Chapter Eighteen

 

August

 

“Welcome to Caesars Palace, Mr. McManus. Have you stayed with us before, sir?”

“Huh?” mumbled Finn as he scowled a bit at the overeager front desk clerk, not particularly in the mood to be sociable right now.

The smartly dressed, impeccably polite clerk showed no reaction to Finn’s less than amiable attitude. “I was just asking if you had stayed at the hotel before today, sir.”

“Oh. Sorry. Yeah, I’ve been here before, a few years ago,” he replied flatly, eager to get the formalities over with so that he could head to his room and crash for a few hours. Unless he decided to get drunk first. And given his mood right now, he was pretty sure the order of things was going to be drinking first, nap second.

“I see that you’re staying in one of our Augustus Premium Suites,” the clerk prattled. “One of our nicest rooms, Mr. McManus. Now, your room is prepaid for the three nights, I believe by the organizer of the event you’ll be attending, but I will need a credit card from you for any incidental expenses.”

Finn dug out his wallet and plopped his AMEX Centurion card down rather ungraciously, thinking sourly that there would likely be a whole lot of incidental expenses charged to his room, starting with the entire contents of the honor bar.

“Thank you, Mr. McManus,” replied the clerk primly, clearly having gotten the message that the guest she was trying so hard to be nice to wasn’t in the mood to make polite conversation. “Now, will you only be needing one key, sir?”

He stopped himself just in time from growling out his response. “Yeah, just one,” he mumbled, then practically snatched the key envelope out of the clerk’s hand as she handed it over.

Finn waved off the bellman who would have taken his luggage up to the room for him, not wanting to make any more polite conversation for the foreseeable future. Besides, he thought dourly, it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle the single rolling suitcase by himself. Now, if Delilah had come along, they would have definitely needed a luggage cart for the three or four different bags she would have insisted on taking with.

‘And here you go again thinking about her,’ he scolded himself as he stepped inside the elevator. He ignored the curious stares of the other occupants, thankful he’d worn an oversized pair of dark sunglasses plus a baseball cap in an attempt to remain incognito. He just wasn’t in the mood right now to make nice with fans, sign autographs, or pose for pictures, though he knew he was going to have to snap out of it sooner than later. Like it or not, he was contractually obliged to remain in Vegas for the next seventy-two hours or so, most of which would be time he’d have to spend socializing at one event or another. Finn had in actuality been looking forward to this weekend for months now, the official kickoff of the NFL season, and hanging out with dozens of his friends and co-workers. But he hadn’t counted on coming alone, and that was the sole reason behind the black mood he had sunk into ever since Delilah had once again refused to accompany him.

“Come on, baby,” he’d pleaded. “I know how busy you are right now, but you really can’t get away just for a night or two? I have to be in Vegas on Thursday to attend a network dinner, but you wouldn’t need to get there until Friday night. The big event doesn’t happen until Saturday night. And I was really looking forward to having you there with me, Delilah. To introduce you to my bosses at the network and my co-workers and a bunch of the players.”

“I know you were, Finn,” she’d replied a little impatiently, given that he’d been pressuring her for weeks now to say yes. “And I’m really, really sorry that I can’t make it. I know this is a big weekend for you, and under any other circumstances I would definitely come with you, even though these sort of parties just aren’t my thing. But it’s impossible right now, simply impossible. We need to have everything ready for Bloomingdale’s by the end of September in order to get it into the stores for the holiday season, and even working seven days a week doesn’t seem like it’s going to be enough right now. So as much as I wish I could be there with you, there’s no way I can get away even for an overnighter.”

But Finn had never been one to give up very easily, and had continued to cajole and plead his case. “I’ll be the only one there alone,” he’d whined. “What fun is that going to be for me? And I wanted this weekend to be a little celebration for you, too. I was going to take you to the best restaurant in town on Friday night, just the two of us, then treat you to a whole spa day on Saturday while I have to do some boring press stuff. You know, a massage, facial, hair, nails, the works. Whatever your heart desires, baby. And, yeah, we’d be expected to attend the party on Saturday night, but I promise we could try and sneak out a little early. There’ll be so many people there no one would notice after awhile. And then a nice champagne brunch on Sunday before we fly home, Come on, Delilah. It’s not even two full days when you come down to it, not if you fly in late Friday afternoon.”

She’d hesitated before answering, obviously taking care not to hurt his feelings. “I appreciate that, Finn, really I do. Even if my idea of a weekend getaway to celebrate and relax probably wouldn’t include Las Vegas in the summertime, where it’s probably a hundred and fifteen degrees right now. In fact, I can probably name fifty other places where I’d rather go. But that’s sort of a moot point since I can’t get away right now. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it has to be.”

