The One Who Got Away
Jo Leigh
Taylor Hanson has never forgotten the hot sizzling weekend she'd shared with Ben Bowman, her brother Steve's best buddy. The sex was incredible, but Ben left town abruptly…and she's never gotten over him. Now they're reunited for Steve's wedding in Vegas. For one week, she's decided Ben will be her Man To Do. Then she's moving on–for good.A seven-day sexual marathon? Ben's up for this–after all they are staying in Sin City! But as the heated days and nights with Taylor start to loosen his heartstrings, he's facing a dilemma. He's certain Taylor is The One For Him. But he's going to have to ensure she doesn't just climb out of bed one morning and walk away….
Ben tugged her zipper open with his teeth
Taylor thought she had died and gone to heaven. It was unbelievably erotic to have him on the floor in front of her, knowing he could touch her anywhere, do anything. He kissed her right below her belly button, and she whimpered in pure surrender.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, just before he licked the expanse of flesh above her lace panties.
Oh, no. The thought of where he was going, what he was going to lick next, made her hot. She wanted him to hurry, to rip off the rest of her clothes and throw her on the bed.
Restlessly she put her hands on his head and ran her fingers through his dark hair. “Stand up, please.”
Ben looked up and smiled. “Are you sure?” At her nod, he got up from his knees, kissed her hard. Let his body lean against her and she felt his erection through his soft jeans.
He gazed at her. “Why did we wait so long?”
She laughed. “We just got here last night.”
“Ten years,” he said. “I missed too much.”
Her hand went to his face where she traced his lips. “I’m here now. And we definitely need to make up for lost time….”
Dear Reader,
Oh, what a special book this is to me! The story, while fictional, is based in part on something that happened to me….
Twenty-five years ago (argh!) I met the man of my dreams. He was everything I ever wanted in a guy. Only, the romance ended after a few years. Ended badly. But I never did get over him. He was The One Who Got Away, and it took me a long time to make peace with the fact that I’d never meet a man who could compare.
Flash forward twenty years, and bless the Internet. Because guess who found me? You got it. The One! We talked, and talked…and three months later, we moved in together. He’s no longer the one who got away, but he’s still The One!
So that’s how Taylor and Ben came about. Although the details are different, the incredible gift of finding (and keeping!) a lost love are just the same.
Affectionately yours,
Jo Leigh
The One Who Got Away
Jo Leigh
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Lawrence: The One Who (Almost) Got Away!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Prologue
To: The Gang at Eve’s Apple
From Taylor
EvesApple.com
Subject: BEN!!!!!
If you’re looking for something soft, you won’t find it in Ben’s face. Not at first.
He is all hard lines and sharp angles. The cheekbones, of course. The stuff of dreams. Improbable. Dangerous. Unforgettable. The cheekbones make you look at his eyes, give you no choice. They’re dark and knowing. Too knowing. Which makes you look away, but not for long. The focus shifts to his lips. The upper is thin, but there. The pouty lower makes up for it. And when the corners of his lips curve up in that slight smile, when those eyes take you in from the toes up, when he flicks his dark, straight, too-long hair back with a hand, there’s nothing to do but surrender. Give it up. Lie down, whether you’re near a bed or not.
That’s Ben. My first lover. My best lover. Might as well have been my only lover. Because it’s been ten years, and I can’t get that face out of my head.
Every man I’ve dated, from that gorgeous Richard Gere-like attorney to that race-car driver from Atlanta has failed the Ben Test. Not that I even realized there was such a thing, but now that I know I’m going to see Ben again, I finally get it. I see what he’s done to me.
So, my fellow Eve’s Apple Compatriots, my sisters in righteous conquests who seek the perfect Men To Do before we say I Do…I hereby declare that Ben Bowman, the man of the exquisite cheekbones, of the mesmerizing dark eyes, is my official MAN TO DO.
I, Taylor Hanson, am going to spend one week with the aforementioned Mr. Bowman, in, appropriately enough, Las Vegas, Sin City, while attending my brother’s wedding. I will, without fail, get Ben “Cheekbones” Bowman into my bed, and then I will see, with my very own eyes, that regardless of cheekbones, of knowing eyes, and wicked smiles, Bowman is just a guy. Like a bunch of other guys. Not a God, not an icon, not the King of the Stud Muffins.
I was only eighteen.
And then, my dear friends, I will come home, and I SHALL BE FREE to find my Mr. Right. My forever guy. Because I will have broken the spell. Damn it.
Love and Kisses,
Taylor
1
ONLY IN VEGAS.
Ben watched the crowd standing in front of the Wheel of Fortune slot machine as he made his way through the airline terminal toward the baggage claim area. Breathless with anticipation, a dozen or so tourists watched the spinning wheel as it slowed, coming to a shaky stop under the bold 20. A collective groan marked their disappointment, and Ben marveled again at the gullibility of humans.
All anyone needed to do was take one look at the Strip to see that Vegas wasn’t in the business of giving away money. But most of the good folk who came to Vegas didn’t stop to think about the odds. They came for magic. For the turn of the wheel, the flip of a card that would free them from the daily grind of working for a living. They wanted the dream and no place on earth knew how to sell the dream better.
Not that Ben didn’t mind a friendly game of poker now and then, but he had no illusions about windfalls or magic. He believed in hard work and persistence. If luck ever entered the picture it was because he’d made sure to be in the right place at the right time.
He passed the shops selling overpriced leather jackets, gaudy trinkets and T-shirts, finally arriving at the escalator that would take him down to his the baggage claim area.
As was his wont, he’d checked in at the last possible moment, assuring that his luggage would be some of the first out of the plane. In fact, this time his bag was the very first. A few minutes later, he was in a cab on his way to the Hard Rock Hotel.
He stared at the vision that was Las Vegas as the cab made its way along Paradise Road. How appropriate. The Hard Rock wasn’t on the Strip per se, but two blocks east. Still it managed to be the hippest of the big hotels. He’d never stayed there, but he’d had dinner at Nobu and the Pink Taco. Nice place, if you liked that sort of thing. He didn’t. Give him a mountain lake and a fishing pole, and he was all set. Glitz and glamour made him itchy, but this was Steve’s wedding, and he’d have gone to the far side of the moon for that.
It puzzled him, however. Steve Hanson had been his closest friend since the fifth grade, and while they hadn’t lived in the same town since college, they still got together twice a year to go deep-sea fishing. It made things easier that Steve owned the boats. Five of them, actually, all moored in his and Steve’s home-town, San Diego. Steve had eschewed the white-collar life of his father to follow the beat of his own drum. He’d started out with one boat, The Golden Mermaid, and had increased his fleet by a boat every other year for ten years. He’d made himself a good life, and as far as Ben could see, he was a truly happy man. What Ben couldn’t see was why he was about to change all that.
He hadn’t discussed his plans with Ben, or the reasons behind his decision. There had just been that one phone call where Steve had asked him to come to Vegas, to be his best man. He’d said his fiancée’s name was Lisa, and that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He’d also said that he was going to keep the fleet but move to Kansas, and work for her father at his aerospace company. That was the kicker. The puzzle. Steve hated corporate life, had broken his father’s heart by not taking over the family insurance business. So why now? Why her? Why marriage?
The cab turned into the big driveway, underneath the huge guitar that was the Hard Rock logo. The lot was crowded with every kind of vehicle from Hummers to limos to beat-up Chevys. At the entrance, a uniformed doorman tried to help but Ben took his suitcase to the front desk. His room, on the fourteenth floor, was ready and after a long walk through the noisy casino, and another down a silent padded hallway, he reached it.
The parlor of his deluxe room had gold walls, green carpeting, a semicircular couch with a round black coffee table, a wet bar and, behind purple drapes that framed French doors, a fabulous view of the Strip. The bedroom wasn’t quite as fancy, but nice. Two queen platform beds with leather headboards, a built-in TV instead of the usual armoire and another spectacular view.
He tossed his suitcase onto the bed, then noticed the light on his phone blinking. He punched the numbers to get the message. It was Steve, sounding chipper, asking him to dinner. They were to meet at the front desk in about three hours, long enough for Ben to have a shower and a nap. The last part of the message was that Taylor would be joining the party, and that she was looking forward to seeing him.
Taylor.
