“When?”
“A few years ago.”
She put her hand over his. “I’m sorry.”
He looked back at her, anger setting his square jaw and leaking out of him like a dark shadow spil ing across the table.
“What’s on your to-do list?”
Subject closed.
She kept her hand on his, and her thumb brushed across his knuckles. Mixed within al that anger was dark pain. She could see it. Feel it, sharp and tangible. The kind of pain she knew al too wel . The kind that could steal your breath if you let it. “Tonight, I want to ride the rol er coaster at New York New York. I think it’l be cool to look down on the Strip al lit up.”
He took another drink of his wine, and she felt the tension ease, sucked back inside wherever he kept it. “I have to meet the guys at the Voodoo Lounge tonight. Why don’t you come with me instead of riding a rol er coaster.”
She slid her hand toward her and tucked it into her lap. There was only one part of her body that she wanted to ache for Sam, and it wasn’t her heart. Anything beyond lust was too risky. She shook her head. “Why don’t I meet you there?”
His brows drew together, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a bemused smile. “Are you playing hard to get?”
She needed some distance. Needed a little space to breathe and clear her head before she did the unthinkable and started to have feelings for him.
“Maybe.”
“Honey, it’s a little late. Don’t you think?”
Maybe, but she had to try. If not, she was afraid she might start to think of him as more than just a wild Vegas hookup. And that couldn’t happen. That was impossible.
He reached into his wal et and pul ed out a VIP pass. “This wil get you in the door,” he said as he handed it across the table toward her. “We have a table on the balcony. Try not to be too late.”
How late was too late? Autumn was an on-time girl and had never understood the concept of fashionably late. But that night she arrived at the Voodoo Lounge after eleven. It just about kil ed her to wait that long. She spent her time shopping for a strapless dress and a black thong. She took a long bath and put her hair up in big curlers. She put on more makeup than usual, and beneath the black tube dress, she only wore her tiny panties. She caught one last glimpse herself before leaving the room. She looked like herself, only different. She looked… sexy. Which was a new look for her. Especial y after the last few years.
It was Sam. Sam made her feel good about herself. It was the way he looked at her. The touch of his hands. The way he whispered her name in her ear. He made her feel desired and sexy.
The Voodoo Lounge was on the fiftieth and fifty-first floors of the Rio, and Autumn walked to the front of the line and flashed her VIP pass. She’d never had a VIP pass to anything and was immediately taken up in a glass elevator and shown down a black-lighted foyer. Like most bars, the Voodoo was dark and smel ed like booze and too much perfume. It had neon pink and blue lights, and a hip-hop band played in one corner of the smal space. She rose onto the toes of her black pumps and looked through the crowd. She didn’t spot Sam right away, so she made her way through the bar to the large outdoor balcony. A breeze caught her hair, and she pushed it behind her ears. In one corner, a DJ spun records from the sixties and seventies, and on the perimeter of the balcony, were groups of cozy tables and chairs and Sam. He stood within a cluster of people, mostly women, laughing and chatting and having a good time. He wore a blue dress shirt with the sleeves rol ed up. Compared to the women, Autumn looked conservative. A platinum blond, wearing a tiger-print haltered minidress, put her hand on his arm, and he didn’t seem to mind. Autumn turned toward the bar and looked over the menu. A gentleman parked at the bar suggested a Witch Doctor, but she didn’t want anything big and bulky that she would have hold with two hands. She ordered a mojito and watched as the bartender threw the glass into the air and caught it behind his back. She cast a glance over her shoulder at Sam, who was stil occupied. This time, one of the women touched his chest. She turned back and dug a twenty out of the little black purse hanging from a silver chain on her shoulder. The guy next to her tried to buy her drink, but she declined. He seemed okay, and if it weren’t for Sam, she might have struck up a conversation with him. He had short dark hair and a thick neck and kind of reminded her of Vince. She pointed to the smoke rising from the guy’s big fishbowl of a drink. “What’s in your Witch Doctor?”
“Rum, coconut rum, banana rum, more rum. Wanna sip?” He turned the straw toward her.
She shook her head and laughed. “No thanks. Four shots of rum is about three too many for me.” She handed the bartender a twenty and felt Sam behind her a fraction of a second before he slid his hand around her waist and pul ed her hair to one side.
“Who’s the asshole?” he asked next to her ear.
She supposed she could get al jealous and indignant because he let women touch him, but she didn’t have any right, and jealousy was such an ugly emotion. “Hi, Sam.”
“What are you doing?”
“Getting a drink.”
“I see that.” His voice was a dark, seductive rumble across her skin. “What took you so long to get here?”
She smiled at the bartender, who put her change and mojito on the bar. “I was buying underwear.”
“Mmm. What kind?”
She shoved her change into her little purse, then turned her face into Sam’s. “Black thong. ” He smel ed a little boozy. Like he’d been at it a while. One thing she did notice about Sam, besides his six-pack and massive good looks, was that he drank a lot. At least to her, and she’d spent three years at the University of Idaho. A notorious party school, but this was Vegas. Most people drank a lot in Vegas.
“Sexy.”
For the first time in a very long time, she felt sexy. “I’l show you later.” Another thing she noticed about Sam, besides his smooth voice and smoother hands, was that he never real y seemed drunk. He didn’t slur or get sloppy. He was never obnoxious, and al that booze did nothing to impede him in the bedroom. He never forgot a condom or the job at hand.