Hot Finish (Fast Track #3)(47)
Author: Erin McCarthy

And that was the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Suzanne’s expression was stricken and she just shook her head. “I need a minute. I’m going back to the room.”

“By yourself?”

“Yes.” She was already backing away from him.

Ryder’s heart sank. They always did this . . . got almost to where they were talking about issues in their relationship and then one or both of them retreated.

“Come on, babe, let’s talk about this.”

“Just give me half an hour,” she said, her voice cracking.

Ryder knew she wanted to cry alone, where he wouldn’t see her, and while he didn’t understand the why, he understood that it was never wise to push Suzanne. Resigned, he just nodded. “Do you need anything?”

“No. I don’t need anything.”

Maybe that was the heart of their problem. Suzanne never had needed anything from him.

SUZANNE fought the tears in the cab as she headed back to the Wynn, disgusted with herself, sick to realize that nothing had changed. Six years and she hadn’t learned a goddamn thing. She still wanted to be with Ryder, she still wanted him to sweep her away and make everything alright. She had wanted to believe every word he’d said about how he would have married her, pregnant or not, and for a split second had even thought of taking him up on his wedding-package offer today.

Which said things about her she didn’t like because that had been a suck-ass offer. It hadn’t been even remotely romantic or sensual or even all that sincere. It had been casual and offhand and impulsive, and yet she had hesitated. Ryder did love her, in some way, she believed that. But Ryder didn’t want to have to work too hard at it either. Granted, he had tried this weekend, and he’d done good, but she needed a man who put forth the effort all the time, not just once a year.

But she thought maybe that was something they could work out, or at least talk about.

Yet none of that changed the fact that she still felt insecure, unsuccessful, the weaker link in their partnership, and that she couldn’t tolerate. That wasn’t his fault, it was just the circumstance of his money, her lack thereof, and it was her problem. She realized that.

What she had done to Nikki had shocked her. If the need to make a buck had caused her to that easily manipulate another person, poor wasn’t a street she wanted to live on anymore. That wasn’t how her granny and granddad had raised her. They had lacked for cash, but had never compromised their values, and she felt a little sick.

As the cab pulled up in front of the Wynn, Suzanne debated texting Ryder. Maybe it was time to be honest with him, to really lay it all out on the table, all her fears, all her insecurities. Climbing out of the cab, she winced as a blast of cold air hit her. Vegas in December wasn’t exactly Palm Beach.

Unfortunately, there was also a group of media personnel she recognized standing right outside the entrance, doing some filming. Most of them had been covering stock car racing for years, and a couple she would even count as casual friends, but none of them were anyone she wanted to talk to at the moment. Except that Joe Blass had spotted her and was waving.

“Hey, Joe,” she said as he walked toward her. “How are you?” Not that she really cared at the moment, but she’d do the nice thing and then retreat to her room. Ryder’s room. His swanky hotel room.

“I’m great, Suzanne. How about you?”

Suzanne knew Joe fairly well, given that he had covered a lot of the charity events Suzanne had been a part of planning and hostessing in years past, and something about the expression he was wearing right now alarmed her. “Good,” she said cautiously. “There’s something you want to tell me, isn’t there?”

She had no idea what it could be, but it was definitely not that Elton John tickets were up for grabs in the lobby.

Joe sighed, flipping his cigarette into the ashtray by the front door. “You know how the game works, Suzanne, so you remember you have to take it with a grain of salt and just ignore it.”

“Ignore what?” This was not reassuring, and her mouth felt hot. There must be buzz about her being in Vegas with Ryder.

“That racing gossip blogger, the one who goes by that stupid name Tuesday Talladega, has a post up about Ryder.” Joe shoved his hands in his pockets. “Normally, I wouldn’t say anything, it’s just a bunch of bullshit gossip, but with everyone in town for the awards ceremony . . . well, I figured you’d want to know what people are saying.”

“Thanks, Joe, I appreciate it.” Though he hadn’t told her what people were saying. Not a good sign at all. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you, too.” Joe waved and moved off.

Suzanne walked into the hotel, glancing around for the business center. Spotting the concierge instead, she asked him to direct her, and five minutes and an impatient elevator ride later, she was in front of a computer looking up Tuesday Talladega’s blog.

What she saw there had the words on the screen blurring in front of her angry eyes.

The subject header for the blog entry was Manwhore Alert: Ryder Jefferson Back in Action.

Suzanne gripped the mouse tightly and forced herself to keep reading.

Below that was not one, but three pictures of Ryder at various locations around the Wynn hotel, clearly at different times, most definitely with different women.

Number two driver Ryder Jefferson takes girl number four to his favorite hot spot in Las Vegas, the Wynn Hotel, which, of course, is all on the corporate sponsor’s dime. Must be nice to have your bimbo du jour at your side at no cost to you, though you’d think even he would try a little harder to at least pretend these are something more than meaningless hook ups with women who make drift-wood look intelligent. Our advice to you, Mr. Jefferson, is to mix it up. With all the hotels in Vegas, surely you can choose a different one for each of your extremely romantic trysts in Sin City.

But that would mean he’d have to foot the bill himself, wouldn’t it?

Then below that there was a picture of her with Ryder, arms around each other in the lobby of the hotel. It was taken yesterday, given her outfit.

The nausea hit Suzanne like a cannonball to the gut, and she took short shallow breaths, afraid she was either going to faint or throw up.

The latest woman to accompany him is his ex-wife, Suzanne Jefferson, nee Hickey (I can see why she kept the married name, I mean, dude, Hickey?) in town together for Champions Week. Not known for getting along in the best of times, this sudden tender reunion has a lot of heads scratching and the media scrambling for the details of their prenup. Turns out the alimony ran out in October, which only goes to show you that money and sex do make the world go round and keep our lives as spectators all that much more entertaining.