I'll Say Anything Page 7

  “Wait—do you work here?”

  Ramsey's expression remained neutral. “My father and his father, and another uncle of mine, own it.”

  That time, I did gawk. “What? They own the Olympus? The whole hotel and casino?” I wasn't usually so slow on the uptake, but the news stunned my higher brain function for a moment.

  Ramsey smiled, a smile less full and open and more subdued. “Yes. Adrian, Lincoln, my other cousin, and I all work here.”

  I had the impression that Ramsey was bothered by the news that Adrian had been heckling me. Call it instinct or women's intuition. “I had no idea. That explains a few things.”

  “The Rolls. My attendance at the charity event,” Ramsey said.

  “Yes.” Balling up the resume, I glanced around for a trash can. Finding one against the wall, I tossed the wreckage inside and looked back at Ramsey. “So Adrian's your cousin. I didn't guess the other night. Maybe I should have.”

  “We don't see eye to eye on many things. I'll have a word with him, though. You shouldn't have had to put up with that today.”

  Ramsey seemed genuinely sorry. It eased some of my fury. “I could have done without the condescending, rude comments, yes. And him trying to humiliate me if I'd have fallen for his suggestion of stripping down.” I had no problem guessing Adrian would have picked my 'assets' to death once my clothes were off.

  “Here, come with me. Do you have a little extra time?” Ramsey asked, gesturing the other way down the hall.

  “Actually, I've got work after this. I have an hour, maybe, but no more.”

  “Come on.”

  Ramsey escorted me down the hall and into another, where a set of elevators waited past a security guard. Ramsey punched in a code on a keypad, setting the cab in motion. Whooshing smoothly upward, I glanced aside to see Ramsey staring at the digital blip of numbers over the doors. We went all the way up to the top floor, stepping out into a marble foyer with a hallway stretching straight ahead. Staggered every fifty feet, doors led off into private offices or suites. The Grecian theme ruled here, too, with smaller statues positioned around the foyer and along the corridor. It didn't take a genius to realize this floor was accessed by private code, and that only certain members of family or high ranking employees had offices here.

  The second door on the right proved to be Ramsey's, though nothing on the outside indicated it was his. Following him inside, I took stock of the exquisite décor. Floor to ceiling columns were embedded into the white walls, with several classical statues sitting in special niches that seemed built just to house them. A mural stretched across the middle of the ceiling and all the office furniture complimented the Grecian theme. A bone white desk sat to the left, with several overstuffed chairs for guests, two sofas and two other doors leading who knew where. Typically unimpressed with extreme luxury, I admitted to myself that Ramsey's office was gorgeous. It wouldn't be a hardship to work within these confines every day.

  “Have a seat, Finley.” Ramsey gestured to one of the chairs opposite his desk.

  I sat down, folding my hands over my thighs. What a proper thing to do. An action not normally in my repertoire. The fine surroundings and Ramsey's businesslike demeanor called for professionalism, and I could pretend with the best.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked, too curious not to.

  “I'm going to give you a job. Usher, right?” Ramsey sat down in his chair and pulled a folder from a side drawer. All business, he whisked a pen from inside his suit jacket, clicked the end, and pulled a new application from the folder. He scrawled across the top—left handed, I noticed—in writing I couldn't read from my angle.

  “You are?” Surprised, I looked up from the paper to his face. I had the strange thought that I could watch him all day and never get bored. What a girly thing to think. Me, the one who usually made fun of dreamy eyed lovers and anything to do with 'forever'. I wasn't that person. Not the type to settle down, to want a white picket fence and one partner for all time. The very idea of monogamy was sacrilege, as far as I was concerned.

  “Yes. How soon do you want to start?” He filled in a few more boxes and lines on the paper, then glanced up to meet my eyes.

  “I...well, it's...” I also wasn't prone to stammering, yet here I was, unable to complete a full sentence.

  “You'll have to run through training for a few days, but it's not intensive.”

  “Will I have to go topless?”

