The Eleventh Hour Read online

  She withheld her giggle. “Okay, then, let’s hear it. What does my future hold?”

  He settled the pad of his index finger against the indention of her wrist, focusing in on that area. “See these lines right here?” He glanced over at her, attempting to hold in his smile. “This is your creative aura.”

  “Is that so?”

  He nodded seriously, returning his vision to her hand. “And since there’s four lines crammed tightly together, that means you’re extremely gifted in the arts.”

  When she giggled at the severity of his tone, he looked over with a feigned stern look. “My readings must be taken seriously for me to continue.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” she played along.

  He cleared his throat as he turned back to examine her hand again. He studied further. “And this line here is your money line, which is also very lengthy and thick.” He leaned in closer. “I see artwork flying off walls.”

  She laughed, but when the tip of his finger continued caressing her palm, making her feel tingly and light headed, her smile dissipated.

  He seemingly got lost in the movement of his finger sliding over the ridges and grooves of her hand as his voice lowered an octave. He traced the contour starting at the fleshy pad, winding around her thumb. “This mark here represents your life line. You can see it curves around to the front of your hand.” He peered over in her direction, his lips drawn tight. “You will have a long, healthy life.”

  His chin tilted down as he studied further until his middle finger glided to the center of her palm as he paused, blinked several times, then husked, “This is your marriage line.”

  He angled his head down even further so that his dark hair fell against his forehead, concealing his eyes. “See how this line is connected to the line running parallel to it?” Another long pause. “That means you’ll find your soul mate.”

  After a lengthy, thick silence, he folded her fingers into her palm with his head still bowed. He then lifted, gazing over at her with stormy eyes, smoldering with a fury of emotion, but she didn’t know what churned just beneath the surface.

  To lighten the mood, she teased, “Let’s hope your great grandmother taught you well, because I liked that reading a lot.” She grinned wickedly. “A whole lot, actually.”

  He smiled, but the motion didn’t seem to reach his eyes. Addison wondered what had caused the ache that seemed to flash across his face.

  After a few beats of silence, he said, “Now, you do mine.”

  She removed her hand from his, stating, “I don’t know what I’m doing, though.”

  He tilted his head with a smirk, silently saying, As if I do.”

  “Okay.” She pulled in a breath as she flattened her palm, asking for his hand. Inwardly, she told herself to be funny, be cute, make him fall for you, as you are for him.

  She traced the contours of his palm as she lifted it and bent closer, pretending to really examine the indentions before speaking.

  “I see a woman…”

  His voice cracked adorably. “A woman?”

  She nodded solemnly. “With your piercing blue eyes.”

  “A relative?”

  Shrugging, she focused in on his palm, her mind reeling to come up with something to say. “She’s talking to someone….behind a desk.”

  He leaned in close, studying over her shoulder, as if in awe. ”It’s like you’re looking into a crystal ball, which is much cooler than palm reading.”

  She withheld her smile. “She just withdrew her cell. She’s pulling something up…it looks to be a calendar.”

  “Making a lunch date?”

  “No.” She leaned in closer.

  “Is it my mom making a haircut appointment for me?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

  She shook her head, swallowing her grin. “She’s typing now.”

  “What does it say?”

  “It says….wait.” She dropped their hands into her lap, feigning disappointment. “The image is gone.”

  He pretended being crushed, before saying, “You really have a gift, Addison. You may want to think about throwing in your apron and hitting the carnival tour, instead.”

  “That sounds half horrendously-horrible, half crazy-exciting.”

  He removed his hand, slouching down further against the glass. “It would be fun to travel the circuit. No worries. Just the open land and a tent full of dreams.”

  “Wow,” Addison commented. “That was kinda poetic.”

  “I’m a man with many talents.” He wiggled his eyebrows, making her laugh.

  She angled on one hip, tucking her knees, turning toward him. “If you were a carny, what would you do?”

  His forehead burrowed as he thought for a moment, before replying, “I would never have the courage to train wild animals, so I’d probably be a flame thrower, or sword swallower, or something like that.”

  “Because those things would be so much less dangerous,” she added facetiously.

  The conversation buzzed back and forth between the two for hours. By the time Addison said she needed to get home, their bottoms were numb and their eyelids were drooping. After creeping through the darkened bedroom and out to the main area, Dawson offered to walk Addison home. He escorted her all the way through her hotel, back to the main elevators at the far end of the casino.

  He punched the glowing circle and then turned toward her, saying, “I had fun tonight.”

  So he wasn’t walking her to the room. Bummer.

  “I did, too. Thanks for inviting us to the party.”

  “Sounds like we’ll see each other tomorrow.”

  Addison had heard the guys talking to Jessica about coming over to the pool, but Dawson was just now mentioning it. Was this his way of inviting her?

  “Um, yeah. If you want me to come,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too pathetic.

  “It’s totally up to you. You may be too tired after the convention.”

  Not the answer she was hoping for. She decided to play coy. “I’ll just play it by ear.”

  This didn’t seem to affect him in the least. “Okay. Sounds good. Goodnight, Addison.”

  She lifted her hand in a feeble wave as he walked away, calling, “Night.”

