Page 26 of A Vegas Crush Collection #2

“Talia, I truly blame myself for this. I am so sorry that I made you feel I would not want to continue our professional relationship.”

“No, it’s—I’m just—it’s me. I was the crazy one. I don’t want you to feel badly at all.”

“I do, though. I actually came here with a secondary motive to ask you on a proper date, but I suppose, considering how this conversation is going, maybe I should not?”

This time, my mouth drops open. “What? You want to go on a date…with me?”

“I thought perhaps—“

“Wait. You cut things off the other night. You walked away. Now you want to ask me out? Isn’t that running a little hot and cold, Boris?”

He sits back in his seat. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend you.”

I put a hand up. “No. I’m not offended, but I am confused. You bolted like you were the one offended the other night and now—“

Boris stands quickly, nearly knocking over the chair. “Never mind. Let’s just keep it professional, then.”

I grit my teeth. “Okay, whatever,” I manage to say. “That’s fine. But sit back down. We have business to finish up.”

Angry and hurt, I walk Boris through everything I need from his Russian investment managers and talk him through everything we need to do on this end to ensure a smooth transition.

We already have accounts set up with his current wages, so I just need a small amount of paperwork to prepare for the transfer of overseas accounts.

I read everything to him and make sure he understands before having him sign.

Even though this thing between us is a total cluster—as Parker noted—I still want to ensure he doesn’t get or feel screwed again. He doesn’t deserve it.

Once we’re done, he stands and reaches out a hand for me to shake.

It feels forced and formal and I hate it.

But I take his offer reluctantly, and probably wearing an expression akin to what one might wear when he or she has smelled a dead fish.

Still, when we touch, there’s a zing of energy that goes right to my core.

It’s that easy and I know he feels it, too, because his eyes go wide and he pulls away quickly, clearing his throat and saying goodbye before making a hasty retreat.

In the end I decide not to dwell on it. Well, I dwell on it a little, kicking myself for not being nicer when he said he wanted to ask me on a date. He caught me off guard and I’m not proud of the way I responded. Well crap.

Still, I have work to do. A career to maintain. And I can at least report that I have not lost Boris’s business when I call Harold later.

“Hey, Talia, he says. “How’s Sin City this week?”

“Sinful,” I say.

“Good to hear,” he says. “More sin means more money will need investing.”

“True. I do have good news on that front.”

“The sinning or the investing?”

“The investing, duh,” I say. “The Ice Dragon is moving all of his Russian puck money to us, to add in with the new accounts we set up for his Crush contract.”

“Puck money.” He chuckles. “Cute. I love it, and really good news, T. The whole shebang, huh?”

“Yep. We’ll see how it all shakes out. These guys were screwing him royally. I can get it under control, but I need to see what they send to me first. I’m sure they’ll try to fuck him over one more time before losing his business.”

“Well, let me know if we need to call in the lawyers.”

“Will do, chief.”

“Congrats. He’s a big name to land. You’re killin’ it out there. Glad I sent you.”

“It was a good move for both of us,” I answer. “Hey, what do you know about Boris?”

“Why? He creeping you out?”

“No, not at all. He seems really decent, but I know sometimes we can’t judge by the wrapper.”

“Scott tells me he’s a good dude,” Harold says. “Quiet. Not a big partier. Not a womanizer. Kind of boring by pro athlete standards. His words.”

“And as a player? He worth the hype?”

“Haven’t you watched his highlights?”

“Some,” I say, not wanting to admit that it’s the still photos of him shirtless that seem to garner my attention lately. And my skin burns just thinking how hot and strong and yes, sexy, touching him had been.

“He’s courteous, a good sportsman. Strong player, super consistent. He scores like crazy. With Evan on the wing…damn. The Crush is definitely favored to take the Cup this season.”

“And the Russian connection?”

“Some shady ties, but that’s kind of par for the course, to mix my sports metaphors. All those guys who played Russian puck are tied to some dark characters, either directly or indirectly. It’s Russia, you know? Boris somewhat less than most, though.”

“Okay,” I say. “Thanks. He seems great. Just wanted to confirm. I’ll let you know when the transfers are all in place.”