Her apology, however sincere it might have been, hadn’t been enough to prevent him from feeling both irritated and hurt. “In other words, once again your job means more to you than I do,” he’d retorted accusingly. “You know, it was bad enough before this stupid Bloomingdale’s deal went through, how I had to beg and plead for your time. But it’s twice as bad now - no, make that ten times worse. I hardly ever see you anymore, Delilah. And I feel like - like you’re doing me a favor by answering my texts or carving out an hour once or twice a week to have dinner with me. Much less having meaningful time for sex. I wish now that I’d never mentioned the whole deal to Max. Maybe if he hadn’t referred you to that shark of an attorney we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Delilah had been speechless for long seconds, as though in disbelief that he’d had the balls to actually say those things out loud to her. But rather than lash out at him as he had fully expected her to, instead her big, dark eyes had shimmered with tears, and she’d given a little sniffle, making him feel like an even bigger ass than he already did.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Finn,” she’d replied in a hollow voice. “You have to know that I don’t mean to push you aside, or make you feel like you’re not important to me, because you already know that’s not true. I love you, Finn, honestly I do. But you knew before we began seeing each other how important my business was to me. I warned you, in fact, that right now the studio needed to come first most of the time. And, yes, I realize that lately it’s been almost all of the time, but it won’t be like this forever. One of the many tasks I’m working on right now is expanding our office space, and also interviewing additional staff. Once both of those are in place then it will lighten my workload considerably, and I’ll have more free time. But neither of those things is going to happen overnight, unfortunately, so for the next few months this is just the way it’s got to be.”

“A few months!” he’d exclaimed in protest. “You are aware that I start traveling again next month, right? Between the middle of August and the end of December, I’ll have to fly down to L.A. every Friday to tape my pre-game show, and then fly out from there to whatever game I’m supposed to be doing color commentary on. The latter won’t be every week, of course, but I know for sure it will be at least eight or ten times during the season. And that doesn’t count the other events I’ll be expected to attend.”

She’d nodded in acknowledgment. “I know, yes. You’ve been pretty upfront about your schedule, so it’s nothing I haven’t been expecting. And I realize that’s going to make it even tougher for us to see each other, but we’ll just have to find a way around it. Maybe after September’s over with and I have everything set for Bloomingdale’s I can travel with you to a few of those weekend games.”

“That’s two whole months from now, Delilah,” Finn had pointed out. “Which is why I was so intent on having you join me in Vegas. I knew that both of us were going to be slammed with work after that weekend, and I was counting on having that time together. But you’re not even willing to try and make it work, are you? Your company is so damned important to you that you won’t even consider compromising, and trying to move some things around.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” she’d retorted. “What makes you think I haven’t already tried what you just suggested? I was disappointed, too, you know, when I realized that it just wasn’t going to be possible. Ask Calvin if you don’t believe me. I had him re-work my schedule at least five different ways in order to be able to go to Vegas, and if anything he found more tasks I had to get done instead of finding a way to free me up for a weekend. Believe me, Finn, if I could be there I’d move heaven and earth to do so, okay? But frankly, you’re not even trying to be understanding about this, much less supportive. You’ve had a successful career already, Finn. You made a ton of money playing football, still have lots of fans wherever we go, plus you have a second career now in broadcasting. I, on the other hand, am just now beginning to make a name for myself. But if I mess up this deal with Bloomingdale’s my career will pretty much be destroyed. So, please, please, understand and try to support me. This is my life’s dream we’re talking about here, and it’s kind of upsetting to know that you consider some party in Las Vegas to be more important.”

Her voice had cracked a little then, and he’d sworn softly to himself at the sight of a lone tear tracking down her cheek. He’d felt like a selfish, egotistical ass, or like a spoiled little boy who was throwing a tantrum because he hadn’t gotten his way.

Finn had taken her into his arms after that, cuddling her petite body against his comfortingly, and stroking her hair soothingly. “Shh. It’s okay, baby, honest. Don’t cry, please? I’m acting like a total jackass right now, aren’t I?”

Delilah had shrugged her shoulders, sniffling loudly. “Maybe a little,” she’d murmured hoarsely. “But I understand why you’re upset, Finn, honestly I do. I only wish there was something I could do to make all of this better. But I can’t. Not right now.”

He’d dropped the subject then, unwilling to upset her further. Or, worse, to have a serious fight about it. Finn had told himself at the time to grin and bear it, that he was just going to have to suck it up and deal with their current situation as best he could, and hope like hell that things would indeed get better in a couple of months.

And everything had been going along just fine in the two weeks since that particular discussion - if one didn’t count the fact that he had seen precious little of his girlfriend during that time, of course. It had taken a phone call he’d received a few days ago to stir things up again, a phone call from one of his co-anchors on the network show who was in disbelief that Finn wasn’t bringing his girlfriend along for the celebratory weekend - and shocked speechless than he was adamant about not picking up any women for the entire three days.

“Are you punking me, McManus?” Kirk Archer had asked incredulously. “You do know how many pairs of really fine tits and ass are going to be parading around the event this weekend, don’t you? And given that I’ve seen you in action many times, and know you have about as much willpower as a nymphomaniac in a nudist colony, I’d say the chances of you going the whole weekend without any pussy are nonexistent.”

“Knock it off, Kirk, okay?” Finn had snapped irritably. “Yeah, yeah, I know that in the past I’ve been the biggest player in town, and never one to say no to a hot, willing woman. But like I’ve told you, buddy, I’m a changed man now. And once you finally get to meet Delilah you’ll totally get it. She’s a one in a million woman, Kirk, and I’m not going to fuck everything good I have going on with her for - well, for a random, meaningless fuck, I guess. Someone else will have to be crowned King of the Manwhores for a change.”