Ben hung up the phone, but he didn’t move. She’d been a little kid when he’d first met her: Steve’s baby sister. She’d followed them wherever she could, always wanting attention, always wanting to be let in on the fun. They’d ditched her as often a possible, and he could still remember her tears.
But mostly he remembered the last time he’d seen her. It had to be ten years ago, just after she’d graduated from high school. He’d been at his folk’s house for their thirtieth wedding anniversary, and had stayed on for a week while they’d gone on the second honeymoon cruise to the Virgin Islands he’d treated them to. Taylor had come by on a Friday afternoon and she’d stayed until Sunday.
She’d grown into a beauty and when she’d come on to him, he hadn’t the will or the strength to turn her away.
The weekend had been one of the most exciting of his life. She’d been a wildcat, and he’d loved every second of it. She’d cried when he’d said goodbye, but he’d known the tears were more about the end of a fantasy than any real heartbreak.
Taylor had been heading off for college, for a whole new life that had nothing to do with childhood crushes. He’d returned to the New York police force, determined to become a sergeant. By the time he’d settled back into his regular routine, he’d felt certain she’d forgotten all about him.
It would be good to see her again. According to Steve, she’d never married. Smart girl.
Ben glanced at the clock, and got up. He didn’t want to be late for dinner.
TAYLOR CHECKED herself out one last time before she had to leave. Her hair wasn’t too horrifying, although she would have to buy some kind of conditioner that would give it some lift. She’d put on her makeup with care, and felt she’d hit the right combination of come-hither and stay there. After trying on every item of clothing she’d brought, she’d ended up wearing a cute little Michael Kors she’d picked up at a ritzy secondhand store. It was black, sleeveless, and skintight, with kicky leather shoulders that made her boobs look much bigger than they were. She’d have to hold in her stomach the entire night, but it was worth it. She wanted Ben’s jaw to drop the moment he saw her. She sucked in harder. Realizing that she couldn’t go the entire night without a breath, she gave it up.
So she pooched. He probably had love handles.
She got her purse, made sure she had her room key, and headed off to the elevator, her pulse racing faster with each step.
By the time she reached the casino level, she was practically hyperventilating. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t seen the man in ten years, she had no idea what his life was like. For all she knew, he could have brought a lover with him. Steve hadn’t mentioned anything about Ben being attached, but then Steve was a notoriously bad gossip. He’d had all kinds of famous people on his boats, and had he ever brought home one juicy tidbit? Never. She hated that.
And she hated the butterflies in her stomach. This wasn’t going to work. Taylor leaned against a large display case exhibiting stage clothes worn by Shania Twain. The woman had to weigh twelve pounds, the outfit was so tiny. But that was beside the point. Taylor had to do something, and do it now. She could go back to her room, call Steven and say she didn’t feel well, but that would only delay the inevitable. She couldn’t stay in her room the whole week. What made oodles more sense was for her to forget about her Man To Do plan and just go enjoy her brother’s happiness. Forget about Ben and his cheekbones. If he looked anything like he had, there was no way he would be single. No woman could possibly resist him, and living in New York, he was up to his deliciously square chin in stunning babes.
She straightened her shoulders, flicked her hair back and pasted on a smile. Tonight, in fact this whole week, wasn’t about her. It was about her brother. For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t even met Lisa yet, and she was going to be her sister-in-law. With that thought firmly in mind, she once again headed toward the lobby, letting the sounds of bells, coins, music and chatter ease her way.
So what if she didn’t get her Man To Do? She had her vibrator, and that was a relationship she could count on.
BEN SPOTTED STEVE standing near the Jimi Hendrix display. He had his arm around a tall, slim blonde. She was frowning, but even so, she was pretty. A different kind of pretty for Steve. The women he went for tended to look like Playboy Bunnies. They partied like Bunnies, too. But Ben didn’t get that feeling from Lisa. She was dressed in white slacks, a pale blue top and a white jacket, tailored, classy; more Midwest than So Cal. Her hair was neat, not quite to her shoulders, and her shoes and purse were both white and conservative. She looked like she’d be right at home in a country club or on a golf course, not on one of Steve’s boats.
Ben kept on walking, shaking off his first impressions. One thing he’d learned the hard way was that looks don’t mean squat. He’d judge Lisa for who she was behind the Ralph Lauren look.
Steve turned, and grinned like he’d just caught a two-hundred pound swordfish. “Ben, you old bastard!”
Ben shook his head. Some things didn’t change, thank God. “I didn’t know they let people like you in here. Where’s security?”
Steve let go of his girl and gave Ben a rib bruising hug. “Thanks for coming, man.”
“Oh, right. Like I’d let you get married without me? Someone’s got to tell her what she’s getting into.”
Steve laughed, that big hearty guffaw that was as distinct as his fingerprints. It made Ben feel like he was home.
“This—” Steve said, moving toward his lady “—is Lisa.”
Ben met her gaze, liked her smile. Close up, she was attractive, but subtly so. Her blue eyes seemed a little hesitant, judging him. Which was only fair, he supposed. “Nice to meet you, Lisa.”
“Steven has told me so much about you.”
“Uh-oh. Remember, innocent until proven guilty.”
She laughed, then took Steve’s arm. “Do you think we should call your sister? I don’t want to lose our reservation.”
“Let’s give her another— Wait. There she is.”
Ben turned to follow Steve’s gaze. He wasn’t in the least prepared for what he was about to see.
TAYLOR SLOWED as she got her first look at Ben Bowman. Oh, shit. He’d changed, all right. He’d become the most devastatingly handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.
Her legs wobbled beneath her, but she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and not falling on her fanny. She didn’t know what to look at first. No, not true, the cheekbones were first, they had to be, and holy mama, they were even more chiseled than she remembered. His eyes seemed darker, but she’d need to be closer to be sure. He still wore his hair long, just past his ears. It wasn’t neat or tidy in the least. It didn’t need to be. He looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. And she meant that in the best possible way.
Her fingers twitched, itching to run through those dark locks, to see those familiar lips curl up in a wicked smile.
Okay, so she was back to the original plan. Sleep with him or die trying. She could do it. She had to do it. Hell, there was a long couch just this side of the lobby that looked pretty comfortable.
Finally, seconds before she was close enough to actually speak to Ben, her gaze shifted down. His body was every bit as wonderful as her memory had promised. Not the tallest guy on the block, but perfectly proportioned. He wore jeans, well-worn, cowboy boots beneath them. His shirt was white, no tie, his jacket hunter green. Altogether a delicious package.
No way he wasn’t taken. Not possible.
“Taylor, hello?”
Startled, she looked at her brother. “Hi.”
Steve laughed, shook his head. “I see you remember Ben.”
Heat filled her cheeks as she forced herself to forget about Ben and concentrate on her brother and his wife-to-be. After a quick kiss and a poke to his shoulder, she said, “Well? Are you going to introduce me?”
Steve stepped over to the woman in the white pant-suit and put his arm around her shoulders. “Taylor, this is Lisa. The woman who’s changed my whole life.”
Taylor smiled and moved in for an awkward air kiss. To say she was surprised was an understatement. This was Lisa? This preppy sorority sister? Not possible. Taylor glanced at Ben, and from his practiced look, she could tell she wasn’t the only one who thought something was screwy here.
But she wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t even talked to Lisa, so maybe inside those Alpha-Gamma-Delta clothes there lived the soul of a wild woman.
“Everybody hungry?”
Taylor turned to Steve. “Starving. Where are we eating?”
“I thought we’d go over to the Venetian tonight. Eat at The Grand Luxe.”
“Great.”
He turned to Lisa, his gaze adoring. “I’ll go get a cab,” he said.
“I’ll come with you. Give Taylor and Ben a chance to catch up.”
They walked away, leaving her alone with him and awkwardness swallowed her whole. She smiled, turned toward the big glass doors with the guitar-shaped pulls.
“It’s been a while,” Ben said, moving closer to her, ratcheting up the heat in the casino by a good ten degrees. “You look great.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
His low chuckle made her look. The moment their eyes met, she was lost—eighteen again, fumbling, frightened, drowning in lust.
Ben watched as Taylor’s eyes dilated, the pale blue shrinking to a thin halo. Her lips parted, revealing the tops of her even, white teeth. Her cheeks turned from pastel pink to dark, and he thought of her breasts, remembering clearly the shape of her nipples, the color of her areoles matching exactly her blush.