  Ramsey smiled that same, subdued smile and looked down at the paper. “No.”

  “How does tomorrow sound? For training, that is?” I would feel bad about dumping the souvenir shop—no, I wouldn't. That place was the bane of my existence. The manager always had someone to call for back up with employees eager for overtime. I thought of taking the rest of the day off until it was time to hit the town with Jasper.

  Adrian hadn't ruined my birthday after all.

  “Tomorrow is fine. Be here at eleven. I'll start you at twelve-fifty an hour, is that suitable?”

  Twelve-fifty an hour plus tips sounded amazing. The tips would add up quickly. I attempted to be nonchalant about the turn of events. “Eleven, I'll be here. And twelve-fifty is fine.”

  “Excellent. You can fill out the rest of this tomorrow. Just the pertinent things, like your address, birthday, phone--”

  “My birthday is today, actually.”

  That time, Ramsey's smile went all the way to his eyes. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  He made one more notation on the application, then put it in the folder and tucked the folder back in the drawer. Leaning back in the chair, he eyed me speculatively. “Do you have plans for the evening?”

  Was he asking me out? I stared back at him for a long minute, trying to decipher what the right answer was. My immediate response was to say no. But I did have plans, and I wouldn't stand Jasper up for the world. He was my best friend, my confidant, my cohort. Strange, then, that I sat there for another few seconds, hesitating, before admitting the truth. “I do, yes.”

  “That's a shame. Maybe another time--”

  “But I've got a few hours between now and then.” I couldn't believe that came out of my mouth. Ramsey was all wrong for me. All wrong. I didn't belong in his world, and he wouldn't understand mine.

  “I thought you had work?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Ramsey stood up and unbuttoned his jacket. “Then we don't have any time to waste.”

  “Where are we going?” I stood up when Ramsey did. The uncomfortable confrontation with Adrian was fading fast now that I had something new to focus on. Ramsey himself was a wild distraction with his charming smile and gleaming, green eyes.

  “Somewhere.” Ramsey typed out a few texts on our way to the door.

  “That's helpful.” I needed to send Jasper a text as well, so he knew not to pick me up at the souvenir shop. I also had to call and tell them I wouldn't be in for my shift.

  “I thought you'd like it.” He winked as he led me into the hallway.

  Impulsively, I dropped a wink back.

  Ramsey chuckled and set a hand low on my back, a gentlemanly maneuver I usually hated but didn't mind today.

  Where Ramsey was concerned, I discovered there were quite a few things I was willing to overlook.

  *

  Club Constellations, so exclusive it wasn't advertised anywhere on the outside of the plain looking building, turned out to be anything but plain on the inside. After passing by security at the door, Ramsey led me into the gloomy interior of Constellations by the hand. I let him, finding the action harmless enough for now.

  The club's namesake dominated the dark ceiling, little lights built into the structure that created swirling patterns recognizable to the naked eye. Craning my head back, I sorted through the designs with growing fascination, not paying a lick of attention to the tables, booths and private coves I could see as shadows in periphery. It wasn't often I put my trust in an almost-stranger, but it felt as natu
ral as breathing with Ramsey. He guided me by the tether of our hands around a bend, past several more coves, and under an archway that broke up the constellations long enough to bring my attention back down to the club.

  Small bars were scattered around the interior, rather than one long counter. We bypassed one of those, and another member of security, before turning up a stairwell with pitch black walls punctuated with blue lights shining down from the ceiling. Exiting onto an upper level, I found we were in another part of the club. Here, the guests clustered together in small groups, with bodyguards lurking in the background. After a moment, I realized why: this level, maybe the entire club, was VIP only. Having paid more attention to the ceiling than the guests, I could only surmise there were stars and other important people in attendance.

  Several couples danced on an ethereal blue dance floor, with constellations shining from the surface. I thought it reflected the ceiling, but when I glanced up, all I saw was a rotating disco ball.

