by V. K. Sykes
The waitress reappeared, setting their mojitos before them. Raising her glass in a silent toast, Sadie drained almost half the fruity and deceptively potent drink in one swallow. A sparkly kind of excitement began to fizz along her nerves.
“However,” she said with a little hiccup, “I know better than to try blackjack when I feel like this. One should not play blackjack with a fuzzy head, Cass. And right now my head is getting rather fuzzy. Fuzzy-wuzzy, like a little teddy bear.”
She started to giggle at her own lame joke, and when Cassie joined in, Sadie lost it. Nervous excitement—fueled by more alcohol than she’d drunk in years—spilled out as uncontrollable, silly giggling, behavior that would normally have mortified her.
But there was nothing normal about this Vegas trip, and that was just dandy with her. She’d had more than enough normal to last a lifetime. It was way past time to change things up.
CHAPTER TWO
Nick Saxon’s jaw had dropped open when he a caught a glimpse of the evening’s first bout of trouble. When he came back on the floor after his short dinner break, the bimbo’s outfit had instantly snagged his attention. Over the top even by Vegas standards, it was probably giving every businessman and jock anywhere near her a hard-on. Hell, even he had started to get aroused, despite his lousy mood.
She looked and acted three sheets to the wind, but didn’t seem to have the brains to sit down at a table and stay out of trouble. A little thing, maybe five-two if she ditched the crazy boots, she looked incredibly sexy in low-slung black jeans that clung like a second skin to her luscious ass and thighs. Her shirt was a gauzy scrap of pink cloth, so transparent that he could see the outline of her nipples through it and the obviously sheer bra. Every bit of saliva in his mouth had evaporated when those pretty buds tightened into hard beads under the blasts of cold air from the casino’s supercharged air conditioning. He’d had to turn away, repressing a curse as a burgeoning erection pushed against the zipper of his suit pants.
When Nick had finally gotten his wayward libido under control and could turn back to observe the show, Miss Hottie had started to totter around again in her fuck-me boots. Her unsteady gait had made her generous breasts jiggle in a delicious little dance. One loser, obviously mesmerized as she wriggled past him, had sideswiped a cocktail waitress and almost sent a tray of drinks crashing to the floor. But the little package of C4 never even noticed the commotion. Even better—or worse, depending on your point of view—a minute later her right ankle had turned out and she’d fallen into a tall, muscular guy, splashing her girlie drink onto the floor.
Oh, yeah. Trouble had blown into town.
Instinctively, Nick started toward the chaos, but then decided to hold back. He wouldn’t toss the bimbo off the floor just yet. No, he’d keep a close eye on her a while longer. Now that he thought about it, that wouldn’t be the toughest thing he’d ever had to do.
* * *
“See that big guy standing a couple of rows over, beside the pillar?” Cassie nodded toward her left. “Don’t look right away.”
Sadie tried to appear nonchalant as she swung her head around. When she located the pillar and the man in question, she realized he was staring directly at her, his gaze hard and assessing and implacably fixed on her. Not on Cassie. Not on anyone else at their roulette table. On her.
She desperately wanted to avert her eyes, but something kept them locked in position. Maybe it was the intensity of his focus, or the heat emanating from his dark eyes. Even from this distance she would have sworn they were about the deepest brown she’d ever seen, so deep they looked almost black.
Most men would be embarrassed to be caught staring so shamelessly at a woman. But not this guy. He never even blinked.
“He’s staring at me, Cass,” she hissed.
“No kidding. Hell, I wouldn’t mind a hunk like him looking that way at me. Whew, he thinks you’re hot, Sade.”
Sadie swallowed nervously. If that intense gaze was a come-on, she wanted nothing to do with it. “Uh, I don’t think so. He looks like he thinks I’m an idiot.”
Cassie gave a reluctant laugh. “Maybe you’re right. Now that I think about it, I’d say he’s casino security. He sure looks the part. I guess he’s probably keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t bowl over anybody else.”
Casino security. Cassie probably had it right. She should just ignore him. No doubt he would lose interest as long as she didn’t do anything else to cause a commotion.
Sadie lowered her gaze, staring down at the colorful piles of chips on the table. But the man’s image had burned itself into her retinas. Though his frowning stare had unnerved her, she had to admit that his looks were mesmerizing. Everything about him left one overwhelming impression: big, tough, and more than a little dangerous. The deep navy suit and white open-necked shirt accentuated his tanned, rugged features, as did his black hair and heavy five o’clock shadow. A gorgeous specimen. Gorgeous, but scary.
Then again, casino security agents were supposed to look scary, weren’t they?
