Las Vegas: Scandals: Prince Charming for 1 Night

“Good, because I don’t plan to.”

“Which would be a damn shame, because I’d really miss you ordering me around when we’re in bed.”

Instead of snorting and telling him he was the one who did all of the ordering around, as he’d hoped she would, she just sighed again.

“Conner, you and I, we’re not going to work,” she said quietly. “I don’t fit into your world. I’d never be accepted by your family. What’s the point?”

He hugged her closer, leaning his cheek on her head. “Because I don’t want to give you up.”

“You did a pretty damn good imitation of it tonight.”

Guilt assailed him anew. “I know. And I couldn’t be sorrier. I was wrong. It’ll never happen again. I swear.”

“You’re positive?” she asked bleakly. “Because if it came down to a choice between me or Rothchild, Rothchild and Bennigan, I have a feeling I know which way it would go.”

“I’m not so sure.” He fell silent, and for the first time he seriously thought about what would happen to him if he left the family law firm. Or was asked to leave.

Would he be sad? Sure, he would. Would it take a while to regroup and start over? Undoubtedly. But he had more than enough money in the bank never to have to work another day in his life. So would his world fall apart? Definitely not.

The only question was, if it came down to a choice between Vera and his family, which way would that go?

“You’re jousting at windmills,” she murmured.

She sounded tired. And he was totally beat himself.

“Let’s get out of this water,” he said. “And go to bed. We can talk about all this in the morning.”

“Conner…”

He kissed her on the temple. “We don’t have to make love if you don’t want to. Just let me hold you while you sleep.”

She hesitated, then let out a resigned breath. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?”

He’d been upgraded. A good sign. “I’ll take it,” he said, kissing her ear. “As long as I can be with you tonight.”

The next morning Vera got breakfast in bed. It was Saturday, and Conner didn’t have to work.

The sun was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling bedroom windows looking out over the city below and the mountains beyond. The sky was so blue it hurt. A lone hawk rode the thermals that rose off the desert floor, scouting for its morning meal…or maybe just windsurfing for the sheer joy of it.

She had no right to be so happy. She knew the bliss wouldn’t last. Conner was fooling himself if he thought they had a prayer.

But it was enough that he wanted to try.

Or said he did.

That was a miracle in itself.

He’d made no declarations of love, given her no vows of forever. She could live with that. For now. Just having him here with her was more than she’d ever expected.

“Coffee?”

“Mmm.” It smelled delicious. “Who made the French toast?”

“I did,” he said proudly.

She was impressed. “A man of many talents.”

He leaned over and gave her a slow, thorough kiss. “And a woman of rare appetite,” he said in a low rumble.

They’d made love. Of course they had. Like she could take him to her bed and not touch him. Not have him touch her. Impossible.

He’d been so tender it nearly broke her heart. It almost felt like…No, she wasn’t going there.

They’d just nestled together into the propped-up pillows to eat the savory breakfast, when his cell phone rang. He checked the screen.

“It’s the office. Guess I’d better get it.” They rarely called him on weekends, so when they did it was usually important.

“Conner here.”

“It’s your father.”

Hell. “Hi, Dad. What’s up?”

“You got an e-mail about a surveillance from someone named Barton.”

Conner glanced at Vera and smiled. “Yeah?” How the hell had his father gotten hold of that?

“It came in on the general e-mail account,” his dad said, answering the unspoken question. “You’re surveilling Vera Mancuso? What’s that all about?”

Double hell. “Hang on, Dad.” He climbed out of bed, giving Vera a kiss. “Reception’s bad in here. I’m gonna take this outside.” He grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist and trotted out the double sliders to the huge tiled patio that circled the penthouse, closing them firmly behind him.

“I told you about the case she’s helping me on. The whole Quetzal thing. She could be in danger, so I’m making sure she’s safe.”

“From between her sheets? Mike says—”

Anger shot through Conner. He tamped it down. “That’s none of Mike’s business, Dad. Or yours.”

“It is if I think you’re getting personally involved with this woman.”

“Why would that matter?”

“You have the family name to think of.”

“Oh. You mean like Uncle Harold? Or Candace, or Silver?” All stars of the local gossip columns due to their endless “inappropriate” love affairs. Although Silver seemed to have settled down now that she was a newlywed and expecting a baby.