Love's Gamble Page 3

  “You didn’t notice in all those stories going around about me that no one’s ever said, ‘I played Max Benton for a fool, and I totally got away with it.’”

  Pru swallowed. He was right. Max did not have a reputation for taking insults lightly.

  Her sudden unease at his implied threat must have read on her face.

  “Hmm, now you’re getting it,” he said, his voice almost soft with menace.

  Before she could ask what exactly she was supposed to be getting, his mouth found hers in a lazy kiss.

  Well...lazy on his part at least. To Pru, it felt like having her insides hollowed out as a pit of long-dormant lust opened up inside her stomach. Max Benton might have been a lot of things—a ne’er-do-well, a brawler, a playboy—but a bad kisser wasn’t one of them.

  His mouth was confident on top of hers, practically guaranteeing a favorable conclusion for her if she let him keep going.

  But she couldn’t let that happen. She was a professional. At least she would be after she got her PI license. Professional PIs didn’t let themselves get seduced by the people they tracked down.

  Just as she was about to rally her mind and body to push him away, he cut off the kiss. So abruptly, that her legs felt a little shaky when he unexpectedly let her go.

  Now he was the one who took a step back from her. “You really aren’t my brother’s flunky?” he asked, his eyes sharp with suspicion.

  She bristled, flustered that her body now felt a little bereft, and insulted at the insinuation that she was completely at Cole’s beck and call, like one of his servants.

  “It’s just a case,” she answered. “One I was happy to get before I officially become a licensed PI this fall.”

  He studied her intently, as if he was trying to detect a lie.

  She met his gaze straight on, because she wasn’t lying, not even by omission this time.

  “In that case,” Max said, a rather feral smile spreading across his obscenely handsome face, “let’s get married.”

  Chapter 4

  Let’s get married.

  Pru stood there, shocked into silence for what might have been a good minute. Then she said, “What?”

  Max folded his arms and leaned against the back of the suite’s couch. “You heard me. I said let’s get married.”

  “What?” Pru said again. “No! What the...? Why would you even ask me that? What is wrong with you?”

  She didn’t wait for his answer, just turned and rezipped her suitcase, grabbing it by the handle as she beat a hasty retreat for the door. Obviously, she had missed something in all her research. Something such as Max Benton being a psycho, one she needed to get away from as soon as possible.

  “C’mon,” he said, following her out of his suite—or in this case, Sorley Greer’s suite. “You’re the one who told me to meet my brother’s terms, and me getting married—those are his terms.”

  That announcement surprised her enough to make her stop and turn to face him. “Come again?” she asked.

  “Cole wants to put me on a leash and bring me to heel before the Benton Group opens up their first Benton Inn in the fall. This new hotel needs to appeal to regular families, so he’s trying to get me to settle down. Like him. That’s the real reason he fired me. The real reason I had to sell my shares in the Benton Group to Sorley, so that he wouldn’t come after them.”

  Max shrugged and shook his head as if none of what he was saying was a huge deal. But the fists he’d unconsciously balled at his sides belied his nonchalance. As did his lethal tone.

  Pru arched an eyebrow at this latest bit of information about the Benton brothers’ relationship. She wasn’t one to dispense business advice, especially to someone like Cole Benton, who’d been groomed to be a hotel magnate from a very young age. But despite Max’s reputation as a reckless playboy who lived only for fun and clubbing, just an hour with him had revealed to her what her research hadn’t.

  Max Benton wasn’t as devil-may-care as he appeared on paper. No, he was way darker than that. She could practically feel the wolf lurking underneath his surface.

  And you couldn’t put a wolf on a leash.

  If Cole had asked her—he never would have, but if he had—she would have told him to abandon his plan to reel Max in. She didn’t have any real evidence to back it up, but she was almost certain that Cole was playing with fire where Max was concerned. Trying to force him into marriage wasn’t even a remotely good idea.

  “Okay, well that’s between you and your brother,” she told Max. “I don’t want anything to do with that.”

  He ignored her refusal, regarding her with those pale green eyes of his. “How much is he paying you?”

  She shook her head. Funnily enough, when she’d seen the amount Cole was willing to pay someone simply to find Max and deliver a large envelope to him, she’d thought it had been outrageously generous for the service provided. But standing in the hall with Max, she was beginning to think it might not have been enough.

  “I’ll double it,” he said. Then before she could refuse him again, he said, “Tell you what, name your price. Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.”

  She shook her head again, wondering how she’d found herself in such a crazy scenario. “Max,” she answered, her voice hard and frank, “there is no amount of money that would convince me to fake marry you.”

  “Never say never. That’s what I always say when it comes to money. You never know when you’re going to get hit with a rainy day.”

  Pru would have thought Max was talking about his own currently diminished circumstances, but his eyes were gleaming at a ten on the wicked-bastard scale. “Don’t worry,” she answered drily. “I’ve got a savings account.”

  If he was insulted by her refusal, it didn’t show. He just smirked. “I’d think you’d at least agree to think about it. After doing all that research on me, aren’t you a little bit curious?”

