Lucky Break

  LUCKY BREAK

  Lucky O’Toole Vegas Adventure

  Book Six

  DEBORAH COONTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  NOVELS IN THE LUCKY O’TOOLE SERIES

  LUCKY O’TOOLE NOVELLAS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  CHAPTER ONE

  ME, getting married. I still couldn’t believe it. We hadn’t set a date, but still… married!

  When Jean-Charles asked me to marry him, I had said yes.

  One simple word. I’d said it a million different times, in a thousand different contexts, with no life-altering consequences … well, except for the whole Teddie thing. That hadn’t worked out quite as I’d hoped, but about like I’d feared.

  He’d loved me and left. If I’d listened to more country music, maybe I could’ve avoided that.

  For good or for ill, I paused one last time in front of the full-length mirrors in my closet that caught all sides. Normally, I avoided the things like I avoided my mother, both for good reason. At six feet and, shall we say it, fully fleshed-out, I fell far short of my mother’s dream that I would become a dancer on the Vegas Strip. Alas, I became something much worse, a hotel executive, specifically the Vice President of Customer Relations at the Babylon, Vegas’s premier Strip property. But, despite my lofty rung on the corporate ladder, Mona still made me feel guilty that I didn’t live down to her expectations.

  Why is it we all want what we can’t have?

  Teddie.

  As if hearing her lead-in or something, Mona breezed into my boudoir. “Well, don’t you look every inch the virginal bride?” Mona said with her barbed tongue planted firmly in her cheek.

  Resplendent in a rich shade of burnt orange organza that darkened and lightened as she moved, one shoulder bare, the bodice fitted, the skirt flowing, she looked every inch the hotel magnate’s wife. To further fill her days, she also was the mother of month-old twins and a candidate for public office—the County Commission—if the voters didn’t wise up soon. With the vote almost a year away, she was ahead in the polls, which frightened the hell out of me, but also made me grudgingly proud. My 24/7 job would never allow the time for a family and a job as servant of the people—I don’t know how she did it. The wear-and-tear showed in added crow’s feet and a subtle weariness dimming her normal wattage. Her brown hair was pulled into a chignon with tendrils of hair left to softly frame her face. The baby weight had almost disappeared. What was left softened her angular features and rounded her in an appealing, maternal way. Recent motherhood had made her even more stunning, a cross I bore. Her blue eyes, round with hurt and accentuated with black liner, put me on guard. “Red does suit you,” she added as she eyed me with the calculation of a children’s beauty pageant momzilla.

  I’d chosen a strapless sheath of fire engine red with tiny gold threads running through the bodice just in case the red was too subtle. The five-carat emerald-cut diamond sparkled on the ring finger of my left hand. Every now and again I’d look at it just to make sure. Still, I couldn’t believe it.

  Me. Getting married.

  Holding onto my mother’s shoulder, I used her to steady myself as I donned first one low-heeled strappy Jimmy Choo, then the other. “Is this a social call?” I asked my mother, knowing her wounded doe-eyes provided the answer, but hoping just this once she’d let her bet ride. But she’d gone out of her way, making the trip from the Babylon, so the odds were against me.

  “What?” She feigned offense. “Lucky, you act as if I don’t want to check on my daughter every now and again.”

  Yes, my name is Lucky. Last name O’Toole, and, to be honest, I have no idea where either name came from and I’m too scared of the answer to ask. “Well, since this is your first visit in ages, it does make me wonder.” I leaned close to the mirror to check my make-up one last time. I still wasn’t used to the whole lipstick, powder, blush routine, but I did like the result. Especially the shadow and eyeliner that accentuated my blue eyes—even if they still carried a hint of shell-shock in them. I applied one more swipe of pink gloss, then pressed my lips together. “I know you well enough to see an ulterior motive lurking behind your innocent act.”

  She gave me a hint of a smile, a kid caught with Black Cats at school. “I want to talk to you about Jean-Charles.”

  “None of your business.”

  She ignored my frosty tone and eyes that had gone all squinty. “Are you sure about this? Are you sure Jean-Charles isn’t one of those boomerang things?”

