Let it Ride

She hesitated. He heard the catch in her breath. She was going to say no.

“Okay. I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she said.

“Good.”

He disconnected and headed for the lobby. Again his trip through the casino was slow. He entered the lobby and paused. Kylie was waiting for him by the fountain. But she hardly resembled the woman he’d originally seen in the security camera.

Her hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders, her sundress delineated the curves of her body, and her long legs were bare. A wave of lust hit him hard. And he knew himself well enough to know that waiting for her, seducing her slowly, was going to be hell.

Kylie had changed her mind and her clothes about fifty times in the hour since she’d left the lobby and Deacon Prescott. If it wasn’t for Deacon’s phone call, she’d be sitting in her room, eating a room-service cheeseburger and reading The Scarlet Pimpernel. But instead, she was in the lobby waiting for a man who made her heart beat double time and who had awakened her senses with his touch.

That didn’t gibe with the sensible administrative assistant she was in her normal life. She’d thought about having a reality check. Calling her mom and listening to all the reasons that sane, sensible Kylie shouldn’t be in Vegas. But she was tired of being sane and sensible.

She’d checked in with her girlfriends before leaving for the evening. And they were prowling the casinos tonight with some guys they’d met earlier. They’d all made plans to meet in the lobby bar just after midnight.

She glanced at her watch and then around the lobby. Her breath caught in her throat. Deacon walked toward her with the self-assured stride of a successful man. His suit jacket was buttoned and his silk tie perfectly knotted. He stopped to exchange pleasantries with a few people on his way to her.

Their eyes met and held for a moment. It seemed as if only she and Deacon existed in the lobby. His gaze skimmed down her body, stirring all her senses to life and making her blood flow heavier.

He moved very close to her. His scent surrounded her and she breathed it in deeply. She wished she was more like Deacon just then, who could reach out and touch someone he was attracted to whenever he wanted. Her fingers tingled with the need to touch him.

“You look lovely,” he said, sliding an arm around her shoulders and brushing her cheek with a kiss.

His words threw her because she was the “nice” sister. Not the pretty one. Not the smart one. Just the nice ordinary one. She knew she wasn’t any man’s definition of lovely. Even with his intense gray eyes shining with sincerity.

She stepped back, not knowing how to take him. No man had ever made her feel what he did. A million and one different things at once. And she wanted to believe. Believe that this was the one man who’d see her and she’d be lovely in his eyes, but she doubted it.

“That was a compliment,” he said, slipping his hand under her elbow and leading her out of the hotel. “You’re supposed to say thank-you.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said.

“You didn’t. But there was something in your eyes that said you may not believe me.”

“That’s because my dad’s Irish and I heard my share of blarney growing up.”

“I can’t be the first man to compliment you.”

She tugged her arm from his grip and pulled her purse strap higher on her shoulder. She didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Can we talk about something else?” she asked. She was tempted to believe him. The way she’d believed Jeff’s lies. But she wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl anymore, and the woman she was at twenty-eight was a lot smarter. Yeah, right, she thought.

He deliberately took her arm again and continued leading her through the lobby. They reached the bell stand and the valet led them to a Jaguar convertible out front. “Your car, Mr. Prescott.”

“Thank you, Scott,” Deacon said, slipping the man a folded bill.

“Mr. Prescott, a moment?” said another man from the hotel entrance.

“Do you mind, Kylie?”

“Not at all,” she said.

Kylie suspected that Deacon was more than a guest at the Golden Dream casino. He held the door for her and she slid into the leather passenger seat, then watched while Deacon went to talk to the man. He returned in less than five minutes. And they headed away from the lights of the Vegas strip and out of the city.

The radio was tuned to a jazz station playing Ella Fitzgerald singing “Blue Skies.” The sun was setting in the west and her hair was blowing around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. The warm wind caressed her skin, and for once she didn’t think about being the nice ordinary sister.

“You’re not just a guest at the casino, right?” she asked.

“I own the Golden Dream,” he said.

She tilted her head and glanced at him. He wore a pair of aviator-style sunglasses and he held the wheel easily in his strong hands. His profile was chiseled and raw. There was something very masculine about him that called to everything feminine in her. The tension and pressure she’d felt while waiting for him in the lobby was slowly unwinding.

At this moment in the car with him, with the sun setting and the wind in her hair, she knew she belonged here. She’d never had such a sense anywhere before but in the small garden of her equally small house.

“How does one train to own a casino? Is there a casino school?” she asked.

“There might be. I learned the ropes working at other places on the strip.”

“You must have been employee of the month,” she said.

“Not quite,” he said with a wry grin.

A few more miles passed and she realized they’d left Vegas well behind and there didn’t appear to be any restaurants on the highway unless you counted the small barbecue joint on the side of the road. But he didn’t slow as they approached it.

“Where are we going to dinner?” she asked.

“Somewhere private.”

“Oh,” she said. Excitement tingled in her veins and she laced her fingers together to keep from nervously tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Don’t sound so scared. I’m not the big bad wolf.”

But when he smiled at her with all those teeth in that sexy face, she wished that he was the big bad wolf and that she was on the menu.

Deacon pulled off the highway and followed a road that led to a deserted stretch of land. He brought the car to a stop. The sun had set and the moon was rising over the horizon. When he was younger, the desert had always been a place to get away from the pressures of life in the city and to hide out. He still left the strip behind for the quiet nothingness of the land when things got too crazy.

Tonight his motives were simple. He wanted a chance to get to know Kylie without the pressure of knowing that any public place they went they’d be on camera. And knowing Mac as well as Deacon did, he knew he’d get some sort of critique of his behavior with Kylie.

“Is this the spot?” she asked, nervously finger-combing her hair.

It fell in soft waves around her shoulders. The wind from riding in the convertible had added to the fullness of the long dark curls. He reached out and touched one of them, then wrapped a smooth strand around his finger. God, she was worlds too soft for him.

He had no business taking this sweet young woman to the desert. Out here he always felt as if he could strip away the sophisticated layer he had to add in Vegas. Once he shed that layer, there was nothing left but the tough guy who was raised on the streets and conned his way up to the top.

This woman, with her innocent questions about casino school, had revealed more than she’d ever know with that one query.

“Deacon?”

“Yes.”