"Where's your focus?" I asked. "I just told you Kya Allen is not interested in anything but an endorsement deal. If it’s not on the dotted line, then she's not interested. So what if I find her attractive? There are plenty of ways to deal with that."
"Is that what your little party last night was all about?" he asked. He threw me a towel. "Might as well shower up and get some rest. You're a wreck."
I leaned my forehead against the cool tile of the shower as the hot water kneaded my sore muscles. Aldous was right about one thing– last night's party was meant to get Kya off my mind. First, there were the fake twins with their matching shade of blonde and tiny silver skirts. After Kya appeared on the dance floor, I ditched them in favor of a tall woman with blue streaks in her black hair. She had the most amazing hands, but when Kya left the party, all I did was drink.
I toweled off and found the Army surplus cot Aldous had set out for me in a private corner of the gym. I knew as soon as I shut my eyes, I would see Kya.
"Hello?" I answered my phone on the first ring.
"So, I was going to take you up on your offer, but I'm not so excited about sleeping in the back room of a boxing gym," Dana Maria said.
"I'm sorry, sis. I can explain," I said.
"No need to explain; your story is all over the media. I think it’s safe to say I was right. We don't know each other anymore and you don't owe me a thing," my sister said.
I slumped back on the hard cot. My reputation had skyrocketed my popularity over the past few hours. I was now a trending topic. I could not change the way the world viewed me, now. Too bad my sister and Kya had to see me that way, too.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kya
When I gave the front desk cle
rk my company credit card and requested a suite, I had no idea what I was getting. Within minutes, a porter accompanied me to my old room, gathered up my suitcase and carryon, and whisked me five stories higher. There, he unlocked the door to a miniature paradise.
Large picture windows overlooked the pool. From that height, it was a jungle-like vista with spots of bright blue. The rest of the view stretched out over Vegas with all the major casinos easily identified. I stood and had to admire the bright, garish architecture of the town.
It was easy to understand why people loved Las Vegas. There was no mistaking it for any other place and that made escaping the normal day-to-day almost automatic. Except I was there to work. I turned to explore the suite and laughed out loud.
A full kitchen complete with restaurant-grade appliances and hand blown glass fixtures overlooked a wide sitting area. A gas fireplace glowed against the bright sunlight of the room, promising to be a warm and cozy contrast to the neon lights later that night. Two rooms with double-doors swung wide flanked the main area and both had king-sized beds and luxury bathrooms. The master suite was distinguishable by an added hot tub alcove in the corner.
I finally understood why so many endorsement agents got seduced by life on the road. Expense accounts were easy to abuse under the excuse of wining and dining a client.
"Come in," I called at a knock on the door.
A tall man with a golden tan and flashing white teeth strode into the suite and placed two cases on the granite counter of the kitchen. "The front desk told me you were thinking about dining in this evening. I am the personal chef assigned to your suite. Room service is also available, but I thought I would let you know I am free this evening if you would prefer something prepared fresh here just for you."
I blinked, thinking he might be a mirage. Had I stared out the picture windows at the desert sun too long? "I, um, am planning to entertain a client tonight. The Mixed Martial Arts fighter, Fenton Morris. Have you heard of him?"
The blond chef smiled. "If I had missed his billboards, I certainly would have heard about his big scene at the MGM this morning. Seems like a rough customer, but easy to cook for. Steak, risotto, fresh vegetable medley. It'll be nice to cook for an athlete that might actually eat leafy greens."
"That sounds wonderful," I said. I wrung my hands and looked around at the suite again. Was this for real?
"And, how about a glass of wine for you? Perhaps a nice peppery Cabernet?" The handsome chef tied on a white apron and opened the larger of his cases. He selected a bottle of wine and cocked a questioning eyebrow at me.
"Wine? Yes, now. Now would be good," I agreed.
He laughed. "Don't worry. Drink this and take your time getting ready. I'll have appetizers ready for your guest when he arrives. Stuffed mushroom caps and parmesan crostini, always a hit."
The personal chef winked as he handed me a large glass of wine. I stammered my thanks and wandered into the master suite in a daze. Only twenty minutes ago, I had sat in my small hotel room struggling to send just the right invitation to Fenton. Now, I was sipping wine in a luxury suite while contemplating which dress to wear.
"I can do this," I said out loud. "I can land this client."
I had started to refer to Fenton as “this client” because otherwise, all I could think about was his laser blue eyes watching me across last night's wild party or his wide hands catching me around the waist, his warm lips trailing down the side of my neck. I shook myself out of the lingering thoughts and selected a coral red dress with a conservative neckline. To make up for the high neckline, I swept my hair into a loose bun, careful not to imagine my client's hot kisses along the skin I exposed.
I was ready. Heavenly smells drifted from the kitchen. And it was already ten minutes past the time I put on the invitation. The picture window framed a stunning desert sunset, but I could not enjoy a second of it. My heart sank faster than the fiery sun. Fenton had no reason to come. All of this was a waste and instead of a bonus, I would be paying off my expense account for the next six months.
If the client would not come to me, then I would have to go to the client. I had already suffered through an innuendo-laced conversation with Kev Casey and found out the gym where Fenton was training. He'd also let it slip that Fenton had slept there last night. I would head there first and then, I gulped at the thought, search all the strip clubs in Vegas.