He let his gaze wander to her lips: plump, glistening, inviting, then down her remarkable neck, long and elegant, like Audrey Hepburn’s, only Taylor was blond, a real blonde, with long straight hair that flowed down her back, that rippled in the artificial lights of the lobby. Her figure had changed, all for the better. At eighteen, she’d been so slender he’d been afraid of hurting her. Now, her hips had become womanly, her breasts a perfect handful. But she still had the silky skin of a teenager.
That weekend so long ago had rocked his world. Had made him realize what making love could be. Had taken him from fair-to-middling to a pretty damn skilled lover. He’d remembered it from time to time, always with a smile. But he’d never once thought there could be a repeat. Time and life had a way of softening the edges of memories. He had no desire to refocus, to see the inevitable chinks and flaws that ride along with reality.
Oh, who was he kidding. He’d beg if he had to.
2
“WE’D BETTER get out there,” Taylor said. “They probably have the cab ready.”
“Right.” Ben waited until she started walking toward the front entrance to move next to her, to place his hand at the small of her back. He felt her shiver as he touched her.
She cleared her throat. “So you’re living in New York.”
“Yep. Manhattan.”
“I love that city. Where?”
“What used to be called Hell’s Kitchen. Now it’s almost as trendy as Tribeca.”
“You must hate that.”
“I do. But there’s nothing to be done. I’ve got my office in the same building, two stories down. I don’t want to move.”
“What’s it like being a private eye?”
“It’s just like in the movies. Smoky bars, jazz playing in the background, fallen women, men with dark pasts and unregistered guns.”
“Cute,” she said, as they got outside.
The heat shocked him again, like when he’d come from the airport. Not that it wasn’t hot in Manhattan, but here it didn’t stick to your skin like wet towels.
Taylor must have noticed his reaction. “It was in the low seventies when I left this morning,” she said. “Oh, there they are.”
Steve was standing beside a Yellow Cab. “You’re in San Francisco, right?”
She nodded. “Right near Lombardi. The apartment is too expensive, but I love riding my bike there.”
“Ten speed?”
“Honda Shadow.”
He stopped short. A motorcycle? Interesting. “You’ll have to tell me all about it.”
Before she slid into the cab, she smiled at him. “Oh, I plan to.”
He watched her maneuver onto the back seat, which was quite a feat considering the tightness of her dress. She did well, very much the lady. But he had a feeling that was only for show. At least he hoped so.
Steve got in beside her, and Ben got in front. The ride to the Venetian wasn’t long. It would have been shorter, but for the masses of tourists. Still, it was better than trying to get through Manhattan on a busy evening.
He’d never been to the Venetian, and was impressed with the high arched ceilings and the frescos on the walls. Even the floor tiles were European and stately, somehow managing to appear subdued and classy. After a long walk past a lot of high-end shops, through the casino, they arrived at the café.
Steve ushered them inside, past a considerable line, into the large, beautifully decorated restaurant. It also had decked-out ceilings, fancy floors and great leather booths. The bar looked as if it served expensive martinis, but the crowd seemed happy and from what he could see on the plates held aloft by the waitstaff, no one would leave hungry.
A waitress showed them to their booth, and he slid in next to Taylor. It was roomy, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing when one was sitting beside a woman in a tiny dress. But he wasn’t going to go there. Not yet, at least. Tonight was for Steve.
The happy couple kissed after they got their menus. Steve smiled broadly, Lisa more conservatively, but that didn’t mean anything. She opened her menu and studied it carefully, her brows furrowing slightly as if the choice was crucial.
Ben glanced down, only it would take more than a glance to get through the choices in the book they called a menu. He decided on something he could always trust, a New York Sirloin steak and baked potato.
Their waitress took their drink orders, and then it was just the four of them.
“All right,” Taylor said, putting her menu aside. “I want to hear it all. Omit nothing. How you met, when you fell in love, why you decided to get married in Vegas, the whole nine yards.”
Steve laughed and Lisa gave a tentative grin. But then Lisa was the stranger amongst them, and that had to be hard.
Ben liked Taylor’s style. Come right out with it. No beating around the bush. She’d always been like that, since the time she was a little kid, demanding to play touch football when she could hardly hold the ball. The only time she’d been reticent had been that last weekend, but he figured it was the newness of the situation. He imagined that had changed.
“We met on the Turquoise Mermaid,” Steve said. “Her dad was fishing and Lisa decided to join him and his buddies for the day. She didn’t fish, which turned out to be a good thing because we started talking and just kept right on going.”
“I hadn’t even wanted to go,” Lisa said, leaning in to the table, her eyes brighter now that they were on a subject she could dive into. “But my father insisted, although he was with Trent Foster and Cal Peterson. Cal brought his wife, Annie, who is closer to my age than his, so Daddy dragged me along. But Annie got horribly seasick, and she didn’t want to talk to anyone, which left me free to concentrate on the wildly handsome skipper.”
Steve’s grin widened. “I got so involved with Lisa it almost cost her father a swordfish. But we nailed him.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Didn’t we?”
“We? I got as far away as I could. I had no idea swordfish were so big and so dangerous.” She settled back in the booth. “At least we won’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Taylor didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”
“She means I’m letting Larry take over the management of the fleet,” Steve said. “Once we’re married, I’m moving to Kansas. Her dad’s offered me a hell of a good job in sales and marketing. I don’t know much about the aerospace industry yet, but I’m learning. They make seals, connectors, gaskets, that kind of thing. Real high-end stuff, the highest temperature seals in the industry. I’ll be traveling a lot. Except for missing Lisa, I think it’ll be great. I mean, they have this major air show in France every year. Of course, she’ll come with me.”
Taylor was grateful the waitress arrived with their drinks so she had a moment to absorb what she’d just heard. Her brother hated working in an office. He’d built his life around the freedom of the sea. This was a complete one-eighty, and it made her nervous as hell. She sipped her Cosmopolitan, glanced at Ben, whose expression mirrored her own concern. “So Larry’s going to run the fleet, huh? You’re okay with that?”
Steve’s grin faltered. “Yeah, sure. He’ll do a great job. He’s been with me for six years now, and he knows everything about the job.”
“But Kansas?” Taylor leaned in, trying like hell to make Steve look her in the eyes. “No sailing? No fishing? It’s what you love best in all the world.”
“He won’t miss it,” Lisa said. “And we’ll visit San Diego often enough for him to keep his sea legs. You know how bright he is, though, and it’s a shame to waste that on fishing. He has a brilliant career in front of him. I’m sure one day he’ll take over the company. My father always wanted a son, and now he’ll have one.”
“You had no interest in the business?” Ben asked.
Lisa laughed. “God, no. I have my own interior design firm. I’ve done some of the largest homes in Wichita.”
“Really?” Taylor said, her concern deepening by the second.
“Oh, yes. I absolutely love it. My mother works with me, and we have a wonderful assistant, Renee. Right now I work out of mother’s house, but when Steve and I build our home, we’ll include an office. That way, when we have children, I’ll be able to be nearby all the time.”
“Wow. It sounds like you’ve got the whole thing worked out.”
“We do,” Steve said. “Like Lisa says, it’s time for me to grow up. Take on the real world. I can’t be Peter Pan forever.” He kissed her again, lightly on the cheek.
The waitress came back to take their dinner orders. Taylor stole another look at Ben, and he wasn’t disguising his worry in the least. Lisa seemed like a very nice woman and all, but this was nuts. Steve would be miserable working in sales. He hated that kind of thing, and without an ocean nearby, he’d go stir-crazy.
“It seems like all this happened pretty damn fast,” Ben said.
“It all just fell into place,” Steve said. He held on to his drink with both hands. “I’d been thinking a lot about my life, what I was doing with it. Sure, it’s fun helping a bunch of rich guys catch trophy fish, but, I don’t know…”
“My father took to him from the moment they met.” Lisa smiled. “Just like I did. He saw the potential in Steve. He’s a brilliant salesman. There’s no reason on earth he can’t use those talents in the real world. He could take Daddy’s business to the top.”
“It sounds lucrative.”
“Oh, yeah.” Steve nodded. “I’ll be making more than I ever dreamed of.”
“I didn’t know you dreamed about money.” Taylor wished she could say more, remind him of how he’d laughed at all those poor schmucks chasing a dime. But it wasn’t the time or the place. She needed to think. If this truly was the direction Steve wanted to go, then who was she to butt in? Although it felt wrong. Seriously wrong.