  “Boomerang?” The visual was interesting. “You mean rebound things?” I corrected before my brain kicked in, shutting down my mouth. She knew perfectly well what she meant—and she misspoke to get me to engage. Would I never learn?

  “Exactly. You’re not over Teddie and what he did.”

  “So you don’t want to talk about Jean-Charles; you really want to talk about Teddie.”

  “And your father.”

  That one whirled in out of left field, tripping my heart. “The Big Boss? He’s okay, right?” Ever since he had that heart scare not too long ago, I hadn’t been able to shake a feeling of impending doom. A dose of mortality to puncture his Mount Olympus aura.

  “Of course, he’s fine.” Mona shrugged that suggestion away, a horse shaking off a fly. “It’s what he’s doing to Teddie.”

  Teddie.

  This was my night, Jean-Charles’s night. Tonight’s party celebrating the opening of Jean-Charles’s restaurant, J-C Vegas, would be the kickoff to a ten-day celebration of the grand opening of my very own hotel, Cielo. And she had to bring Teddie into it. I gave her a look that I hoped would instill terror. “Curiously, Mother, when Teddie left he ceased being my problem.”

  Mona rolled her eyes.

  “Did you just roll your eyes at me?” A hand on my hip, I felt like the parent here. “Really? Keep doing that and maybe you’ll find a brain in there somewhere.”

  I grabbed my purse, a sweet little evening bag in red and gold to match my dress—who knew love could turn this tomboy all girly-girly? If I started giggling, I’d hate myself. Mona dogged my heels as I strode through my bedroom and into the main room of my apartment. “Now where did I put my wrap?”

  Mona’s voice held the tinny notes of a whine fraying my already on-edge nerves. “Lucky, you have to deal with Teddie.”

  Taking a deep breath, I counted to ten … twice. My gaze wandered around the room as I drank it all in: the view of the Strip through the wall of windows, the white walls, the burnished wood floor, the white leather furniture and the splashes of color on the walls—original paintings depicting the glory of the Mojave. My home. My sanctuary. Me. “I have dealt with Teddie, Mother. Done. Over. Finished.”

  “But your father.” Mona trotted after me breathless. “He’s cancelling Teddie’s contract.” My father had offered Teddie his former theater to develop and stage a new show—one based on Teddie as a singer rather than The Great Teddie Divine, Vegas’s foremost female impersonator, his previous gig. I was glad that was behind him. I’d tired of him rooting in my closet for “costumes” and stretching out my
shoes. Especially my shoes.

  When my father had invited Teddie back into the fold, he hadn’t consulted me. Both of my parents considered it their duty to meddle in my life. Up to now, they’d been irritating but not hurtful. Jerking the contract out from under Teddie, that was a knife to the heart. Teddie would wither and die without his audience. And, no matter what he’d done, how much he’d disappointed me, I didn’t want to see him broken. Punishment, like revenge, wouldn’t ease the pain. Oh, maybe in the short term ... but I didn’t want my future to be burdened with guilt. The high road, Lucky. The high road.

  I stopped and whirled on Mona, almost meeting her nose-to-nose. “What do you mean ‘cancelled his contract’?”

  She drew up, shoulders back, chin at a defiant angle, the look in her eyes a slap—a trait she’d taken from my father. He wore it better and could back it up. “Teddie’s out with no place to go, and it’s all your fault.”

  This time I rolled my eyes. And I knew that no matter how many times I did it, I wouldn’t find a brain in my hollow head. “Of course it’s not my fault. I don’t know anything about it. So, stop doing that.” Wow! Apparently I had shucked some emotional armor and exposed a backbone.

  “You have to fix it.” Mona wrung her hands. She used to campaign against Teddie, telling me he’d leave me for a life on the road. She’d been right. He’d broken my heart. And now he and my mother were best friends? Unlike her daughter, he had lived down to her expectations, so I guessed she had a soft spot. There was all sorts of wrong in that. “Without you and Teddie being an item,” her eyes slipped to the ring on my finger and then back to mine, “your father has less incentive to keep him around.”