Kirk had made a disgusted sound. “That’s BS, McManus, you know? I mean, how important can this chick’s job be anyway? She’s a dress designer, not some rocket scientist or a brain surgeon or something. And she’s the damned owner of the company, who could easily delegate work to her minions. Doesn’t she realize that you’ve got an important job, too, and that this is one of the biggest weekends of the whole year for you?”

“Of course she does,” Finn had retorted defensively. “And she feels really bad about it, has tried every which way to change some things around in her schedule so she could be there. But this new deal she has going with Bloomingdale’s is taking up almost every waking hour she has lately, so there’s zero chance of her making it to Vegas.”

“Sounds like she’s got you brainwashed, buddy,” Kirk had jibed. “The Finn McManus I’ve known all these years would never accept that sort of answer from a woman. If she kept finding excuses not to go with you, and after you begged and pleaded with her like a pathetic little bitch, then you ought to teach her a lesson and go with someone else. Either that or just accept one of the many, many offers you’re sure to receive once you get there. She can’t expect you to go all weekend without having some fun. It’s Vegas, baby, not Antarctica, you know.”

“I’m not inviting someone else,” Finn had insisted. “What part of “Delilah is my girlfriend and we’re in a relationship” don’t you get, meathead? Same thing goes with picking up girls while I’m in Vegas. Those days are over, Kirk. I’m a changed man these days.”

“Not much of a man, if you ask me,” Kirk had mumbled. “What kind of a man lets his girlfriend control him, or make all the rules? Hey, I’m not much of an expert on relationships myself - my two divorces speak for themselves - but even I know that there’s supposed to be equal give and take if you have any hope of making things work. And from what I’m hearing, McManus, this Delilah chick has you by the short and curlies, and anytime you misbehave she gives them a good, hard squeeze to keep you in line. I’m sort of ashamed to call you my friend.”

Finn had told his former teammate and current co-worker to go fuck himself before hanging up abruptly. He’d been furious afterwards, telling himself that Kirk had no idea what he was talking about, had never even seen Finn and Delilah together so how could he possibly know the slightest thing about their relationship? And Kirk was wrong, all wrong, about how things were between him and the woman in his life, the one he was crazy about and would do just about anything for. He just wished he felt more confident that Delilah returned those sentiments.

Oh, he was sure that she loved him, that much was a given. Since the night of the engagement party, Delilah had been very vocal about expressing the way she felt about him, saying “I love you” every time they chatted or texted or saw each other. But lately, when she’d been busier than ever, he hadn’t been able to hold back the fear that she was more important to him than he was to her. It felt that he was always the one making sacrifices, or accommodating her schedule, or being the understanding one if she was running late or had to cancel dinner outright. And he simply wasn’t used to taking a back seat when it came to the women in his life, was used to calling all the shots and getting his way nearly a hundred percent of the time. Max would call him a spoiled brat, and Jordan a selfish pig, and they were probably both right to a degree. But Finn knew that for the first time in his life he’d actually been considerate and unselfish and supportive of someone else. He just wasn’t positive that Delilah truly appreciated everything he had been doing for her.

He’d tried to dismiss the troubling things Kirk had brought up during their conversation, but instead he had let them fester and linger, to the point where he had begun to feel angry and resentful the closer his departure for Las Vegas drew near. To make matters worse, Delilah was practically sleeping at her studio now, taking hours to respond to his texts, and barely acknowledging him when he brought her coffee or a sandwich or coaxed her to eat dinner. She’d even snapped at him a few times, and he could tell her nerves were stretched thin and that she was on the verge of exhaustion. Even Calvin had been tiptoeing around her, he’d confessed to Finn, terrified that she would really lose it and start shrieking at the top of her lungs.

The situation quickly escalated into something of a perfect storm, with Finn feeling neglected and hurt and unappreciated, while Delilah was on edge, stressed out, and grouchy. And because he didn’t know how to deal with her when she was in this sort of mood, he’d wound up making it all so much worse last night by bringing up the Vegas trip one more time.

She’d stared at him like a really pissed-off zombie, the dark circles under her eyes starting to becoming alarming. “I cannot believe that with everything else I’m dealing with right now that you’re bringing up this stupid trip one more time. Okay, listen up, would you? Because apparently the other four conversations we had on this subject didn’t sink in somehow. I cannot go with you to Vegas. I am very, very sorry, I know how important it is to you, and if there was any way at all that I could be there, I would. Now, case closed, okay? I’m exhausted, and I need to be back at the studio by six in the morning.”

“Of course you do,” he’d snapped. “Because that goddamn studio means more to you than I do. You know, babe, I’ve literally bent over backwards for you these last few months, done everything you wanted, practically kissed your feet. And the one time - one time - I ask - no, make that beg - you to do one little thing for me, you won’t even consider it. Maybe my buddy Kirk was right the other day. You like keeping me in line, don’t you? Bending me to your will? But the one time I ask you to consider my feelings for a change, it’s screw you, Finn, my job is more important.”

