“You didn’t know me.”
“You had the right look.”
“I was wearing my glasses. I didn’t look like a glamorous woman, the kind of woman you’d want.”
“That’s precisely why I
did
want you. You were quiet and refined. Everything I needed in a wife.”
“You married me because I fit an image in your head?” she asked.
“Yes. The perfect wife.”
“Dammit, Deacon. I’m not a cardboard cutout. I’m a real woman and I don’t fit neatly into any role. I thought you knew me better than that.”
“I do,” he said, realizing the more he talked, the worse the conversation was going. He knew about luck and wagering and it was definitely time to fold his hand and retreat. There’d be another hand and another game. One he’d be better able to win when he was prepared for the game.
“What made me your idea of the perfect wife?” she asked.
Ah, hell. This wasn’t going to end well. He knew it. He glanced at his cell phone, which for once was silent. “I…uh…”
“Stalling is not going to help. I want to know.”
“Angel, it’s not like that. I may have started out with an image of a perfect woman to fill the role of wife and hopefully someday mother, but once I got to know you, I realized you were the only woman for me.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” He closed the gap between them and swept her into his arms. This was much better. Shyly her arms came around his waist and she rested her head over his heart.
“I’m so glad to hear that. I’d thought you must feel the same way about me as I do about you.”
“How do you feel about me, angel?”
“I love you,” she said, looking up at him.
His stomach dropped and his feelings of security fled. He could handle anything but this. Anything but love. The one illusion he knew didn’t really exist because he’d seen it change on the roll of the dice.
Kylie waited to hear Deacon return her words. To hear that he loved her, too. But he said nothing. His hands froze on her back, and she knew she’d misjudged him again. Whatever he may when he’d said he’d married her for who she was, she realized he hadn’t married her for love.
Her heart broke all over again. And she stepped away from him, afraid to look at him or she’d start crying. God, this wasn’t what she’d expected when she married Deacon.
“You don’t love me, do you, Deacon,” she said. Did she really sound that needy? Her voice was husky.
Deacon ran a hand through his hair and then tipped his head to the side. “What is love but the ultimate illusion?”
“Love isn’t an illusion.” Love was the one thing she’d always believed in. One thing she’d searched for time and again. It was an emotion she believed in and had seen concrete proof that it existed in her parents’ marriage.
“To you, maybe, but here in Vegas it is an illusion. Some men think the dice love them. That Lady Luck loves them. That the woman they met in the bar loves them. But once you leave Vegas, that love disappears.”
She tried to cut him some slack. If she’d grown up surrounded as he had, by gamblers, showgirls and the like, she might have a similar outlook on love. But she’d given Deacon her heart and he was saying her love was an illusion. “I’m not like those other people,” she said. “I’m not fickle. I know my mind.”
“I’m not saying you don’t. Only, here in Sin City it’s easy to fool yourself that affection and commitment are more.”
“Affection and commitment. What am I—your new pet?” she asked sarcastically.
“Now, you’re being irrational. Once you’ve had a chance to calm down, we’ll talk more. I bought some property outside of the city limits and I’m having plans drawn up for our new house.”
For a minute she was tempted to let him get away with changing the subject. But in the end she couldn’t. Their marriage was the most important thing in the world. And she didn’t want to begin it by allowing the important issues to be swept under the rug. “We’re not through talking about love. I don’t want to be married to a man who doesn’t love me.”
He clenched his hands into fists and she knew enough about men to know that he probably needed to get rid of his feelings with some exercise. “Angel, I care more for you than any other woman.”
“I’m flattered, really I am. But I just told you I loved you and you backed away.”
“Stop talking about love. It’s just a word.”
“If it’s just a word, then why are you afraid of it?” she asked. He was a strong man. He’d made a successful life in a way few others had.
His cold graze sliced through her. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
She knew she’d struck a nerve and should back away but she wasn’t going to until she got to the bottom of this. Why was he so afraid of that one emotion? “We’re all afraid of something. And God knows I’ve shown you every vulnerability I have, from my self-image to my love of romantic literature. And still you’re afraid to show me yours.”
