Читать книгу A Win-Win Proposition - Cat Schield - Страница 7

Multi-colored lights winked at Sebastian Case, enticing him to come try his luck. He ignored the electronic clatter of slot machines as they chimed, beeped and sang of fortunes won and lost. Gambling didn’t appeal to him. He believed in hard work and perseverance, not chance.

A couple in their sixties halted in front of him, forcing Sebastian to slow. The wife insisted the buffet was to their left. The husband assured her they’d missed the turn near the keno area. Both were wrong.

Before he could circle past, the woman spied him.

“There’s someone who can help us.” Her bright-red lips parted in a cheerful smile. “Hello …” She scrutinized his chest, where a name tag might be. “Young man. We love your hotel, but it’s very confusing. Can you direct us to the buffet?”

She’d mistaken him for a hotel employee. Not surprising. He was probably the only person in the casino wearing a business suit who didn’t work there.

“If you angle to the right, you’ll see it.” He pointed in the direction they needed to go.

“I told you.” The woman shot her husband a smug look, dead wrong but taking credit anyway. “Thank you.”

With a nod, Sebastian resumed walking toward the bank of elevators that would sweep him to his fifteenth-floor suite. Missy better be there. While he’d been on a conference call with their lawyers, going over last-minute changes to the contract for the purchase of Smythe Industries, she’d pulled a vanishing act. That had been almost six hours ago.

Concern buzzed. He’d left three messages on her voice mail and sent her four or five emails. Not a single response. Assistants didn’t come any more efficient or reliable than Missy. Should he be worried that she’d gotten into trouble?

Noisy, crowded, chaotic Las Vegas lured tourists with over-the-top promises of adventure and spit them out with blurry memories and empty pockets. Had Missy fallen prey? Her small-town upbringing in west Texas couldn’t have prepared her for such dangers. Was she somewhere in the maze of slot machines, pouring her paycheck into one? Or perhaps she’d left the hotel and been accosted on the street.

A cheer went up from the craps tables on his right. If his BlackBerry hadn’t been set to vibrate, he never would have known he’d received an email. Slowing his pace, he pulled the handheld out of his coat pocket. Missy had finally responded. The two-word subject line stopped him cold.

My resignation.

He stared at the concise note in disbelief. Missy was quitting? Impossible.

His executive assistant had been with him for four years. They were a team. If she were unhappy, he’d know it.

Sebastian dialed Missy. After four rings he was directed to her voice mail.

“Call me.”

Without waiting to see if she would, he shot her a terse text message demanding her location. Thirty seconds later, he received a response.

The bar.

Which bar?

He gnashed his teeth during an even longer pause.

Zador.

He pulled up a mental image of the casino’s layout and turned to his left. A five-minute hike brought him to the bar. Red walls, black-lacquer accents and Asian-inspired art gave Sebastian the feeling he’d been transported halfway around the world. Enormous fish tanks lined the wall and provided most of the room’s light. Twelve-inch koi drifted through the clear water as Sebastian strode into the room, scanning the occupied tables for his assistant. A redhead at the bar derailed his search.

She faced the bartender, gesturing as they conversed. With her back to him, Sebastian couldn’t hear her laugh but suspected it would be husky and intimate, a siren sound that lured men into her sensual web. She sat with her long legs hitched to one side, her modest hemline offering a view of slender calves and delicate ankles.

Even without seeing her face, he was hooked.

Her allure was so potent he’d taken half a dozen steps in her direction before he recalled why he’d come here. A quick survey of the room assured him that Missy didn’t occupy any of the small round tables. He would deal with her later.

First, he needed to meet the redhead at the bar.

“No, no. Really. He did that?”

Sebastian was close enough to recognize the redhead’s voice. Shock vibrated through him. “Missy?”

His assistant turned her head and peered up at him through a screen of long, dark lashes. If it had been another woman, he would have described the action as flirtatious. But this was Missy.

“Hello, Sebastian.” Her voice rasped along his nerves like nails dragged over bare skin. She pivoted the stool a quarter turn and gestured at the empty seat beside her. “Joe, get my boss a shot of Patrón.”

Sebastian sank onto the stool, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Where were her glasses? Her eyes, the rich hazel of a mossy grotto, watched him with open curiosity, waiting for him to say or do something.