Delilah had stared at him as though he’d suddenly grown three heads. “I can’t believe you just spouted that sort of bullshit to me,” she’d replied wearily, too tired to work up much of a temper. “And since you’re acting like a spoiled child right now, I think it’s probably best if you spend the night at your own place. Good night, Finn. Have a safe trip to Las Vegas. And you might not believe me - because it sounds like you’d rather believe the crap your asshole friend is feeding you instead - but I really, really feel bad about this.”

He’d watched in stunned disbelief as she’d crawled beneath the covers of her bed, switched off the lamp, and promptly fell asleep - dismissing him from her bed and her room and her life as though he wasn’t even there. He had been so pissed off, so hurt, that he’d briefly considered sliding into bed beside her, stripping off that scanty little nightgown she was wearing, and seducing her while she slept. But knowing he would never be capable of doing something so heinous, he’d stormed off across the hall to his own place, slamming the door behind him, and had proceeded to drink himself to sleep.

He’d still been angry this morning, so angry that he hadn’t bothered to send her his usual good morning text, much less stop by her office mid-morning with her favorite coffee drink and a pastry of some sort.

‘Let her be the one to reach out to me for once,’ he’d told himself peevishly. “For all you know, she might not even notice - or care - that you haven’t texted her.’

But Delilah had noticed, at least long enough to send him a brief text just before noon, though it had been rather on the curt side.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t in a good mood last night, but I thought the subject of Vegas was over and done with a few weeks ago. I hope you have a good trip, and enjoy yourself - though not too much, of course. Love you.”

The message had mollified him just enough to send her an equally curt reply.

“Thanks, and I’ll be sure to behave. Talk to you soon. Love you, too.”

That had been the last communication between them, given that he’d still had to pack, summon a taxi, and get himself to the airport in time for his mid-afternoon flight to Vegas. His mood hadn’t improved one iota during the brief but noisy flight, and it had really taken a downward plunge when he’d stepped outside of the terminal in Vegas and groaned to realize it was blistering hot. The cab driver had blithely informed him that it was a sweltering one hundred and fourteen degrees today, and that the next day was forecast to be even hotter.

Finn had muttered something to himself about whose bright idea it had been to hold this party in Las Vegas in the middle of August, forgetting that this same event had also been held here for the past three years.

He’d taken his foul mood out on the overly perky front desk clerk, and he knew at some point he would feel bad about that, but right now he just wanted to feel sorry for himself - while getting drunk at the same time. He gave the spacious, luxuriously decorated suite barely a passing glance as he let himself in, leaving his suitcase in the middle of the living area as he made a beeline for the honor bar, hoping there were enough of those mini bottles inside to do the trick.

 

***

 

“Are you just going to sit here by yourself sulking all night?”

Finn glanced up in annoyance at the man who took a seat on the adjoining barstool. “I’m not just sitting here sulking,” he announced, his words slurring noticeably. “I also happen to be getting shit-faced.”

Sawyer Reid chuckled as he slapped Finn on the back. “Yeah, no kidding. I’m surprised you’ve been able to remain upright on that stool as long as you have. But come on, Finn. For a guy who used to always be the life of every party he was at, you’ve turned into the biggest buzzkill on the planet. Now, stop sulking and come join the rest of us.”

Finn waved his former teammate - his one-time favorite wide receiver - away irritably. “Not in the mood to party,” he grumbled. “Just let me sit here and drown my sorrows, okay?”

Sawyer looked perplexed, clearly not having any idea about how to handle a morose Finn. “Look, I know you’re depressed because your girlfriend couldn’t make it. But you’re not the only one who’s been alone these last couple of days. Look at Warren, for example. His wife stayed home back in Dallas and he came here by himself.”

Finn glared at his friend. “That’s because Georgeanne is due to give birth in less than two weeks, you moron. And Warren must text or call her every ten minutes at least to make sure her labor hasn’t started. He’s getting on my nerves, you know?”

Sawyer grimaced. “Okay, that’s a bad example. What about Danny? He’s here alone, and I know damned well he was real serious about some woman the last time we saw him.”

Finn drained his glass and motioned to the bartender for a refill. “He caught that same woman cheating on him with his best friend. But rather than find some action of his own to get revenge, he’s spent the last two days crying into his beer and trying to think of ways to win her back. Even I’m not that pathetic.”

“Shit,” muttered Sawyer. “Strike two. Well, if it’s any consolation, I’ve hardly seen anything of my wife these past two days. She’s been busy running up our credit cards at the spa and the shops. Every time I’m looking for her she’s having a manicure or a salt scrub - whatever the hell that is - or dragging half a dozen shopping bags filled with more overpriced designer crap into our suite. Given how little I’ve seen of her I might as well be here alone.”

Finn shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “Your problem, not mine, buddy. Now, go find your cute little wife and leave me alone, okay?”

“No.” Sawyer shook his head firmly. “I’m not just going to let you sit here and act like a pathetic old drunk. I never thought I’d see the day when the infamous Finn McManus looked like he was going to start crying over a girl. Where’s your pride, dumbass? Hey, if your girl doesn’t care enough about you to put aside her own needs for one lousy fucking day, then maybe she isn’t worth it, you know?”