Lifting her head, she braved another peek at him, letting her gaze run over his brawny chest and broad shoulders. Then she returned to those hard eyes and almost fell off her stool. They were still relentlessly fixed on her, and still making her as edgy as hell.
She sucked in a shaky breath, her head spinning both from the effect of the alcohol and that unnerving inspection. “I need to get out of here, Cass. Not just away from this table. I mean right out of the casino.”
Cassie looked dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? We’ve just started to play. Is that guy the problem? If it’s bothering you that much, I’ll go tell him to back the hell off.”
Sadie quickly shook her head. “Please, no more drama tonight. I’m not sure what’s wrong. I just feel really uncomfortable all of a sudden.” She swiped the back of her hand across her brow, surprised at the perspiration beading on her forehead despite the near-frigid temperature of the casino. “You stay, okay? I need to go up to my room for a while.”
“You sure? You want me to come with you?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll rendezvous with you later.” Sadie grabbed her drink, scooped up her small stack of chips and gave Cassie an air kiss.
Unfortunately, the shortest route to the elevators ran directly past Mr. Scary Security Man. She gave a quick thought to walking straight up to the guy and telling him to lay off the surveillance, just like Cassie had threatened to do. But that idea, along with her courage, disappeared in the time it took to process it. No. Better to steer completely clear of him tonight and hope not to see him again.
By the time she reached the main aisle, a quick glance to her left told her he hadn’t moved. But at least he wasn’t still looking straight at her. She turned to her right. Going in that direction meant she’d have to practically circle the casino floor. Just what she needed—extended navigating in her skyscraper boots. But so be it. She needed to get back to her room, calm down, and remind herself why she was here in the first place.
As she stumbled along, trying to keep her balance, she belatedly realized that she should have left her drink back at the roulette table. She did not need another accident—or more alcohol, for that matter.
Spotting a casino waitress serving drinks at a nearby Pai Gow poker table, Sadie pivoted to head in that direction. The last thing she felt before becoming airborne was a small tug on her spike heel as it caught in the carpet. Then she crashed head first into the poker table. Her drink sailed out of her hand as she landed heavily onto the hard surface.
She didn’t move right away, so dazed she barely realized what had happened.
A shocked female screech blasted out from somewhere behind her. “What the hell?”
“Holy shit, lady!” another voice lashed out. “You just screwed the best hand I had all night!”
Sadie’s stomach gave a sickening lurch at the man’s nasty tone. With her face buried in a pile of chips and her butt sticking up in the air, she was too
stunned to fully comprehend the profanity-laced invective hurled her way. While nothing felt broken except her pride, her thighs throbbed where they’d made a bruising impact with the edge of the table.
She groaned, not just with the blossoming pain but with the humiliating realization that she’d made an ass of herself again. If only a chandelier would land on her head and knock her senseless, she would be happy. But no such luck. She knew she had to get up and apologize to…well, to everyone in sight. Maybe to the whole damn world.
Wedging her hands underneath her chest, she began to push herself up when a pair of very big, very strong hands clamped around her hips and lifted her backward off the table. Those same hands then set her carefully on her feet. She shoved the hair out of her eyes and gave a horrified squeak at what lay before her. The table was a disaster, with cards and chips flung haphazardly. Her drink had smashed, scattering booze, ice cubes and shards of glass over the chip tray and onto the poor dealer. Brushing himself off, the young man glared at her with undisguised contempt.
Upright now, Sadie carefully turned around to thank whoever it was who had helped her off the table.
She must have looked like a wide-mouth bass as her gaze met the obsidian eyes of Mr. Scary Security Man. Stomach lurching—this time all the way into her throat—she had to bite her lip to keep from letting out a groan of dismay.
“Are you all right?” he asked through clenched teeth.
His deep voice, as dark and menacing as the rest of him, shot a ripple of anxiety along her already over-taxed nerves. She had just enough of her wits left to notice him scanning her body from head to foot.
Dropping her gaze to the floor, she struggled to compose a dignified reply. Then she dredged up a smile and forced herself to look at him.
“It would seem so, thank you. I suspect I’ll be rather sore tomorrow, but apparently no lasting harm has been done.” She glanced back at the chaos she’d left in her wake. Players were collecting their chips and leaving the table in a huff. “Other than possibly ruining the surface of a card table and destroying some winning hands. But I suppose I shouldn’t minimize that.”
She tried to straighten out her rumpled shirt, noticing how his eyes followed her hands as she smoothed the fabric over the top of her jeans.
“Ma’am, I’m with casino security,” he said in a calm voice. “Please come with me.”
Without waiting for her reply, he grasped her wrist in one of his big hands. His touch was firm but not harsh, and Sadie felt a surprising and unfamiliar jolt as warm fingers closed around her bare skin. Not fear. This was something...well, she didn’t know what it was, but it still made her nervous.
