Las Vegas: Scandals: Prince Charming for 1 Night

“I don’t,” she assured him. “My information comes straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“Oh?” He gave her a mildly curious hike of an eyebrow as he opened the car door for her and helped her out.

“Darla was good friends with your cousins Candace and Silver. I still have lunch with Silver occasionally.”

“Ah.”

She stopped suddenly and turned back to his car. Before leaving the apartment, the CSI techs had packed her a small overnight bag, including a pair of flip-flops, but she needed her stage shoes for work tonight. They were still behind the seat where he’d tossed them back at FBI headquarters. “I’d like my shoes back, please. From last night.”

“Of course.” He leaned over the side of the car to fish them out.

Oh, boy.

His suit pants stretched over his tight backside, revealing every luscious dip and muscle of that tasty bit of anatomy. She had to stuff her hands under her armpits to keep from touching.

He handed her the glasslike shoes with a wry smile. “Don’t lose one, Cinderella,” he teased.

She made a face and snatched them from his hand. “You know, she talked about you all the time. Your cousin Candace.”

“Did she, now.” He took her overnight bag and led her up the mansion’s sweeping front steps.

“She didn’t like you very much.”

“Now there’s a shock.” He did something with his key chain, and the ornately carved entry door swung open.

“She said you’re mean, stubborn and ruthless and will do anything to get your clients off.”

“Never a good thing in a lawyer,” he said dryly. “After you.”

She met his amused gaze, so strong and confident. Not to mention devoid of shadiness or deceit. With a sinking feeling she suddenly knew Candace was completely wrong about him.

She shouldn’t be surprised. The rivalry between the Rothchild family cousins was legendary in Vegas, where each sought to outdo the other in glamour, media notoriety and wild living. Conner was no exception. He regularly figured in the gossip columns.

But Vera, of all people, was acutely aware that a public image did not always reflect the real person. Although she got along with Candace okay, and Darla adored her, Candace always did have a family ax to grind.

“Touché,” Vera acknowledged, thinking just maybe she’d been wrong about Conner, too.

Not good. She did not want to like this man. Bad enough she was so hopelessly attracted to him physically. How depressing would it be to have him turn out to be honorable and principled, too?

He ushered her in. “Welcome to my home.”

Said the spider to the fly.

“Wow,” she murmured, stepping into a stunning showplace of glossy, contemporary elegance. Clutching her shoes in her hand, she walked from the soaring foyer into a grand salon and did a slow three-sixty, totally awestruck. She’d decorated Darla’s penthouse because when she’d moved in it had white walls and hotel furniture, and she’d been darn proud of the results. But this…this was utterly gorgeous. “Nice place,” she managed.

He chuckled. “Apparently I live for nice.”

Just then, an older woman in a fuzzy robe hurried into the room. “Oh, Mr. Conner, sir! I didn’t expect you back tonight.”

“Sorry to wake you so early, Hildy,” he said in warm apology. “This is Vera. She’ll be spending a few days with me.”

Days?

“Certainly, sir.”

The housekeeper didn’t even bat an eyelash. Obviously not unusual for her employer to bring home women at the crack of dawn and announce they’d be spending more than one night chez Conner. Vera ground her teeth. Well, what did she expect?

“Will you be needing anything, sir? Coffee, or…?” Hildy asked.

“No, nothing, thanks. Just sleep.” He handed her Vera’s overnight bag, and the woman turned to go.

“Uh,” Vera interjected before it was too late, “by ‘with me’ what Mr. Rothchild really meant was ‘here.’ As in ‘here,’ but in a separate bedroom. And ‘here,’ but as far away as possible from where he sleeps.” She pasted on a smile.

This time Hildy did blink. And glanced at Conner for confirmation.

His mouth quirked. “As the lady says. You can put her in the guest cabana. That should be far enough away.”

Hildy’s eyes met hers for a split second, and Vera could have sworn the older lady was holding back a smirk. Vera wondered idly if she’d just joined the ranks of Too-Stupid-To-Live, or Girl Folk Hero…

“Oh, well. I need the sleep anyway,” he said philosophically when the housekeeper had gone. “You’ll like the cabana. It’s very private out there. But don’t get any bright ideas about escaping. I was serious about the armed guard. I’ve already called the security company.”

She didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. “Don’t worry. I took Agent Duncan’s warning to heart.”

Before leaving the penthouse, the FBI man had cautioned her against going anywhere alone, or without Conner’s permission, for her own safety. After finding out about the connection between the stolen ring and the murder of Candace Rothchild and attack on Silver Rothchild, the whole ‘Give it back or you’ll die next bitch’ thing was plenty to convince Vera not to take any chances.

“I don’t know why you didn’t just let Duncan put me in jail,” she said without thinking.

Then she remembered.

Whoops. Yeah, she did know. Because Conner’d expected to have sex with her, that’s why. Which would surely have happened had it not been for the timely interruption of the break-in and the subsequent revelations into his motives for seeking her out in the first place.

She’d so totally lost her mind in that elevator. Thank God she’d found it since.

More or less.

Though being reminded of the delicious things he’d done to her during her temporary insanity wasn’t helping.

She looked up and realized he was gazing at her sardonically, his thoughts as transparent as hers apparently were.

“Forget it.” She wagged a finger. “No bodyguard necessary. Literally or otherwise. I saw the size of the fence around this place, and the only person I’m in danger from here is you.” And possibly herself.

“Only thinking of your safety,” he said amenably.

“Sure you are.”

Seeking a distraction, she glanced around the glamorous room, filled with the trappings of wealth, and was suddenly struck with a pang of regret. What would it be like to be part of this world, even for a few days…or nights? Would it be such a sacrifice to sleep with him, to find out?

God, no. Not in the least. The man was to die for. And she’d be using him just as much as he was using her. But…