Hard Luck (The Vegas Obsession Series, #1) (2 page)

Daisy Walker, Monica’s equally attractive co-anchor, sat beside her, smiling like she was queen of a pageant. Daisy’s dark skin tone was flawless, highlighted by high cheek bones and framed by raven black hair that fell in perfect waves down the sides of her face. And those lips... plump and sexy. The kind that drove the men insane.

“Thanks for watching. Up next, Greg will tell you what to expect in your seven day forecast. I’m Monica Schaeffer...”

“And I’m Daisy Walker...”

“And we wish you a wonderful day,” they said in unison. Cue bright smile and twinkles in the eyes... and cut.

Watching from my dim corner, I felt another stab of envy. What can I say, I was desperate to be the one on the other side of the desk, to be someone people trusted for breaking stories. I yearned to feel the thrill of being in front of the camera and providing the news, so much so, it was palpable. People would be looking to me for the answer and I would actually matter.

I was so caught up in thought, I barely noticed the commotion on the stage.

“I’ve had it... fuck this, I’m out of here!” It was Daisy, her voice at least an octave higher than her usual piqued tone. She rushed off the stage and stomped to her dressing room, opened the door, and then slammed it shut, so hard the wall shook.

Wide eyed, I turned around and saw Monica coming off the stage. Her bright face shone.

“What was that all about?”

“Sometimes,” Monica said through gritted teeth. “I have to work with the most impossible, pompous jerks ever to step foot in Dallas. Ugh... the nerve of her.” She threw her arms up and started to walk past me, cursing under her breath.

“What happened?” I asked.

Monica turned around and took a deep breath, clearly attempting to control her anger.

After a moment, she folded her arms and said, “Diva-itis. She believes I stole her lines on purpose, but it was an accident. I lost my place and apologized, but was it good enough for her?”

I shook my head.

“Exactly... then she said she’s quitting.”

I stared at her, processing the words.

“Quitting?”

Monica nodded, and tapped her toe on the floor in agitation.

“She won’t. It’s all talk. Do you know how many times the bitch has quit in the past week?” She paused, as if waiting for an answer. When I didn’t say anything, she proceeded, “Too many to count. That’s how many.”

She groaned, throwing up her hands and storming away, still mumbling under her breath.

I shrugged and was heading back to my desk when Daisy’s dressing room door came crashing open.

“Just mail me my last paycheck!” the woman hollered as she stormed toward the front door.

Heads turned and jaws dropped in unison across the floor, mine included, as Daisy carried her belongings in her arms. She beat a hasty retreat out of the building without another word.

Our boss, station manager Mr. Barkley, stared after her, but didn’t bother following. Instead, he turned and walked back to his office, closing his door quietly behind them. The entire room was silent for several moments.

Shock came first, but then I had a glimmer of hope. If Daisy quit, then the station would need to replace an anchor position. I was giddy. This could absolutely be my big break.

Unable to hold in my excitement, I rushed to Monica’s dressing room and tapped on her door.

“Who is it?” Monica called out, her voice sharper than normal.

Still pissed
, I thought. Not that I could blame her.

“Monica, it’s me.”

“Come in.”

I opened the door and for a moment, I stood there, still not believing the chain of events.

“Monica, she really did quit.”

Monica laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, right!” She turned away and began brushing her luxurious hair.

Sidetracked, I reached up to my long ponytail and briefly wondered if not making the extra effort to style my hair in the morning could be my downfall.
Bah!
I shook my head, trying to get past my looks for a moment.

“It’s true. She just left, carrying all of her belongings in a box. It was like she was just waiting for this day. She had pictures... mugs... everything. She meant it this time. She’s really gone, Monica.”

Monica spun around. This time she looked interested.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

I leaned against the doorframe, filled with new found confidence. “I’m telling you, Daisy is gone. Which means...”

Monica’s eyes widened, and she blurted out, “I won’t have to deal with the drama queen anymore!”

“True,” I agreed. “But it also means there will be a job opening.”

Monica’s face instantly turned ominous.

“Oh Les...”