“She’s worth it,” mumbled Finn almost incoherently.

“Is she, Finn? Is she really?” prodded Sawyer. “Christ, you’ve been in the worst mood for the past two days - grouchy, pissed off, surly. I don’t have to tell you how unlike you that really is. Don’t forget you and I were roommates most of the seven years we’ve played together, so I know all of your moods. And the mood you’re in right now isn’t one that suits you at all.”

“Leave me alone, Sawyer,” said Finn tiredly. “Like I said, all I want to do is to sit here and be miserable and drink myself into oblivion.”

“Tough. Oh, you can drink all you want. You’re just not doing it alone. Come on, you’ve been the worst party guest in the world ever since you arrived, hardly talking, having no fun at all. Everyone was laughing their asses off when you turned in early after dinner the last two nights. When word got around that you were moping over a woman - well, I’m not going to repeat some of the insults that flew around the room. But more than one person compared you to a female body part - the crude slang term and not the anatomically correct one - while a few others wondered if your backbone had been surgically removed. So, come on. I’m not going to let one of my best friends be insulted by a bunch of rookies and first and second year players who are barely old enough to shave. Let’s go show them the real Finn McManus - the one who tells the dirtiest jokes and the funniest stories, and who can drink just about anyone in the room under the table. And,” Sawyer added slyly, elbowing his friend in the ribs, “the one who’s guaranteed to attract the most women around him. I guarantee those little bastards will eat their words when they see you in action. Now, come on. Time for the real party to begin.”

Maybe because he felt sorry for himself, or perhaps because he was already more than halfway drunk, or most likely because he had just stopped giving a shit a couple of days ago, Finn stumbled to his feet and let Sawyer drag him away from his solitary misery.

 

***

 

Delilah took a deep breath, trying to fight off both her overwhelming fatigue and the cloying sensation of claustrophobia she was experiencing even before setting foot into the noisy, crowded, and chaotic room. She’d been initially afraid that she would arrive far too late, that by this time the party would already be starting to wind down. And she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or dismayed to find that in actuality things appeared to just be getting started, judging by the sheer number of bodies packed inside the night club that had been appropriated for tonight’s party.

Fortunately, she’d saved the email Finn had forwarded to her weeks ago with all of the details about this weekend’s schedule of events, including an electronic invitation to this exclusive party. Otherwise, she would have been obliged to email or text him so that he could have arranged for her to gain entry, thereby spoiling her surprise arrival. An arrival, she thought grimly as she strode briskly inside the packed room, that her boyfriend had better be damned grateful about, considering she’d practically had to move heaven and earth in order to be here tonight.

Despite Finn’s belief to the contrary, she had felt desperately guilty and regretful about not being able to accompany him this weekend. For his sake, she would have certainly been willing to put aside her dislike of these sort of big, splashy, over the top events, as well as the pretentious group of celebrities and wanna-be’s who would be attending. She had been fully prepared to paste on a happy smile, make polite conversation, and gut her way through the three day ordeal, simply to make Finn happy and to show she could be as supportive of his career as he had been of hers.

But, try as she might, she honestly hadn’t been able to carve out the time to get away for three entire days. If the deal with Bloomingdale’s hadn’t been imminent, she would have at least been able to fly out on Friday evening, and then return early Sunday morning. The sheer amount of work that still had to get done before the end of September, however, overwhelmed her at times, and she had very nearly succumbed to a full-blown panic attack on at least three occasions. The pressure Finn had been applying about coming to Vegas with him had only made things that much worse, because then she had also had her guilt to deal with.

She’d been furious at him on Wednesday night, pissed off at his total lack of sensitivity and understanding, and while she might have said a few things she’d regretted the next day, at the time they were things that needed to be said. And it was more than obvious that Finn was angry, too, given the infrequency and terseness of his texts these past few days. Delilah had hoped that he’d get over it after twenty-four hours, but apparently he was still in a snit about the whole situation since she had only received one very brief text from him earlier today, a text that was so impersonal he could have sent it to his dentist.

Calvin was the one who’d convinced her to make the trip out here tonight after all, the one who had met her in the office at three a.m. this morning to put in several uninterrupted hours of work before the rest of the staff arrived. With so much to do to get ready for the Bloomingdale’s deal, nearly everyone in the office was working six days a week lately, and many of them seven. Delilah had managed a scant four hours of sleep on Friday night before dragging herself out of bed and into the office in the middle of the night, all so she could get enough work done to be able to meet Finn in Vegas.

Calvin had been at her beck and call the entire day, bringing her coffee and tea and food, giving her neck rubs and pep talks when he seemed to sense she needed them the most, and making all of the arrangements for her brief, impromptu trip. He’d even gone to her condo and packed a bag for her, then arranged for a taxi to take her to the airport. She had taken one of the last flights out of San Francisco to Las Vegas, arriving in just before seven-thirty, and then immediately taken a cab here to Caesars Palace.