“What’s with your email?” he demanded, struggling to pull free of the whirlpool of attraction he’d been sucked into. “You picked a hell of a time to quit.”

She nudged the shot glass toward him. “There’s never going to be a good time.”

He swallowed the tequila without tasting it. The alcohol’s burn was a mild discomfort compared to the inferno raging elsewhere in his body.

At some point in the six hours since they’d gotten off the plane, she’d freed her lush, auburn hair from its long thick braid and cut off twelve inches. The shorter style waved and cascaded over her shoulders like Chinese silk. Had it always been that vibrant and alive? His fingers itched to comb through the cinnamon ripples and wrap the long strands around his hands. He could almost feel the sensual caress against his skin.

His gaze traveled downward. She’d traded her amorphous pantsuits for a figure-hugging dress that framed and flaunted the creamy curves of her breasts. Had her skin always been this pale, this flawless? Or did it just appear that way in contrast to the black of the dress?

And speaking of skin. Had he ever seen her bare this much?

The Missy he knew was modest and reserved. The woman occupying the stool beside him reveled in her sensuality.

Sebastian shook his head. “What did you say?”

“I said it’s your turn.”

His turn. His turn to what?

The valley between her breasts called to him. He imagined plunging forward and burying his face in her cleavage. To arouse her with lips and tongue. To suck one nipple after another into his mouth until she wept for joy.

The intensity of the urge shocked him. He hauled a steadying breath into his lungs. Her seductive scent infiltrated his senses and fogged his brain.

“Sebastian?”

“What?” He wrenched his gaze from her stunning cleavage and blinked to refocus his thoughts.

“Is something wrong?” Her lips curved in a way both mysterious and feminine. As if she knew exactly what he was thinking. And liked it.

What had happened to the levelheaded, professional girl he’d come to rely on these last four years? Maybe bringing her to Las Vegas hadn’t been such a good idea.

“No. I’m fine.” What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t seem to think straight. He peered at the empty shot glass. Had he been drugged? “What were we talking about?”

“My resignation.”

Her words slapped him out of the sensual daze. His brain cleared. Heat receded. Or perhaps retreated was a better word.

“What do you want? More money. Or are you after a better title?”

“I want to get married. Have babies.”

More shocking revelations. She’d always struck him as a career girl. His entire image of her consisted of the efficiency and dedication she exhibited within the walls of Case Consolidated Holdings’ offices. Sure, it made sense that she’d have a personal life that involved friends and lovers, but it had never occurred to him that she did.

“You don’t need to quit your job to do that.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“Are you trying to tell me I’m keeping you from getting married and having kids?”

“Yes.” Her long lashes fell over whatever she didn’t want him to read in her eyes.

“How?”

Sebastian signaled the bartender for another tequila, shaking his head when the man glanced at Missy’s drink. How much alcohol had she consumed? Her clear gaze didn’t suggest intoxication. But what else could explain her rash decision to resign?

“You keep me working late most nights,” she began. “You call me at all hours to make changes in your travel arrangements or to pull together conference calls. How many times have I worked through the weekend making last-minute changes to whatever presentation I’d spent the entire week creating for you?”

Was she trying to say he expected too much? Maybe he’d come to rely on her more and more the longer they worked together, but he liked knowing he could call on her whenever and wherever he needed her help.

“You never take a break,” she complained, finishing the last of her pink-tinged drink. “And you never give me one.”

“I promise not to interfere with your weekends anymore.”

“It’s not just my weekends. It’s making your doctor appointments and getting your car serviced. It’s dealing with the contractors remodeling your house and choosing the tile, color scheme, fixtures. It’s your house. You should be making those decisions.”

They’d had this discussion before. “I respect your taste.”

“I know, but decorating a house is something your wife should do.”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“Not yet.” She regarded him in obvious frustration. “Your mother said things are heating up between you and Kaitlyn Murray.”

“I wouldn’t say heating up.”

Although it annoyed him that she and his mother had discussed his personal life, he had no right to complain. He’d been the first to step across the line when he’d made requests of Missy outside her duties as his executive assistant. It was just easier to have her take care of his needs both professionally and personally.

“You’ve been seeing her for six months,” Missy continued. “Your mother said that’s the longest you’ve dated anyone since …”

She trailed off.

Since his divorce six years earlier.

