Purdue's words hit Sam like a sucker punch to the gut. Ever since he had run into them in the corridor, Sam had been trying hard not to think about why Nina was here. That Purdue was here for the Mind Meld was obvious — in fact, Sam was kicking himself for not figuring out sooner that Purdue was likely to be here. Nano-technology and software were two of the disciplines that had made Purdue so rich, and the world was small where such wealthy men were concerned. But Nina… Sam knew that she must either be working for him or sleeping with him, and deep down he knew that no personal assistant would have been so well-dressed for dinner with her boss.
Despite himself, his mind conjured up an image of Nina lying prone across one of these massive hotel beds, the tangle of sheets around her body, the pale white skin of her slim back, her dark hair fanning out over the pillow… He could imagine her breathing, heavy with slumber, exhausted after a long session of strenuous—
Enough of that, Sam told himself, none of my business. He popped the top off the vodka bottle and took a swig, not bothering to pour it into the little glass. He racked his brain for some suitable small talk, anything that would not lead back to a conversation about Nina.
"So, have you been in Vegas long?" Sam tried, then cursed within the confines of his head. How was that a question that would lead away from Nina?
"For six days," Purdue said, folding himself into one of the complicated seats by the coffee table. "I wanted to give myself time to acclimatize before the Mind Meld begins. I would hate to be at a disadvantage due to jet lag. Fortunately, Nina was available at short notice to accompany me. In that respect I am rather grateful to her department in the university. If the department head had been a little more appreciative of her talents, she might still be employed there and I might be here alone."
Sam thought that he was doing an admirable job of controlling his face, but Purdue must have picked up on something. "Am I being insensitive?" he asked. "I'm sorry. I hope you realize that I am not attempting to crow over you, Sam. I was aware of a previous attraction between you and Nina, but she assured me that there was nothing between you. I would be lying if I said to you that I would not have invited her here if there had been something between you, but knowing her as I do, I am sure it would have made a difference to her response."
"It's fine." Unwilling to risk the fancy half-kneeler, half-chairs, Sam perched on the edge of his bed. "There never was anything, really. I thought about asking her out once, but it never happened. So you and she are… well, that's great. Good. I hope it's all going well."
While uttering the words, it did cross Sam's mind that Nina could not possibly have asked Sam to distance himself purely to be able to pursue Dave Purdue, even after all she and Sam had endured together. The Judas kiss of the whole affair burned in his chest and scorched his heart, but his face remained unhindered by the bite of it.
For a long moment Purdue stared quizzically at Sam, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. However, he did not push the matter any further. Instead, he relaxed in his chair and allowed Sam to draw him into a little inconsequential discussion of Las Vegas, the Verbena, and America in general. Purdue asked about Julia Rose, and Sam, remembering Purdue's sense of humor, told him the truth about how he had acquired his "intern."
They laughed together at the thought of Sam's mild abuse of FireStorm's hospitality, and as they worked their way through the contents of the mini bar, Sam remembered how entertaining Purdue's company could be. Yes, he was intense and a little crazy — but he had few boundaries, and he was exciting. An excellent drinking buddy — just the sort of man you could down vodka with until the first hints of daylight made their presence felt over the Nevada skyline.
"Now, god knows I'm not a man to stop anybody having a good time," Jefferson Daniels addressed the table, "but there has to be a few limits in place. I mean, shouldn't a man be able to take his family out for dinner without having to worry what his teenage daughter's going to see?"
A few seats away, Henley groaned and slumped across the table, picking at a bowl of granola. Despite his fuzzy head, Sam smiled. Jefferson had been holding forth for a good twenty minutes about the disreputable state in which he found Las Vegas.
The FireStorm delegates had been seated in a private dining room for breakfast, full of large round tables designed to encourage people to start mingling and "connecting. In practice, people had split into small groups where they already knew one another, so Sam, Nina, and Purdue were sitting with the Daniels family. Sam and Nina exchanged brief glances. He figured Purdue must have offered her some comfort, some nudge in her career, for her to have finally submitted to his advances. He wondered if it even bothered her a little that she did not have the courage to just say it to his face—Listen, Sam, you have been with me through so much, but unfortunately your friendship is not enough to buy me a private jet, — he imagined harshly.
Nina, always groggy until the second caffeine hit of the day kicked in, winced every time Jefferson resumed his monologue. By contrast, Paige sat at her husband's side looking perfectly groomed. Sam would not have been surprised to learn that she had already visited both the hotel's gym and its spa that morning.
At the far end of the room, Cody was beginning to work his way around the tables with a personal greeting for each delegate. In his carefully casual shorts and shirt, his ash blond hair in a long ponytail, he looked right at home among the Silicon Valley types currently sucking down cup after cup of strong coffee.
"What the fuck actually happened?" Nina muttered under her breath. She turned to Purdue. "Do you know? I missed the bit where he told us all what upset him so much."
"He took his wife and daughter out for dinner in Vegas and was surprised when there was a floor show," Sam leaned across Purdue to explain. "He thinks Henley might have been traumatized by the sight of pasties."
"Seriously?" Nina's face contorted with a contempt she could only manage first thing in the morning. "Did he think they call this place Sin City just for kicks?" She looked as if she was about to settle in for a rant, but then she had a moment of sudden realization that she was talking to Sam, whom she had made a personal mental note to keep as far at bay as possible, and she went quiet.
Jefferson was far from finished. He was now discussing how he had heard that Vegas had cleaned its act up and become family friendly. "If you ask me," he said, gesticulating with his fork as he worked his way through a plate of bacon and eggs, "it still has a long way to go. Paige, honey, I can't apologize enough. You know I'd never have chosen a place like that if I'd have known. Henley, I know you're a smart girl. I hope you'll remember that those young women are not role models. I'm not going to tell you that they're doing something wrong. Sometimes circumstances can drive a woman to do terrible things, and it's not for us to judge those who are less fortunate than us. But I hope you'll remember that you are more fortunate, and it falls to those of us who are to lead by example and turn our backs on places such as that."
It was clear that Jefferson had really hit his stride, and he was not planning to conclude for some time. Sam wondered whether he was practicing for his political career.