I'll Say Anything Read online

  “Red isn't your style, huh?” I asked.

  Ramsey smiled, exposing a row of straight, white teeth. “Exactly. Tyler just wanted to make me easy to find.”

  “Yeah, well. This dress isn't my style, either.” I could commiserate.

  “I don't think it's anyone's style.”

  For the first time that night, I laughed. “Tyler's a real corker. He told me I could keep the dress and the shoes. Thanks, Tyler!” I toasted Tyler with my beer bottle, even though he wasn't in attendance.

  Ramsey clued in to my sarcasm and chuckled. He said, “I once had Tyler's car painted a shocking shade of neon pink, so he owed me one.”

  Maybe Ramsey and I had more in common than I realized. “You painted his whole car pink?”

  “Yes.”

  “That's a pretty expensive prank.” Then again, look at the party I was attending. These were the upper echelons, people with more money than they knew what to do with.

  “I never said it was a professional paint job.” Ramsey's lips twitched with suppressed humor.

  “Did you graffiti Tyler's car with spray paint?” That seemed more along the lines of what Jasper or I would do.

  Ramsey's lip twitching turned into a full blown smile. He sipped the wine, apparently leaving his silence as an affirmative answer. A more modern song spilled through the speakers, something with a mild but addictive beat. He set his glass on a vacant, nearby table. “Dance?”

  A little more of my tension slipped away. If Ramsey could graffiti his friend's car, he couldn't be all bad. Then came the offer to dance. I chugged another few swallows of beer, praying I didn't embarrass myself further, then set the bottle down. He was paying me to be his companion, and companions were required to dance when asked. Little did Ramsey know I had two left feet. “Sure. Let's go.”

  Ramsey stepped onto the dance floor, reaching back to snag my hand and lead me there with him. I followed, immediately feeling conspicuous. Without having to look, I knew people were watching.

  Turning to face me, Ramsey broke into a groovy rock-and-sway, proving he had moves to go with his good looks. And here was me, a beer drinker in disguise who barely had a lick of rhythm in her.

  Fantastic.

  Snapping my fingers, I eased into a semblance of motion, keeping it light and subtle. Maybe no one would notice how awkward I was. A rude guffaw from the sidelines assured me that one person had noticed. Adrian's laughter grated on my nerves. It grated on Ramsey's nerves, too, if the sharp look he shot the other man was any indication.

  The cessation of Adrian's hyena cackle was a stark relief. Giving myself up to the music, I danced with as much coordination as I could, relaxing into the loop of Ramsey's circling arm. He set his other hand on my hip, with layers of satin and netting between, and guided me closer. Matching the roll of my pelvis to his, we settled into a comfortable rhythm that brushed my body against his now and again. Every time it happened, a thrill shot down my spine. I could see how easy it might be to get lost in Ramsey's presence, his eyes. A good dancer by anyone's standard, he made my chicken scratch look better.

  In the style of all talented deejays, one song wove into another, a seamless mesh of beats and melody. The dancers rarely noticed the switch. Several times I caught myself staring up at Ramsey, and he stared back. Stolen glimpses before we both concentrated on the dance again. I wasn't sure how much time went by when the music took a slower turn. Ramsey tucked an arm around my waist and captured my hand in his. He set the tempo, a languid sway that matched the music. It was easy to dance to this, at least, and I allowed myself the luxury of enjoying the lazier beat.

  “You look a lot less tense now than before,” Ramsey said.

  “When I'm ignoring everyone else in the room, it's easy to.”

  “Not a fan of the party?”

  “Not a fan of mingling with people who are draped in diamonds and who drive hundred thousand dollar cars.”

  Bringing the dance to a natural close, he said, “Have you ever ridden in a hundred thousand dollar car?”

