Chapter Nine
Normally, Charlotte wouldn’t have accepted an assignment in such a loud—and to her, obnoxious—environment, but she’d felt the sacrifice was worth it.
An extremely rare yellow-billed loon had been spotted in the fountains of the Bellagio hotel, forcing the management to shut down the display of dancing waters.
This news hit the art world with a bang.
The rare bird had descended on the famous strip just days ago, and every wildlife magazine in the country wanted to be the first to capture it on film.
Charlotte’s editor insisted she take this assignment for World of Wildlife magazine.
While Vegas wasn’t at the top of Charlotte’s list of places to visit, this unusual phenomenon had to be photographed as soon as possible.
Who knew when the bird would decide to relocate?
Charlotte booked a flight for the next day and a three-night stay at the hotel.
The day of her arrival, Charlotte met with Nevada’s Department of Wildlife director, Patten Woodly.
His team of ornithology experts kept constant watch on the feathery creature.
Then she spent the rest of her first day in Vegas capturing the rare bird, careful to follow the instructions given to her.
She was lucky to get the photos, because a few hours later, Woodly decided to relocate the bird to a sanctuary and eventually release it so that it could migrate to the Arctic on its own.
Charlotte now had a few days with nothing to do except explore the city.
It was as loud and boisterous as she’d expected.
The vibes were upbeat and contagious, something she’d picked up on the minute she’d landed.
Ads displayed throughout Harry Reid International Airport suggested which casino was best if you wanted to win a fortune and live happily ever after.
She didn’t put much stock in money these days, because she had enough; being a lifelong saver had paid off for her.
Unlike her mother, who’d lucked out by winning the lottery all those years ago, Charlotte had made a promise to herself that she would earn her way to the top by working hard and using common sense, not luck.
After spending time on the strip soaking up the sights, she returned to her hotel, invigorated.
She ordered lunch from room service and uploaded her photos, eager to review the previous day’s work.
As she scrolled through the images, Charlotte was thankful she had taken the assignment.
She closed her laptop, content knowing the loon was safe and her photos would bring wonder to readers across the globe.
When she ventured outside the next day, the weather was in the low eighties with no humidity.
She had packed her one-piece swimsuit, unsure if she’d need it, but now she was glad she brought it with her.
Her stay in Vegas wouldn’t be complete if she didn’t spend some of her time off by the poolside.
She planned to find a lounge chair, take in the sun, and read the latest edition of World of Wildlife.
Charlotte scoped out a spot far from the rowdy kids splashing nearby, hoping for some quiet.
Stretching out on the chair, she pulled out her magazine, but despite her best intentions to read, she found herself looking around her, swept up in the electric energy of the hotel and its guests.
This assignment had brought her out of her comfort zone to a bizarre, lively world she’d never experienced before.
She realized how narrow her lens had been, focused solely on nature and solitude.
Bringing her attention back to her reading material, she flipped through the glossy pages and smiled at seeing her name under the byline of a featured article.
She remembered that shoot fondly; it was last summer at Yellowstone, and she had camped out all night to catch the perfect sunrise over the canyon, the waterfall, and Old Faithful. The editors had raved over the photos.
Charlotte hoped she’d get a similar travel assignment soon. For now, she was content relaxing poolside and reminiscing over past photography adventures.
She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, she was awakened by a presence blocking the sun.
“You dropped these,” the form in front of her said. When she was able to focus, she saw before her a handsome man holding out her sunglasses. They must have fallen off the top of her head while she slept.
Feeling like an idiot, she pushed herself into a sitting position. “Thanks. They’re just cheapies,” she said, then wished she’d said something else that wasn’t quite as lame.
“The best kind. You don’t feel so bad when you break or lose them,” the man said. “Thousand-dollar sunglasses aren’t any better than the five-dollar ones.”
She looked at him. Really looked at him.
He was probably in his late thirties, possibly early forties.
And tall—well over six feet, which was a bonus, since at five-foot-eight, she preferred tall men.
Dark blue-black hair and piercing ice-blue eyes completed the package, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“I agree,” she said.