  “Don’t be silly, Mother. This is all about money. You know the Big Boss.” With a hand on one hip, I eyed Mona, as I plotted my battle strategy. Brush her off or look into the problem? Which would be the least painful path? To ignore her would bring out her inner piranha. She’d keep biting off chunks of my resolve until I finally caved. Easier to get it over with. “I’ll look into it, Mother. First, I have to know what the deal is and why the Big Boss is cancelling it.”

  Mona opened her mouth, but I heard Teddie’s voice.

  “He got a better offer.” Teddie strolled in from the kitchen looking like a million bucks before taxes. Spiky blond hair, blue eyes rimmed with lashes most women would sacrifice body parts for, broad where he should be, trim where he shouldn’t, a tight ass, and a voice like honey, the guy was a walking, talking, singing pheromone.

  I whirled on my mother. “You asked Teddie down? So you two could gang up on me? Tonight?” Teddie’s apartment connected to mine through a back staircase, which used to be convenient. Now it was a violation … and a betrayal. I narrowed my eyes at my mother and wondered what the punishment for matricide was these days. If everyone’s mother was like Mona, it couldn’t be that bad. But everyone couldn’t be so lucky.

  Mona didn’t look sorry. “A stacked deck is the best kind,” she said, parroting her husband.

  “In business.”

  She met me glare-to-glare. “This is business.”

  “My business, I should think,” Teddie said. “Look, if it’s any consolation, I didn’t want to mention this at all. My presence here is as much a part of Mona’s set-up as your help is. But, here it is, short and sweet. Your father cancelled my contract because Holt Box said he’d do thirty weeks a year for five years, coup of epic proportions getting him to come out of retirement. He’ll be a huge draw for the Babylon, much more than I would.” Although Teddie adopted a casual air, he was angry. It boiled just below the surface. His smile was taut with the effort to cover it.

  I was blindsided. Ten years ago Holt had left country music at the peak of his career, devastating his legions of female fans and making himself into the stuff of legend.

  And now the Babylon was hosting his coming-out-of-retirement tour? How could the Big Boss have inked such a deal without me being in on it? Considering my parents made me and my life their business, I didn’t have to think on it too hard. In a way, Mona had been right. It was my fault, of a sort. Business and pleasure, almost impossible to separate, and my father didn’t have enough confidence in me to do so.

  Grudgingly I admitted, in this case, he was probably right. If I’d been left to negotiate the Holt Box deal, I would’ve been hard-pressed to do so. But that wouldn’t stop me from letting my father know how I felt … about all of it.

  Promises were promises.

  And when it came to love, I didn’t need him riding in on his white horse to vanquish the unworthy. Or to save me from my own mistakes.

  Teddie.

  Teddie had a lot riding on his new show; he’d put his heart and soul into it. And he’d given up his spot on his newly rejuvenated tour. Finally, the rage burbled to the surface, coloring his face and hardening his voice. Holding up his hand, he stopped the platitudes I was going to offer—I didn’t have anything else, and he knew me well enough to know it.

  “Don’t fret, not that you would. Your father had the legal right to do what he did.”

  “Being legal doesn’t make it right.”

  Teddie’s anger cooled. “You always tilt at windmills, don’t you? One of the things I love about you. In a gray world you see black and white.”

  “Principles.”

  I left it to the Harvard boy to fill in all the rest. Principles applied to life and love.

  Hiking up the flaps of his tux jacket, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “This whole thing is my own damned fault. In such a hurry to get back here, back to—” He gave me an open, vulnerable look that tore at my heart. “But that was a pipe dream. In my haste, I agreed to stuff Rudy went apoplectic over.” Rudy Gillespie was his entertainment lawyer, one of my good friends, and married to an even better friend, Jordan Marsh—the Hollywood heartthrob who had finally come out, dashing hopes of young women worldwide.

  I knew what Teddie had left out, what he wanted to say: He’d been in a hurry to get back to me. Back to us. After having thrown me over for a line-up of groupies.