  Chapter Three

  I never expected Ramsey to ditch the party without so much as a goodbye or a glance back. Attracted to the spontaneity of the moment, I laughed all the way down to the first floor, past the security guard, and into a shiny vehicle that pulled up to the curb a few moments later. Anticipating a flashy Ferrari or something of that ilk, what Ramsey handed me into was instead a Rolls Royce Phantom. I knew the make and model, of course, given my inclination for fixing engines. Except I never worked on any thing this high end, only admired from a distance. As much as I typically disdained showy, flashy things, I had to admit that the Rolls was a work of art. It was a coupe, with the top down, and buttery leather seats in white which offset the champagne metallic exterior. I ran my fingers over the dash while Ramsey tipped the valet then climbed in and took the wheel.

  Exposed to the dry Vegas night, the hot wind buffeting the hem of the dress and the ends of my hair, I set my clutch on the floorboard and tilted my head against the seat. We might as well have been riding on air, I thought. That's how smooth the ride was. Ramsey handled the vehicle with expert skill, taking the backroads out of town. I knew what he was doing. Where he was going. Away from the bright lights and chaos to a strip of highway where he could really open up the engine. Leaving the city behind, Ramsey got onto a lone road and sped up. Hair flying around my face, I smiled.

  “What do you think?” Ramsey asked, not quite shouting to be heard.

  “I have to admit—this is pretty nice.” Pretty nice didn't cover the half of it. The car was a dream, nothing more, nothing less. I wouldn't ever own one, even if I had millions in the bank, but it was a joy to ride in.

  “You'll be a fan by the time we're done,” Ramsey said, sounding sure of himself.

  I laughed, relaxing in ways I never would have at the party. “Maybe.”

  “You haven't seen anything yet.”

  Ramsey hadn't been kidding. He picked up more speed, the dark desert landscape whipping by. On impulse, because that was my nature, I unfastened the seat belt, toed off the heels, and scooted up until I had my backside wedged between the seat and the door. Lifting my arms, I laughed into the wind, the sounds ripped away from my lips before they could travel very far. It almost felt like flying. Almost. Feeding into my carefree action, Ramsey sped up instead of slowed down, as if he trusted the car, his driving ability, me and the universe to work in tandem without attracting danger.

  If I was honest with myself, I'd rarely felt so free. There was something exhilarating about the high rate of speed and letting the wind buffet my body. Ramsey kept up the pace for another several miles before easing off the gas. At the same time, I plopped down into the seat, shooting Ramsey a wild grin across the car. He pulled over to the side of the road, leaving room for other vehicles to pass. We were alone way out here, however, and unlikely to see anyone for a while. I slipped my feet back into the heels with a healthy dose of dismay.

  “Well?” Ramsey asked, bracing his elbow on the sill. He watched me from half lidded eyes, a knowing smile trembling on his mouth.

  “It's the nicest car I've ever been in,” I confessed. “I'm not sure I ever felt a bump.”

  “And it's a good thing, or I might have been slurping you off the road with a shopvac.”

  Laughing, I said, “At least I wouldn't have made a mess of your car.”

  “The car is replaceable.”

  Suddenly sheepish at Ramsey's obvious compliment, I changed the subject. “The only thing better would be to drive it myself.” Like that would ever happen.

  Ramsey unclasped the seat belt and opened the door. He got out and made a grand gesture to the driver's side.

  Mouth agape, I waited a second, no more, then started to scramble over the console to the other seat. I caught myself in time, before the heel could puncture or scrape the pristine leather interior. Expecting to hear Ramsey berate me, I instead heard the rumble of laughter as he walked around the back of t
he car to the passenger door. Which he opened to let me out.

  “Thanks.” I brushed past him and hurried around the front of the Rolls before he changed his mind. Sinking into the driver's seat, I adjusted the reach to the gas—Ramsey had long legs—and tipped the rearview more to my liking.

  After Ramsey was settled and we were both buckled in, I pulled the Rolls onto the road, amazed at how easy the car was to handle. Instead of stomping the gas like I wanted to, I built speed at a steady rate, fingers gripping the wheel. If there was anything I loved in life, it was driving a well made car. This one purred right along, taking the higher speeds with effortless ease.

  “Nice, isn't it?” Ramsey asked, raising his voice a little to be heard over the wind.

