Читать книгу Las Vegas: Scandals: Prince Charming for 1 Night - Лорет Энн Уайт, Nina Bruhns - Страница 15

Traffic was a bitch. Parking was even worse.

“Just drop me off,” Vera told Conner after glancing at the dashboard clock for the tenth time in as many minutes.

He knew she was worried about being late for her shift, convinced her boss was looking for an excuse to fire her after she’d been hauled off by the FBI yesterday. To tell the truth, Conner wished she would get fired. She was better than that job. Did not belong at the Diamond Lounge—or anywhere else she had to bare her breasts to make a decent living.

Oh, she’d told him all about her lack of education and her stepfather’s Alzheimer’s and thus the need to keep him in an assisted-living facility. Conner understood her reasons. He did. He was just unconvinced she had no other recourse. She’d simply had no one tell her about other options.

He planned to. As soon as they’d put this FBI mess behind them, he’d show her how she didn’t have to continue in the same vicious cycle as her mother’d been stuck in. There were ways out. To that end, this afternoon he’d paid the bill for the retirement home for the next month. Call it a bonus for her help. That would give her a few weeks’ breathing room to help him. It was the least he could do.

Actually…it was far more than he should be doing. More than he’d ever done for a client before. He’d always prided himself on staying aloof from the all-too-unfair predicaments life had heaped upon many of his clients…hell, most of his clients. He was a defense attorney. People who did crimes had myriad reasons for committing them, but none of those reasons were fair or happy. Like a doctor with his patients, a good attorney needed to distance himself from the world of hurt he dealt with every day. Treat everyone as a case number, even as he helped them.

But Vera was different. She affected him like no one ever had. As a representative of the law—and as a man. She was incredibly smart, grounded and determined. Not to mention the hottest woman he’d ever met.

He was in deep trouble here.

“Seriously,” she said, “I can walk to the club. It’s just a couple of blocks. It’ll be faster than this mess.”

No doubt correct. Sundown on the Strip was a giant traffic jam. “All right,” he said, though he didn’t like the notion of her being on her own for even a minute. Whoever was stalking the Tears of the Quetzal was still out there. Conner had checked in with Lex Duncan, but no new leads had turned up. “Promise me you’ll go in through the front of the club, not from the alley.”

“You know I have to use the stage door,” she said as she ducked under the car’s gull-wing door as it rose to let her out. “Lecherous Lou will have a fit if I—”

“Tell him you have a new sugar daddy who’s coming to spend lots of money in his club—but only if you walk in through the front entrance.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled her garment bag from the backseat. “Sugar daddy?”

He shrugged with a grin. “Sounds better than fairy godmother. ”

She laughed. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

Yeah, about her. “More so every minute.”

He watched her walk away on the tourist-crowded sidewalk in a simple pencil skirt and blouse, and a pair of sexy, do-me shoes that should be illegal, her hips swaying enticingly. Leaving a trail of turning male heads in her wake.

He wanted to jump out of the car and strangle every one of them for looking at her that way.

Damn, he was in such deep trouble.

Traffic barely inched along, so he fell farther and farther behind her. For a moment he lost sight of her in the moving throng. His pulse jacked up. He didn’t like this. He shouldn’t have let her get out of the car. To his relief, she got stuck at a Do Not Walk sign at the next corner and actually obeyed it. Meanwhile his lane jerked forward half a block so he almost caught up with her. She didn’t know it, though, and he smiled at her impatient foot tapping as she waited.

Suddenly, he noticed someone else watching her. Closely. From the sidewalk just behind her. A man. Tall, muscular, with an olive complexion, thick black hair and a furtive look about him. A familiar furtive look. The guy stepped closer to Vera’s back. Too close. As the man surreptitiously checked the crowd to both sides, Conner saw high cheekbones that gave him an exotic Hispanic or maybe Native American look.

And then it struck him. It was the man who’d been arguing with Darla! In front of police headquarters!

Alarm zinged through Conner’s insides. Just as Vera’s stance went straight and rigid. Slowly, she put her hands out to her sides.

Holy hell! The bastard had a gun to her back!

Conner leaped from the car and barreled down the street to her aid, knocking people aside, apologizing as he ran. It took him about seven seconds flat to reach her. They were the longest seconds of his life.

“Hey!” he yelled just before flinging himself onto the douchebag’s back. “Get away from her!” A mistake. The man was quick. He spun, saw Conner and took off, just missing being tackled. Conner managed to avoid mowing down Vera, but when he veered, he slammed into the streetlight post. Stars burst in his head.

“Conner!” Her voice echoed like he was in a tunnel. “Oh, my God! Conner! Are you okay?”

He gave his head a shake to clear it as well as his hearing. “Did someone catch that guy?” he demanded, scanning the area around them. Concerned tourists looked back at him blankly.

Damn.

“That was him, wasn’t it?” Vera said, obviously totally freaked out. “The guy who broke into my apartment. He had a gun, Conner! He was going to shoot me!”

The circle of tourists glanced nervously in the direction the man had run, and started to back away. Out on the street, car horns started honking.

“Damn. I left the car running down the block.” He grasped her elbow firmly. “Come on. We’re going back home.”

She dug in her heels. “No, Conner,” she protested. “I have to go to work!”

He towed her along unwillingly. “You were nearly mugged, woman! Or worse. How can you even consider—”

“I told you. I don’t have a choice. I need my job. Please, Conner. Let me go. He just wants the ring, and I don’t have it. I’ll be fine.”