  “About what?” she asked him. “About how you run through money like water? About how you’ve been arrested on every continent but Antarctica? About how you got the nickname ‘The Ruiner’?” Pru shook her head with her lips turned down. “I’m curious about a lot of things—that comes with being a detective. But not about any of that.”

  She tilted her suitcase forward. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be heading back to Las Vegas to pick up my check. I’m done here.”

  He inclined his head to the side and squinted in a way that reminded her of his brother. Though the two men didn’t share anything in common but the color of their eyes.

  “You sure about that?” he asked her with a smile so lazy, it looked as if he was on the verge of falling asleep. “Because this doesn’t feel done, and judging from that kiss, we could have a good time if you fake married me. A real good time, as they say here in New Orleans.”

  Pru swallowed, her body stirring with the memory of how it had felt to have his mouth claim hers, and the reality starlet’s words rang in her ears for the second time that night. Once you go Max, you never go back.

  Okay, time to go, she thought. She turned and walked away from Max Benton as fast as her stiletto heels would allow her.

  She had responsibilities to see to back home, she reminded herself. Such as her little brother, whom she’d had to leave alone this weekend in order to fulfill this assignment, and a licensing exam to study for.

  “If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” Max called behind her. “Just ask for Sorley Greer.”

  Pru didn’t allow herself to stop walking, not until she got to the bank of elevators at the end of the hallway. But as she pushed the down button, she couldn’t help looking back to where Max had been standing outside his hotel room door.

  He was still there. Watching her with squinted eyes. Watching her as a wolf watches its prey right before it att
acks.

  Chapter 5

  Three weeks later Pru was still shaken by Max’s proposal. Not to mention that kiss! So much so that she could barely concentrate on studying for her PI exam. It didn’t help that her morning internet scour for everything related to Max Benton had turned up the exact same thing it had every other time she’d searched for news about Max.

  Absolutely nothing.

  No club spottings from gossip blogs. No wedding announcements either, even though his thirty-fifth birthday was the Friday after next.

  Was he really going to give up all that money? If so, how would he continue to fund his lavish lifestyle? Or make his hotel dream come true?

  She thought of her recent phone call with her friend who worked at NevadaStar, the Benton Group’s official credit union. In a weird continuation of her compulsion to keep looking into Max Benton, she’d decided to follow his money after the fact.

  She hadn’t during her first instinctual investigation because she knew it was the first thing most detectives did. If none of the other detectives had been able to find him using a money trail, she figured she wouldn’t be able to either. But the fact remained that following the money was still one of the best ways to find what someone was up to. And for whatever reason, she could not stop digging into Max Benton’s life even though she was no longer getting paid to do so.

  Max still hadn’t announced a marriage to fulfill Cole’s demands to release his trust money. So maybe, she’d speculated, he had found another source of funding for his hotel. He was friends with, if not the richest men in the world, many of their sons and daughters. Including Sorley Greer, whom Pru had also looked into as a possible financier for Max’s hotel.

  However, according to her research, Sorley wouldn’t go for a project this small. He tended toward big investments based on predictions only he seemed to be able to make. To the point that quite a few other big-time investors had accused him of insider trading, only to have to back down from their claims when Sorley’s lawyers sent them strongly worded letters that made generous use of words such as defamation and libel. In any case, as good as Max’s hotel idea was, it didn’t exactly fit in with the rest of Sorley’s portfolio.

  But that didn’t mean that Max hadn’t found another way to get the money, which was why she’d asked her friend at NevadaStar to look into his account. The nice thing about having been involved in a stage show that aged most of its pretty participants out at thirty was that she now had contacts working in post–Benton Revue jobs in nearly every institution in Las Vegas. Very lucky for her, since the truth was that having contacts in the right places was critical to working cases as a private investigator.

  But this particular lead didn’t pan out. According to her friend, Max hadn’t received a single noninterest cent since Cole cut him off. From the Benton Group or anyone else. And the interest on his account was seriously measured in cents now, since he currently had only a three-figure number left in it.

  “I guess stunting like he used to ain’t cheap,” her friend observed with a whistle over the youngest Benton heir’s low amount of available funds. “Either he’s going to have to get in back good with his family, or get a real job.”

  Try as she might, Pru just didn’t see Max getting a regular job. Building a splashy new hotel with his trust money? Yes. That was the type of big gamble that a guy like Max would go for. Actually using his marketing degree from the Boston Institute of Technology in order to earn a paycheck that wasn’t a thinly disguised version of his original allowance? She doubted it.

  But maybe he’d just been blustering about starting his own line of boutique hotels, she thought after finding nary a mention of Max during her latest internet search. She’d met guys like Max before back when she’d been into the Vegas lifestyle. Guys who’d been all talk and no play. Guys who thought they had what it took to make a big vision come to life but crapped out before even rolling their dice.

  Pru frowned, wishing her fingers weren’t itching to call up her friend at NevadaStar and ask her to go even deeper with her search. Maybe send over his year-to-date transactions report. Her friend had said most of the money in his account had gone toward paying credit-card bills. But maybe there was something she’d missed, something she hadn’t seen.