  Ramsey escorted me straight to the dance floor, much to my surprise, and slid an arm around my hips while capturing my other hand with his. The heavy beat was easy to find a rhythm to, thankfully, and while I would have preferred a little more wild kind of dancing to cover my awkwardness, I contented myself with a moderate sway that countered Ramsey's. The scent of his cologne—musky, sexy and dark—teased my senses as I glanced from his throat to his face.

  “You never did tell me how old you are today,” Ramsey said, breaking open the silence.

  “Twenty-one.”

  “...I thought for sure you'd be a little older than that.”

  “Don't worry. I didn't try to gamble in your casino or anything,” I assured him with a quirk of a grin.

  His shoulders shook with a laugh. “A good thing. I would have spent an hour convincing the security to release you into my custody after they tried to escort you out.”

  “Ramsey to the rescue.” He'd intervened with Adrian at the party and helped me get over my fury after the inappropriate 'interview', and now suggested that he would step in with security, too. He was either an extraordinarily nice man, or liked me enough to try and protect me.

  “I try,” he said, as if playing down his hero qualities. Then he said, “Tell me, if you could do anything for your birthday, what would it be?”

  The most shocking thing came to mind. Somehow, I managed not to say, to spend the night in bed with you. At the end of the day, I'm a realist. A one night stand with Ramsey was all that would ever happen between us. I didn't feel a bit guilty for the carnal thought—I'm human, after all—but diplomacy kicked in at the last second to save me. “Probably spend the night on the town with good friends.”

  “No trip to somewhere exotic? The Bahamas, Europe?”

  “I don't have the money for all that. Besides, I'm not usually impressed with spending money just to spend it.”

  “Is that because you've never had much to spend?”

  “...well. That's true, too. I just think people over do it, though. People who flaunt their riches strike me as making up for shortcomings somewhere else.” I studied his eyes while we had our candid conversation.

  “So you totally hated the ride in the Rolls Royce. Got it.” He rumbled a sound of amusement.

  “That's not an insult to you. Or your car. I mean, of course I think it's nice. Really nice. But you could have probably fed a small country with what it costs.”

  “What makes you think I don't already donate to small countries?”

  “I'm just saying. And what if you got in an accident? That's a terrible waste.”

  “What do you drive, if I may ask?” Ramsey cocked a brow.

  “Nothing. I don't have a car.” How embarrassing it was to admit it, too.

  “Is that because you believe you're better off sending your car payment to a foreign country, or because you just don't want a car in the first place?”

  To admit that I was too poor to afford a car, that I mooched rides off Jasper, was the answer I would have given anyone else. Anyone except Ramsey. For whatever reason, I couldn't muster up my defiant, belligerent nature. “It's because I'm still saving for one.” It wasn't a whole lie. Just half or a quarter. Once we opened our shop, then I planned to save for a car.

  “I see.”

  And I had a feeling that Ramsey certainly did see. Right through my careful answer to what the truth really was. “Vegas has plenty of public transit anyway. It's easy to get around.”

  “There's no denying that.”

  Ramsey guided me into a turn, keeping firm pressure with one hand on my back. We danced close but not scandalously close. Others had joined us on the dance floor, though didn't crowd our space. Once or twice I glanced beyond Ramsey's shoulder to see if I could recognize a face. With as little television as I watched, it might be a superstar and I wouldn't know.

  “Do you feel the same way about affluent people?” Ramsey asked, proving he was more astute to my feelings than I thought.

  “That's a tricky question. I treat people how they treat me. In your case, I think you're an up-and-up guy, and I like being around you. You don't act like the rest of the world revolves around you, or that everyone else should serve you, and you don't seem to have a big chip on your shoulder. All that is good with me. I don't care how much money you have as long as you don't act like...well. Like Adrian.” I figured I might as well go all in. Be honest. I had nothing to lose in this situation. Ramsey's expression shifted from curious to that subdued tolerance when Adrian's name came up.

  “Not many people act like Adrian,” he finally said. “I'm glad you don't judge me based on his actions, considering we're related.”

  “You've been nothing but kind to me, so I have no reason to be otherwise.” I smiled, because it was true.