Sebastian wasn’t opposed to remarrying. He might have done so years ago if his ex-wife hadn’t trampled his ability to trust. Chandra’s antics hadn’t just dented his domestic side. She’d turned him into a remote bastard with no interest in developing romantic entanglements.

Unfortunately for the women in his life, he’d tended to focus his attention on something he could control—making money. Growing Case Consolidated Holdings.

“Okay. I won’t ask you to do any more personal stuff.” He would eliminate one excuse after another until she ran out of reasons to leave him. “Does that about cover it?”

Her hazel eyes became polished jasper. “Nothing you can say or do is going to change my mind, Sebastian. I’m quitting. Effective as soon as this week is over.”

“You gave me a two-week notice.”

“You can have four for all I care. I have at least that much vacation banked.” She caught the bartender’s eye and pointed to her drink.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

He clasped her hand and lowered it. Contact with her skin had caused a startling revelation. He wanted her in ways that were primitive and defied rational thought. What was wrong with him? This was Missy. They’d worked side by side for four years with no sizzle, no fireworks. No craving to spend hours lost in sensual exploration.

She was his employee and as such, he was responsible for her. Only he wasn’t thinking responsibly. He wasn’t thinking at all. He was feeling. Hot. Intense. Sexual.

“You aren’t my father,” she said, sliding her hand free. “Stop telling me what to do.”

He rubbed his thumb over his fingertips but couldn’t eradicate the way her softness lingered on his senses. “This isn’t like you.”

“It isn’t like the old me.” She chugged half the drink the bartender set in front of her before continuing. “Do you know what today is?”

“April fifth. The leadership summit starts tomorrow evening.” The annual week-long event brought together the executives of the dozen companies Case Consolidated Holdings owned. It was a chance to talk strategy for the future and facilitate a cohesive, global outlook among what were individually run companies.

“It’s my birthday.”

Sebastian winced. He’d forgotten again. Usually a card got passed around the office that he’d sign and there would be crepe paper and balloons decorating her desk to remind him to wish her a happy birthday. But he’d been preoccupied with the summit and the last-minute details for his motivational opening speech. What a poor leader he was if he couldn’t even remember the birthday of the second most important woman in his life.

“Did I get you something nice?”

She threw her arms wide and gestured down her body. “A day of pampering in the spa and a total makeover.”

“I have excellent taste,” he said, his smile rueful. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the bar.” It probably wasn’t the best comparison in the world because men occupied most of the chairs. The few women he noted were older and downright frumpy.

Her eyes narrowed. “Gee, thanks. Knowing that I’m hotter than a bunch of grandmothers is a huge boost to my confidence.”

Regret pinched him. He could do better than that. She deserved better from him. It was her birthday, after all. But the only way he could think of to show her how gorgeous she was involved taking her upstairs to his suite and peeling off her very sexy dress.

He took another kick to the groin. The residual ache made him frown. He was speeding down a dangerous path. Whatever had awakened a latent fire inside her, turning her into a seductress capable of ripping out a man’s heart, was having a detrimental effect on his self-control.

“No, really,” he assured her. “You look incredible.”

“Incredible, incredible?” she demanded, seeking clarity as she often had to do with him. “Or incredible for thirty?”

Ah, a milestone number. No wonder she’d freaked out. She was facing another decade. That was especially difficult for a woman with a ticking clock.

“Incredible.”

She pulled a face at him. “You probably think I’m overreacting to the whole turning-thirty thing.” She paused so he could inject a comment, but Sebastian held his peace. “It’s just that I always figured I’d get married at twenty-eight. Seemed perfect, you know? I’d have enough time for a career. Travel the world. Sow some wild oats. Make some mistakes.”

He couldn’t picture Missy doing any of those things. She liked going to movies. Knitted prayer shawls for her church. Rescued cats and fostered them out. If any woman seemed doomed to stay close to home and live a quiet life, it would be Missy.

But that was before she turned up tonight looking like sin, smelling like heaven, and tasting like …?

He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her cheek.

Tasting like perfection.

She put her hand against her skin where he’d kissed her and regarded him warily. “What was that for?”

“Happy birthday.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re still feeling warm and fuzzy when you see what I spent on my birthday present.”

He shrugged. “You’re worth it.”

Missy’s lips opened into a perfect O. How had he never noticed how sexy her mouth was before? With a thin, arched upper lip and a plump, delectable lower one, her cupid bow mouth practically demanded he smear her perfectly applied brick-red lipstick.

