“Excuse me, miss.”
Heather tilted her jaw higher, said nothing, and walked away.
The older woman looked genuinely sorry but at a loss for words.
Embarrassed, Jack took Heather by her arm and led her outside under the bright lights of the valet parking lot. The valet noticed him and snapped to attention. Before the valet moved a foot, Jack waved him off.
“So what are you really doing here, Heather?”
She angled her head to the side and painted on a smile. “I don’t like where we’ve been lately, Jack. I miss you.”
Jack held his ground when she moved forward. “There isn’t a we any longer. I thought I made myself clear.”
“I’ve given you a break. Now I want the break to be over.” She slid her hand over his chest.
He stopped her by holding on to her wrist.
“I didn’t ask for a break. I said we were over. We don’t want the same things.” He didn’t want a trophy wife, and that was all Heather could offer.
The edges of her lips fell into a pout. “We know the same people, play in the same circles. We’re perfect for each other.”
“No, we’re not. I want someone to be with me for more than my wallet. We both know that woman isn’t you.” Jack noticed the diamond-studded bracelet hanging off her wrist. They had been dating during her last birthday and Jack had given it to her. He regretted the gift now.
Heather’s fake pout faded and a spark of anger flashed in her eyes. “Every woman with you is going to be there for the money, Jack. I just happened to be honest about it.”
Her words stung, probably because they held some truth. It was hard to look past his father’s billions and Jack’s own millions. Still, the blonde in front of him had just made it clear she didn’t care about him at all. Jack drew the line there.
He waved to the senior valet, who quickly ran over.
“Yes, Mr. Morrison?”
“Can you bring my car around?”
The valet glanced at Heather, then back at Jack. “A hotel car, sir?”
“No, my car. The one I arrived in.”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
Heather smiled up at him, probably assuming she’d won something.
“Is there somewhere I can have my driver take you?” Jack asked. “Or are you staying here?”
“I have a suite at the Bellagio. But I don’t mind a move.” Another sickening smile lifted her lips.
Jack’s friends made their way out of the casino through the heavy glass doors.
“The Bellagio is perfect for you. I suggest you enjoy your time there.”
Her facade fell and anger straightened her jaw. “You’ll regret this someday, Jack. You’re going to marry some woman thinking she loves you and in the end be brokenhearted because she wants your trust fund.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his ride pull up. He walked to his twin cab, a well-past-its-prime pickup, dirty from the long drive, and opened the door.
“What is that?” she barked and stepped away as if the truck was a snake about to strike.
Finally, a real smile lifted Jack’s lips. The look of absolute horror on Heather’s face was worth her annoying presence. “It’s your ride to the Bellagio.”
“I’m not getting in that thing. What did you do, drive it from Texas?”
Actually, he’d had it shipped to California for his latest business venture, and that’s when he and the boys had decided to drive it to Vegas. “Something like that. C’mon, get in.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Suit yourself.” Jack opened the door wide and waved his friends in. “C’mon, boys. We have a bachelor to send off.” Jack turned to the kid who had jockeyed the truck around. “What’s your name, buddy?”
“Russell, sir. I’m new here.” The kid was maybe twenty-four.
“You know your way around Vegas, right?”
“Lived here all my life.”
Jack patted him on the back while Mike helped Dean into the backseat. Tom loaded in behind them. “Well, Russell, my friends and I need a driver tonight. We have some serious drinking to do and could use someone sober with us. You game?”
“I’m working.”
“And I’m paying you.” Jack waved the head valet over. “It’s Carrington, right?” he asked the senior valet.
“Yes, sir.”
“Carrington, Russell is going to help us out for a few hours. I hope that’s OK.”
“Of course, Mr. Morrison. Whatever you want.”
Jack winked at the man and turned toward the truck. When he lifted his foot into the cab, Heather called out.
“What about me?”
Jack spared her a glance. “I offered you my ride, darlin’. Maybe a Vegas cabbie would suit you better. Carrington, would you mind finding Miss Heather a ride?”
Carrington shifted his eyes from Heather to Jack a few times and then lifted his hand for one of the many cabs waiting in line to take guests to their next destination.
Heather lifted her arms over her shoulders. “Jack!” she yelled as he shut the door.
He tilted his hat as a good-bye while Russell shifted the truck in gear.
“Jack Morrison!” Jack could still hear her screaming as they pulled away.
“Ho boy, that is one ticked-off woman,” Tom said, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t know what you ever saw in her.”