What she hadn’t counted on was the horrendously slow Saturday night traffic along the Strip, and it had taken nearly an hour to travel less than ten miles. Once inside the enormous hotel, Delilah had found her way to the closest ladies room, shutting herself inside one of the stalls as she’d hurriedly changed clothes. She’d been reluctant to wear her party dress and shoes on the flight, knowing that the black cocktail dress - with its low-cut lace bodice, and bandage style skirt that ended several inches above the knee - would attract way too much attention. Not to mention the fact that the four inch black lace and mesh stilettos weren’t exactly suited for dashing through busy airports.

She had touched up her makeup in the restroom mirror, adding her favorite red lipstick and making her eyes and brows more dramatic, before deciding that she would do. The bell desk had also been crazy busy considering the hour, and thus it had been after nine o’clock by the time she had checked her bag with them. Next had come fighting her way through hordes of hotel guests as she tried to locate the night club, and finally convincing the bouncer who guarded the entrance that she really had been invited to this party.

And now that she was actually inside, her next task would be to somehow locate Finn among what looked like hundreds of guests. Between the throbbing bass music a DJ was spinning somewhere, and the raised voices of all the guests, the noise level in the room was far too loud for her to ask a passer-by if they had seen Finn anywhere. And since she had yet to meet any of his friends from the network or the NFL, Delilah wouldn’t have even known who to approach.

As she made her way around the cavernous club, she lost count of how many suggestive comments and wolf whistles were directed her way, cursed each time she had to wedge her way in between a tightly packed group of people - all of whom seemed to be more than half-drunk already - and winced when someone stepped on her foot. She smacked away at least a dozen different hands who touched her hip or arm or ass far too intimately as she struggled to pass by. But then, when she was almost ready to forget about surprising him and send Finn an urgent text asking him where the hell he was, she saw him - and had to fight off the urge to toss her phone directly at his head instead. Either that or upend the contents of his drink over his stupid head. She would have preferred to dump it in his lap, she thought savagely, except for the little matter of that spot currently being occupied by a leggy, voluptuous blonde.

This, she realized with a mixture of sadness and fury, was the real Finn McManus. The hard partying, hard drinking, carefree player who had graced the cover of too many tabloids to count. The lifelong bachelor who was destined to break her heart just like Desiree had warned her he would. And the one she had stupidly, naively believed could actually change for the better, who could be the kind of man she could finally make a commitment to, and perhaps even make a life with. Why, oh why, she thought to herself wildly, had she chosen to ignore all of her instincts when it came to Finn - the instincts that had practically screamed at her to turn and run away from him as fast as she could. All the signs had been there, after all - the signs that pointed to Finn being no different than Daniel Ferris, the only other man who had ever broken Delilah’s heart.

Finn hadn’t noticed her yet, small wonder considering the crowd gathered around him, and the way he seemed to be having the time of his life, she noted scornfully. He was seated smack in the middle of the same sort of oversized black leather sectional sofa that she’d seen throughout the nightclub area. There were at least two dozen, maybe more, men and women who were hanging on his every word as he animatedly told some sort of story, or more likely one of his risqué jokes. On the low, glass-topped table in front of where he sat were scattered empty and half-empty glasses, bottles of beer, and several bottles of champagne. He looked, thought Delilah snidely, like he was holding court or something, and relishing every minute of being in the spotlight.

Besides the trashy blonde who’d taken up residence on his lap, her arms looped intimately around his neck, there was a woman seated on either side of him - the chic Asian woman who had snuggled up close enough to push her boobs against his arm, and a very drunk redhead who was laughing so hard that her voice could be heard over the loud din. The redhead kept running her hand up and down Finn’s arm, and Delilah longed to dislocate one or more of those long fingers, the way she’d learned in a self-defense class.

Her entire body was practically shaking with rage right now, and she had to clench both fists tightly to prevent her from swiping all of the glasses and bottles off that table in one motion, thereby causing a commotion that would be sure to quiet this place down real fast. But she wasn’t about to give Finn the satisfaction of causing a scene, even though she longed for nothing more than to smash one of those champagne bottles over his infuriatingly thick head. She didn’t even want to think about how hard she’d pushed herself today, how she had been awake for almost twenty-four hours straight now, just so she wouldn’t let him down by not showing up for this awful party. Because if she let herself remember all that, there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t start screaming at the top of her lungs.

Just as she decided to make a hasty departure, having chosen not to make her presence known to Finn, he happened to glance up in her direction and froze. Delilah guessed that she must have been giving him the sort of evil eye that could burn a hole through a person’s head, given the expression of utter panic that came over his face suddenly.

What happened next would have been hysterically funny - the sort of slapstick scene that used to occur regularly in old comedy movies like the Keystone Cops - had she felt the least bit like laughing. Finn surged to his feet unsteadily, heedless of the skanky blonde who’d been cuddled up on his lap. The blonde shrieked as she was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor, causing several of the people who’d been sitting on the sectional to scamper out of the way. Finn bumped into the glass topped table hard enough to topple over most of the glasses and bottles, resulting in beer and champagne being sprayed on most anyone in the vicinity. There was yelling and shoving and such utter chaos that she couldn’t help smirking just a little.

But then, as Finn began to stagger towards her, she glared at him warningly before pushing her way through the crowd on her way to the exit. This time she didn’t bother being polite, or try to avoid contact, and instead physically shoved people out of her way, stepping on more than a few toes in the process, and sticking her elbow in a countless number of ribs as she hurried out of the club.