Without warning, her fist shot out and hit him hard on his arm. “Damn you, Sebastian Case. You can be such a jerk.”

With that, she slipped off the stool and as soon as her shoes hit the patterned carpet, she was off. Rubbing the spot where she’d struck him, Sebastian stared after her in surprise. She had a hell of a punch for one so feminine. He launched himself off the stool as she neared the exit and tossed some bills on the bar before he raced after her.

She wasn’t used to walking in four-inch heels so he caught up with her easily. Sliding his arm around her waist to offer her support as she stumbled, he murmured, “Where to?”

“I’m off to celebrate.” She pushed his hand away from her hip.

Sebastian’s palm tingled as he strode after her. He rubbed his hands together, trying to eliminate the uncomfortable buzzing sensation, and watched the way Missy’s determined stride gave her curves a little bounce and jiggle.

His ex-wife had been model thin and forever on a diet. She’d lacked the one thing he’d always adored in a woman, generous handfuls of breasts. That might account for why he’d lost interest in sex with her. Or perhaps he’d grown tired of her neediness. Her lies about being pregnant every time he talked about leaving her.

Missy veered to the right as Sebastian was cataloging all the things that had gone wrong in his marriage. A beat later, he changed direction, stalking her down the row of gaming tables. She moved with purpose, seeming to know exactly where she was heading. He caught up to her at the roulette wheel.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” he demanded, certain he already knew the answer.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” She pulled out a wad of cash. “I came here to blow this and I’m not leaving until I do.”

Missy had fallen in love with Las Vegas the second she’d stepped into the hotel lobby this afternoon. The ringing slot machines reminded her of the final bell before summer vacation. Flashing lights and the prospect of a big win around every corner unleashed her long-repressed wild child. She’d barely resisted the urge to dash into the casino and plunk down twenty dollars on the first blackjack table she came to. In a heartbeat, fifteen years of sensible living went out the window.

Sebastian set his hand on her arm and used his body to block her view of the roulette table. “You don’t want to play this. It’s one of the worst games for winning. Let’s go play blackjack. The odds are better.”

His touch awakened a shiver despite the warmth of his skin. He restrained her with gentleness, but Missy knew he could call on steel if he ran out of patience.

Rich. Powerful. Used to getting his way. Intimidating when he didn’t. A man in control of every aspect of his life. He never relaxed. Rarely smiled. Demanded excellence from everybody.

If she’d known what she was getting into before she’d accepted the position as his assistant, she probably would have run screaming from his office. Instead, she’d been drawn to the mystique of Sebastian Case, the elusive, gorgeous, exasperating millionaire businessman.

She shook off his grip. “I don’t care.”

“You’ve gone completely mad. How much do you have there?” He plucked the bills from her hand and riffled through them. His lips puckered in a silent whistle.

Afraid he might hold on to the money in some misguided attempt to save her from herself, she snatched the cash back. “It’s enough to buy the wedding dress of my dreams.”

If her use for the money surprised Sebastian, he didn’t show it. “And how much is that?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“That’s a lot of money to bring to Las Vegas.” Concern deepened his voice into a dusky rumble.

Missy dodged eye contact, refusing to let his censure keep her from throwing caution to the wind. “It sure is. Took me two years to save it. I ate tuna sandwiches three days a week. I never bought any clothes unless they were on clearance. I limited myself to one movie and one dinner out per pay period.”

“Those are significant sacrifices,” he said with a straight face, but mockery hovered in the back of his eyes.

Missy tossed her head. What did he know about making sacrifices? He’d paid eight hundred thousand dollars for a home because he liked the neighborhood, then tore down the house so that he could spend another two million building something to his exacting taste. A mansion he barely lived in because he spent so much time at the office.

“They were,” she retorted, frustrated with everything in her life at the moment and taking it out on Sebastian because it was easier to blame him than face where she’d gone wrong. “Aren’t you curious why I’ve decided to blow the money rather than buy the wedding dress of my dreams?”

“I’d love to know.” Calm and measured, he sounded like a firefighter talking a crazy lady off the ledge. “Let’s go somewhere quiet so you can tell me the whole story.”

“I don’t want to go somewhere quiet. My entire life has been quiet. I’m looking for a little excitement.”

A chance to run wild.

