Madison waved one slender hand. Her expression had gone mulish again. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t get in and I have no interest in going to any school my parents badgered me into applying to.”
Trent was smart enough to realize he’d hit a nerve and rather than continue to pursue what was obviously a touchy subject, he stuffed a forkful of Mrs. Sanchez’s excellent food into his mouth and chewed with relish. Madison pushed beef around her plate and seemed preoccupied with her thoughts.
Logan applied himself to his own dinner and pondered what he’d learned tonight. Madison wasn’t opposed to going to college, she just didn’t want to go to any of the ones her parents had encouraged her to apply for. And she’d been disappointed after putting all her hopes in one basket and losing out.
Perhaps if Paula and Ran could let Madison make her own choice about where she went, she could be college-bound in the fall. He would call Paula and talk it over with her in the morning.
* * *
Scarlett sat on the overstuffed chair in her bedroom, her feet tucked beneath her, and stared out the window. While Harper and Violet had chosen to occupy suites that overlooked the Strip, Scarlett preferred a view of the mountains that circled Las Vegas. During the cooler months, she enjoyed hiking the trails in nearby Red Rock Park. The peace and quiet was a nice change from the constant activity around the hotel.
It was an hour before she was supposed to meet Logan for dinner, and she still needed to jump in the shower and get ready. She’d finished her day at six so she could get back to her suite and have plenty of time to prepare, but she’d spent the past hour sitting and daydreaming.
No. That wasn’t true. She was waiting. Waiting for Logan to call and cancel their date.
She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and frowned. Surely he wasn’t the sort of man to stand a girl up at the last minute. He was far too honorable for that. Her stomach gave a queer lurch. Was it possible he wasn’t going to cancel on her? Scarlett jumped to her feet. She only had an hour to get ready. What had she been thinking to wait so long?
Her cell rang as she reached the bathroom door. If she didn’t answer Logan’s call, was their date officially canceled? She shuffled back to the dresser she’d passed and scooped up the phone. To her relief, it wasn’t Logan.
“Bobby,” she exclaimed. She hadn’t spoken with the television producer in over six months. “What a lovely surprise.”
“Scarlett, L.A. misses you.” Over the phone Bobby McDermott came across as staccato and abrupt, but in person, he was a warmhearted teddy bear. “You must come home.”
Her heart twisted in fond melancholy, but she kept her voice light. “Las Vegas is home these days.”
“Bah. You’re an actress, not a hotel manager.”
“I used to be an actress.” She thought back over yesterday’s conversation with Logan. “At least when I got work, which wasn’t often.”
“You are a wonderful actress. You just weren’t getting offered the right parts.”
She couldn’t argue with him there. What she wouldn’t have given for a role with some meat. Something that scared her a little and forced her to stretch. She’d never been a fame hound, although with her sex appeal and early success, she was well-known to the gossip magazines and paparazzi.
“That’s why I’m calling,” Bobby continued. “I have something you’d be perfect for.”
Scarlett sighed. She’d heard that before. Bobby had brought her numerous opportunities, but his opinion of her talent always seemed to clash with those of his directors. Still, it was nice having someone of his stature in her corner even if she never did get the part.
“I’m really happy here, Bobby.”
“Nonsense. You’re an actress. You need to act.” The producer switched tacks. “At least come to L.A. and take a meeting.”
“There’s no point. I’m committed to staying here and managing the hotel.” She didn’t explain about her grandfather’s contest or the pride she felt for all she’d accomplished in the past five years. “You’re a darling for thinking of me, though.”
“I’m going to send you the script,” Bobby continued, ignoring her refusal. When he had his mind set on something, it took an act of God for him to change direction. “Don’t make any decisions until you’ve read it through.”
Knowing it was dangerous to open the door even a crack, she nevertheless heard herself say, “I’d be happy to give it a read. But I can’t promise anything.”
“You will once you’ve finished. Gotta run. Love you.”
She barely had a chance to say goodbye before Bobby hung up. Stewing in a disorderly mash of dread and excitement, Scarlett quickly showered and dressed. At seven forty-five, a knock sounded on her door. Her hair was still up in hot rollers and she hadn’t finished applying her makeup. Cursing Logan’s early arrival, Scarlett quickly stripped out the rollers and shook out her hair. A second knock sounded on her door, this one more insistent, and she raced to answer it.
“You’re early,” she declared as she threw open the door. But instead of Logan, a man in a ski mask stood at her door. “Who—?”
Before she could finish, his fist connected with her jaw. She saw stars. Then darkness.
With each hour that passed, Logan found himself growing more impatient for the evening ahead. By the time six-thirty rolled around he was positively surly, or at least that’s what his executive assistant had called him. Then Madison had complained about his bad temper when he’d arrived home.
Now, as he negotiated the eastbound traffic back to Fontaine Richesse, his mood perked up alarmingly. Damn it. He was looking forward to spending the evening with her. To seeing what sort of delectable outfit she’d prepared for him. To letting her steal food off his plate and wheedle out of him intimate details about his life. Why had he agreed to have dinner with her? He should have insisted on meeting her at her office during the regular workday when he wouldn’t be tempted to linger for a nightcap in her suite.
A nightcap that might lead him to forget how quickly she turned on the charm. He would find himself seducing her and believing it was his idea. He’d have her naked and writhing beneath him before he realized she’d orchestrated the entire event. He simply couldn’t let her manipulate him that way.
By the time he arrived at Fontaine Richesse, he was running five minutes late. He dialed Scarlett’s cell, but she didn’t pick up. That was odd. She was rarely beyond arm’s reach of her phone. Driven by an irresistible sense of urgency, Logan’s pace quickened as he made his way through the casino. By the time the elevator deposited him on Scarlett’s floor, he was deeply concerned at her lack of response.
Rounding the corner to her suite, he noticed the door was wide-open. When he spied her on the floor, he ran the rest of the way down the hall. He entered her suite just as she lifted a hand to her jaw and opened her eyes. He knelt at her side as she groaned in discomfort.
“What happened?” he demanded, his throat constricting as he surveyed her for damage.
“I answered the door and a man hit me.” She sounded bewildered and weak.
“What did he look like?”
“He was wearing a ski mask.” She blinked in disbelief. “All I remember is that his hand shot out. Then everything went black.”
“How long ago?” Logan dialed the Fontaine Richesse’s security office.
“It was quarter to eight. Someone knocked. I thought it was you at the door.” Her gaze found his. “I was mad at you for showing up early. My hair