Delilah had almost made it to the elevators, thinking that she was home free, when Finn caught up to her, taking hold of her arm and spinning her around to face him. He was visibly stricken, so upset that she could swear he was about to start crying.

“Delilah,” he croaked. “What - what are you doing here?” He glanced at her sexy black lace dress and heels. “I - I mean, obviously you’re here to attend the party. What I meant was - shit, what did I mean?”

She jerked her arm out of his grasp. “Jesus, Finn. Just how much have you had to drink anyway? Enough to pickle your brain, I’d guess. Though even someone as wasted as you are right now should have guessed that I came all this way to surprise you. To support you. To make you happy, you fucking manwhore jackass. And this is what I get in return - you holding court like you’re Caesar himself at one of those Roman orgies. Which makes me wonder exactly what else has been going on these past two days. God, how stupid I’ve been to think you could ever change!”

“No, no,” he protested, trying desperately to put his arms around her, only to find her hand planted in the middle of his chest, holding him at bay. “I swear to God, Delilah, that nothing has happened since I arrived. Nothing. I’ve been so bummed out about the fight we had that I’ve been closing myself up in my room after dinner each night, barely even talked to any of my friends. Until a little while ago, that is.”

“Yeah,” she sneered in agreement. “Guess you decided that you’d been a good little boy long enough, and that poor, lonely Finn deserved some fun. Tell me, which one of your fan club was going to be lucky enough to go back to your room with you tonight? Or maybe you planned to take all three. Wouldn’t be the first time you did something like that, would it?”

Finn shook his head vehemently. “Honest to God, Delilah, I had no intention of doing anything like that. No intention of screwing around on you. I know what you just saw looked bad, I’ll admit that, but - ”

“Looked bad!” she screeched, drawing the attention of a couple of dozen passers-by. But she was too pissed off right now, too hurt, to give a damn about being overheard or observed. “Finn, that blonde tramp was practically giving you a fucking lap dance, while the Asian chick was rubbing up against you like a cat. And if that redhead’s dress was cut any lower everyone in the place would have seen her boobs. Which, by the way, were totally fake. And if your little harem there wasn’t bad enough, I’m not even going to ask just how much you’ve had to drink tonight. You reek of booze so bad it’s seeping out of your pores. And don’t,” she cautioned, holding up a hand in warning, “try to bullshit me that someone spilled a drink on you this time. You can barely stay on your feet you’re so wasted.”

He look shamefaced at her harsh rebuke. “I know I messed up real bad,” he admitted meekly. “But I was angry and hurt and lonely, and I’d already had too much to drink when some of my buddies strong armed me into joining their group. That’s no excuse, I know, but you already knew I was an idiot, Delilah. Look, can we maybe go somewhere more private and talk about this? We can have dinner in one of the restaurants, or just go to my suite and order room service.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Are you high as well as drunk? The only place I’m going, Finn McManus, is straight back to San Francisco. There’s a late flight out tonight and I’m planning on being on it. So get out of my way and let me grab my bag from the bell desk so I can head to the airport. I think I’ll have just enough time to make the flight.”

“Delilah, please?” he begged, his hands dropping to her shoulders. “Come on, baby. You don’t have to tell me how majorly I just screwed up, but at least give me a chance to apologize, to make it up to you. And after you flew all this way just for me, let me buy you a nice dinner. And you shouldn’t fly back tonight, especially since I can guess how hard you had to work in order to get away. Stay the night, okay? Please, baby.”

Enraged at his assumption that he could smooth everything over by sweet talking her and buying her dinner, she poked him in the chest with the tip of her nail, feeling an immense sense of satisfaction when he winced in pain. “First of all,” she hissed, “you so don’t get to call me baby right about now. Second, after that nauseating display I just witnessed I seem to have lost my appetite. And third, if you think for one minute that I’m going to sleep in the same room as you tonight - much less the same bed - then you’re even drunker or dumber than you seem.”

“I get that,” he replied sadly. “I know you’re really, really mad right now, and I don’t blame you in the least. And I understand if you don’t want to share a room with me, even though I was already planning to take the sofabed. I’ll just get a separate room for you then so you don’t have to fly back tonight. Or I can crash with one of my buddies - his wife couldn’t make it because she’s expecting a baby real soon - and you can have my room.”

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest and wished he didn’t look so damned miserable because she really, really wanted to slug him right now. But when he turned those sad puppy dog eyes on her the urge to do him bodily harm lessened.

“I want to go home, Finn,” she insisted. “Tonight. You have no idea what I went through just to be able to come here this evening, no idea at all. Calvin and I have been working almost round the clock to make this happen, it was going to be a big surprise, and it turns out I was the one to be surprised. No, make that shocked. And certainly not in a good way. So since there’s no point in my hanging around here - because there is no possible way I want to be near you right now - I might as well go home so I can get some badly needed work done in the morning.”

