“I care because I love you and I make no apologies for my control freak tendencies.” He pulled her closer. “How are you feeling?”
“Very, very frustrated.”
“Good. I would like to keep you that way for a while longer,” he said grinning.
She pouted at him which made him laugh.
“If you keep pouting I may keep you frustrated until I come to London.”
“Even if I agree to Vegas?” She was stunned when she heard the words out loud.
“Oh, my God, Tasha. You are that frustrated and that horny?” He laughed loudly. “You have no guarantee I wouldn’t keep you frustrated as my wife. So, are you prepared to take the gamble by agreeing to Vegas?”
She considered her words carefully. “Possibly not, especially as the last time I gambled with you and my frustration I won.”
He laughed again. “The house always wins, baby, and I am the house, but we both know you will be coming to Vegas with me. Now go to sleep. I have to get through a meeting in the morning before I can think about you and your frustration and possibly resolving it.”
Chapter 22
Tasha sat up, looked at the clock, sighed and slumped back into her pillow while the alarm sounded around her.
“Oh no you don’t. Come on, sleepy head.” Jim appeared from the bathroom.
“It’s half six. If breakfast isn’t until half seven I can have at least another half an hour,” she protested.
“No, you can’t. Come on. Shower and dressed, please.” He offered her a warm smile from his position next to the bed where he wore just a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Come back to bed. You look very sexy.”
“No way, baby. We need to get to breakfast and I need you frustrated for a while yet.”
“Oh. James, please.” She hoped her pleaded James might be enough to tease and tempt him.
He laughed as he unashamedly removed the towel. “Tasha, Tasha, Tasha. That James is going to come back and sting you in the ass, but still not yet.”
He disappeared into the walk-in wardrobe laughing, leaving her to drag herself into the shower and by the time she’d brushed her teeth he’d gone.
She dressed in grey cropped sweatpants and a white vest top, complete with trainers. With her hair scraped back in a ponytail, Tasha headed downstairs where Jim was in his office and Sandra was in the kitchen.
“Morning,” called Sandra.
“Morning,” replied Tasha. “Has Jim mentioned Juan and Philip are joining us for breakfast?”
“Yes, he text me last night, and Lizzie, so I’d planned on laying the table in the dining room,” explained Sandra. “Would you like tea?”
“Yes, but let me make it. Would you like one?”
“Thank you.” Sandra seemed to be genuinely warming to Tasha with each passing day.
When Jim appeared he frowned at them both as they chatted about the things they missed abouthome, such as real tea, sausages, chocolate, even the weather.
“I hope I am not keeping either of you from the good old U.K.” He was voice was laced with sarcasm, but Tasha actually thought he sounded odd, grumpy, sad even.
“Not me.” Sandra’s words reminded Tasha of a previous reference to Mike being the one who became misty eyed at memories ofhome. “I have stuff shipped out to me and it was Tasha missing the weather, not me.”
Tasha laughed. “Your lack of support is duly noted, Sandra. I will send for Mike and see whether he misses a bit of rain with me.”
“He may shed a tear for a rainy day if it’s you asking,” said Sandra with another smile.
