The Ceo's Surprise Family. Teresa Carpenter
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You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He dropped his head forward as if he’d reached the end of his patience, but she thought she saw just the tiniest of smiles at the corner of his mouth.
* * *
“The event at Caesar’s Palace is an art showing at the Maxim Gallery.”
Interest flared in her bright blue eyes. “Oh, that sounds like fun. I’ve heard of the Maxim. I’ll warn you, though, that I know nothing about art.”
“There’s no need for you to have knowledge of art.” Jethro assured her.
He was still wondering at himself for allowing her to join him at the opening. It was unlike him to make impulsive decisions. And he didn’t reward dishonesty. She may be from Excursions, but she was unlike any of his previous dates. And a former dancer. That alone should have been enough to drop her off along the strip as she’d urged him to do.
But there was a lightness about her that appealed to him, a genuineness that intrigued his jaded soul.
Outrageous was an understatement. No one talked to him like she did. Stuffed shirt? Pompous? He’d fire anyone who dared say such a thing. It didn’t matter that it was the truth. That he worked hard to maintain a hand’s distance from everyone around him. He wouldn’t be disrespected.
Coming from her it rang of the truth, plainly spoken.
“Good. Because my art appreciation is limited to knowing what I like, which could be anything from a good Elvis painting to a portrait of an old woman smiling. And I never know if there’s any importance attached to the piece.”
“Well, it’s highly doubtful there’s any significance to a velvet Elvis painting.”
Soft laughter trilled through the air. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “I know that much, silly. But he was a huge contributor to the music world and I like the colors. When I look at the painting, I like to think he found peace.”
So did Jethro. Elvis was a favorite artist of his. One more thing linking him to this woman when the softness of her was already too dangerous. She didn’t fit in either of the two categories he allowed in his life.
“So you don’t believe he’s living a secret life somewhere?”
“No.” Sadness briefly dimmed the animation of her delicate features. “Much as I’d like to believe he’s still with us, music was too much a part of his soul for him to stay undetected all these years. He’d have to perform, and if he performed he’d be found.”
Disconcerted because he held the same belief, he went on the offensive.
“How old are you?” he asked derisively. “Twenty-three? Twenty-four? You’re too young to be an Elvis fan.”
“Please, great music transcends age. And I’m twenty-seven. Old enough to know my own mind.”
Not as young as he’d feared—or should that be hoped? Against his better judgment, he’d decided to indulge himself tonight and enjoy a bit of light company, but having a few elements that put her beyond his strict restrictions would be helpful.
“We’re here.” The car rolled to a smooth stop. Jethro pushed the door open and stepped out.
“Good evening, Mr. Calder.” A valet immediately appeared to greet him. “Welcome back to Caesar’s Palace.”
“Thank you. We’re here for the Kittrell showing.”
“Very good, sir. We’ve had a steady stream of arrivals for the showing tonight.”
“That’s good to hear.” Jethro tipped the young African American before extending a hand to assist Lexi from the car.
“Sean!” she exclaimed and gave the valet a warm hug. “I’m glad to see you’re back in town. How is your mother?”
Sean shifted, uncomfortable under Jethro’s stern regard, but the smile he turned on Lexi was full of warmth. “On her feet again. The knee surgery was just what she needed to get her pep back.”
“I’m glad to hear it. She’s too young to be sitting on the couch. You tell her I said hi.”
“I will. And I want to hear what’s going on with you.” Sean discreetly nodded in Jethro’s direction. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Yes, I’m off to view art.” She glanced his way, and Jethro absorbed the impact of her laughing eyes. “See you soon.” She bid her friend goodbye and made her way to his side.
He claimed her hand. “Do you know every valet in Las Vegas?”
“I know a lot. For all the tourists, Las Vegas is a small town. At least when it comes to the world of entertainers. Valeting is a common way to pick up extra money or pay the bills between jobs.”
“I see.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No.”
“Something’s bothering you,” she insisted. “Does it upset you that I stopped to speak to them? Because it would be rude to ignore the fact I know them.”
“It’s their job to provide discrete service and fade into the background. I’m sure they respect the dynamics of the job.”
“You’re saying it’s okay to be rude.”
“I’m saying, they’re working.”
“So you’re a snob.”
He sighed. “I’m not a snob. I just like getting where I’m going without a lot of meaningless chitchat.”
“It wasn’t meaningless.” She protested. “I was genuinely interested in how his mother was doing.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” She easily kept stride with him as he led her toward the famous Caesar shopping mall.
“The point is it’s rude to be making a fuss over other men when you’re out with a man.”
“But we’re not on a date.” She reminded him with a tad more satisfaction than he cared for.
“We’re together. That’s what counts.”
“So it’s okay for me to be rude to them, but not to you?”
“Correct. No. Stop messing with me. You’re giving me a headache.”
She grinned, obviously pleased to be called on her teasing. “If you loosened up a bit, you wouldn’t get headaches.”
“Woman, you are a headache.”
“Ah, you say the nicest things. Oh, it’s the thunderstorm. I love this. Do we have time to watch?”
Without waiting for a response she skipped—yes, skipped—forward to perch on the stone bench of a fountain. He found himself following her, taking satisfaction in indulging her delight. She patted the space next to her inviting him to sit.
Suddenly an uncertain expression crossed her face and she popped to her feet. “Sorry—my oops. I know you want to get where you’re going.”
“Sit. Enjoy your show.” He sat. “And when we get to the showing, you can do something for me.”
“Ah.” She resumed her perch, her knee touching his, her gaze focused above on the changing skyscape of the indoor mall. The sunny day had darkened to gray clouds with flashes of lightning. “The job your dates perform for you.”
The comment annoyed him. So what if he wanted his companions to provide a service while they were with him. He paid good money for their company. And tipped well.
“You really are a pest. If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”
“Don’t