Finn tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Please, can’t we try and talk this out, Delilah?” he pleaded, his voice beginning to sound more than a little desperate. “I made a mistake, a big, fucking mistake, and I’ve already admitted I had way too much to drink. And when I drink a lot I tend to do stupid things. I don’t have any real excuse for doing that, just - well, I just missed you, I guess. Plus I was still angry that you wouldn’t find a way to come with me. I guess maybe my feelings were hurt, you know?”

She poked him with her fingernail again, harder this time. “And you don’t think maybe my feelings aren’t hurt right now?” she hurled at him. “That they aren’t fucking destroyed? But then you didn’t see the - the orgy through my eyes, did you? I should have taken a picture so you could see for yourself just how bad it looked, Finn. Those women hanging all over you, everybody fawning over you, all the booze everywhere. And you - you were enjoying it all, you bastard. You looked to me like you were in your element, that you were finally able to let your alter ego out to play without your nagging girlfriend nearby to be a buzzkill. Except that the Finn I saw a little while ago isn’t your alter ego, is he? That’s the real Finn McManus. And the Finn you’ve been pretending to be around me all these months is just a sham.”

“No, no,” he groaned, grabbing hold of her hand and taking it between both of his. “That asshole you saw a few minutes ago was me at one time. But ever since I met you that Finn hasn’t been hanging around.”

“But he’s still there, Finn,” insisted Delilah. “Still lurking beneath the surface and just waiting for an opportunity to come out and enjoy himself.”

She felt hot tears begin to shimmer in her eyes and furiously blinked them away.

“How can I ever trust you again?” she whispered brokenly. “You said yourself that this weekend was just the beginning of your travels over the next few months, that you’d have to go to L.A. every weekend, plus other, longer trips as well. How do I know that you aren’t going to do something like this every time you’re away? And the next time I won’t be able to join you, what’s to stop you for taking it even further?”

“I swear to God this will never happen again, Delilah,” vowed Finn. “Just please let me make it up to you. I’m so sorry, so damned sorry. Like I said, I was pissed off and feeling sorry for myself, and I made some bad decisions, let myself get talked into hanging out with the wrong group of people when I should have just gone back to my room alone.”

“I get it,” she snapped. “Your fragile little ego was bruised because for once in your life you weren’t the center of someone’s universe. Because you didn’t get your own way. Well, sorry, but I don’t have time right now to stroke your enormous ego. Or worry every time you go away what sort of trouble you might get into. I saw what my mother went through with my father every time he went away on one of his business trips, saw her crying and worrying. And I swore I’d never, ever get involved with a man who was anything like my father. Yeah, I know, I know. You’re not married like he was. But you and I did make promises to each other, Finn - promises that we’d be the only person in each other’s lives for as long as this lasted. And I think it’s lasted long enough, don’t you?”

Finn’s face drained of all color at her words, and he looked like he might even pass out as he slapped a hand against the wall to hold himself up. “You don’t mean that,” he rasped, his green eyes wide with shock. “You’re just angry right now, and hurt, and exhausted. You need to give me a chance, Delilah, a chance to make this up to you and prove that I’m worthy of your trust.”

“I did give you a chance,” she cried, jerking her hand from his grasp. “I never wanted to go out with you, Finn, knew that there was a better than even chance something like this would happen sooner than later. But you kept at me, and kept at me, until I finally said yes, figuring I’d be just another of your one-night stands. The fact that you’ve been on your best behavior this long frankly astounds me, but I should have known better. I should have known that you’d eventually break my heart.”

He held out his hand to her. “Delilah, don’t do this, please. Give me another chance. Give us another chance.”

She shook her head. “Leave me alone, Finn. I mean it. I don’t want to be with you right now, or talk to you. I can’t say for sure if this is over with, but for the moment you definitely need to give me some space and back off.”

An elevator door opened to her right just then, and before he could react she sprinted inside and hit the button for the lobby, refusing to look in his direction as the doors closed. She was grateful this time for the chaos in the lobby, figuring that it would make it that much more difficult for Finn to locate her if he came searching, which he was sure to do. She re-claimed her bag from the bellman, hurried out the main entrance, and was safely ensconced within a taxi in less than ten minutes.

During the return trip to the airport, which fortunately took far less time than the ride out, she used her phone to book her return flight, relieved to note there were still a few seats available. She swapped out her stilettos for the flats she’d worn earlier, then fished out a lightweight cardigan from her bag. It wouldn’t completely cover her glamorous cocktail dress, but it would be better than nothing. And just before the taxi pulled up to the airport, she quickly deleted all ten of the text messages Finn had sent her in quick succession before blocking his phone number with a ruthless sense of glee.

She made the last flight out to San Francisco with a scant twenty minutes to spare, and was back at her condo shortly before midnight. Practically collapsing from the combined effects of exhaustion, anger, and sadness, she unplugged her landline from the wall after noticing the dozen messages that were undoubtedly from Finn. She noted absently that she’d have to block his numbers from her home phone, too, as well as demand her key back or have her locks changed.

But as she began to take off her makeup and get ready for bed, she noticed the toiletry articles he’d begun keeping in her bathroom. And it was then - at the sight of his razor and toothbrush and aftershave - that it all became far, far too much for her to cope with any longer, and the sobs broke from her throat uncontrollably.