  “Pru?” a voice said behind her.

  She turned from the list of Nevada’s revised statutes and limitations that she was supposed to be studying to see her brother, Jakey, standing in the doorway to her room. He’d had yet another growth spurt over the summer and now stood a good five inches taller than her. He’d also been working out in an effort to relieve the summer boredom, so he’d also gotten wider over the past two months. The front of the T-shirt he wore seemed to be crying out for mercy as it strained against his newly formed muscles, and his old jogging pants might as well have issued their own flood warning, they were in such high-water territory.

  She screwed up her mouth. “We’re going to have to hit the mall before you leave for your camp next week. Get you some new clothes.”

  More money that would have to be spent now that she’d retired from the Benton Revue and was living off her savings. Luckily, the money Cole had paid her for hunting Max down had nicely cushioned her account. She had enough to not only tide her through until October but also to pay for Jakey’s books when he started at UNLV in the fall on a full scholarship.

  Buying Jake some more clothes for camp and also a fall wardrobe for college shouldn’t be a problem. But still, she worried. She and Jake had been forced to live frugally in the years since their parents’ deaths in order to pay rent on an apartment in one of Nevada’s best school districts and make ends meet. After Jake got his full scholarship, Pru had thought long and hard before quitting the line in order to pursue what she’d begun to think of as a calling. But she couldn’t be sure how soon she’d be able to acquire more work after she got her license. Cases like the one Cole had thrown her didn’t come along every day. Plus there would be the costs of renting an office and advertising her services around town.

  She needed to watch every penny, she thought. But not at her brother’s expense. It wasn’t his fault that he kept growing and growing, or that his new health kick upped their weekly grocery bill, or that his going to college came with extra expenses that even having Jakey continue to live at home wouldn’t alleviate.

  “You know what, let’s go to the mall now,” she said, glancing at the clock on her bedroom wall. “Maybe we can get some lunch while we’re out.”

  She grabbed her wallet and phone off the desk, slipped them into the back pockets of her bell-bottom jeans and was all set to go. Back in the day before she became Jakey’s guardian, she wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving the apartment she used to share with her best friend, Sunny, in anything less than full makeup. Back then, even her most casual looks were chosen more to accentuate her assets than for comfort.

  But now that she’d retired from the Benton Revue, she’d pretty much stuck to a wardrobe of her mother’s old seventies-era clothing throughout the summer. Her mother had been a seamstress along with Sunny’s grandmother for the Revue, and she’d taken excellent care of even her most casual clothes. True, seventies and early eighties vintage wasn’t the most glamorous look, but wearing these clothes made Pru feel closer to her mother, even though she was no longer here.

  “Actually,” said Jake with an apologetic wince, “I was hoping maybe we could go down to the storage unit and do some upkeep on Dad’s car.”

  “Oh...sure,” Pru said, quickly resetting.

  About twenty minutes later, they were pulling the cover off their dad’s black ’55 Thunderbird.

  Back when they’d been forced to downsize in order to keep Jakey in his school district, Pru had paid for storage space and an additional garage unit for their dad’s Thunderbird. He’d inherited the car from his own father, and Pru had grown to highly valu
e it. Not just because it was a much sought-after collectible, but also because it was Jakey’s unspoken inheritance. Their happy and healthy parents hadn’t been prescient enough to take out a life insurance policy, but her father had left this car behind. And that was why Pru had remained diligent about its upkeep all these years. She made sure that she and Jakey did the necessary work to guarantee the car would stay in good enough shape for Jakey to drive it someday.

  However, this particular trip wasn’t really about their father’s Thunderbird. Asking her if they could go down to the garage unit to do some upkeep on their dad’s car was Jakey’s way of telling her he needed to talk. Over the years she’d been his guardian, she’d guided him through first dates, first breakups, major disappointments and lost friendships over the hood of that car.

  “So what’s up?” she asked Jakey as he lifted up the Thunderbird’s hood.

  “I dunno,” Jakey mumbled. He fiddled with the oil cap for a few seconds, then he said, “It’s stupid.”

  “Okay, maybe,” Pru answered. “Tell me anyway.”

  More fiddling. “I don’t even know why I’m bringing it up. It’s not going to happen. I know it’s not going to happen.”

  Despite her increasing curiosity, Pru casually walked over to get the motor oil from a nearby shelf. “You know I don’t believe in ‘not going to happen.’ Not when it comes to you. I’m your big sis, remember?” She handed the motor oil to him. “Whatever you need, just tell me, and I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

  “Yeah, I know you do, but...” He trailed off. “You know what? Never mind. Let’s just finish this and go to the mall.”

  He reached to take the motor oil from her, but she held on to it, refusing to let it go.

  “No, tell me, Jakey,” she insisted, dropping all pretense of feeling casual about this conversation. “Are you in trouble?” she asked, real alarm flaring up inside her. “Whatever it is, I’ll figure it out, I promise you. Just tell me.”