“Of course I think about money. Who doesn’t? I mean, if it was just me, it wouldn’t matter. But with a wife and kids… How could I put the time into the boats? You know the life. Living at the pier, away for days at a time, no regular schedules.”
“I suppose so,” she said.
Ben lifted his glass. “To new roads.”
She joined in the toast, all the while feeling like her brother wasn’t heading down a new road, but off a cliff.
BEN HELD THE TAXI DOOR for Taylor, unable to look away from the expanse of thigh her short dress revealed. Despite his genuine and deep concern for his friend, a large part of him had been preoccupied with the woman at his side. No matter what was happening with his frontal lobe, the primal part of his brain had locked on to Taylor, her scent, the way her hair cascaded down her shoulder, the curve of her breasts.
His plan was to ditch Steve and Lisa, which wasn’t going to be too difficult, as Lisa had already said she was beat, and get Taylor to himself. So they could talk. That’s all. Talk about Steve.
Steve paid off the cab, then turned to the small group. “We’re going to our room. We have to be up at the crack of dawn to pick up Lisa’s mom at the airport.”
“When’s our mom coming in?” Taylor asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Do you need me to get her?”
“Nope, we have it covered.” Steve kissed his sister on the cheek. “But thanks. Why don’t you and Ben go have some fun? Win a little dough.”
“Right,” she said. “You know how lucky I am with cards.”
Steve laughed. “Okay, so don’t play poker.”
“I still maintain that you cheat every chance you get.”
He held his hand up to his chest as if shocked. “Me? Never.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Thanks for the dinner, you two. We’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” Ben said.
“Great.”
Lisa said good-night, then took Steve’s hand. Taylor watched them walk into the hotel. Ben watched Taylor.
“This is weird as hell,” he said, as soon as they’d entered the lobby.
“I’ll say. Did you have any idea?”
He shook his head. “Last I heard, he was thinking about buying another boat.”
“He asked me to quit my damn boring job and come work for him. He said I was a fool for wasting my life,” Taylor added.
“So what changed?”
Taylor shook her head. “Love?”
“I don’t know…”
Ben wanted to touch her again, as he had on the way out. Gently, palm to the small of her back. He wanted to feel her quiver. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets.
“I want to talk to Mom about it,” Taylor said. “Maybe she knows.”
“Good idea.” He stopped just before they reached the main casino floor. “Are you too tired for a drink? We could go outside by the pool.”
She smiled and he thought he detected a slight blush. “That sounds great.”
“Good.” He took her hand, which might have been better than touching her back, and led her through the youngish crowd. Everyone was on the right side of dressy, trying to look hip. The music, loud enough to make people shout to be heard, was only the coolest rock. Right now they were playing Stevie Ray Vaughn from his second album. Although there were lots of people playing video poker and slots, they were mostly silent, concentrating on whatever voodoo they had to mesmerize the machines. The real hubbub came from the craps tables.
Ben and Taylor threaded through the winners and losers until they got to a hall leading past a couple of high-end restaurants, to the door to the pool. A guard stood at the exit, and they had to show their room keys.
After that, they stepped into a lush, green paradise. The pool area, one of the prettiest in Vegas, had a lot of night swimmers gliding about, mostly by the swim-up bar and the water blackjack tables. But that’s not where Ben wanted to be. He led Taylor past the purple lounge chairs and the swaying palms ’til they passed the huge bar. Once there, they climbed a few steps to reach the cabana level. He hoped he’d find one empty, and luck was with him. During the day, the cabanas could be rented for a bundle, but after ten, if you were lucky, you could homestead. The refuse from another party still cluttered the small round table, but that wasn’t a problem.
He ushered Taylor to one of the green padded chairs, and he sat next to her. The television in the corner was off, which was what he wanted, and the overhead fan was on, creating a nice breeze in the semiprivate space. He’d like it even better if he could close the curtain, but he didn’t want to scare her.
“This is unbelievable,” she said. “I haven’t been here before, but I’d heard about the cabanas.”
“They’re not easy to reserve,” he said, “although sometimes you can get lucky.”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. It was a sight he wouldn’t soon forget. The long stretch of bare thigh, the perfection of her knee, the subtle curve of her calf. To say nothing of the arch of her foot, and the seduction of her high black heel. He felt as mesmerized as a compulsive gambler staring at a royal flush.
It was the waitress that brought him out of his daze. She of the black leather short-shorts, leopard-print vest and perky smile. “What can I get you?”
Taylor ordered a piña colada, he got a scotch on the rocks. The waitress cleared their table, then hustled off, leaving them in the relative quiet. The music, now something by Tom Petty, wafted in along with the laughter and muffled chatter from the group at the bar.
Taylor leaned toward him. “It’s good to see you, Ben.”
His gaze moved up to her eyes radiating fondness that touched him unexpectedly. “You, too.”
“You probably know how horrible Steve is at gossip, so I don’t know much of what’s happened to you other than you’re now a private investigator. Are you happy?”
“For the most part. I like being my own boss.”
“That makes sense.”
“But I still work with the NYPD a lot. More than I figured.”
“Interesting stuff?”
“Occasionally. Mostly it’s the kind of footwork that takes a special know-how.” He chuckled. “That makes it sound like I’m some Colombo or something. I meant that I do the kind of background checks that don’t make it into the NCIC. Paperwork traces, poking into things that might get dicey for the force. That kind of thing.”
“I think it sounds fascinating.”
“How kind of you.”
“I’m more interested in your personal life. Again, according to my brother, you’re divorced.”
“For two years now.”
She ran her hand down her thigh to her knee. Not scratching, just an unconscious gesture that held him rapt. Odd, because it had been a hell of a long time since he’d been spellbound by a woman. Maybe it was the memories. Or the fact that he’d had to get up before God this morning and he was getting punchy.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Was it bad?”
“I can’t think of a divorce that isn’t. But we’re friends. In fact, we still occasionally make a night of it.”
Taylor’s brows lifted.
“Not that much of a night. Alyson’s gay.”
Taylor’s brows stayed lifted.
“You can imagine how that went over with all my cop buddies.”
“Oh, my.”
“At the very least. But I don’t think I’m too emotionally scarred. I vent my anguish by boycotting all reruns of Ellen.”
Her laughter hit him low, like a vibration right in the balls. It felt good, too good.
The drinks arrived, and she tried to pay. He used his best scowl, and gave the waitress too large a tip. Once they were alone again, he sipped his scotch, aware that it was either going to make him drunk as a sailor or put him to sleep. “So what are we going to do about this wedding thing?”
Taylor twirled her drink with her straw. It made the little umbrella spin. “I’m not sure there’s anything we can do. Or should.”
“Are you kidding? Can you honestly see Steve in a suit and tie, doing aircraft sales in the middle of friggin’ Kansas?”
She shook her head. “No, I can’t. But maybe he’s had some sort of epiphany. Maybe we should honor that.”
“Epiphany? Steve? Are we talking about the same guy?”
Her sigh echoed his own frustration. “I know. Let me talk to Mom. I don’t want to jump the gun.”
“He’s getting married in six days.”
“Look, the last thing I want to do is hurt him. He’s such a puppy. And I know he’s lonely.”
Ben grinned. “I’ve never thought of him as a puppy, but I do agree about the lonely part. It’s not easy to find a woman who likes to fish as much as he does.”
“That doesn’t mean he has to go in the opposite direction. I could even understand a compromise. But this…this is nuts.”
“I agree.”
She sipped again, and he focused on her lips. Glossy-pink. Perfectly formed, ripe for kissing. She’d become an uncommon beauty, and if his signals weren’t crossed, she wasn’t averse to the idea of making this week quite memorable. However, it wasn’t going to be remembered for tonight. The dollop of scotch had gone straight to his head, and if he didn’t get up to the room soon, things were going to get ugly.
“Taylor,” he said, “I hate to cut the party short, but I’m going to have to bail. I was up way too early this morning.”
She put her drink down on the table, and he would swear she looked guilty. Why? He hadn’t a clue.
“No problem. I need to get some sleep myself.” She stood, smoothing her short skirt down. “Are you going to be around tomorrow? I’ll talk to Mom as soon as I can.”