“Les what?” I asked, despising the look she gave me.

“Don’t do this to yourself. You got your hopes up when the last person left and Daisy got the job. I don’t want to see you put yourself through this and I definitely don’t want to see your heart broken.”

Every muscle in my body tightened.

“I won’t get my hopes up,” I said, already lying, as my hopes had already passed over the clouds and hit the stratosphere.

Monica raised an eyebrow. She knew when I was lying and this was no exception.

“Fine. I’ll just wait it out. It won’t be too long. They’ll need to make a decision sooner or later. I won’t even think about it.”

“Do you promise?” Monica asked, her voice soft and gentle.

I gave a reluctant nod. I wanted to believe the promise I had just made. I didn’t want the letdown of being rejected and couldn’t handle a broken heart. It still needed to mend from when my ex-boyfriend decided he wanted some space, only a month ago.

“I promise I’ll be completely satisfied with whatever happens. I’m not a little girl. I can handle disappointment.”

Monica still didn’t appear convinced, but turned back to the mirror and met my eyes.

“I love you, you know?”

“I know. I love you too. Talk later.” 

I left the dressing room and couldn’t control the smile spreading across my face. Hope was almost as good as how it would feel to actually get the job. In my elated state, I rounded the corner to my desk and walked straight into the path of a man coming from the other way. I bounced back, startled at the specimen of a man standing in front of me.

“Oh... excuse me,” I stammered, straightening myself up.

“My fault entirely,” he replied, shooting me a smile that immediately made stomach clench and my toes curl.

He was gorgeous, from the top of his brown hair to the hem of his nicely tailored suit.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked softly.

His voice was a deep timber. It vibrated through me, and went straight to my womb. Sparks flew when he reached for my arm in a friendly, helpful gesture to make sure I was okay. Our eyes met and I couldn’t break away from the most magnetizing brown eyes I had ever seen. When his eyes kept locked onto mine, I had to look away. It was as if he could see into my soul and could touch that painful spot Brad had created when he left a month ago with no explanation. Or maybe he could see my initial shock of seeing him and instantly craving him.

“Uh... no, not at all.” I answered. I was so uncomfortable by then, I stepped around him, unable to gaze at him again. “Excuse me.”

I quickly walked past him and blew out the breath caught in my throat. I had never been so hypnotized by a man’s looks before and didn’t know how to handle it. It wasn’t just his looks, it was... something I couldn’t place.

When I was safely back at my desk, I tried to be casual and glanced back to steal another look. That’s when I saw him – and his firm, sexy ass – walk into Mr. Barkley’s office.

“Weird,” I mumbled.

“What’s weird?”

It was Monica, once again peering at me over the cubicle divider. 

“Uh... nothing,” I said for the second time today.

This time, though, I tried to change the subject. Monica had more than her fair share of men after her, and for once, I wanted to hang on to the delusion that someone like him could be remotely interested in someone like me.

“And what’s with the prairie dogging today? You always either walk around to see me or shout through our cube wall.”

Monica shrugged. “Ahhh, no reason. Maybe I just want to see your cute face without leaving my cube.”

“Right. Good one Monica.”

“So, you want to go grab a bite to eat?”

I looked at my desk. There was more than enough work to keep me busy for hours.

“How about a rain check?” I suggested.

“Girl, you haven’t eaten since we got here. Come on, let’s go.”

“I want to be home early to catch a few winks before tonight. There’s a show I don’t want to miss.”

Curious, Monica asked, “What kind of show?”

“The Billionaire Takes a Wife: Vegas Edition
.”

Monica looked at me in disbelief and held up a hand, unable to keep from laughing.

“Don’t laugh,” I said in defense. “It’s enthralling. Ten Vegas showgirls vie for the love of this one uber-rich man, and tonight we find out who won.”

“Seriously?” Monica face palmed herself. “You really need to get a life, Les.”

I didn’t mind Monica’s scolding. It was true, but I still wanted to be home to see it.

“It’s down to just two,” I countered, dismissing Monica’s assertion.

“Oh... gee, why didn’t you say so?”

