Mediterranean Nights. Penny Jordan

      “I’m checking his skills. This is work-related alcohol consumption. I need to find a spin on ways to promote this place. The best martini this side of the Rockies is great advertising.”

      “You think a martini would bring business.”

      Nina sighed. “Two years ago, I was hired to promote this little microbrewery in New York and last month it was bought out by a major food corporation. The former owner just bought a piece of Saint Lucia and is lying on the beach soaking up the sun.”

      “Basically, you’re a rainmaker.”

      Nina shrugged. “I don’t really have a title. I’m just good at promotions. I create buzz and have a knack for understanding how media works.” Knowing what people wanted was what she had always been good at.

      “How do you make a living out of that?” Scott looked interested.

      “By knowing the people who are right for what you need. Right now my friend Eydie is working up a website for the hotel. She’s a master at websites and blogs. We’ve already outlined a dozen blogs talking about different aspects of the hotel and the amenities. And more blogs about the Reno area in general. I’m thinking about contests, because people like to win things. This is basic stuff. I’m going to call friends of mine and talk them into coming here to party for New Year’s. And they’ll come if Miss E. throws in a free room, a limo from the airport and some gambling money.” Which they would all lose in the first hour. Nina didn’t gamble unless it was the penny or nickel slots. The few times she’d been to Las Vegas, every coin she fed into the machine was a penny that didn’t work for her.

      “Friends, as in who?”

      “Celebrities to be named later.”

      “That’s a whole lot of free.”

      “Not everything will be for free and they will pay for it especially when they see what they get out of it.”

      “And what’s that?”

      “Exposure.” Every celebrity Nina knew would do anything for exposure. Exposure reminded them of who they were and what they’d accomplished even if they were no longer the darlings of Hollywood.

      “Let’s talk about the security nightmares of having these people here?” Scott tapped the table with his index finger.

      “A lot of them will bring their own security and staff. And before you start worrying, let me do what I need to do and then I’ll talk to you about security.”

      Scott simply frowned, shaking his head.

      “I can see you’re worried,” Nina said, “but can we come back to this later when I have more information?”

      Scott nodded, finished his coffee and slid out of the booth. “Then I’ll let you get back to work.”

      Nina watched him leave, appreciating the tight, muscular body and the way he stalked with the confidence of an alpha wolf. Then her thoughts turned back to the hotel. As much as she loved watching Scott, she was here to do a job.

      * * *

      Scott returned to his office. The idea of celebrities running around the hotel didn’t please him. He didn’t like working with them. In Washington, the people he protected expected to be targets, acted accordingly and trusted him to keep them safe. Celebrities knew they could be targets, but the nature of their careers was to be seen and they dealt with a lot of yes people who never disagreed with them or considered their safety as long as their faces showed up on the next internet feed. God save him. For all Nina’s assertions that things would be fine, she didn’t understand that not only would he be dealing with the rich and famous and their bad behavior but their security teams and their staff.

      He rubbed his temples, a headache threatening. What the devil was Miss E. thinking bringing Hurricane Nina on board? While the casino wasn’t bringing in a lot of profit, it wasn’t losing money. Did Miss E. really need this extra spin?

      His job was going to be huge regardless of who was here, because somewhere underneath the surface of the casino, something wasn’t quite right. But he couldn’t put his fingers on it, just that his gut told him something dysfunctional was going on. And having Nina around distracted him. She was sexy, exotic and bold with a level of energy that didn’t seem to have a cap. He wanted to put everything down and follow her. She was sandy beaches, tall, icy drinks and sex in a hammock. Not that he’d ever had sex in a hammock, but Nina made him think about it.

      He opened the door that led from his office to the control room. The room was large to accommodate rows of monitors with men sitting in front of them keeping an eye on the activity in the casino, the bars and the restaurants.

      “Anything going on that I should know about?” Scott asked Gary White who oversaw the control room.

      “The usual,” Gary White said. “Everything’s good.” He was average height with pale skin and reddish-brown hair. He never looked directly at Scott. His gaze continually slipped to the left or the right, making Scott wonder what he was hiding.

      Scott knew nothing was good. Gary White was on his list of dysfunctional security people who had to go. He was sloppy and lazy. Security guards needed to be licensed. From what Scott had been able to deduce, his license had expired. Scott needed to be careful on how he got rid of people. The unions were powerful and he didn’t want them as an enemy. Right now, he’d be gathering evidence and documenting Gary’s offenses. He had to walk a tightrope and unlike Hurricane Nina, who wanted things done yesterday, he had to record everything to show cause.

      “Will you take a look at that?” Gary pointed at one of his monitors.

      Scott leaned over and felt his stomach turn into knots. “What the hell is she doing here?”

      “You know her, boss?”

      “My worst nightmare.” Scott volunteered no more information. His headache went from mild to threat-level red.

      Anastasia Parrish stood in the lobby surrounded by a half dozen Louis Vuitton suitcases. She held her Chihuahua in her arms as she stood at the desk with an imperious look on her petulant face, waiting for the reception clerk to check her into her room. She wore a white pantsuit that looked as though it had just come off the Paris runway, with oversize sunglasses.

      She took the glasses off and fluffed her dark brown hair with one hand.

      His first thought was to run down to the lobby and confront her, nipping this crap in the bud. But after a moment’s thought, he decided ignoring her was better. If anything, Anastasia hated being ignored. Daddy’s little girl thought the world turned on her nickel and was happy enough to tell anyone who would listen.

      “Nice friend, boss,” Gary White said with a knowing chuckle.

      Scott glared at the man and didn’t answer.

      The door opened and his brother, Hunter, poked his head in. “Got a second, bro?”

      Scott nodded and stepped out of the control room. Before his brother could say something, Scott’s cell phone rang. The front desk was calling him.

      “Scott Russell here,” he said knowing what the receptionist’s next comment would be.

      “Mr. Russell, a Miss Anastasia Parrish is asking for you,” came a chirpy voice.

      “I’m a little bit busy right now.” Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell Miss Parrish I will have to speak with her later.”

      “Very well, sir.” The woman disconnected.

      Scott shoved his phone back in his pocket. His brother watched him curiously.

      “Miss Parrish. Anastasia Parrish, spoiled rotten daughter of Senator Parrish?”

      “Yeah,” Scott replied. “The bane of my existence.”

      “She’s very beautiful.”

      “She’s