He pulled out his wallet, then one of his cards. “Try my room, but if not, I’ve got my cell.”
“Terrific.” Her smile made him weak in the knees.
He stood, held out his hand. “Can I walk you up?”
“Thank you, but actually, I need to pick up something at the gift shop. You go on ahead.”
Disappointed, he nodded. Leaned over and kissed her cheek. Wanted to do a lot more. But he backed off. What he needed was sleep. He wanted to be on his game for Taylor. Nothing less would do. “Until tomorrow.”
She nodded, and as he walked away, he heard that sigh again. It almost made him turn around, but he held the course. Although he made his living interpreting nonverbal cues, he couldn’t figure this one out. Either she was glad to get rid of him, or damn sorry to see him go.
He chose to believe it was the latter.
3
TAYLOR WATCHED BEN get into the elevator. He smiled at her, not noticing that behind him, a tall brunette in shorts was eyeing him with palpable lust. Or maybe he did know. Maybe he’d grown so accustomed to gorgeous women wanting him that it was old hat by now. The elevator doors closed while she still had her hand up, waving.
She wasn’t sure why she’d told him she had to buy something. In fact, she didn’t need a thing, and for all she knew the gift shop was closed by now. Instead, she wandered into the circular casino, her gaze shifting from the machines to the gamblers at the tables.
She’d never done much playing herself, even though she’d come to Vegas several times since she’d turned twenty-one. Mostly she liked to hang out at the blackjack tables—the cheap ones, not those with a minimum bet of twenty-five dollars. She wasn’t rich enough to squander money like that. And normally, she wasn’t an extraordinary risk-taker. Her mother didn’t believe that, given her preference for motorcycles over cars, but it was true. There were only so many chances a person could take in life, and she wanted to make her gambles count.
Like her personal agenda for this trip, for example. Sleeping with Ben wasn’t so much a gamble as a last-ditch attempt to get herself back on course. She was twenty-eight, for heaven’s sake, and dammit, she wanted to get married. Have kids. Two, to be precise. And she had no intention of settling.
Sure there had been nice guys, and she’d liked one or two a great deal. But it hadn’t been enough. Perhaps her friends from Eve’s Apple were right: she was too picky. She wanted a fairy-tale hero, not a real-life husband. What Taylor didn’t understand was why she had to have one or the other. And no, she didn’t feel as if she were reaching for the moon.
The truth was, she liked her life. She didn’t sit around and mope because she wasn’t married. She had lots of things she loved doing, including her bike, shooting pool in her league, going to flea markets, reading, a secret addiction to the Food Channel. She never felt bored, she always had a full plate, and for the most part, she was happy. All she really wanted was someone to share it all with. And, oh, God, how she wanted to have kids.
The Apple gals had suggested she consider doing that on her own, but Taylor had dismissed the idea. In her opinion children needed a father. Not that women couldn’t raise kids successfully solo, but it was tough on everybody. Taylor had gotten along incredibly well with her father, and that relationship had formed her in so many ways. A lot of her independence had come from her father’s attitude toward her. He’d always told her she could do anything, be anyone she wanted to be.
She couldn’t imagine having grown up without his influence.
So, okay, maybe by the time she was thirty-five, if she still hadn’t found Mr. Right, then she’d seriously consider it. But for now, she was determined to go for the brass ring. Being with Ben was an important part of the equation, and she still believed with all her heart that once this week was over, her life would change dramatically. She’d be able to date with new eyes, not always comparing the men she met to Ben.
She already felt better about things. His looks, for example. Yes, it was true he was stunningly gorgeous. But she’d been able to put that fact into perspective. There were lots of gorgeous men, but frankly, she would have been drawn to him even if he wasn’t so handsome.
And that was the whole point. By the time Steve and Lisa got married she would have everything about Ben in perspective, and then she would be able to move on.
It didn’t hurt that the task was going to be such a pleasant one, either. She grinned, but her mood deflated the next second. Perspective was well and fine, but the end result also meant she was going to lose something kind of special. A long-held fantasy was going to disappear in the light of those new eyes, and that was kind of sad.
He’d been her superhero, her perfect guy for so long, it was hard to imagine that standard falling away. But it had to.
Someone bumped her right shoulder, and she turned to face a nice-looking, white-haired gentleman in a really snazzy tuxedo. He smiled, bowed his head gently and apologized. She nodded, then headed toward the elevator, but stopped just before she left the casino floor. There was an Elvis slot machine which would play a song if you hit the jackpot. She pulled a five from her purse, and slipped it in the slot. Instead of a handle, she pressed a button, playing maximum coins. Nothing.
Nothing the second hit, or the third. In the end she only got one cherry. Her five was gone, and she hadn’t heard “Love Me Tender.”
C’est la vie. Her real gamble was up in his room, sleeping by now. Dreaming of her?
BEN STARED AT THE CLOCK on the night table, the minutes passing so slowly they felt like hours. Sleep eluded him—due, to a large degree, to his preoccupation with Taylor.
The connection was still there after all these years. He hadn’t expected that. She’d been so young back then, and had he had an ounce of decency in him, he’d be ashamed that he’d taken advantage of her youth. Yeah, she’d come on to him, but a stronger man would have said no. When it came to Taylor, however, he wasn’t the least bit strong.
Not that he’d always felt that way about her. Back when he and Steve had first started hanging out, Taylor had been a nuisance. She’d followed them everywhere in the tradition of baby sisters, always running to her mother when they’d shut her out of their “big kid” adventures. So they’d had to drag her along when it would have been a lot more fun without her. He hadn’t minded too much. As an only child, he’d always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling. He would have voted for a brother, however. A girl was too foreign. Too girly. And he’d wanted to be the toughest kid in town.
Steve had always protected the little brat, no matter what, even though he’d complained about her presence. Then protecting Taylor had become a part of him, too. He’d kept the older kids from picking on the tall, skinny tomboy.
After he’d graduated high school, he’d pretty much forgotten about her. Until he’d come home that last week, just after she’d turned eighteen.
His folks were gone on a trip he’d bought them. He’d liked the quiet and the peace, the time to study. He’d been taking night classes, studying forensics. During the day, he’d been a beat cop, and the toll had been heavy. The week away had been a blessing.
When Taylor had dropped by, making it awkwardly, painfully clear that she’d wanted him to take her, he’d hesitated, sure, but finally, he’d given in.
They’d stayed in bed for damn near three days. Doing everything they could think of, and by God the girl had an amazing imagination. She’d been wild, free, unafraid. The first time she’d taken him in her mouth, he’d nearly had a heart attack. And he could still remember her cries when he’d showed her the pleasure of his mouth on her.
She’d cried when they said goodbye, and he’d felt bad, but he’d explained to her that he was only in town for a short visit. The letters she’d sent him had come frequently at first, always with an invitation for a return visit, but he’d only answered one. There was no future for the two of them. Even if she had ended up at a college in New York, he couldn’t have kept up a relationship.
His career had been his whole focus for a long, long time. Back then, he’d wanted to be a homicide detective, and he’d accepted every lousy assignment, volunteered for all the crap no one else wanted to do. He’d eventually gotten his master’s degree in forensic science.
But he’d still made it out to California most years to go fishing with Steve. He’d heard about Taylor’s adventures at Berkeley, her first apartment, her job as a paralegal.
Steve had also told her that Taylor wanted to marry, to have kids, to have the kind of life that demanded the suburbs. Not Manhattan. Not with a cop.
But this week wasn’t about marriage and kids, at least not for them. It was Vegas, after all. Sin City. They were here to have a good time, to be there for Steve, although not in the way Steve imagined.
Ben turned over, thinking about his friend, what had gotten into him. Lisa represented everything Steve had avoided in his life. His love of his fishing boats, and his freedom, were so important to Steve, and anyone who knew him saw that from the get-go. So what had happened? Why the radical shift?
Lisa seemed nice enough, but there was no way in hell she was going to make Steve forget about his life in San Diego. Kansas was a terrible mistake, Ben felt it in his bones.
Maybe he should just shut up and let Steve do what he needed to. Or maybe, this was what being a friend was all about.
Whatever, he wasn’t going to be any good to anyone if he didn’t get some sleep.
His hand moved down his stomach until he gripped his length in his hand. Eyes closed, he pictured Taylor sitting across from him in the cabana. That tantalizing stretch of bare thigh.