We hang up and I put my head down and force myself to get some work done. Still, I find myself edgy and cranky by five, so I knock off earlier than usual with plans to get a giant, messy sandwich made of all the meats and then take it home so I can feed my feelings in private.

I wander down the street to a little deli that has fast become one of my favorites, heading straight to the counter to order a Rueben with extra meat. I pay and stand to the side, waiting for my food, as a familiar-looking guy wanders in, sunglasses on even though he’s inside.

He stares at the board for a long time before placing his order.

When he steps near me, he lifts his sunglasses and stares at me with piercing blue eyes, lots of tats peeking out of his collar and shirt sleeves.

He looks young. Blond and fit, and it occurs to me that I’ve seen this guy at the arena.

“Do I know you?” he asks.

“No, but you play for the Crush, right?”

He nods and extends a hand. “Tyler.”

“Talia.” I shake his hand.

He considers me for a second then it dawns on him. He laughs softly. “I know those glasses. You’re the hot librarian who was looking for Boring Boris that one day. And the one he was drooling over at the club the other night.”

“He wasn’t drooling. Come on.”

He shrugs and makes a face that says otherwise. “He was being a class-B creeper, looking at you from afar for the longest time. Took no interest in any of the many tasty treats I tried to feed him through the night.”

“That sounds sexist.” I can’t help cringing.

“It sounds like a compliment, lady. He was all about you and only you, even though I know he didn’t leave with you. Poor sap-bastard probably fell asleep with his cock in his hand and a sexy nerd on his mind.”

I’ve been around a lot of crude men, men who think they can say and do whatever they want. This guy ranks up there, though I suppose he thinks he’s just being funny. And I’m not very good at hiding my true feelings.

“Well, that’s not exactly true,” I say. “He did walk me home. We live in the same building. But I’m his financial advisor. Nothing more.”

“Well, I know the guy only had eyes for you. He absolutely made it clear he wasn’t into one-night stands, no matter how hard I tried to find him a hookup. He’s a terrible wingman. You should be his sex advisor, too. He needs a good doink or his game’s gonna suffer. Just sayin’.”

My sandwich comes up, and I’m almost feel too queasy from my conversation with Tyler to take it, but the bag is already greasy, just the way I like it. No man comes between me and my meat sandwiches. I grab it and bolt, getting a distracted goodbye as Tyler’s phone rings.

I walk home, thinking about what Tyler said.

Boris only had eyes for me? All night? And he’s definitely, totally not into one-night stands?

I guess I probably knew that about him. He’s very upstanding that way.

Maybe he pushed me away because he thought it wouldn’t be meaningful if we took it too far that night?

Maybe he wanted more than just a hot, quick screw?

Maybe his awkwardness today was because he genuinely wanted to take me on a date, to get to know me before we…

I blow a frustrated breath out as I reach my building.

I’m such an idiot. I clearly have no business trying to be with anyone, because I cannot read social cues.

This has always been my problem. I’m not fixated on my looks or on whether or not someone finds me pretty or whatever.

I’m smart and I am who I am. I can’t change it.

But I do think I miss signs sometimes. Once, Cameron told me I was beautiful after a meeting, and I thought it was a broad compliment because I’d just told him his investments did well for the quarter.

It was much later he finally came right out and said, “I’m hitting on you, are you not getting it? ”

I was not getting it. And now I wish I’d never gotten it. But whatever. Water under the bridge and all that. But Boris? Boris isn’t water under the bridge. Not for me. I need to fix this with him. He’s worth it to at least try.

I think about all the crude things Tyler said and I’m still shaking my head as I step off the elevator on my floor, ready for my pajamas, and my cat, and a book, and this greasy sandwich that’s going to taste so amazing…Oh my God. Fuck.

But none of those things happen because my door is open a quarter of an inch.

I push it open tentatively, finding the inside completely ransacked.

My many books are strewn all over the floor, askew in ways that make my little bibliophile’s heart hurt.

My kitchen drawers have been emptied. My chaise is flipped upside down.

My heart is beating so hard in my chest. All I can do is stare at the mess. “Who would do this? Who in the hell would do this?” I sob. And then, “Where’s LuLu?”