Silver had thought she was safe, too. Right before a thousand tons of pipe and wood had crashed down on her. She was still emotionally traumatized by the attack.

Damn it, he didn’t want Vera in danger, too. But that determined look was back in her eyes. He knew he’d lose this argument. “All right. But I don’t care how long it takes. You’re not walking. Get in the car.”

Thankfully she didn’t argue but slid back into the car, if reluctantly.

“Did you get a close look at his face?” Conner asked her once he’d calmed down enough to think rationally. “Would you recognize him again?”

She shook her head. “No. I didn’t dare turn around when he had his gun in my back. I didn’t see his face at all. Did you?”

“Just from a distance, and I only caught a glimpse of it. But I think I’ve seen him before. I’ll have Duncan pull video from the traffic cam.” He pointed to the unobtrusive camera pointed at the intersection. “With luck, it got a good shot of him, and we can identify the bastard once and for all. At least see if he’s the same guy I suspect of taking the Quetzal from police headquarters. ”

And hurting Silver.

And possibly murdering Candace.

“Damn it! I don’t want you going to work tonight,” Conner said, slamming his fist on the steering wheel. “I’ll pay your salary—whatever you would have made.”

She stared at him for a moment, then smiled weakly. “I know you just want to help, but…I can’t do that.”

“I’m not trying to buy you, Vera.”

“I know that. But, no, thanks.”

It took them ten minutes to drive the block and a half to the Diamond Lounge parking lot. By the time they got out of the car and he escorted her to the stage door, she’d composed herself completely. He didn’t know how she could be so calm. Or so stubborn about accepting his help. A man had just tried to kill her!

Since Conner wasn’t an employee of the club, the guard wouldn’t let him in the side entrance.

“Be careful,” he admonished Vera, giving her a worried kiss. “I’ll be in the audience all night. If you need me just yell.”

She smiled and touched his cheek. “My hero.”

He knew it was just teasing, but her endearment made him feel warm all over. Or maybe it was just the hot Las Vegas night wind. People had given him a lot bigger compliments, accompanied by far more substantial rewards than a smile. So why did every little thing this woman do affect him so deeply?

He made his way around to the front, directly to the head of the line of schlubs waiting to get into the exclusive club. As an Old Las Vegas landmark, the Diamond Lounge was extremely popular with tourists and locals alike. But it didn’t surprise him that the bouncer immediately recognized him, either from the society pages, or because he’d been part of the stir last night.

“Evening, Mr. Rothchild. Welcome back,” the brawny man said, ushering him past the velvet rope.

After paying his exorbitant cover, he was immediately shown to the same table as last night, right in front of the stage. He suppressed a chuckle of amusement. Had Vera really told them he was her sugar daddy? He wouldn’t put it past her. She had a wicked sense of humor, that woman.

This time a whole bottle of champagne appeared on his table, served by a pretty petite brunette who displayed her nearly nude body invitingly for him as she poured.

He was so not interested.

A beautiful redhead came out onstage in a sexy French maid’s outfit and for the next fifteen minutes did a very energetic number with the center pole. The men perched on the bar stools arranged against the edge of the stage cheered and groaned in approval.

Conner drained a glass of champagne and was actually bored. He was only interested in seeing one certain, particular woman take off her clothes. And the thought of her doing it in front of all these clowns was making him want to swallow the whole damned bottle.

He checked his watch. Eight-thirteen.

Vera didn’t come on until eleven.

Hell. It was going to be a really, really long night.

He was out there.

Conner.

Why did the thought of that one man being in the audience put butterflies in Vera’s stomach and impossible feelings in her heart? Feelings of warmth and affection, and sadness and regret, all balled up in one giant knot?

She was falling in love with the man. That’s why.

Despair filled Vera as she prepared to go out onstage. For the first time ever, she didn’t want to do this. Wished she’d chosen a more conventional means of making a living. Hadn’t let a thousand men see her wearing nothing more than a G-string.

Stop it! she told herself.

There was nothing wrong with what she did. And it wasn’t as though she’d had a lot of choice.

As Jerry the stagehand pulled back the curtain for her, she thought about all the times she’d strutted out onstage and enjoyed the heck out of it. She’d loved the power of her female body over the punters. Loved the effect she’d had on them, reducing strong, intelligent men to blithering bundles of testosterone willing to give her everything they had for just one more peek. Loved that she was giving a thrill to those who had no one, and to those with someone waiting for them a reason to go home and give that woman a thrill of her own.

And then she thought of Conner, out there, waiting for her to come out and perform. How terrifying was that? Because suddenly she realized there was nothing she wanted more than to have him take her home and give her a thrill.

She was nothing if not realistic. She knew a man like him would never love her back. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy him while he still wanted her. And he did want her. Anyone with eyes could see that.

So why was she wasting time? The man was out there, waiting, needing to be seduced. Quickly. Before Agent Duncan found Darla and the Quetzal-crazed maniac, and Vera had to go back to her old life.

This life.

Without Conner.

The long chords of her organ music started. Her cue.

She fluffed the skirt of her faux wedding gown and gave her breasts an extra push up.

Okay. This was it.

The man didn’t stand a chance. When she was done with this performance, he’d be putty in her hands.

At least for a little while. Longer if she was lucky. Until life intervened and he came to his senses.

But in the meantime he’d be hers. All hers.

Her very own Prince Charming.

For one magical night.