had wanted to run directly to Linc, but Noelle had stopped her. Thank God.
The last thing she wanted was to bring this type of mess into the Donovan family. They’d all been so nice and loving to her over these past two years that she owed them so much more than to have some crazy married man trying to win back the affection she’d so foolishly given him.
“Cheer up. My house is air-conditioned,” Brock said as he watched her still sitting in the seat staring straight ahead. He’d gotten out of the car and had been holding the door open for a few minutes now, waiting for her to get out.
When she still hadn’t moved he touched a hand to her arm. She jerked, then those hypnotic eyes found his. He swallowed and willed himself not to have any other reaction. “You all right?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice just a little agitated because for a moment she’d forgotten where she was and who she was with. “I’m fine.” Pulling her arm out of his reach, she jumped down from the cab.
And just like that she moved past him, walking along the pathway toward the side door of his house. Taking her luggage out of the car, Brock figured that whatever was on her mind was her business. The fact that she now looked almost haunted shouldn’t have bothered him. And yet, it did.
His house was gorgeous. As far as spacious rooms, hardwood floors and a terrific view of the water went. However, it was a little on the empty side where furniture was concerned.
The concept that less meant…well, less, continued on into the kitchen where alongside the stainless steel appliances and on top of the blue-flecked granite countertop was a coffeemaker, with the smallest coffeepot Noelle had ever seen. Next to the pot was a medium-sized canister of decaffeinated coffee in a pretty average brand. There was a dishwasher but it looked barely used, no fingerprints at or near the handle as you’d usually see with stainless steel. Beside the dish drainer to the right of the double sink she spied a mug, one bowl and one spoon inside it, probably left over from his breakfast. It was quite neat for the kitchen of a man, riding close to the definition of sterile. However, it fit right along with Brock’s seemingly uptight demeanor.
But it was when they walked out onto the screened porch with its brick-encased fireplace that Noelle felt something slightly different. The furniture was made of heavy oak with deep, inviting cushions in a soft caramel tone. Rugs, not Oriental but plush and functional, aligned the tiled floor. There were coffee tables and end tables, but they only held lamps and the remote control to the entertainment system that lined one entire wall, she assumed. The fireplace looked well used, just as the chair closest to it. He sat there, she imagined, put his feet up on the table and read one of the books stuffed into the bookshelf in the living room.
“You spend a lot of time out here?” she asked, letting her hand touch the softness of the chair before sitting down.
“I do,” he admitted with a slightly questioning tone.
“You’re not a man of many words, are you?” Noelle asked, already assuming she’d get another one- to two-word response.
“I get by.”
She nodded and retained a knowing grin. This was going to be a long, dismal summer for her—getting by on his sparse answers and trying to make sense of them.
“So let’s talk about the casino,” she said because there was no use trying to discuss anything else. Brock Remington was not a talker. That was fine—she wasn’t here to talk or to get to know him. She was here to work and that’s all she planned to do, no matter how well he wore his jeans.
Chapter 3
It was all about business, Brock reminded himself as he pulled out the blueprints he’d retrieved from his office and laid them on the coffee table on the porch in front of her. She bent forward, letting her elbows rest on her knees as she surveyed them.
She wore jeans, fitted to perfection, he might add, and a T-shirt with “Las Vegas” in glittering, swirling letters across her breasts. If Brock had ever wanted to be something in his next life it would be those letters. Looking as if it was costing her dearly to sit still, she tapped her feet on the floor while she studied the papers.
For a moment Brock wondered if she even knew what she was looking at, then chastised himself for assuming that just because she was gorgeous and stacked like a Playboy magazine model that she didn’t have an ounce of sense. Linc had told him how she’d obtained her degree and still took managerial classes to keep sharp on the job. He’d be wise to remember that instead of the way that denim hugged her plump bottom.
“This is a different concept you’ve used,” she was saying.
Taking a seat in his favorite chair, Brock nodded. “Most casinos are designed to spread out, with gaming facilities going horizontally and hotel towers on top. My architect and I decided to break from the norm. Luckily Linc approved.”
She nodded. “I can see why he did.”
Taking that as a compliment, Brock cracked a small smile. “Do you like it?”
He wasn’t prepared for her to look up at him in response, but she did. She didn’t smile, but the twinkle in her eye said she was pleased. “I do. I think it’s more than functional—it’s unique. Having a dash of gaming, entertainment and suites on each floor is a great opportunity for us to capitalize on every guest.”
“Exactly. The idea is that no matter where the guest goes in the facility they’ll have options of where and how to spend their money.”
“And that’s the name of the game.”
She did smile then and he joined her, relaxing a bit. She was in his space, a place where he normally didn’t allow women he barely knew. But since he’d known they would need to work long grueling hours to get the Gramercy II up and running, he’d been the one to suggest to Linc that she simply stay at the house with him instead of getting a hotel room. Surprisingly, both Linc and Noelle had thought that a wise idea.
When they’d toured the house he’d been on edge, wondering what she thought about what she was seeing. He didn’t put a lot of time and energy into decorating, much to Josette’s dismay. He functioned on the bare necessities, which could come off as sparse to some. But since he never entertained, beyond having Josette and Kent over to light up the grill, it didn’t matter.
Speaking of which, he said, “I planned to put a couple of steaks on the grill for dinner. Is that okay with you?”
“Ah, yeah. That’s fine. I like steak.”
He nodded. “Good.”
“What I don’t like are all these windows.”
Brock looked around and frowned. “It’s a screened porch,” he said in defense.
“What? Oh, no, not here. The porch is nice. It’s comfortable and probably relaxing after a long day’s work.” She tapped a finger to the blueprint. “I’m talking about at the casino. You have to know that reminding the guest of the time distracts them from gambling. They’ll realize how long they’ve been at one table if they can see that when they came in it was daylight and now it’s dark.”
He felt like an idiot. Of course she was talking about the casino.
“Normally that’s true,” he said, clearing his throat. “But we’ve designed some special effects lighting that will change the moods. So the guest isn’t reminded of the time but entranced by the ambiance.”
She looked to be thinking that over, her hair brushing over her shoulders as she nodded. “That might work. Now what about here? What’s this?”
“The waterfall cove,” he answered. “People in this region are in love with the water so we decided to keep that as the recurring theme. Instead of something as ostentatious and played out as pyramids and Egyptian or Venetian themes, we thought we’d simply let nature take its course, per se.”
“Your architect is