What Happens in Vegas... Page 2

  “I believe the rescuee should buy the rescuer the drink.” She sat gracefully and sighed. “At least it’s a bit quieter over here. I can barely hear myself think out there.”

  “That’s kind of the point. Most people don’t come here in search of stimulating conversation.”

  Evie cut her eyes at him. “I guess not.”

  A waitress appeared almost immediately to get their order. Evie ordered a vodka tonic, and though he didn’t normally drink anything stronger than water when he was working, he asked for the same.

  It was slightly quieter in the corner, but Evie still had to move close to him in order to hear him. As she did, the faint spicy scent of her perfume tickled his nose. It suited her perfectly—just slightly exotic and very natural.

  “So where are you from, Nick?”

  It took him a second to get his mind back in the conversation. “North Las Vegas.”

  “Really?” Her eyes widened.

  He was used to looks of pity or scorn when he revealed his less-than-blue-chip background, but Evie’s reaction was unexpected. “Why do you seem so surprised?”

  “Because I am. I mean, I just never thought of people actually being from Vegas, you know? It seems like one of those places where everyone is really from somewhere else.” As Evie spoke, her hands moved animatedly—until she seemed to realize she was doing it and clasped them in her lap.

  “Everyone has to grow up somewhere. What about you?”

  “Dallas.” There was a touch of exasperation behind the word, and her mouth twisted the tiniest bit. If he hadn’t been so focused on her lips, he’d have missed it. “I’m only here for the weekend.”

  “Not on business, then.”

  “God, no. Just fun.”

  That phrase—practically the code word for trouble—should’ve sent him to the nearest exit, but something about Evie kept him in his seat. “On your own?”

  “Oh, no, I came with a friend.”

  He looked around pointedly, and Evie laughed. The sound caused a physical reaction—almost as if she’d run her hands over him again.

  “But my friend made a new friend, so…”

  Evie was on her own tonight. The same part of his brain that was overriding his common sense took that knowledge and ran with it. He shifted on the sofa, looking for a comfortable position as his body’s physical responses took over.

  Thankfully, the server returned with their drinks, shifting his attention as he reached for his wallet. Evie stayed him with a hand as she handed over a bill to the server and told her to keep the change. “Smart women don’t let strange men buy their drinks in bars.” She winked. “It can lead to misunderstandings later.”

  Evie wasn’t naive. He liked that. “Then I’ll get the second round.”

  Her eyebrows went up in challenge. “That assumes there will be a second round.”

  “I’m not assuming anything. Just thinking positively.”

  “Hmm, I’ve heard folks talk about the power of positive thinking. Does it work for you?” Holding her drink carefully, Evie smiled as she leaned against the sofa back and crossed those unbelievably long legs. Although the action didn’t look rehearsed or intentional, it was still outrageously seductive. His imagination sprang to life, and all the reasons why he didn’t pick up women in bars anymore were blotted out by the images.

  “I’m positive I’m glad your friend made a new friend…”

  “Leaving me to make a new friend of my own?” Evie finished.

  “Exactly.”

  That word sent a shiver down Evie’s spine and kicked her heartbeat up another notch. The power of positive thinking? Hell, she was positive she wasn’t thinking straight, but she was also very positive there was no place on earth she’d rather be than here, with Nick’s dark eyes causing her stomach to turn funny flips. When she’d landed on him and his arms tightened around her, it felt like time stopped. The imprint of his chest against hers, the heat of his skin under the silky cotton shirt, the thump of his heartbeat seeming louder than the music. And when she’d looked up to see her rescuer…

  The strobe light kept sending parts of his face into shadow, emphasizing the sharp cheekbones and the strong, square line of his jaw. Dark hair fell across his forehead, nearly covering a scar above his left eyebrow that gave him a dangerous look. She’d had to break eye contact before those eyes of his sucked her in completely and turned her to mush.