Sebastian’s disapproving frown would not steer her off course. She was tired of behaving like a mouse when what she wanted to do was roar like a tiger.

Daughter of a small-town pastor, she’d been a free-spirited kid, breaking rules and flaunting authority. True to herself but a disappointment to her father and mother, Missy’s carefree days had come to an end in high school when her mother suffered a stroke. Bound to a wheelchair, needing help with the simplest of tasks, she’d needed Missy to grow up fast. Missy had shouldered a lot of her mother’s daily caretaking until her death after Missy’s twenty-fifth birthday.

“Haven’t you had enough excitement for one day?” Sebastian asked. “You had a makeover. You’ve had too much to drink. Let me take you back to your hotel room. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“I haven’t even gotten started.” She turned to the roulette table and plunked down her wad of cash. “Five thousand in chips, please.”

Sebastian put a hand over the cash before the dealer could move. “Think about what you’re doing here. That’s a lot of money. Two years of saving and sacrificing.”

She tugged at his wrist but might as well have been an ant trying to move a mountain. Her efforts brought her in close to his body. His heat surrounded her, seeped into far corners of her soul where wild impulses waited to be set free. His masculine aftershave invaded her nostrils and sped along her already overstimulated nerve endings. She was teetering on the edge of something reckless.

“I know what I’m doing.” That was the furthest thing from the truth. She had no step-by-step plan. No clue if she was making good decisions. And she didn’t care. For the first time in fifteen years, she was following her instincts wherever they led. Whatever the cost.

And it felt amazing.

“Miss?”

The dealer interrupted their argument and Missy shoved an elbow into Sebastian’s ribs. With an oomph, he released her money.

“Five thousand in chips, please,” she repeated, turning her shoulder away from her boss’s frustrated frown.

His disapproval made her uncomfortable. As she had done with her father, she’d grown accustomed to doing things the way Sebastian wanted them done. How many times had she let his opinion dominate hers? Too many to count.

And old habits were hard to break.

The wheel spun before she placed her bet. Annoyed that she’d second-guessed herself, Missy drummed her fingers and waited for the ball to drop.

“Don’t throw your money away like this,” Sebastian said.

“Why not?” What good was being in Las Vegas if she couldn’t do something that she’d regret even a little? “I was supposed to spend it on my wedding dress. That’s not going to happen now.”

“You’ll find someone,” Sebastian argued. “You’ll get married.”

“I had someone.” He knew absolutely nothing about her, did he? “He dumped me.” Yesterday. The day before her birthday. Two years after she thought she’d be getting married, she was back to square one. No. Worse than that, she was two years older with fewer single men to choose from.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. It’s your fault.”

“My fault?” Usually he gazed at her in a neutral way as if he never truly saw her. At the moment he was assessing her with something other than his normal cool. “I don’t see how.”

What was going on here? Sebastian regarded her as if she were a luscious chocolate truffle he wanted to devour. Unsettled, she stammered her first word. “H-he broke up with me because I wouldn’t quit working for you.”

“Why would he care that you worked for me?”

Because he thinks I’m in love with you.

And, of course, she wasn’t. Well, maybe she had been a little in the beginning. For the first year or so. But after Tim came along, she’d gotten over her feelings for her boss. Unrequited feelings. Feelings with no hope of ever being reciprocated.

She wasn’t in Sebastian’s league. He dated women with money and prestigious social status. She knew the type. For a time in high school, she’d dated a boy from the wealthiest family in town. She’d been as infatuated with his promises to take her out of west Texas as she’d been with the guy. But in the end, it was the sting of why he’d broken up with her and how he’d handled it that remained branded on her psyche.

“Tim hated how I went running whenever you called,” Missy continued. “Every one of our fights was over you. I should’ve quit a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

In true Sebastian fashion, he arrowed straight to the heart of her dilemma. Her boss grasped underlying problems faster than anyone she’d ever known, including her father, who had an uncanny ability to read people. People, but not his daughter.

She couldn’t answer his question. To do so would force her to admit that leaving his employ would be akin to chopping off her arm. She needed him in her life. Needed to be around him to feel alive.

How pathetic was that?

“I just did.” Only not soon enough because yesterday Tim had told her he’d met the girl of his dreams, and they were getting married. Her hands shook. “I waited for two years for him to propose.” Her throat tightened, blocking the next few words.