  Trust, an emotional Humpty-Dumpty.

  “Don’t forget Holt Box had a hand in all of this,” added Mona.

  Teddie’s anger sizzled as it flared anew. His shoulders rose toward his ears, as his face closed. “Yeah, that dude is on the top of my hit list.”

  “If you want to kill him, don’t do it tonight. Murder has such a chilling effect on fun and frivolity.” I spied my gold pashmina on the couch. Grabbing it in one swoop, I headed for the elevator. One advantage of having one of the top floors was a private elevator that fetched me from the middle of my great room. “I’m late. And, Teddie, I’m sorry. I really am. I’ll see what I can find out. But right now I need to go. You two have a fine time. It’s well past pumpkin time and I’ve got to hurry.”

  “Holt Box will be there tonight?” Teddie’s voice lost any hint of nice.

  “What rock have you been living under?” I wrapped the pashmina around my shoulders—Decembers could be cool in Vegas. “He’s cooking with Jean-Charles. Apparently he loves to cook, has a cookbook out or something, I don’t know.” In my world of late nights and early mornings finding a meal involved finding the time to grab something quick and convenient. “Holt asked to assist. Jean-Charles said yes.”

  “And you went along with it?”

  “Not my purview. And, trust me, having him in the kitchen during the opening might sound like a great media play, but it’s been a nightmare of epic proportions. For weeks, gaggles of female predators looking for their hunk of country music flesh have been stalking the well-guarded perimeter of the Cielo property.”

  Too late, I realized I’d added fuel, igniting Teddie’s slow burn into a raging inferno. Hate flushed his face, a new look. I didn’t like it, but I got it.

  Mona chose that moment to wade back in. “I have Paolo waiting downstairs.” She studiously analyzed her fingernails as she dropped that little bombshell.

  “But, I have Pao
lo waiting downstairs,” I said as the realization that my mother could now overrule me at the hotel hit me like a bucket of ice water. I jabbed at the elevator button. Thankfully, the thing was waiting.

  The doors opened and I stepped inside, followed by Mona and Teddie, rounding out our awkward trio.

  When the doors closed, Teddie’s reflection half-smiled at mine, an appreciated effort to cut through the ugliness. Still, I felt he was contemplating burying a knife in my back. How fun to have all of the blame and none of the authority.

  In the closed space, the subtle aroma of very good Scotch, or very bad bourbon, competed with his Old Spice cologne. Apparently he’d gotten a head start—some joy juice to deaden the downside.

  From the look on his face, I could tell he wanted to change the subject as much as I did.

  “Now, that is a dress,” he said, a hint of warmth melting the ice in his tone.

  While he looked appreciative of the wrapping, I knew he liked the package as well. A bit of sad longing brushed over my heart. We’d been so good together. Until we weren’t. His smile dimmed when he caught the flash of my ring. He reached around my shoulder, pulling me close, shoulder-to-shoulder in a one-arm embrace. Catching me off guard, I fell into him. My hand braced against his chest; the other grabbed his waist as I struggled to get my feet back underneath myself.

  “Sorry,” Teddie said, not sounding the least bit as he helped me right myself.

  Mona, looking a bit uncomfortable, had put as much space as possible between her and me, which wasn’t much given we were in an elevator. Teddie stood close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. Anger? Passion? Didn’t know and didn’t care. Straightening my gown and my thoughts, ordering the outside to cover the muddle inside, I focused on the party ahead and ignored both of them as the elevator whisked us downstairs. As we pushed into the night, Paolo was indeed waiting by one of the Babylon’s limos wringing his hands.

  He snapped to attention when he caught sight of me. A small man with jet-black hair slicked back, an always-impeccable uniform, a normally ready smile, and enough energy to light Vegas for a year, tonight Paolo looked uneasy. Another hapless male fallen prey to Mona’s charms, and I’m sure her veiled threats. He rushed to open the back door for me. “Oh, Miss Lucky, Paolo is so very sorry. Mrs. Rothstein …”