Before he’d even gotten to the really good parts, it was over. He forced himself to get up, go to the bathroom, but now, exhaustion had taken over full-force. Once he was back in bed, the minute he’d plunked his head on the pillow he fell into a deep sleep.
TAYLOR DIALED BEN’S cell from the pay phone next to the Pink Taco. It rang once, and she heard his sleepy voice growl his “Hello.”
“Oh, God, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep. Call me later.”
“No, no. I’m up. I just haven’t had coffee yet.”
“Have it down here. Let’s meet at the coffee shop.”
“Sure. Give me about ten minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll get a table.”
He hung up and so did she. Damn, even his voice made her twitchy. That low grumble made her want to be there in person when he woke up. She desperately wanted to see his hair tousled, the first smile of the day. Maybe tomorrow.
She brushed her hair back from her shoulder, and went looking for the coffee shop. It was called Mister Lucky’s, and there was a small line of people waiting for a table. Almost everyone wore shorts and T-shirts, mostly brightly colored, although more so with the women than the men. Sandals were the footwear of choice, and the accessory of the day was small cameras, equally divided between still and video.
She had chosen her outfit with care. Khaki culottes with a nice leather belt, a pale green sleeveless cotton shirt, nothing spectacular at all, but she felt really comfortable in the outfit which was the important thing. She’d worn her angel earrings, the ones she’d picked up in Sedona two years before. They were kitschy, but she didn’t care. They were her favorites.
Her gaze went toward the elevators, but she didn’t spot Ben. And then she did.
He had on jeans, well-worn and perfect, with a navy polo shirt. His hair was slicked back, still damp from his shower. Her stomach tightened, and she had the urge to squeeze her legs together. What he did to her had to be illegal in most states. Luckily, Nevada wasn’t one of them.
He walked right to her, leaned over and kissed her on the lips, stealing her breath and her equilibrium. She put her hand on the wall behind her to steady herself, and when he smiled at her, she gripped harder.
“Morning.”
“Hi.”
“I hope this doesn’t take long,” he said. “I’m a bear before my first cup of coffee.”
She cleared her throat and her head, amazed at her reaction. Sure, she wanted the guy, but to flip out completely from a pleasant peck on the lips? What would she do when he really kissed her? She’d have to make damn sure she was lying down.
“What’s that smile for?”
“Nothing.” She turned toward the café entrance. “It’s moving pretty fast. Don’t worry.”
“Did you speak to your mother?”
She turned back to face him. “Yeah, I did. She’s just as mystified by this whole thing as we are.”
“Did she have any ideas?”
The people in front of them were led to their seats, and a moment later, a second hostess took them to a quiet table near the breakfast bar. They both ordered coffee, and didn’t speak until it arrived. Ben liked his black, which made some kind of weird sense. She wondered what else he liked. Wine with dinner? Sweets?
“Okay,” he said, putting his cup down on the saucer. “Where were we?”
“You asked if my mother had any ideas. She did, but she’s not sure what to make of it all. About six months ago, they had dinner together, and Steve got real maudlin talking about Dad. He was beating himself up over disappointing Dad by not taking over the business.”
“Your dad didn’t care.”
“I know. But obviously, Steve didn’t get it. I think going into business with Lisa’s dad is his way of making things right.”
“It can’t work.”
“Of course not. But I don’t think Steve’s thinking too clearly about that.”
Ben drank some more coffee, staring just past her shoulder while he thought. The waitress came by, and he ordered eggs and bacon. She chose a cheese omelet. After refilling their cups, they were alone again, but Ben didn’t say anything.
She waited, not wanting to interrupt.
Finally, he looked at her. “We need a plan. I don’t want to alienate Steve, and I don’t want to hurt Lisa. But we’ve got to do something.”
She nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it all morning. What if we just talk to him? Tell him our concerns?”
Ben nodded. “That’ll be me. Maybe give him a couple of beers to soften the blow.”
“I’d like to talk to Lisa. Find out if she realizes what she’s getting into.”
“That should be fun.”
“Oh, yeah. A real walk in the park.”
The food came, and for the first few minutes, it was all business. Ben liked his toast with jam, and his eggs over-medium. She watched him while she ate her omelet, liking the way he chewed. Amazed that he could even make that sexy.
When he’d downed about half his breakfast, he smiled at her. “So talk to me.”
“What?”
“Talk. Tell me about your life in the city by the bay.”
That caught her by surprise. She had to reshuffle the deck in her head, pull out the cards she wanted to play. “I like my job,” she said. “I’d thought about going back to school, getting my law degree, but honestly, I don’t want the headaches. I like the research a lot, which I didn’t expect. I work for a major law firm. They pay me well to look up the right statutes, dig on the Internet. I imagine in that way, our jobs are similar.”
“Sounds like it. You hang out with attorneys?”
“Not if I can help it. I have a small but eclectic group of friends. I play pool on Thursday nights.”
His brows rose. “No kidding?”
She grinned. “We got the league championship last year, and we’re gunning for it again. We have a good team.”
“Eight ball?”
“Yep. Sometimes nine ball. But mostly eight.”
“Maybe we can find a pool hall somewhere nearby.”
“Actually, there’s a place across from the Rio. It’s called Pink-ees. Great place to play. Lots of tables.”
“Did you bring your cue?”
She shook her head. “Didn’t know if there’d be time.”
“Let’s make time.”
She took a bite of toast to hide her ridiculously happy grin. He liked pool. Excellent.
“So what else?” he asked. “Besides being a pool shark?”
“I ride my bike on weekends a lot.”
“You said you have a Shadow, right?”
She nodded.
“What got you into that?”
“A guy I went out with. He was kind of a dick, but he did turn me on to bikes. I got hooked immediately.”
“Not afraid you’ll get hit?”
“Nope, not really. I operate on the principle that everyone’s trying to kill me.”
He laughed, and she felt all squishy inside.
“What about you?”
“Yeah, I think people are trying to kill me, too.”
“No, I meant what you do. When you aren’t being a private eye.”
He frowned a little, two lines appearing on his forehead. “I read too much.”
“How can anyone read too much?”
“Trust me, it’s possible.”
“What kinds of books?”
“Everything.”
“I doubt that.”
He grinned. “Okay, so I’m not real big on romance novels. Or fantasy. But pretty much everything else.”
“Cool.”
“And I hike.”
“Where?”
“Wherever I can. I go out to the Catskills from time to time. And upstate New York. There are some nice places in Connecticut and Vermont, too.”
“How strenuous.”
“Have to be able to run. Remember, people trying to kill me and all that.”
She leaned forward. “Has anyone really?”
“Tried to kill me? Yep.”
“Oh, God.”
“They didn’t succeed.”
“Obviously. Why?”
“I was faster. From all the hiking.”
“No, why did they try to kill you?”
“I found out stuff they didn’t want known.”
“Scary.”
“Yeah. I try to avoid that kind of thing, but sometimes you get surprised.”
“That’s not the kind of surprise I like.”
“But you do like surprises?”
She nodded. “Love ’em. Especially when there are gifts involved.”
He laughed. “Hey, let’s finish up here. I’m starting to feel lucky.”
She quirked her head to the right, but he was busy with the check. She wondered if his idea of feeling lucky involved a locked door, a bedroom and getting naked.
4
THE CASINO WAS HOPPING, tourists and locals all focused on winning the big one, the one that would change their lives forever. Ben knew the odds of that happening were slim to none, but he didn’t care. He wanted to play, and to watch Taylor.
“You like blackjack?” he asked.
She nodded. “The last time I was here, I won two hundred dollars. I spent the whole wad on a pair of shoes that hurt my feet.”
He grinned, took her hand. “Let’s see if we can get another pair.” He led her past the machines, surprised as always at the silliness of the glorified tic-tac-toe slots: Little Green Aliens, The Beverly Hillbillies, Elvis and The Munsters, just to name a few. Then they hit the banks of video poker machines, which was a little more understandable, but still confusing. If he was going to play poker, he wanted to do it with other people, preferably in someone’s basement, with plenty of beer, sandwiches and good cigars.
Now blackjack, he liked. The only exception to that was when some obnoxious twit came to the table. He’d walk away before he’d play with a drunk who hit on seventeen, and doubled down on face cards.