And he decided to marry someone else after only knowing her a month.

Tears dampened her eyes, but Missy blinked rapidly to make them go away. Facing her undesirability hurt too much. If she wasn’t good enough for Tim, an unmotivated pharmaceutical salesman, who was she good enough for?

“Place your bets,” the dealer called as people began setting chips all over the table.

Missy pushed all her chips onto red. “Five thousand dollars on red.”

“Don’t do this.” Sebastian spoke softly but it was a command.

“Why not?” She didn’t attempt to keep defiance out of her voice. He needed to realize she wasn’t his to boss around anymore. “It isn’t as if I have anything left to lose. Not really.”

“Take the money and spend it on something of value. A new car. A down payment on a house. Something that will last longer than twenty seconds.”

Solid advice, but she could never look at the thing she’d bought with the money and not see her wedding dress. The gorgeous flowing gown of satin and lace with the gathered skirt and beaded bodice. She’d cut the picture out of a bridal magazine two years ago when she and Tim had had their first conversation about the future.

“Tell you what,” she began, feeling audacious and desirable beneath Sebastian’s keen appraisal. Mad impulses had been driving her all day. Maybe turning thirty wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to her. Start a new decade with a new attitude. “I’ll make you a bet.”

Sebastian set his hands on his hips and looked resigned. “What sort of a bet?”

“Last call,” the dealer announced.

Missy heard the wheel begin to spin and the ball start its journey around and around. From reading up on roulette, she knew she had a forty-seven percent chance of winning. Those weren’t such bad odds.

“If the ball lands on black and I lose, I’ll keep working for you.” She gave a rueful smile. “I’ll have to, won’t I, because I’ll be five thousand dollars poorer.”

Sebastian’s eyes locked with hers. The winds of change had begun to blow. Storm clouds loomed. Dangerous for the unwary.

“And if the ball lands on red?”

She licked her lips and his attention shifted to her mouth, lingering as if something fascinated him. Fever consumed the last of her hesitation. Every one of her senses came to life and soaked up the sights, smells and sounds of the man towering over her.

Hunger thrummed, longing to be sated. Only one man had the passion, sensuality and persistence to do just that.

She moved her left leg forward, bringing her thigh into contact with his. The effect on him was instantaneous. His nostrils flared. His entire body went perfectly still. His fist clenched where it rested against the table.

Intrigued, she shifted a few inches more. Her skirt rode up her thigh, baring more of her leg. She wore thigh-high stockings, the sort with a backing beneath the lace band at the top that allowed them to stay up on their own. Standing before the mirror in stockings and her brand-new black silk underwear earlier tonight, she’d been flushed with confidence in her sex appeal.

How many times had she watched his steely muscles flex beneath his tailored suits and wondered what it would be like to get her hands on all that unadulterated male beauty? To experience the immense power contained in his body.

Suddenly, she knew exactly how she wanted to celebrate her birthday.

His chiseled mouth flattened as she leaned into the space that separated them. Thick lashes hid his gaze from her, but a slight hitch in his breath told her he wasn’t undisturbed by her nearness.

“I want a night with you.” The proposition tasted like warm honey against her lips. She had no idea where she’d found the boldness to voice it, but now that she had, she wouldn’t take it back for a million dollars.

“I’m not going to take advantage of you like that.”

A chuckle broke from her. Was he kidding? She was the one doing the advantage-taking here.

“One night,” she coaxed, silencing the sensible voice in her head that howled in protest. One night to rediscover what made her happy. “That’s all I want.”

“This is ridiculous.” Despite his words to the contrary, he didn’t pull back.

Did he desire her? Was she brave enough to find out?

“Black, you get me,” she said, hearing the ball slow. Only seconds now. Seconds that would change her life forever. “Red, I get you.”

She slipped her fingers beneath the lapel of his suit coat and rested on the expensive cotton covering his broad chest. He grabbed her hand with his as her fingers grazed his nipple. His harsh exhalation thrilled her.

If something as mundane as standing close to him and touching his chest made her feel this incredible, what would happen when they were naked together? Her knees wobbled as his hand slipped around her waist.

His eyes burned into her. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s my birthday.” Because I’ve wanted you for four years but never dreamed that you’d want me in return. “Because it’s Vegas, baby,” she crooned.

“Very well,” he growled, arm tightening to draw her body against his. “It’s a bet.”