Vegas Miracle Read Online Free

released her and put a possessive arm around her shoulders.  His next words made her scalp prickle.
    "And the one I’m taking you on tomorrow," his lips touched her temple.  "Oh, and the one the next day."
    Grace let out a breath.
    "How do you know I’ll go on any more dates with you?"  She jabbed him in the side with her elbow.
    "Something tells me we have a lot of dates in our future," he bumped her hip, knocking her aside a minute before grabbing her hand and dragging her up the steps behind him.  Grace observed his amazing plaid-covered ass once more, reflecting on the fact this time yesterday, she didn’t even know this man existed. Now, couldn’t imagine her life without him.

 
    Chapter Three
     
    Four Years Later
     
    Ryan spun the thin platinum band around his left ring finger.  The plane was late and as it circled the small airport, he clamped down the urge to get up and pace.  For an expert frequent flier, he sure as hell wasn't a patient one.  This trip pissed him off anyway and he'd balked at the necessity of convincing some prima dona resort cook who managed to gain some publicity by winning a stupid Iron Chef reality TV show to come and open a restaurant.  The manager at the Aria had his heart set on this guy though, hence Ryan was dispatched to the South of France to fetch him.
    Glancing down when the soft "ping" of his Skype indicator sounded on his laptop, Ryan shook his head at the latest missive from the big money investor for the Vegas resort.  It included a photo from the chef’s media kit. Jesus, a media kit?
    "This guy is a former physical therapist or some shit who put himself through French cooking school giving massages."
    Ryan glanced at the photo.  Long dark hair framed a noble, exotic face.
    "Bet he gets his fair share of pussy, eh?"
    Ryan grimaced.  What did that have to do with anything?
    "You guys will get along great.  You can compare cocks man notes."
    Ryan had to respond although he usually ignored this asshole.
    "I bet I have more notches."
    "I bet you do too.  Well, used to anyway.  This guy, Henri, he was married too, He has a kid but he's divorced."
    Ryan sipped his drink and waited for the next missive.
    "When are you gonna knock up that hot wife of yours anyway, Sully?"
    Ryan rolled his eyes.  Nobody ever called him "Sully" except this blow hard.  As for "knocking up," well, he and Grace had an understanding about that.  No kids.  Ever.
    "Not anytime soon.  I gotta go, plane's about to land."  He closed the chat window but not before he saw Grace’s icon appear in the corner.
    "Hey."  He smiled at the thought of her.  Ryan never dreamed he’d be so lucky to find his perfect woman.  He repressed a shudder at the memory of how he very nearly screwed it up with his overwhelming need to take care of her. 
     
    They’d been happy for the better part of the first year.  She kept her crappy apartment and insisted on staying there several nights a week.  While he respected her need for privacy, the more he was with her, the more he wanted her and not just her amazing body.  She could argue a college professor under the table on most any subject and was an incredible host for the various parties he threw for clients, either at his penthouse or off site.  The McGiver of Parties he called her given her ability to pull off a plated event for a hundred with three phone calls and a paper clip.
    But, her stubborn insistence on never letting him pay for anything other than actual dates they went on started to rub him the wrong way.   And never having food in the house made him nuts.  Not that he expected her to stock his fridge and hers as well, he just kind of thought she might find his gourmet kitchen inviting enough to use.  But, Grace was an avowed non-cook and no amount of hinting or cajoling would change that.
    Ryan recalled finding himself gazing at websites full of expensive platinum and diamond rings, which alarmed him. So, when the opportunity arose