Not even Gideon.
I wasn't going to let my frustration with him get in the way of having a good time in Vegas with my best friend.
Halfway home, I'd stopped and turned, picking out Gideon's penthouse high above Fifth Avenue.
I wondered if he was there, packing and planning for a weekend without me.
Or if he was still at work, wrapping up the week's pressing business.
"Uh-oh," Cary singsonged, as the flight attendant returned with a tray laden with our drinks.
"You've got that look."
"What look?" "The hell-on-wheels look."
He clinked his tall, slender glass against the side of my squat tumbler.
"Wanna talk about it?" I was about to reply when Gideon stepped onto the plane.
He looked grim and carried a briefcase in one hand and a duffel in the other.
After passing his bag over to the attendant, he paused by me and Cary, giving my roommate a cursory nod before brushing the back of his fingers across my cheek.
The simple touch shot through me like a surge of electricity.
Then he was gone, slipping into a cabin in the back and shutting the door.
I scowled.
"He's so damn moody."
"And seriously hot.
What he does for that suit ."
Most suits made the man.
Gideon did things to a three-piece suit that should've been illegal.
"Don't distract me with his looks," I groused.
"Give him a blowjob.
That's a guaranteed mood improver."
"Spoken like a man."
"You expected something different?" Cary grabbed the frosty glass bottle holding the excess water that wouldn't fit in my crystal tumbler.
"Check this out."
He showed me the label, which was branded to the Cross Towers and Casino.
"Now that's swank."
My lips twisted wryly.
"For the whales."