  Then she’d noticed how the dampness of his shirt caused it to mold across his chest, and her hands had been on him before she realized it. The electric tingle he caused in her fingertips only intensified when he grabbed her hands, and Evie had sent up a fervent prayer of thanks that God made men that looked—and felt—like him.

  Only the years Gwen had spent trying to teach her to be a lady had saved her at that moment, letting her fall back into simple conversation instead of throwing herself into his arms. Her sister-in-law would be horrified at the very unladylike way Evie was flirting with Nick now, but someone else seemed to be inhabiting her body at the moment.

  Exactly. Was that a challenge? A promise? Nothing at all? Evie knew she was flirting way out of her comfort zone—and probably flirting with disaster at the same time—but she couldn’t seem to dredge up a care. This was a whole new world, and she felt as if she’d slipped out of a confining costume and was finally herself.

  It was scary and thrilling, and if she had an ounce of sense, she’d go back to her suite at the Bellagio and forget she’d ever laid eyes—or hands—on this man.

  How many times had Will accused her of not having that ounce of sense? Obviously, he was right.

  “Are you saying you’d like to be my new friend?” Dear Lord, had she really just said that? And where had that husky tone come from?

  The corner of Nick’s mouth twitched. “Yeah.”

  Oh, yeah, she was way, way out of her league. Switch to small talk. Small talk would give her a graceful retreat while she regrouped. You can do small talk. Maybe not, she corrected herself as no words came to mind. Flustered by, well, everything, she reached for her glass to help calm her nerves. The vodka burned as she swallowed, and she coughed painfully. Nick signaled the waitress and she quickly brought a glass of water over.

  Embarrassed, she could only smile gratefully and hope the darkness of the club would hide the blush on her cheeks.

  “Since that drink doesn’t seem to be to your liking, would you like to go somewhere else? Someplace a bit quieter with better-quality vodka?”

  That offer nearly caused her to choke, and the water burned worse than the vodka. She cleared her throat. “Like where?”

  “There’s a club not far from here—the Starlight—that I like, but the options are wide open. This is Las Vegas, Evie, anything you could ever want is available twenty-four hours a day.”

  Her mind went to a dozen inappropriate places—complete with visuals—before she managed to rein it back in. “That sounds good to me.”

  Nick stood and offered her his hand. “Then let’s go.”

  She hesitated for a millisecond and covered by reaching for her water glass one more time. Out of habit, she immediately wondered what the gossip columns would make of her and Nick, but then she remembered where she was. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. No one here knew or even gave a damn who she was, what she did, or whom she did it with.

  She placed her hand in his and her insides turned warm and melty when his fingers closed around hers and he pulled her to her feet. Feet that weren’t very steady at the moment, dancing as they were around excitement, desire and the knowledge of her freedom.

  Then Nick smiled at her, and her knees wobbled.

  Viva Las Vegas.

  Chapter Two

  EVIE KNEW SHE WASN’T DRUNK—she’d only had a couple of drinks—but she certainly felt like it. The freedom, the not-caring who was watching, the feeling of lightness—the intoxication was coming from Nick, not a bottle.

  Who needed alcohol when every time she inhale
d, his scent coiled through her, making her blood sing in her veins? And if there was anything more perfectly thrilling than the feel of his body pressed close to hers on the dance floor…Sweet mercy. She was about to spontaneously combust. This wasn’t dancing: it was rhythmic public foreplay, and the bass line vibrating through her body was an unnecessary additional stimulant.

  Oh, no, Nick was more than enough.

  But something more than just her libido was awake. At this moment, she wasn’t “Evangeline Harrison, heiress to half of HarCorp International.” She wasn’t under the lens of Dallas society’s microscope. No one was judging her or expecting an appropriate level of behavior from the sister-in-law of Texas’s leading etiquette expert.

  She was just “Evie”—random girl-on-the-street—and that Evie was enjoying her time out of the Dallas fishbowl. Nick didn’t know any differently, and he certainly didn’t seem to care who she was when she wasn’t here in Las Vegas. Not only did he have no expectations of her behavior, but he also seemed blissfully ignorant of the kinds of rules she was used to.

