"Ms. Allen, I thought you had forgotten about me," Jackson McRay's voice was light and mocking. "Celebrating the big win of your blue collar brawler, I suppose."
"I'm surprised to hear from you, I thought the tournament started today," I said.
"I played my first round already this morning. Aren't you supposed to keep up with such things?"
"I do. I will. Now that I know you are interested in becoming a client," I said. I turned away from Fenton who stood with his arms crossed, clearly listening to my half of the conversation.
"Well, then, I can catch you up. I'm actually in the Tropicana. Why don't you invite me up for a cup of coffee? I'll jump on the elevator and see you in a few," Jackson said. He hung up the phone.
I felt a swirl of panic in my stomach as I turned back around. Fenton frowned at me, his arms crossed tighter than before. "Looks like it’s less about balance and more about juggling," I said. "Jackson McRay, the golfer, is on his way up to the suite for a cup of coffee. We have possible business to discuss."
He followed me into the master bedroom as I yanked a cardigan over my white t-shirt and tried to make myself look presentable. I was relieved to see the red blush across my cheeks was fading. Then, Fenton caught me in his arms again.
"Are you sure you don't want to blow off the coffee meeting and jump in the shower with me?" he asked. His fingers danced up and down my back.
I shivered with pleasure and pushed him away. "I see what you're doing. You're trying to make me screw up this contract so I have to go back to Chicago."
He shook his head. "It would be easier to concentrate, but I like you in Vegas. I want you in Vegas."
There was a sharp knock on the suite door. I could not help but brush a soft kiss across Fenton's lips before I hurried away across the suite to let Jackson in. As the golfer strode inside, I glanced back and saw Fenton disappear into the second bedroom.
The knot of worry in my chest loosened. "Good morning, I think there's still some hot coffee in the pot. Unless you'd rather go downstairs?"
"Whatever you've got is fine. Wow, must have been some party here last night," Jackson said. "You throw a big bash every time y
our client does well?"
"I didn't have much of a choice. Fenton decided to stay here when the MGM Grand kicked him out," I said. I glanced at the second bedroom, worried the door would fly open any minute. Better that Jackson heard from me than found out through one of Fenton's grand entrances.
Jackson scrubbed a hand over his short, cropped brown hair. "Interesting. Though, I guess it shows you are a generous agent. Very hands on?" he asked.
I swallowed hard, feeling the undertow of his question. "As far as letting clients use this suite. It’s paid for by the company," I said. "Now, why don't you catch me up on your round this morning?"
The tight hold in Jackson's shoulders relaxed and he sat down at the kitchen counter. I poured him a cup of coffee, relieved that he was no longer looming over me. He was tall with wide shoulders, not as heavily muscled as Fenton, but there was a hardness under his pale yellow Polo shirt.
"We don't have to talk about work just yet," he said.
His tan arms reached out towards me across the kitchen island and I immediately wanted to pull back. I knew he would be offended, he had already made his interest in me clear, and so I forced myself to stay still.
"What else is there to discuss?" I asked.
Jackson caught my hand, but the second bedroom door crashed open. He swiveled in his chair and I was able to pull myself loose from his hold. Fenton strolled out in dark jeans. He held his t-shirt loosely in his hands, the hard cut of his abs and the dark slashes of his tattoos on full display. He looked menacing, out of place against the soft white luxury of the suite, as if he belonged in an alley ready to fight.
The look he gave Jackson was taunting. "Oh, sorry, didn't know Kya was conducting business." He yanked his shirt on and kept coming towards us. "She warned me she had some client coming over. We've met before, right?"
"Yes," Jackson bit out. "Now, if you'll excuse us?"
"Oh, sure, don't mind me. Any chance there's more coffee?" Fenton asked.
I poured him a cup and gave him a sharp glance, but Fenton pretended not to notice. He stood at the edge of the kitchen counter and slowly dripped cream into his cup, taking the time to taste it and decide if he needed more.
Jackson watched him with growing aggravation. "Maybe you were right, Kya. We should head downstairs."
"Hey, if you go for breakfast could you bring me a little something back? You know what I like," Fenton said. He waggled his eyebrows at me.
Jackson caught the suggestive look and his jaw tightened.
"Was that a knock at the door?" I asked. They both looked at me as if I was crazy until the knock came again. "I'll get it," I said.