Read Online Shattered Dreams (Vegas Dreams Book 2) by Cheryl Bradshaw - Free Book Online Page A

jets. And you’re welcome to stay and soak in it as long as you like.”
    I didn’t know exactly what to say, so I said, “Thanks.”
    “My chef made your breakfast. It’s in the kitchen.”
    “You’re leaving me here with your chef?”
    “He came earlier. He’s not here anymore. You have the place to yourself. You won’t be bothered.”
    Too bad.
    I was breaking into a sweat just looking at Gideon.
    “If you’re available tonight, I’d like to take you to dinner,” he said.
    “Okay.”
    “Six o’clock?”
    “Okay.”
    My nerves had taken over, making the word “okay” the only audible sound I seemed capable of making. It was time for him to leave, and all I could do was fantasize about how much better the bath would be with him in it.

I raised Gideon’s shirt over my head and dipped a toe into a little slice of piping-hot heaven. Sitting with my knees in a crisscross position in front of me, I submerged myself, remaining there until I was forced to pop my head above the surface to ingest a steamy breath of air.
    I floated to the opposite end of the tub. Carved chairs made of stone flanked both sides. I scooted my body onto one and reclined back, finding a series of buttons to play with on the armrest. I pressed each one. The first two ignited jets, shooting water in all directions beneath the surface. The third showered water down from needle-sized holes in the ceiling. I basked in it, feeling like I was under a waterfall in a tropical rainforest. 
    I glanced down at my scars, and it stirred up a memory I’d forgotten from the night before of me standing before Gideon. Naked. I gasped so loud it echoed throughout the room, and I was grateful no one had been there to hear me. The way I remembered it now, I’d thrown myself at someone who didn’t want me. I offered, and he refused. I imagined my scars repulsed him. He’d probably only been nice to me that morning out of pity for my situation and because he didn’t want to disappoint his pal and my friend’s boyfriend, Richard.
    I swam back to my towel, dried my hands, and reached for my phone. I draped my body over the side and feverishly typed him a text message: Sorry, I can’t have dinner with you tonight.
    His response was swift, arriving less than a minute later: Why not?
    Me: I have some things to do. If you need to talk to me about the house, why don’t you come by my office on Monday?
    Him: I didn’t want to take you to dinner to talk about the house. Have I done something to upset you?
    Me: I’m starting to remember bits and pieces from last night. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I think it’s best if we maintain a professional relationship. I’m headed back to my place in a minute. I’ll find a ride so you don’t have to worry about getting your car later. Thanks again.
    Another text popped up. I didn’t open it. I’d said all I needed to say, so why did I feel like such a jerk? I stood, draped a towel around me, and stepped out. The bathroom door whooshed open. Gideon walked in. 
    “What the hell?!” I spat. “What are you doing?”
    He leaned against the door, closing it. “I’m talking to you. Please. Don’t go. I’m not sure why you’re upset, but hear me out, okay?”
    “You can’t just barge in here like this, whether you want to talk to me or not.”
    “Why are you upset?”
    “I’m not. I just need to go home. I told you. I think we should keep things professional, and you being in here like this definitely isn’t.”
    “Do you want my listing?”
    “What?”
    “Do you want my listing?” he repeated. “Yes or no?”
    “Of course I do.”
    “Then tell me what’s bugging you.”
    “Are you saying if I don’t, you’ll list with someone else?”
    He grinned. “Maybe.”
    “All right. Fine. I remember you looking at my scars last night. I mean, I don’t recall why I was naked exactly or how I got that way, but I know I was standing in front of you butt naked, you saw the scars,