They had to pass three tables before they found one with two open seats. He got Taylor in position, then sat on the stool next to her. Rubbing the smooth green felt, he checked out their compatriots. An older couple in brightly colored Hawaiian shirts, a tall gaunt man with a three-day stubble and hooded eyes and a young woman who didn’t look old enough to drive, let alone gamble.
The dealer’s name was Angel, and her name tag said she was from Tucson. She’d already dealt a hand, and was now going around the table, taking everyone’s bets, as she’d hit twenty-one in five cards.
Ben got out his wallet and pulled out a hundred. He laid it down above the rectangle where he’d place his own bet.
Taylor reached for her purse, but he stopped her. “This one’s on me,” he said. “For luck.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? I brought fun money.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to spend it. I promise.”
“All right. Thank you.”
Angel took his bill, laid it out flat in front of her, so the security cameras could get a good shot, called out, “Change one hundred,” for the benefit of the pit boss, then gave him a stack of five, ten and twenty dollar chips. He split them up, fifty-fifty and gave Taylor her share.
She smiled again, making him want to give her all the money in his wallet, then she put a five, the minimum bet, down to play.
He did the same.
The dealer, taking the cards from the shoe, dealt the hand, and after the second card, Taylor gasped, turned over her cards to show a jack and an ace.
The dealer paid her, took her cards, then went on with the rest of the hand. Ben had a twenty, so he stayed pat. He leaned over to Taylor, getting a heady hit of her delicate scent for his trouble. “See, I told you we were going to be lucky.”
She turned to face him, her expression serious, but with a telltale gleam in her beautiful blue eyes. “You have no idea.”
His whole body reacted to her message, and it was all he could do not to leave the money, the cards, his dignity on the table and drag her up to his room. But he was strong, dammit. He wasn’t a teenager, run by his hormones. Half the fun was the seduction, and he wasn’t about to give short shrift to what promised to be the best week of his life. He’d wait. He’d play. And in the end, they’d both win.
The next round went by in a blur, but since the dealer busted, they both won.
The woman sitting to his left smiled. “Where are you two from?”
Before Taylor could speak, he nudged her lightly with his elbow. “Home base is London.”
“Really?”
He turned slyly to Taylor and gave her a wink before facing his neighbor again. “Yes.”
“You don’t have a British accent.”
“We’re trained not to.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
“I’m James,” he said, holding out his hand. “And this is Jinx.”
He heard Taylor cough, which he assumed was a cover for laughter. She didn’t know that this was a game he played frequently, making up some ridiculous persona when the truth would have done just as well, but less amusingly.
“I’m Sarah,” she said. “I live in the Valley. That’s in Southern California.”
Ben nodded. “Ah, yes. The heart of the pornography industry.”
Sarah’s cheeks reddened. “I wouldn’t know about that.”
“Of course not.”
“I work for a post-production house. But not that kind.”
“Fascinating.”
The cards went out again, and until the payout, the conversation ebbed. Taylor took the opportunity to elbow him.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Having fun,” he whispered back.
“So you fancy yourself Bond, eh?”
“Hey, I could have called you Pussy Galore.”
“I would have decked you if you had.”
He grinned. “Hey, she was a real character.”
“Only a man would say that was a real character.”
“Sir?”
He looked up at Angel, waiting for him to hit or stand pat. His cards, a six and five, were a surprise. He doubled down, and she hit him with a king. Twenty-one.
Taylor didn’t say anything, just gave him a smile. But as the rest of the hands were played, he felt something at his ankle. It was Taylor’s foot. She’d slipped off her shoe, and was using her bare toes to tease him. It worked.
He glanced at her, but the smile had become a sly grin, and her gaze had shifted to Angel, watching her shuffle as if it mattered.
Ben said nothing, just enjoyed the feeling of her toes. He’d never been a foot man, but at the moment, he could understand the impulse. It wasn’t easy to stay still, and not touch her thigh and run his hand over that smooth skin. The image of her on his bed, naked, him holding her by the heel as he studied her pink painted nails, took hold of him and didn’t let him go until Angel coughed.
He picked up his cards, a ten and a seven, then slipped them under his ten-dollar bet. He didn’t give a damn if he won or not. The only thing that mattered at the moment was the woman next to him.
Just as he was about to suggest they leave, a waitress came by. She was young and pretty, as were all the cocktail waitresses in the hotel. Taylor turned to her. “I’ll have a Bloody Mary,” she said. “He’ll have a martini. Shaken, not stirred.”
He laughed. The waitress jotted the orders without so much as a blink, then got the rest of the drink orders. So Taylor liked his game.
He faced Sarah. “Are you here by yourself?”
She shook her head. “I’m with three friends from work.”
“And they are…?”
“At the pool. But I burn so easily, it seemed kind of dumb.”
“This is more interesting,” he said. “You can learn a lot about people by watching them gamble.”
“Really?”
“See that man at the Wheel of Fortune?”
She followed his gaze and nodded when she saw the portly fellow standing next to his stool, feeding a bill into the machine. He didn’t look as if he was having a very good time. In fact, his heavy brows furrowed to match his scowl, his scalp, bald all the way back to the crown of his head, was beaded with sweat. His light cotton shirt was stretched across his ample beer belly, and there were large circles of sweat under his arms. He ignored the pull lever, pushing the maximum-bet button with the palm of his hand. As the wheels spun, his lips moved. Probably a prayer, and then a curse as he got nothing, nothing, nothing.
“He isn’t having much luck,” Sarah observed.
“No, it doesn’t appear he is. You know that every time he pushes the button, it’s two dollars.”
“Oh.”
“And since we’ve been watching him, he’s pressed that button what, twelve times? That’s twenty-four dollars. He was standing there before we sat down.”
“Whoa, that’s a lot of money.”
“He’s not holding a bucket, so no winnings.”
“Yikes.”
“Indeed. What else do you see?”
While Sarah studied the scene, he turned to Taylor. “You realize, of course,” he whispered, “you’re not going to get away with this unscathed.”
“What?” she asked, batting her eyelashes like the soul of innocence while she inched her toes up his calf.
“Whatever you had planned this afternoon? Cancel it.”
Her cheeks became pink and the gaze that met his was full of anticipation and excitement. “I don’t know,” she said. “I have to meet my mother.”
“Meet her later.”
“You presume, Mr. Bowman.”
He looked at her for a long moment. Then he leaned over so his lips were an inch from the soft shell of her ear. “I’m going to make you beg for mercy.”
She inhaled sharply, grabbed her cards with trembling fingers.
Sarah, to his left, said, “Hey.”
He held back his grin as he turned to his young friend. “Yes?”
“He’s got a whole bunch of glasses stacked there. And he’s kind of swaying,” Sarah said.
“Which means?”
“He’s toasted. And scared. He’s lost a whole bunch of money and he’s trying to win it back.”
“Excellent.”
“Cool.”
“It pays to be observant.”
It was Sarah’s turn to grin. “Like seeing that you two aren’t from London at all. That you’ve been playing footsie for about ten minutes, and that while I’m not positive your name isn’t James, it sure as heck isn’t Bond.”
Taylor laughed. Angel grinned, and it wasn’t because she’d dealt herself twenty-one.
“Very good, Sarah. If you ever get tired of post-production, you’d make a good detective.”
She smiled, mightily pleased with herself. “Is that what you really do?”
He held out his hand. “Ben Bowman, Private Detective.”
She shook his hand, but her gaze went to Taylor. “Are you a P.I., too?”
“I’m a paralegal, which isn’t half as interesting.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
“Are you playing, sir?”
Ben realized he’d abandoned his cards altogether. He slipped two five dollar chips into the rectangle, and put another five above it, playing the bet for the dealer.
Taylor and Sarah both straightened, made their own bets, and each of them followed suit in tipping Angel. It turned out well for everyone. Angel busted with twenty-four.
“It’s almost noon,” Taylor said. “My mother’s going to be here in an hour.”
He shoved his whole stack of chips toward the center of the table. “Cash me in, please.”
Taylor’s laughter was as intoxicating as the drink that arrived while he waited for his chips.
“Still want to cash out?” Taylor asked.
“Oh, yeah.”
“But our drinks…”
“Are portable.”
“Good point.”
Sarah sighed. “You guys are so lucky. How wonderful to be in love in Las Vegas.”
Ben froze, Taylor cleared her throat and Angel wasn’t at all successful in hiding a knowing grin.