  He smiled, too, something a little more warm than the smile he wore when Adrian's name came up. “I mentioned before that Adrian and I don't have much in common.”

  “It's obvious, yeah. And I'm glad.” I used the next step in the dance to bring our bodies an inch closer. No matter what else ever happened or didn't happen with Ramsey, there was an attraction to him that surprised me, and that I couldn't fight.

  He used his wrapping arm to press us together along the front, and I had my first taste of what he felt like under his clothes. Lean but honed, with strong muscles that flexed when he suddenly dipped me. A startled but quiet laugh blipped past my lips, back arched over his arm. The end of my ponytail brushed the floor. Holding onto him with one hand, I stared up into his eyes while he bent his head slowly toward mine.

  He was going to kiss me right here on the dance floor. In front of everyone. I wasn't as concerned about who might see as I was over whether I should kiss him politely, or kiss him like I meant it. His lips skimmed the corner of my mouth on the way to my ear, where he shaped a whisper.

  “Maybe one of these days, I'll take you for another ride.”

  “Careful. I might hold you to it.” I had the distinct impression we weren't talking about a tour in the Rolls. Carnal, vivid images flashed through my mind, put there by Ramsey's velvet voice and our closeness. I didn't think I was imagining the mutual attraction between us, though there was a chance that Ramsey had meant another ride in the car.

  He tipped me up straight, lips curled at the corners with amusement.

  Finding my footing, I eased back into the dance, unable to look away from his face. Usually, whenever I found myself attracted to a man, my involvement with him was to the point and short. One night stands, with no phone calls the next morning. It was the way I wanted it: no complications, no awkward explanations, no drama. In and out, finis. I'd never been this attracted to anyone, though, and I could admit that to myself. Ramsey was different. Monied—the type I avoided like the plague under normal circumstances—classy, a member of the very affluent. There wasn't anything wrong with it, I simply didn't fit into that world.

  We spent the next eight songs dancing close, dancing with brushes of our bodies that
left heat in its wake. No one bothered us, no one interrupted. We might as well have been alone on the ethereal blue dance floor, with constellations shining under our feet.

  “You thirsty yet?” Ramsey asked mid-way through the next song.

  “I am, yes.” I let him take my hand and guide me through other couples to the bar. Like the dance floor, it was the same color blue, with pinpricks of light mimicking myriad constellations. It was different, unique, and I spent a moment admiring the countertop before glancing back to Ramsey when he asked what I wanted to drink.

  “Water's fine, thanks.”

  He arched a brow. “You're going to celebrate your twenty-first with water?”

  “Honestly, I don't drink very often.” There was no way I was going to get into that conversation in a place like this. Thankfully, Ramsey didn't ask.

  “Two waters with lemon, please,” he asked the bartender. Ramsey tossed down a fifty-dollar tip and pushed my glass closer once the bartender delivered the drinks.

  “Maybe I should have gone to bartending school instead.” A fifty dollar tip just for two glasses of water. I had a fleeting wish that my new Usher job would produce customers like Ramsey, who apparently tipped very well.

  “Then you'd have to deal with all the drunks,” Ramsey said, too low for anyone else to hear.

  Cringing, not having thought that far ahead, I had a sip of water. Falling down drunks and I wouldn't get along well. At all. I had low tolerance for people who drank themselves to oblivion. “Usher job it is.”

  “Hey, Ram. I thought that was you. How's it goin'?” a man said, coming around a pair of bodies to clap Ramsey on the shoulder.

  I might not be all up on movie stars, but music icons were an entirely different story. Especially those of the rock persuasion. The dark haired, tattooed man in a tee shirt with the sleeves ripped off and steel toed boots was none other than Eddie Bennett, frontman for the band Conspiracy Rebellion. I knew, because the band was up there in mine and Jasper's favorite top three. I almost choked on my water, managing to swallow without dribbling down my chin. It took great effort not to whip my phone out, snap off a picture, and send it to Jasper.