  Glancing aside, a long lock of hair sucking up against my cheek and lips, I inclined a nod of agreement. “Much nicer than I thought it would be.” Just as I glanced back at the road, Ramsey reached across the seats to use a finger on the trapped piece of hair, dragging it away from my face. I tried to tell myself it wasn't an intimate gesture, only a helpful one.

  Miles away across the desert, the bright lights of the city beckoned.

  “I take it on trips down to Southern California all the time. It's a nice drive.”

  “What's in Southern California?” I found myself asking. He was watching me when I glanced across the car and back to the road.

  “What isn't in Southern California?” he countered.

  “This is true. Although I've only been to Los Angeles a few times, it seemed to have everything.” As broke as I'd been the better part of my life, traveling for frivolous reasons hadn't happened too often.

  “I have acquaintances there, a few family members. Plus it gives me a break from the city when I need it.”

  “Have you lived in Vegas all your life?” I asked.

  “Born and raised. What about you?”

  “In the high desert, between Victorville and Vegas.” I didn't want to give specifics. The tiny town Jasper and I hailed from wasn't known for anything grand.

  “That's a pretty wide margin,” he pointed out.

  I smiled and lifted a shoulder, then changed the subject so he wouldn't directly ask which town. “I guess I should let you have your car back, huh?” Even as I asked, I slowed down and eased to the side of the road. We weren't too many miles from the city, and I didn't want to risk driving such an expensive vehicle in a crowded area. With my luck, someone would run a red light and ram us. At least if he was driving, I wouldn't feel guilty.

  “Don't like driving in the city?” he asked, exiting the Rolls after it came to a stop.

  Not wanting to admit that I didn't own a car, I made a flimsy excuse as I passed him near the trunk, meeting his eyes in the semi-dark. “I get too distracted with the sights and people watching. It's safer for all if you're driving, trust me.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Ramsey resumed the trip toward the city while I stole furtive glances sidelong. The wind had ruffled his once slicked back hair, giving the strands at the front a rakish, slightly mussed look. One hand rested over the wheel, a casual pose while we cruised ever closer to the bright lights. I admitted to myself that he was addicting to look at, addicting to be around—even if he wasn't my type. Ramsey was too refined for my rough and tumble world.

  “What will everyone think of you leaving the party early?” I asked on a whim.

  “Nothing. I made an appearance and left a check for the event's sponsors. What I do with my time beyond that is my own.”

  “Good. Then I don't feel bad that we left.”

  “The parties aren't my favorite thing to do. But it's for a good cause, so I try to show up if I'm in town.” He slowed as we reached the outskirts of the city, and began weaving his way along less traveled thoroughfares deeper into the heart of Vegas. “I'd ask you to hit up a casino and some gambling with me, but I have a feeling you won't go in that.” Ramsey glanced at my outfit.

  “I don't gamble,” I blurted, then regretted the impulse.

  Ramsey arched a brow. “Ever? Even though I owe you two grand?”

  “Not ever. I just choose to spend it on things that matter, that's all,” I said. Heat crawled over my cheeks to my hairline. I suddenly felt cheap. I also didn't want to tell him that I wasn't technically old enough to gamble. How embarrassing to get caught and be escorted out.

  “Wise girl.”

  “You must gamble now and then,” I guessed.

  “Now and then.”

  The wry smile he tipped my way made me think Ramsey gambled more often than 'now and then'. Maybe he was one of those professional gamblers, which was why he had the money for a Rolls.

  “What's your favorite game?”

  “Blackjack. Yours?”

  I couldn't admit that the only 'gambling' I had ever done was on a Monopoly board or at-home poker games. I'd played with those cheesy roulette wheels, however, with plastic coins and cardboard game table when I was younger.

  “Roulette.”

  “You sure you don't want to stop somewhere?” He glanced at me when we came to a red light.

  Part of me wanted to say yes. To risk it. To spend a little more time in Ramsey's presence. The thought disconcerted me. “That's okay. You can drop me right up here, another two blocks. I'll walk from there.”

  “I don't mind dropping you at your front door, you know.”