  Drinking beer straight from the bottle? He didn’t bat an eyelash. Joining the band on the stage and singing backup on her favorite song? He lifted her up there and then watched her with a fire in his eyes that had her stammering into the microphone.

  Nick seemed sure of himself; he wore his rough edges with pride and did what he wanted without apology. She’d spent her entire life with the “right” boys who came from families much like hers and were members of the right country clubs. Even with a veneer of civilization, Nick was what the other girls in her debutante class had called a Bad Boy.

  And she’d never wanted someone so bad so badly.

  The music ended with a crash of cymbals, and the band announced they were taking a break. Her fingers dug into Nick’s muscular shoulders in protest. No. She didn’t want this dance to end.

  Nick’s hand tightened around her waist, keeping her close, and her heartbeat jumped up another notch. From the way he was staring at her, she got the feeling he felt the same way. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard.

  The arms holding her pulled her another fraction of an inch closer until she could feel the beat of his heart against her chest. The blood roared in her ears and everything that wasn’t Nick ceased to exist.

  Then his mouth landed on hers.

  Oh, yes.

  His lips were warm and firm and hungry, and they fired the hunger in her. Her hand slid over the solid muscle of his shoulder, to the nape of his neck, where she was finally able to run her fingers through the inky-black silk of his hair.

  She felt, more than heard, him growl low in his throat as Nick’s tongue swept into her mouth to find hers.

  Then she began to burn.

  The fire started low in her belly, moving down through her core until her thighs began to quiver. It spread up, causing her breasts to feel heavy and her nipples to harden against the silk of her bra.

  Nick’s hands cupped her head, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones to her temples as he held her steady against the onslaught.

  If she’d had any worry that the tension—the want—had been only one-sided, Nick dispelled that erroneous notion with one press of his hips against hers.

  “Get a room!” someone shouted, and she broke away quickly, putting distance between them.

  Oh, no.

  The lovely heat of Nick’s kiss receded as the hot flush of embarrassment rushed to her cheeks. Nick didn’t seem to notice—or care—as he placed one last kiss on her temple and tilted her face back up to his.

  The wry smile she saw answered her question. Nick didn’t care that a crowd was watching. But he did release his hold on her waist, taking her hand and twining his fingers through hers as he led her off the dance floor.

  But he didn’t lead her back to the table they’d occupied earlier, winding his way instead through the crowd to the bar, where he ordered another round of drinks for them. He pressed a twenty into her hand and leaned close to her ear. “Wait for the drinks, and I’ll be right back.”

  She didn’t have a chance to question him before he disappeared into the crowd. A couple of minutes later, she saw him in the back corner, next to a staircase, talking to a burly bouncer with arms the size of Texas. The bouncer nodded, and Nick headed back in her direction as the bartender set their drinks in front of her.

  “What was that about?” she asked, as Nick handed her a drink, took her other hand and picked up his own glass.

  “You’ll see.”

  They approached the stairs and the bouncer standing there looked rather ferocious from up close. Without saying anything, he reached behind him, unhooked a velvet rope and waved them past.

  The noise of the bar receded as they climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked down a dimly lit corridor past several closed doors. Nick finally stopped in front of one marked simply Six.

  The door swung open easily, and curious, Evie stepped inside. A large window covered one wall, giving an unobstructed view of the stage and dance floor from above, and two leather-covered sofas were arranged in front of it. It was a small, intimate room with low lighting.

  And privacy.

  Her heart skipped a beat and she moved to the window. “This is one of those VIP rooms, isn’t it?”

  Nick nodded as he closed the door behind him. Evie heard it snick into place, and the muscles in her thighs tightened.

  “It is—a small one, though. Usually they’re a bit bigger. This one is designed for small business meetings as opposed to parties.” The thick carpeting muffled his footsteps as he moved across the room toward her.