Taylor pushed her chips in after Ben got his money back. “We are lucky, thank you. But we’re actually here for my brother’s wedding.”
Sarah leaned forward over the lip of the table. “Why not make it a double wedding? Or better yet, run off to one of those cool chapels. You could get married by Elvis.” She reached frantically into her oversized purse and pulled out a small notebook and a pen. “This is my room number. I’m here for three more days. If you guys do get married, I want to be there.”
“I’d be delighted to take your card,” Ben said with a bow. “But I’ve been married. It’s not going to happen again. Ever.”
Sarah smiled at him slyly. “You never know. Magic things happen in Las Vegas.”
He looked at Taylor. “Magic, yes. But some things aren’t in the cards.” Nodding once more at Sarah, he said, “Hope you win a bundle.”
She glanced back at the Wheel of Fortune. The same man was still desperately pressing the max bet button, the only thing to have changed was the number of empty cocktail glasses beside him. “I’ll settle for not losing my shirt.”
“Good girl.”
“I’m ready,” Taylor said, and from the high flush of her cheeks, he believed her.
Sarah was forgotten in a flash, as was blackjack, gambling of any sort, the casino, the hotel, the entire city. All that mattered was the woman in front of him and getting her to his room. There was so much to do.
He took her arm at the elbow. “Let’s go.”
TAYLOR PRACTICALLY had to run to keep up with Ben’s long strides. He darted and weaved through the crowd, aiming for the elevators. Her drink sloshed as she tried not to step on toes. It would have been smarter just to put the glass down, but there was no stopping Ben. Nor did she want to. She felt like a teenager…. No, like the teenager she’d been with Ben. How she’d loved him! He’d been the only thing in her life for well over a year.
She sidestepped to avoid a woman in a wheelchair, her purse banging into her side, then they were clear of the casino.
Ben looked back at her, and his grin made her toes curl. She didn’t know the specifics of his plan, but she was all in favor of the general idea.
Good thing she’d dressed with care this morning; shaved everything that should be, worn her matching pink lace bra and panties. She’d even put a couple of condoms in her purse. Then she’d written to her friends at Eve’s Apple, filling them in on the distinct possibility that her Man To Do would be Done before tomorrow. She hadn’t really thought it would happen quite this soon, but who was she to complain?
Ben slowed as they neared the elevator, pulling her close enough to slip his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t remember,” he whispered, “if I told you how beautiful you look this morning.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think you did.”
He nipped her earlobe. “You’re stunning.”
She shivered all the way down to her toes. “Why Mr. Bowman, I do declare.”
His laugh added to her shivers. “I didn’t know Southern California was part of the Deep South.”
Finally, they were at the elevator. The button had already been pushed, but Ben pressed it again. They waited with a family of four, all wearing Las Vegas T-shirts, the adults from Caesar’s Palace, the kids from Circus Circus. The littlest kid looked to be about three, and very cranky. He tugged on Daddy’s shorts, whining about something named “Snooky.”
By the time their elevator arrived, three more people had joined the queue and they all clambered in together, Ben guiding her to the back. He stood next to her, his hip against hers.
As they ascended, she felt a slight tickle just below the hem of her shorts. She jumped, but then realized it was Ben’s fingers, brushing lightly against her skin.
With each floor, his fingers moved up the back of her thigh. She felt herself blush even though no one was looking at them. It was an incredibly intimate gesture, brazen, and yet totally discreet.
His fingers kept inching up until he brushed the curve of her buttock. Barely touching her, he swept his finger back and forth over the same small patch, giving her goose bumps everywhere. Driving her crazy.
She pressed back against the elevator wall, trapping his hand. “Stop,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Just wait.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“There’s only one more stop before our floor.”
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem. Come on. Move.”
She shook her head, figuring she’d won the battle.
Wrong. He turned until he was directly in front of her, his body pressed against hers so tightly she could feel his hard length, the sharp edge of his belt buckle. He smiled, his brown eyes filled with wicked intent, and then he kissed her.
Thank goodness the family had gotten off two floors down, because the kiss was definitely not G-rated. His tongue slipped between her surprised lips, exploring, darting, daring her to respond, to forget where they were, that they weren’t alone.
Her hands went to his shoulders, trying to push him back, but he wasn’t having any of that. Instead, he folded her in his arms, and reminded her what it was she’d loved about kissing.
His mouth opened just enough, his tongue, tasting slightly of gin, teased her into a moan that should have embarrassed her a great deal more than it did.
Then he was gone, leaving her on shaky legs, her mouth still open and moist. It took her a second to realize the elevator had stopped, that the strangers at each corner were staring at her, that Ben had already walked into the hall.
She escaped with seconds to spare.
He grinned again, knowing full well what he’d done, what he’d put her through. “I warned you,” he said.
“Okay. If that’s the way you want to play it.” She didn’t wait for his response, she just headed down the hall toward her room.
He caught up to her seconds later, putting that devil hand of his on the small of her back. “Yeah, I think it is the way I want to play it.”
“No mercy?”
His pace quickened along with his heartbeat. “No mercy.”
5
BEN’S THOUGHTS went immediately to the gutter. No mercy. The thought of taking Taylor right to the edge made his body hum with adrenaline and flat-out need.
From the moment he’d seen her last night, he’d spent every idle moment running seduction scenarios. Each vignette was rawer than the last, as the memory of that wild eighteen-year-old spurred him farther.
She wasn’t eighteen anymore, but he could still see the girl in her. Made better by the years, and not just because her body had ripened to perfection. There was something whole about her, confident and sure. As if she’d grown into someone she liked very much. He couldn’t remember ever thinking that about a woman, and he couldn’t even give any particulars as to what had brought on the impression. The way she dressed, the way she held herself. Who cared? It was just hot as hell.
She stopped three rooms before his and pulled out her key card. It took her two tries to get the green light, but once she did, she flung the door open and dragged him in behind her.
Before she let him go, she kicked the door shut, then shoved him against the wall. He barely had time to grin before her hands were on his shoulders and her lips were crushing his.
His eyes closed as her tongue thrust into his mouth. It was her show, and he wasn’t about to interfere. Not when she made full body contact, rubbing against him from breasts to hips.
If she couldn’t feel what she was doing to him, then something was seriously wrong, but he figured she got the drift. Especially after she gave him the little bump and grind right where it counted.
Taylor pulled back just enough to nip his lower lip, then she was off him, walking toward the minibar.
He, on the other hand, felt like a moth pinned to a Peg-Board, unable to move. “Damn, girl. A drive-by ravishing.”
She laughed, and the sound shot right to his groin. After a moment pondering the inside of the small fridge, she brought out a bottle of white wine. “It’s not a martini, but would you like some?”
He shook his head. “I already had one. Too early for another.”
“I know. Hey, it’s Vegas. No rules.”
“No mercy, no rules. What have I gotten myself into?”
She put the bottle on the dresser and her hand on her hip. “You’re right. If you were smart, you’d peel yourself off that wall and march right out of here.”
He chuckled as he complied with the first part, but instead of leaving, he joined her near the dresser. “I’ve never forgotten you,” he said.
“Oh?”
Shaking his head, he moved in closer, not touching her with his hands, but with his body. “That weekend rates right up there with the moon landing and getting my first bike.”
“Wow, and I thought you were just humoring me.”
“Hey, you needed a guiding hand, and God knows at that age, I was all hands.”
“You sweet-talker. I’m all aflutter.”
“No, you’re not. But you will be.” He leaned in then, touching her lips lightly with his own. He wanted to take it slowly this time, learning her with due diligence and patience. They had almost a week, and he planned to milk each step for all it was worth.
She didn’t try to rush him. In fact, she simply parted her lips slightly and shared her sweet breath as he lazily ran his tongue over her silky contours.
He thought about moving to the bed, but that could wait, too. For now, the only thing that mattered was her mouth, the way she tasted, the softness and the heat.
Her body, touching him at his waist and slightly below, melted back against the credenza, but she didn’t use her hands to steady herself. It was as if they had choreographed the whole scene beforehand. To test his theory he pulled back and she followed effortlessly, neither increasing or decreasing the pressure of the kiss. Damn. He thought immediately of how the principle would apply when they got to the bed. Like synchronized swimmers without the water. Maybe he should try it now, while the magic was still in the air.
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