enough of. He was about to attempt to rephrase his comment when a crew member approached them.
“Mr. Westerly?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“I have a message for Miss Coventry.”
“That’s me,” Alisha said. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no,” he hastened to assure her. “Your name was drawn out of a raffle in our jewelry store. You may pick up your prize at your convenience.”
“I didn’t enter a raffle,” Alisha said, then turned to Brett. “Did you?”
He shrugged. Enter one? No. Had one created? I may be guilty of that. On and off that day he’d thought about why she’d refused the bracelet. She wanted it, but accepting it from him made her feel like she was doing something wrong. The solution had come to him out of the blue and had been easy enough to arrange via his suite’s butler. If all went the way he’d planned, she’d never know. “It’s probably a promotion to bring you back.”
“Like a coupon.” She turned to the man who had given her the news. “Is the prize thirty percent off something that costs several hundred dollars? If so, I’m not interested.”
The man deftly dodged her question by saying, “I’m sorry. I don’t work in the sales department. I was simply asked to pass the message along to you.” With that, he excused himself and walked away.
Alisha looked cautiously optimistic. “I guess it doesn’t matter if it turns out to be a coupon. The prize doesn’t matter. I won something. Do you want to come with me to see what it is?”
He agreed to. He couldn’t wait to see her expression when she found out what the prize actually was.