  Hour Three

  ADDISON WOKE IN a fog, stale alcohol on her breath, feet tingling with numbness, throbbing legs feeling like a jiggling mound of jello, her brain a bleary mess of confusion. It was close to four a.m. by the time Dawson walked her back to the hotel last night, and she was paying for her partying ways when her alarm clock buzzed two hours later.

  Throwing back the duvet, she shuffled toward the master bathroom, eyes at half mast, a yawn seizing her sleep deprived face. Cranking on the showerhead, she plopped down on the closed toilet lid and began peeling off the wrinkled top she wore last night, and unfortunately, then slept in, as steam filtrated throughout the room. Her earrings came next, along with her panties. Stepping underneath the hot pins and needles, she let the scalding water rain down over her head, most likely smearing her makeup that she’d been too tired to remove.

  She knew she was being highly unprofessional staying out until the wee hours of the morning, considering this was a business trip, but she just couldn’t bring herself to come home last night. When Dawson was in the room, everything else faded away, including her self-preservation for her early morning rise. Even now with every muscle in her body aching, her brain fuzzy with the aftermath of alcohol, and her face puffy and swollen, she would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

  Dawson had a way of making her feel comfortable in her own skin. He created an environment where she felt safe, allowing her to let her guard down, relax, and just be herself. He even seemed to love her crimson, blushing cheeks, and actually complimented her on the trait. No man had ever made her feel so content, so calm in his presence, and she was just so thankful that their paths had crossed at the airport.

  She was looking so forward to this afternoon, since the boys had invited her and Jessica to hang out at the VIP pool at the Wynn. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the day that Dawson would actually kiss her. She already had that tingling, butterfly sensation in her stomach every time he touched her -- his hand brushing her lower back, shoulders touching, hands grazing -- she couldn’t imagine what it would feel like when they actually touched lips. She just had to hope that she wouldn’t fumble through the process and accidently bump heads, or worse yet, lock teeth. That would be completely and utterly mortifying, and so not how she visualized the experience. She pictured Dawson to be gentle, but yet passionate, the right mix of sweetness, with the perfect amount of heat.

  In past experiences, Addison found that men were either too passive while kissing, or they attempted to swallow her face whole, leaving her to lap up their salvia with the back of her hand when finished. In her limited experience in the bedroom, she found the exact same state of affairs. Men were either excessively aggressive, or simply not enough. She didn’t know if this was because she was over-analytical and persnickety, or she was just choosing the wrong person to fall for. Whichever reason, she hadn’t yet found that right mix, the perfect chemistry with a man, in and out of the bedroom.

  She was hoping that Dawson would be the deal breaker, giving her a measuring stick to qualify what was a good sexual encounter, and what was a poor one. So far, he proved to be just that on the social scale, and she was looking forward to delving into their relationship further.

  When she was fully ready, she traipsed around the bed to the nightstand. With paper and pen in hand, she jotted down a quick note for Jessica.

  Jess,

  I’ll be at the convention center until two- maybe even three- pending on the number of venders this year. You can wait for me here in the room, or if it ge
ts too late, just head on over and I’ll meet you at the Wynn.

  Hope you had a good time with Moose last night…You sure sounded like you did. LOL

  See you later,

  Addy

  Ripping the note off the pad, she laid it against Jessica’s unused pillow. She then wrapped her sling bag around her neck, grabbed her coffee cup, and hurried down to the lobby.

  Addison whipped through rows and rows of venders as if she was sprinting in a dead heat at a competitive track meet. She sailed past merchants selling utensils, stainless steel pots, pans, and baking sheets, rolled through booths containing industrial mixers, blenders, and beaters, and soared through aisles peddling the latest and greatest set of oven mitts and quirky quoted aprons.

  She bee-lined straight to the merchants selling industrial ovens and combed through every feature on every model available. But the problem was, there were over twenty venders listed selling ranges and the process took much longer than Addison expected.

  Luckily, she had thought to bring along her swim suit and cover up, along with a pair of flip flops, because it was almost three p.m. by the time Addison rolled into the regal, European-style pool and spa at the Wynn. White lounge chairs with mammoth umbrellas lined the clutter-free concrete deck surrounding the luxurious-sized, sparkling pools, decorated with a gold sunburst, exploding with navy and red serpentine rays, with lush green, sculptured gardens accenting the secluded area. The ambiance was one of elegance and quiet seclusion, that is until Addison heard the high pitched squeal of Jessica being throw up into the air by Jimmy, before splatting on her back, Nestea plug style, causing a hush to fall over the men standing in the shallow end. But when she bobbed back up to the surface laughing hysterically, they all clapped and hollered their approval.

  Immediately, Addison sought out Dawson, who was leaning against the pool’s edge, his arms casually splayed out over the rim. When her shadow cast over him, he squinted upward, a warm smile seeping across his handsome face.

  “Hey, you’re here.”

  She grinned down at him as she attempted to appear witty. “Did you ever doubt me?”

  “Actually, yeah, I did, especially with your late arrival home.”