Sarcasm snaked around her words, but a smile played on her lips as she gazed at me.

“Fine... why don’t you go to Bill’s Diner and I’ll meet you there. I’ll be a few minutes.”

“Cool. Just don’t take too long this time, okay?” she called over her shoulder.

When Monica was out of view, I turned back to Mr. Barkley’s office. The hot guy was still hidden away behind those blinds. I was sure it had nothing to do with Daisy leaving. But then again, she had been threatening to leave for so long, Barkley probably had a shortlist of potentials lined up.
Shit.
I was jumping to conclusions again. Dashing my hopes and sabotaging my success again, before I could get out the gate.

I quickly prioritized my desk and left to meet Monica. She did not like waiting and this day’s fact-checking work was as unremarkable as me.

Drew

“T
hank you so much for meeting with me, Mr. Barkley,” I said, shaking the older man’s hand.

“You’re welcome Mr. Masterson.”

“Please. Call me Drew.”

“Yes of course. I’ll be calling you in the next few days, Drew.”

“Perfect timing.”

“Not to worry, young man. You’re my first choice, and around here, I think it still counts for something. Speak to you soon.”

That interview was not too shabby. The job was not a definite slam dunk, but I liked the odds. As I left, I made sure to pass by the hallway where I had bumped into her. She was adorable in a sexy girl-next-door way. Fine lips, cute nose and perfect skin that had turned rosy when she blushed.

She wasn’t someone that people in the television news industry would call breathtaking, but to me, she was perfect. To top it off, she seemed to have a natural charisma about her. And I was already mesmerized by that familiar look in her eyes. I glanced around the building.
Damn.
She was gone.

I had just gotten to my car when I saw her again.
Must be kismet.
Her ponytail danced in the wind as she walked through the parking lot to her car. My chest tightened and I knew I was already captivated.
I wonder where she’s going. Probably lunch at this time of day.
The brief encounter left me so wound up, even if I couldn’t quite figure out why.

Like I would know how to pick a winner. I had never been lucky in love. Heck, I wasn’t even lucky in lust. For all the women who gravitated to me, I couldn’t name one who wasn’t moody, crazy or just plain psychotic. And it got worse whenever I tried to do the picking. The last woman I picked turned out to be the wife of my boss’s boss. She never admitted she was married – funny how some women do that - and all but got me fired from the sweetest TV anchor job I had scored in my entire working life. The sex was kicking, though.

It reminded me of a conversation I had just had with my friend Marshall. Marshall would always say he picked women in the
hot drama zone
– a reference to the upper right quartile of a graph of women’s looks against their sanity. According to Marshall, he found himself with the hottest, albeit craziest women around. For a moment, I wondered where Marshall ever came up with the theory, and where on the graph this woman I bumped into would fall. Given my past luck, I had no doubt she would be in the
no-go zone
, the upper left quartile featuring average looks and a crazy as fuck mental or emotional state.
And here I am already putting her into a box when I don’t even know her name.

As I backed out of the parking spot, the phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered using my Bluetooth.

“Drew, Shannon here.” It was my attorney, Shannon Wainwright. “I have an update on the court hearing.”

God.
The last thing I wanted to discuss was the consequence of marrying - and now divorcing - the craziest woman out there.

“Okay. What’s up?”

“The time’s been moved from eight o’clock Friday morning to three in the afternoon.”

Shit
. I wanted this over with, and it seemed like obstacle after obstacle kept prolonging it. Still, it wasn’t a big delay.

“No problem. Any reason for the time change?”

“The judge has a conflict,” she said.

“Okay, three p.m. it is. Anything we need to worry about?”

She seemed to hesitate before finally speaking. “Have you talked to her?”

“Have I talked to who?” I asked, playing dumb. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to irritate my attorney, I just didn’t want to be the one to say her name.

Shannon signed a deep long exhale that crackled through his earpiece.

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Have you talked to Tasha?”

Just hearing her name felt like a knife was pushed through my chest. Again. Doing my best not to react, I focused on driving, turning a corner and heading down the street toward my apartment.