“This is a crazy conversation. I’m going back to work. When you’re ready to be reasonable, call me.”
“Who says I’m not being reasonable?” She knew he was running. Should she let him go? Would he come back? Would she want to take him back, knowing how he felt?
“I am. Love is nothing but a word people use to justify doing things they know they’d get in trouble for otherwise.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” she asked.
“Aren’t you? You married me after knowing me only four days.”
She’d thought they were both being swept away by their emotions. It had been the realization of her most romantic fantasy to marry him so quickly. “I married you because I love you.”
“Or did you decide you love me because a whirlwind marriage is usually based on a strong physical attraction and you want to defend that decision.”
She shook her head, her heart aching unbearably. “I don’t have to make excuses for my behavior. Why do you?”
“Because I’m still running from my past,” he said. He cursed savagely under his breath and brushed past her to go to the bar. He took a highball glass and poured himself two fingers of scotch. Fascinated, she watched as he drained the scotch in two long swallows.
“What do you want from me?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. I thought we went into this marriage wanting the same things. But today I find out you had a wager on my answer to your proposal and think love is for fools.”
“Are we back to the wager again?”
“I don’t think we really ever left it.”
He shook his head. “Hell, I don’t have the words to make this right. I never have. I’m not a smooth talker.”
“You can be,” she said. “When it suits you.”
“Are you saying it doesn’t suit me right now?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure what I’m saying.”
She crossed to the pool table and leaned against it. Memories of the game they’d played swamped her and she wanted to say forget it. To say it didn’t matter if he loved her. She’d be happy here.
But she’d made a promise long ago not to put herself in second place again. Not for anyone or anything. And even Deacon, with his steamy sensuality and ability to make her believe in fate, was not going to make her break that vow.
“I’ve got a hotel to run,” he said. “We can talk about this later.” With that, Deacon turned and walked out the door.
Kylie watched him leave, knowing she had no choice but to leave, too. She needed time to herself to think about the choices she’d made. And to sort out her feelings for the dark man she’d vowed to love.
Twelve
D
eacon got as far as his office before he regretted walking away from Kylie. Yet he didn’t have the words to make her stay. Actually he did have them, but he knew he’d never utter them. He’d heard his mom use them too many times and be wrong. He’d watched Mac’s marriage fall apart because Cecelia had fallen in love with another man. He’d vowed never to let those words cross his lips. Not even Kylie was going to make him break that vow.
“Excuse me,” he said, standing and leaving the meeting. He took the elevator to his penthouse suite and knew as soon as he entered that he’d waited too long. The place was empty. Her suitcases were gone and there was a note propped in the middle of the pool table.
He crossed the room and ripped open the envelope, then unfolded the note. Her handwriting was neat and feminine, which was no surprise.
I need some time to think about this marriage. I’ll contact you when I’ve reached some decisions. I’ve always believed that love is a gift, and I hope you will use this time apart to come to terms with the gift I’ve given you. Like you said, sometimes fate takes time.
Kylie
Deacon crumpled the note and threw it across the room. Then he left his apartment and went to the security booth to search the hotel and Vegas strip for Kylie. But he didn’t see her head in the sea of people.
He called Martha and told her to call every hotel in the area to see if Kylie had checked in. Then he called her old place in Glendale, but the line had been disconnected and his number given as a forwarding one.
Damn. How could things that had been so perfect a few hours earlier be so screwed up now? The door behind him opened and he pivoted to face the person, hoping it was Martha with some news. Instead, it was Angelo Mandetti.
“Why wouldn’t she be?” Deacon asked, trying for a nonchalance he was far from feeling.
“She was upset after overhearing your conversation,” Mandetti said.
“Hell.”
“Want to talk about it,
compare?
”
Deacon bit back a curse. “Do I look like a guy who wants to talk?”
Mandetti laughed. “No. Guys like us don’t talk.”
