Her Las Vegas Wedding. Andrea Bolter

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СКАЧАТЬ she had to crane her neck back to fully study Shane’s likeness. The discomfort she always felt in his presence was just as palpable here in this massive photograph.

      A wild toss of dark hair seemed to grow from his scalp in every direction as though it belonged on a mythological Medusa. A folded blue bandanna was tied across his forehead and under his hairline. Those black-as-night eyes were framed with long eyelashes and crowned by heavy brows. A straight nose led to full lips, parted slightly, surrounded by beard stubble above his mouth and across his lower cheek and square jaw.

      The look on his face was a dare. To say this man was smoldering and dangerous was the understatement of the century. He was almost too much to take in, even in cardboard form. Thank goodness she was marrying safe Reg.

      Audrey bit her lip to stay grounded and continue her survey of Shane.

      His chef’s coat fit well from one broad shoulder to the other. The coat’s sleeves were cuffed twice to reveal hefty forearms with a dusting of dark hair. The arms crossed at his chest showcased black leather cording that formed bracelets wrapped around each wrist. One huge hand held a chef’s knife.

      An embroidered insignia on the chest of the chef’s coat depicted his restaurant logo of a four-legged table with the name Shane scripted above it. The coat’s hem hit Shane at mid hip, shorter than a typical chef preference. Fitted jeans encased the lower half of his body, with its straight hips and muscular legs. The jeans gave way to black motorcycle boots. One foot crossed over the other in a defiant stance.

      Audrey’s eyes did a ride up from the boots to the powerfully built chest to the heart-stopping lips. She followed individual locks of jet hair as each made a different wavy descent down around his face.

      All she could say to herself was “Whoa!” as that flush swept across her neck again.

      Audrey hated cardboard cutout displays that presented a person as some sort of whacked-out Greek statue or national monument. To her, they were a crass and crude form of advertising. But there was no question that Shane Murphy was a drop-dead sexy man. She was painfully aware of it every time she was around him. While it didn’t directly have anything to do with his cooking, she wouldn’t doubt that his fiery good looks contributed to his restaurants’ success.

      Nonetheless, Audrey was not about to have that eyesore muddy the sophistication of a Girard hotel. So she lifted cardboard Shane Murphy at his waist, tucked him under her arm and proceeded to her bungalow. As soon as she swiped her key card and let herself in, she propped Shane in a corner of the room facing the bed.

      Dropping her bags, she made a three-hundred-sixty degree turn as she took in the finished renovation of the bungalow. The photo and video tours she’d seen didn’t do it justice. An interior archway divided the suite into two distinct areas. In the sleeping portion, teal and brown bedding appointed the king bed, a palette that evoked the original sixties style. But a flat-screen smart TV mounted on the wall and tech stations on the two lightwood nightstands brought the room straight into the needs of today’s guests. An armchair upholstered in stripes echoed the teal and added in green and cream colors. A reading lamp perched on an end table beside it.

      Through the archway, a lightwood desk and chair provided a place to work or eat. Bright abstract paintings adorned the walls. A sitting area with a sleek gray sofa and low coffee table gave way to the sliding-glass door. Each bungalow had a private patio with two forest green lounge chairs shaded by a partial veranda to give protection against the desert sun.

      Audrey delighted at the perfection of the remodel. This was what put the Hotel Girard brand on the map. Everything carefully crafted from fine materials and designs perfectly executed.

      Except for that stupid cutout of Shane Murphy, of course.

      * * *

      “There he is.” Daniel nudged Audrey as they sat in a finished section of one of the hotel’s cocktail lounges.

      They both stood as Reg Murphy approached. Audrey’s future husband was a slim man who stood ramrod straight. He wore a three-piece pinstriped suit. Audrey couldn’t remember the last time she saw a man wear a vested suit.

      She hadn’t had a chance to unpack but had pulled an outfit from her garment bag for the evening. A conservative gray sheath dress and black sandals.

      “Nice to see you, Reg.”

      “I guess this is finally it,” he said as he extended his right hand as if to shake hers. Then he seemed to change his mind midstream and instead lifted her hand and turned it over to kiss the back of it. His supple palm pressed her fingers against his open lips. The whole maneuver was awkward and a bit moist.

      “How was your flight?” Daniel asked as Reg vigorously shook his hand up and down.

      “Fine, sir.”

      Audrey remembered Reg as being a bit more poised. Perhaps it was wedding jitters that made him appear so nervous. He stared at Daniel slack-jawed like he wanted to say something, but instead pulled a white handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and dabbed his upper lip.

      “Are you in Vegas now until the opening?” Audrey asked.

      “I may have to fly back to New York. You?”

      “Yeah, I’m here. I’ve got our wedding to coordinate.”

      “Right.” Reg nodded as if it were just sinking in. He glanced at his phone and read something on the screen that brought a huge smile to his lips. “Please pardon me a moment while I return this message.”

      He tapped onto the screen, grinning the entire time.

      “Well,” Daniel said using his right hand to pat Audrey’s back and his left to tap Reg’s, “I’ll leave you two to your evening.”

      “Thanks, Dad.”

      After Daniel walked away, Reg and Audrey each perched on a stool beside the table. One of the four bars on the property, this space was located inside the main lobby and had stylish fun in mind. The decor was done with white barstools upholstered in deep purple velvet set around chrome pedestal tables. Behind the chrome cocktail bar was a giant glass tank filled with undulating purple goo similar to the lava lamps of the 1960s.

      Once again, Girard’s interior designers had worked through an idea to perfection. And then capable crews were able to bring the vision to fruition. Audrey could imagine the lounge with chic music playing in the background and filled with trendy patrons choosing drinks from a cocktail menu that offered libations with names like Flip-Out Frappe and Yin-Yang-Yum.

      “After all of the talk about us marrying, this has come about rather suddenly, hasn’t it?” Reg asked.

      “Is there a problem with that?”

      He seemed to be a million miles away. “Not at all.”

      “I think the extra push makes sense. Do everything at once. Open the hotel and Shane’s Table. Shane’s cookbook. Our marriage. It’s a cascade of publicity on several levels.”

      Audrey knew that the Girard hotels had never really recovered from the events of three years ago. When her mother was dying and her father was unable to concentrate on the business. Audrey had tried as best she could to fill in for him. It was a gift to have the work to focus on since her mother hadn’t wanted her at her bedside.

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