  “I know. I could use the time to unwind.” The thought of Ramsey pulling into the alley behind the garage, where Jasper and I entered the 'apartment', horrified me. Which was strange—I'd never cared what anyone thought of where I lived before this. I was who I was, take me or leave me. Yet there was no way I wanted Ramsey to see the run down garage or realize that I lived in a tiny studio somewhere inside.

  “All right.” Ramsey didn't press the issue. He cruised through the light when it turned green, then pulled the Rolls to the curb where I'd suggested. Putting the car in park, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a silver clip with money neatly folded inside.

  I guessed there must have been a thousand dollars in hundreds, which he peeled away and set on the console. Then he raided his pocket and fished out two five hundred dollar chips from one of the more affluent casinos—Olympus, interestingly enough—and offered those over with the stack of hundreds.

  “There you go. Sorry about the chips, but you can cash them in with no problem.”

  I really did feel like a hooker right then. Being paid to do what I'd done, that much money, was a sin. Hesitating, on the verge of backing out and telling him to keep it, I wound up catching the bills and chips in two hands when he seemed to anticipate me and pushed the money my way.

  “Yeah, I know. Thanks.” I noticed there were more hundreds in the clip, yet Ramsey had given me the chips anyway. Maybe he needed to keep the cash on him for some other event.

  “No problem. We should--”

  “Hey, maybe I'll see you around town, huh? It's not that big.” I winked, cutting him off before he could suggest we pick up where we left off. Leading Ramsey on wasn't my style, either, no matter how much I liked looking at him. We weren't meant to be together, I was sure of it, so I didn't give him a chance to pursue another meeting of any kind. His lifestyle and mine were polar opposite. The kindest thing for us both was to go our respective ways and commit the events of the evening to memory. I slid the money and coins into my clutch.

  Ramsey paused, as if sensing my brush off. He smiled and inclined his head. “Maybe. Goodbye, Finley.”

  His goodbye hit me harder than I thought it would. There was a finality to it that suggested he knew I wouldn't be looking for him around town. Climbing from the fine car, I closed the door, tapped the sill with my fingertips and, tucking my clutch under my elbow, turned to make my way along the sidewalk.

  Several minutes later, Ramsey pulled into the flow of traffic. I lifted a hand to wave.

  He didn't wave, honk or even glance back.

  *

  “You won't belie
ve my night,” I said, the second I was in the door. After throwing the bolt, I tossed the clutch on the red table, kicked off my heels, and crossed the tiny living room. Jasper, slouched on a loveseat, head tipped back with his arms slack at his sides, was asleep.

  Unceremoniously, I plopped down next to him and laid my head back across his lap. “Jasper!”

  He started awake, flailing a hand out. “What? What?”

  “Wake up. You won't believe what happened.” I stared up at his face, getting a better view of his Adam's apple than his eyes. Until he looked down with a scowl.

  “You could have warned me,” he said, the stiffness seeping from his posture.

  “I just did. Wake up. What's wrong with you?” I draped my legs over the arm of the loveseat, feet and calves hanging off the edge.

  “Why are you still in that dress? Did I miss the time to come pick you up?” he asked, knuckling his eyelids while he yawned.

  “No. I think I'm about a half hour early. Why are you sleeping before midnight?” Gathering my hair back, I flipped it to the cushion on the other side of his thigh and got comfortable. Jasper was often my choice for a pillow.

  “Because I was tired? So what happened?” he finally asked, draping one arm along the back of the loveseat.

  “You smell like grease,” I said first. His shirt was clean, but he had gunk under his fingernails and in the crease of his skin. “The guy was a total ass. Well. The first guy. The real Ramsey--”

  “Why do I feel like I'm in an Eminem video?”

  Laughing, I reached up to pinch the side of Jasper's neck.

  “Ow! That'll leave a mark.” He swatted my hand away. “Anyway, quit stalling and tell me what happened.”

  Playfully exasperated, I folded my hands over my stomach and tried to get back to the story. “I approached the wrong guy, and then the right guy, Ramsey, showed up. He gave me two thousand dollars to stay at the party!”