  “Sleep deprivation is usually not my thing, but as they say, when in Vegas…”

  His grin widened as he stood, and then catapulted himself out of the pool agilely. He was wearing white trunks with coconuts sprinkled throughout and a brown braided necklace, his hair slicked back, glistening from the pool water. He smelled of chlorine and sweat, a lethal combination. To sum it up, the total package was astoundingly sexy, good enough to eat.

  “Can I get you a drink? We have a tab already started.”

  “Sure, a sangria would be great.” She swiveled in both directions. “Is there a place I can change?”

  “Through those double doors and then turn right.”

  “Okay, great. Thanks.”

  She whisked off toward the glass doors, her excitement at seeing Dawson bubbling to the surface. She had to tone it down a notch, before she actually skipped off to the restroom, like an overzealous adolescent.

  Veering into the closest changing stall, she slipped out of her white jeans and navy jersey top, and stepped into her black one piece, sporting cutouts of either side of her ribcage. Gold hoop earrings came next, followed by her gilded flip flops and her sheer, black sarong. As a last touch, she secured her brown locks into a pony tail, high at the back of her head.

  Securing her sunglasses as a hairpiece, she skirted back out to the pool deck, where Dawson was waiting with an ice-filled wine glass.

  “You can throw your stuff in our cabana,” he offered as he escorted her to the closest shelter, draped in thick, white, waterproof cloth flanking three sides.

  Tossing her bag into the wicker chair, she accepted the drink and took a tentative sip. It tasted heavenly, so she took a larger gulp, withholding her need to sigh as the refreshment quenched her dry, parched throat.

  “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  “How was the convention? Did you get everything in you wanted to?”

  “Pretty much,” she said while tilting her head back and forth. “We’re interested in purchasing a new deck oven. The one we currently have, we bought used, and is in need of massive repairs. So we’re chewing the numbers to find the most cost effective way to upgrade.”

  His dark eyebrows elevated. “Did you come up with a solution?”

  “Not yet, but hopefully tomorrow I’ll be able to nail down an answer.”

  He lifted his bottled beer. “Cheers to that.”

  They clinked glasses, took a sip, smiling at each other over the rim.

  She reached across the distance and touched his woven necklace. “I like that.”

  He followed her field of vision. “Thanks, I got it in Hawaii last year,” and then added, “I’m allergic to nickel, so this is about all I can wear.”

  “Nice choice. It looks good on you.”

  “At least one person agrees with me. The guys have been throwing me crap about it all day.”

  “Their men -- they have no idea what looks good.”

  He winked, making her grin. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Would you like to get in the water?”

  “Sure.”

  She followed him out into the blinding sun, pulling her sunglasses onto her face. When she neared the shallow end, Shawn, who was in much better shape today, along with Jimmy, Terrance, and Jessica, entangled in Moose’s robust arms, all greeted her.

  “So, are you ready to hang up your baker’s cap and play for a while, Addy?” Jessica called out.

  “That’s the plan,” she answered as she took a seat on the edge of the pool, dangling her bare feet into the tepid water.

  As Dawson eased himself into the pool, Jessica swam over and lifted herself out to perch alongside Addison. The boys picked back up with lightly tossing a nerf football one-handed, while nursing their beer with the other.

  Addison nudged Jessica with an elbow, whispering, “So…how’d it go with Moose last night?”

  She peeked over at her in quandary. “You know how it went; you and Dawson eavesdropped on us the entire night.”

  “We did not!” Addison scoffed. “We were trying to give you privacy, but we couldn’t help overhearing, since you guys were so loud and obnoxious.”

  Jessica laughed boisterously, not ashamed in the slightest about her one night stand. “We were kinda annoying, weren’t we?”

  “Ya think?”

  “It must have been those shots I downed. I’m usually not like that, I promise.”

  “Yeah, right,” Addison balked. “Remember those notches you cut in your bedpost to keep track of your sexual escapades back in college?”

  “Hey now, my guess is you and Dawson weren’t being too angelic in the bathroom, either.”

  “You think wrong, my friend. Nothing happened.”

  Jess lifted her glasses onto her forehead. “Are you serious?”

  “Totally.”

  “Not even a kiss?”

  “Nope.”

  She dropped the frame back in place, mumbling, “Holy shit.”

  “I know, right? It’s not like I didn’t give him multiple signals, either, but obviously, he likes to take things slow, but I appreciated that.” She lifted a hand. “Appreciate is not the right word; it’s not strong enough. Let me rephrase. I loved that about him.”

  As Jessica shook out her wet hair, making it spike in all directions, Addison watched Shawn step to the opposite side of the pool with Dawson. They were having what seemed to be an extremely deep conversation, but unfortunately, Addison wasn’t gifted with the ability to read lips, so she just watched their body language. Dawson’s hands stayed fisted, crossed over his chest, as Shawn tilted his chin up to speak to him, since his counterpart was a whole head taller than he was. Dawson’s hands elevated, his head moving as he spoke, before dropping his arms to his sides, his hands landing back in the water as they flexed and then fisted several times. A long heartbeat of a pause where both men stood their ground without speaking. Both of Shawn’s hands then anchored against Dawson’s biceps, before giving him a good shake and then pulled him in for a slap on the back and a one-sided hug.