  “And we managed to get it how?” Forming words was very difficult, and she was pleased she wasn’t stuttering.

  “I know the bouncer minding the rope. Dave owes me a favor, and since this room wasn’t being used at the moment…”

  Wow. They’d been told to get a room and now they had one. Evangeline Harrison—the one who went to nice dinners at the Club and smiled her way through cocktail-party fundraisers—reeled in shock. The Evie she’d rediscovered tonight shivered at the possibilities.

  “That panel to your left controls the speakers—you’ll be able to hear the band once they start up again.”

  Who cared about the stupid band?

  “And that—” he pointed to what looked like a key fob to a luxury car on the table “—signals for a server. They won’t enter unless you call for them.”

  Nick was only an arm’s length away, and his intent was obvious. But he didn’t take the last step that would close the gap. She guessed he was leaving that up to her. Suddenly, she felt gauche and naive and unsure of herself. “Wow, they think of everything.”

  Her hands were starting to tremble from the proximity and the need to touch him, and her drink sloshed over the rim. Nick held out his hand, and she handed him the glass. He set it on the table and held his hand out again.

  There was a clear path to the door. She could push a button and have someone in here in just another minute.

  It was her choice.

  This time she placed her hand in his and welcomed the electricity that arced through her. One small step, and those strong arms closed around her, and the fire in her belly pulled the oxygen from her lungs. She required no encouragement at all to pull his head down to hers.

  That hunger she’d felt earlier roared back to life full force, causing her to sway dangerously on her feet, and Nick’s arms tightened, steadying her.

  One hot kiss melded into another as her greedy hands traced over the contours of his back, learning the musculature. Nick’s hands massaged the small of her back, sliding under the hem of her shirt to scorch her skin as his lips slid down her neck and his tongue dipped into the hollow behind her collarbone.

  How they covered the short distance to the couch, she didn’t know, but then Nick was easing her down and moving over her.

  Evie wanted to cry at the exquisite sensation of Nick’s body on hers, the heavy we
ight of him settling between her legs. The cool leather of the couch was such a contrast to the scorching heat of his skin. This was heaven; this was bliss and she wanted more. She wanted all of him.

  Now.

  A push and a tug and Nick was upright on the couch, and he helped settle her onto his lap with a lazy, appreciative smile. With her legs on either side of his strong thighs and her knees snugged up next to his hips, she pressed against the bulge in his pants and gasped as a bolt of heat shot though her.

  It was easy to push his shirt up and over his head, baring sculpted bronze skin to her eager hands. The dusting of crisp black hair tickled her fingers as she explored the lines and planes of his chest, and she felt the muscles jump when she brushed her thumbs over his nipples.

  She was shocking herself with her actions, but not Nick. His hungry look told her that much. Again she sent up a word of thanks for Las Vegas and men like Nick. Nick was unlike any of the men at home—they were too polished, too urbane, too domesticated. Nick’s rough edges excited her, made her feel as if she was dealing with something powerful and raw and untamed. It reached inside her, past the years of behaving herself, and released her.

  More importantly, Nick seemed to like that part of her. Encourage it, even. It was a heady combination—the power and the freedom—and it frightened her a bit with its intensity.

  Nick’s hands locked around her arms, pulling her down for another soul-stealing kiss. A moment later, she felt the straps at her shoulders give way. Then the zipper of her skirt. The fabric bunched under his hands as they made their way up her body with excruciating slowness. She lifted her arms and Nick pulled both items over her head, and she fought back a blush as his eyes moved appreciatively over her body.

  His fingers brushed over the top of her lacy strapless bra, teasing her nipples and causing her thighs to clench. A quick twist of the clasp and it joined the rest of her clothes on the ground.

  She hissed as Nick’s tongue snaked out to tease, then bit back a cry when he pulled her aching nipple into the moist heat of his mouth. His hands went to her waist, pressing down as he lifted his hips and pressed against her very needy core.