privilege that usually came at a price. She turned off the engine. “This won’t take long. Do you want to wait here?”
“Hell, no. This is my first time…in a real Las Vegas casino,” he said.
Was that a tiny bit of humor beneath his deadpan demeanor? Grace hoped not. He would be easier to take if she could fit him into a neat little box labeled: rude, self-absorbed, jerk—who was occasionally nice to old women.
She glanced at her watch. “Xanadu isn’t much of a casino by Strip standards, but there’s a bar, if you’re still on Detroit time,” she added with a smile to show that she was over her snit. “But we only have about half an hour. Mother is expecting us at Romantique for your welcome party.”
“I’ll just follow you around. Don’t want to get lost.”
She laughed. “You won’t. Not here. If this were Bellagio or Caesars or the new Wynn, there might be a problem. Even I get turned around when I’m in the big casinos.”
They got out of the car. Without any prodding on her part, Nikolai took off his leather coat and chucked it into the back seat. Darned if he didn’t look just as sexy without it, Grace thought as she waited for him to join her. Black jeans that looked well broken in, a pale blue, long-sleeved cotton shirt that had probably started the morning well-pressed, and ordinary hiking-type boots with thick soles and red laces. Nothing special about his clothes, but on him, everything looked fine.
“Damn fine,” she muttered under her breath.
“Huh?” he asked as they walked to a door marked Employee Entrance.
“Nothing. I just realized how old and run-down the place looks from this angle. Of course, the place is old by Vegas standards. It used to be called The Shady TreeResort, but my dad told me locals referred to it as the Shady Lady because it was popular with hookers.”
He opened the door for her, and she recalled her granny once telling her that good manners could compensate for a multitude of faults.
She walked quickly to get through the hubbub in the kitchen. “The second owner built this addition,” she said, using her hand to encompass the building at large. “According to Charles, he was a moneyed gay man from back East, who had visions of Kublai Khan’s pleasure dome arising from the desert. He went bankrupt.”
She exchanged greetings with a few members of Charles’s staff, but in all honesty, she didn’t know any of them well. She rarely had time to visit the casino. She’d argued that putting her name on a parking space was a waste, but Charles had refused to budge.
“My partners have two stalls apiece. I’m entitled. If you don’t use it, I’ll park my boat there next winter instead of leaving it at the marina,” he’d replied.
Once they stepped into the casino, the atmosphere changed. No drab white walls. No hushed frenzy or smells of cooking food. Instead, there was noise, red brocade wallpaper, sparkling chandeliers suspended from a much-too-low ceiling and a faint blue haze of cigarette smoke.
To complete the tour she’d started, Grace took Nikolai to the main entrance, which led into a two-story dome decorated in tiny blue-and-gold mosaic tile above a fountain that consisted of four naked cherubs supporting a basin upon which rested two nymphs with long hair strategically placed so there was no need for parents to shield their children’s eyes as they registeredfor their rooms. Lush ferns and corpulent goldfish completed the water element.
“Charles’s partners, two brothers who came from New Jersey right before the boom in the late eighties, bought the adjoining property and built the hotel,” Grace said. “It links to the main facility via a walkway on the second floor, which is where the business office is located.”
At the base of the escalator, she stopped and looked at him. “That’s the end of the docent-guided portion of your tour,” she said breezily. “My meeting shouldn’t take long. Shall we meet by the
“Hell, no. This is my first time…in a real Las Vegas casino,” he said.
Was that a tiny bit of humor beneath his deadpan demeanor? Grace hoped not. He would be easier to take if she could fit him into a neat little box labeled: rude, self-absorbed, jerk—who was occasionally nice to old women.
She glanced at her watch. “Xanadu isn’t much of a casino by Strip standards, but there’s a bar, if you’re still on Detroit time,” she added with a smile to show that she was over her snit. “But we only have about half an hour. Mother is expecting us at Romantique for your welcome party.”
“I’ll just follow you around. Don’t want to get lost.”
She laughed. “You won’t. Not here. If this were Bellagio or Caesars or the new Wynn, there might be a problem. Even I get turned around when I’m in the big casinos.”
They got out of the car. Without any prodding on her part, Nikolai took off his leather coat and chucked it into the back seat. Darned if he didn’t look just as sexy without it, Grace thought as she waited for him to join her. Black jeans that looked well broken in, a pale blue, long-sleeved cotton shirt that had probably started the morning well-pressed, and ordinary hiking-type boots with thick soles and red laces. Nothing special about his clothes, but on him, everything looked fine.
“Damn fine,” she muttered under her breath.
“Huh?” he asked as they walked to a door marked Employee Entrance.
“Nothing. I just realized how old and run-down the place looks from this angle. Of course, the place is old by Vegas standards. It used to be called The Shady TreeResort, but my dad told me locals referred to it as the Shady Lady because it was popular with hookers.”
He opened the door for her, and she recalled her granny once telling her that good manners could compensate for a multitude of faults.
She walked quickly to get through the hubbub in the kitchen. “The second owner built this addition,” she said, using her hand to encompass the building at large. “According to Charles, he was a moneyed gay man from back East, who had visions of Kublai Khan’s pleasure dome arising from the desert. He went bankrupt.”
She exchanged greetings with a few members of Charles’s staff, but in all honesty, she didn’t know any of them well. She rarely had time to visit the casino. She’d argued that putting her name on a parking space was a waste, but Charles had refused to budge.
“My partners have two stalls apiece. I’m entitled. If you don’t use it, I’ll park my boat there next winter instead of leaving it at the marina,” he’d replied.
Once they stepped into the casino, the atmosphere changed. No drab white walls. No hushed frenzy or smells of cooking food. Instead, there was noise, red brocade wallpaper, sparkling chandeliers suspended from a much-too-low ceiling and a faint blue haze of cigarette smoke.
To complete the tour she’d started, Grace took Nikolai to the main entrance, which led into a two-story dome decorated in tiny blue-and-gold mosaic tile above a fountain that consisted of four naked cherubs supporting a basin upon which rested two nymphs with long hair strategically placed so there was no need for parents to shield their children’s eyes as they registeredfor their rooms. Lush ferns and corpulent goldfish completed the water element.
“Charles’s partners, two brothers who came from New Jersey right before the boom in the late eighties, bought the adjoining property and built the hotel,” Grace said. “It links to the main facility via a walkway on the second floor, which is where the business office is located.”
At the base of the escalator, she stopped and looked at him. “That’s the end of the docent-guided portion of your tour,” she said breezily. “My meeting shouldn’t take long. Shall we meet by the
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