“No, we don’t,” Deacon said. Maybe that was the problem. He really didn’t like to talk about feelings. His mom had never said anything about it, but he’d grown up watching men who professed to love her, then would use her and leave her. It had left a sour taste in his mouth. “What do we do, Mandetti?”
“I’ll be honest here,
compare
. Women have a different set of ideas around commitment than we do.”
Deacon leaned his head back and rubbed his eyes. Mandetti didn’t know the half of it. Love. She wanted love from him. Which she already had. He loved her. God, he’d never felt so much for a woman before in his entire life. He just wasn’t going to say the words.
He wasn’t going to let her know how deeply she’d gotten to him. How deeply she’d affected the world he’d carefully created, how it had been rocked by her presence. And now that she was gone, it seemed so…empty.
“I can’t find her,” Deacon said at last.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s gone.”
“What are you going to do?”
Deacon thought about it. He wasn’t going to let this affect him. He’d successful managed his life keeping his emotions carefully buried, and he wasn’t going to change that now.
“Wait for her to return.”
“What’s the problem between you two? The bet?”
“Not the bet. She wants something from me I can’t give her.”
“What?”
Deacon wasn’t sure he liked Mandetti in the role of father confessor. The man was from the gaming commission, for Pete’s sake. “Never mind.”
“You’re giving me
agita
.”
“Too bad,” Deacon said. “You remind me of someone.”
“Who?”
“Just a guy who used to hang around my mom. He was an enforcer and he taught me a lot about surviving.”
“You’ve done good,” Mandetti said.
“I wanted a picture-perfect marriage—that’s what Kylie doesn’t understand.”
“What’s picture-perfect?”
He wasn’t going to say it out loud, because he’d sound like a sap. He should be out driving around looking for her. Except he didn’t want her to know she had that much influence over him. He was going to wait for her to return, and when she did, he’d make sure she never left him again.
“Are you going after her?”
“No, I don’t think so. She said she’ll come back and she will.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
Deacon gave a wry laugh. “Then it’ll prove me right.”
“Listen,
compare
. You have to go after her.”
“Why?”
“My job is to make sure you do.”
“Your job? Since when does the gaming commission care about the personal lives of casino owners?”
“Hell, this is going to sound crazy.”
“What is?”
“I’m a matchmaker sent from heaven to make sure you and Kylie get together.”
“Sure you are. Listen, have you been out in the sun today?”
“
Merda.
I know I sound like a
gavone
, but it’s the truth.”
“Sure it is. Sit down and I’ll get you some water,” Deacon said, pushing the older man into one of the leather chairs. Maybe Mandetti was having a stroke. He reached for his cell phone, intending to call Martha and have her send the EMTs to the security room.
But Mandetti grabbed his arm. “This should convince you.”
They flew through the air, landing in front of the mansion he planned to build for Kylie. The house was perfectly landscaped. In the circular drive was a Mercedes and his Jag.
“Where are we?”
“Five years in the future at your home.”
“I must be dreaming.”
“Come on, would I be in your dream?”
“Why wouldn’t you? A dream is more believable than a matchmaker from heaven.”
“Believe what you will. Come inside and take a look at the life you wanted.”
Deacon followed Mandetti into the foyer of the house. A maid was dusting the front room, and the marble floor led to an impressive spiral staircase. In the family room he found Kylie sitting on the couch. Her hair was just like the Ralph Lauren ad in his head. Lightly highlighted and fashionably cut. She wore designer clothes and was talking to Mrs. Beauchamps from the Nevada State Historical Society.
“This is perfect,” Deacon said. Clearly, Kylie was going to return and things would be good between them. Better than even he’d expected.
Mrs. Beauchamps left and he saw himself enter. Kylie didn’t smile when he entered the room, and as he watched the exchange between the two of them, he realized how superficial their relationship was. He moved closer to look into her eyes, and he realized they seemed void of any emotion. He looked at himself and saw that he, too, was wearing a mask.