“Then we already have something in common,” he said, chuckling. “I’m Grant Ellington.” He held his hand out to her.
“Charlotte Gray,” she responded. Butterflies danced inside her when their hands met, and it seemed like everything around them faded away, as if the world around her was nothing more than a blur, like a slow-motion scene in the background of a movie.
Grant sat down in the lounge chair next to hers, but his eyes never left her.
His attention was anchored on Charlotte.
She smiled and went back to her magazine, but she was utterly aware of the scrutiny and shifted uncomfortably.
A glint of sunlight reflected off Grant’s watch, catching her eye and drawing her to turn and look at him.
His eyes, the color of the deep sea, met hers, and time seemed to suspend.
The air between them crackled with an unspoken acknowledgment.
Charlotte’s face registered shock for a fleeting moment—her brow lifting, lips parting slightly in surprise before she quickly regained her composure.
She couldn’t stop herself from grinning.
Grant, unabashed, allowed a slow, disarming smile to spread across his features. It was a grin that hinted at mischief and promised intriguing conversation.
Charlotte’s heart responded with an unexpected leap, fluttering within her chest. In a reflexive motion, she raised the magazine as a shield, concealing all but her eyes.
Behind the glossy cover, her lips curved upwards in a reluctant smile.
It was a private admission of the thrill that his simple gesture had stirred within her—a smile meant only for herself.
This man, a stranger mere moments ago, had unwittingly trespassed into her carefully guarded solitude with nothing more than a look and a smile.
And Charlotte, seasoned in maintaining an air of indifference, found herself charmed.
To any onlooker, it would have been a fleeting exchange—a simple smile between strangers—but to Charlotte, it felt seismic.
This man, whom she knew nothing about, had unwittingly stirred something within her.
And he sat there, placid and handsome, blissfully unaware of the tiny earthquake he had just set off in the heart of the woman seated beside him.
“Charlotte Gray,” Grant said, “what are your plans for dinner tonight? If I’m out of line, please, just say so.”
“Well, I’d planned to just order room service again,” she replied honestly. “I ordered yesterday, and it was delicious.”
“It always is,” he agreed.
Charlotte smiled. “You’ve been here before?”
She hoped he would give up a bit of information about why he was here on a weekday, lying beside the pool. Maybe he was a hustler? A gigolo? A scorned lover looking for a rebound romance or a roll in the hay? Married and looking for a partner to cheat with? If so, she was not his type.
“Many times. I’m supposed to be in a conference meeting right now, but I opted out. There are the usual commodity brokers here. I’ve heard the spiel before, so I decided to take a little break and get some fresh air.”
“You’re a broker then?” She did recall seeing a few large banquet rooms with signage indicating a business conference.
“Guilty,” he said, flashing her another sexy grin. “So, what’s your story?”
“The yellow-billed loon that decided to hang out in the fountains over at the Bellagio.”
This seemed to surprise him. “You’re a bird watcher?”
She laughed out loud. “Yesterday I was. I’m a wildlife photographer. My editor sent me to take a few photos for the magazine. All in a day’s work.”
“Call me impressed,” Grant said.
“Thanks, it’s a dream job,” she said. “All I ever wanted to do.” Maybe she was adding a personal touch to their conversation that wasn’t warranted, but in all honestly, he seemed like a likable guy.
“As much as I’d love to stay here chatting with you in the sun, I really should get back to my meeting before anyone notices I’m gone. I would very much like to continue our conversation over dinner,” Grant said.
Without even hesitating to think about it, Charlotte nodded. “I’d like that, too.”
“How does a seven o’clock reservation at Crush sound?”
“That sounds perfect,” Charlotte confirmed with a nod, the corners of her mouth lifting into a tentative smile. “I’ll meet you there.” Crush. What an odd name for a restaurant. Was the name indicative of his feelings for her?
“I’m looking forward to it.”
The promise hung between them for a moment, like a delicate thread capable of guiding her through the labyrinth of uncertainties that filled her mind.
She watched Grant’s retreating figure, his confident stride and broad shoulders.
She was almost surprised to realize how much she was looking forward to it, too.