Now that she’d declared her lack of injury, his eyes had reverted back to chips of black ice. She caught herself wondering what they might look like if something lit them and turned them to burning embers. He’d probably resemble Lucifer himself.
“I simply tripped, for heaven’s sake.” Sadie shook out of his grip, wincing at the shrill tone to her voice. But she didn’t want to spend a second more with this man than she had to.
His mouth thinned into a brutal line. “I can’t detain you, ma’am, but I can remove you from the Desert Oasis Casino. Not just for tonight, but permanently. You might prefer the option of talking to me for a few minutes.”
Cassie rushed up to her, breathless. “Sadie, are you okay? I heard the crash, but I didn’t know it was you till one of the waitresses told me.”
She gave Cassie a shaky smile. “I’ll live. Just a pair of bruised thighs and a whole lot of bruised pride.”
The security man began to look both annoyed and impatient. “Ma’am, please. Come with me.”
Darn it. There was obviously no point in arguing with the pig-headed brute. Better to get it over with than cause yet another scene.
“All right, Sheriff, lead on,” she replied, ladling on the sarcasm. “Do your worst. I’m ready.”
He shot her a look of sheer disdain and waved her in front of him.
“Hey, wait a minute! Just where do you think you’re taking her?” Cassie demanded. “Who the hell are you to treat my friend like that?”
“Casino security, ma’am. I’m simply taking her for questioning. It shouldn’t take too long. But the longer we stand here, the longer it’ll be.”
Cassie planted her feet like a prizefighter, ready to deck him if need be. “I’m going with her. I’m not letting her go off with you alone.”
The security man fixed Cassie with the coldest stare Sadie had ever seen and, sure enough, her friend bristled with outrage. She had to get the situation under control before Cassie wound up getting herself in big trouble, too. “It’s okay, Cass. I can handle this. I’ll catch up to you as soon as the law here is done with me.”
The big man switched his glare to her and then gave a sharp nod. “As I said, follow me.” He turned and strode off at a rapid pace.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she burst out, exasperated by his mental density. “Sheriff, it appears necessary to remind you that I’ve been having a certain degree of difficulty with this footwear. I really could use some assistance. Or would you prefer to have to hoist me off a card table again?”
The man stopped and turned as gracefully as a panther. A big, terrifying panther. Cassie was right—the brute was undeniably handsome, in a dark, rugged, and altogether intimidating way.
“Sorry,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “You’re right. I should have thought about that. Here, ma’am, take my arm.”
Sadie almost fell over, yet again. Where had that gentlemanly behavior suddenly come from? Cautiously slipping her hand into the crook of his arm, she encountered an impressively hard set of arm muscles. They flexed beneath her fingers and her edgy feeling returned. This time down low in her belly and between her thighs.
As he led her away, Sadie couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trouble she’d stumbled into this time.
CHAPTER THREE
“How much alcohol have you consumed this evening, ma’am?”
Finally, the sheriff—and that was the only way Sadie could think of him—was talking again. He’d remained silent since asking her to take his arm. Not a word had passed his lips during their interminable passage through the sprawling casino, nor during their ride down an elevator into some subterranean gulag of concrete block walls. He’d ushered her into a ten-by-ten room that could have passed for a jail cell. After directing her to sit, he began his interrogation without any concession to making her the slightest bit comfortable.
And she couldn’t have felt any more uncomfortable if she’d tried. The windowless, beige room contained only a small desk and an armless metal chair that now dug into the backs of her thighs. It reminded her of a set from a 1950’s movie, a place where Broderick Crawford would bring some bad guy to sweat out a confession. A room designed to intimidate. She half-expected to see the sheriff pull out a set of brass knuckles from the desk drawer, and the fact that he remained standing, looming over her, didn’t help matters.
Straightening her spine against the cold metal back of the chair, Sadie resolved not to let her nerves show. Not if she could help it. If she looked intimidated, she’d be intimidated. That was how these guys worked. She’d seen enough TV to figure that out. Besides, she’d done nothing wrong. Sure, she’d committed multiple acts of gross clumsiness, but the last time she looked that wasn’t a felony.
Deciding to deflect his rather rude question about her drinking habits, she ordered up the sweetest smile she could manage under the circumstances. “Wouldn’t it be more appropriate, not to mention polite, sir, to introduce ourselves first?”
That hard mouth of his thinned again. “Trust me, ma’am. I wasn’t about to let you out of here without getting your name.” He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled a card from a black leather case. She noticed he had long, well-shaped fingers and a deeply tanned hand.
“Here’s my card.”
Sadie took it gingerly.
Nick Saxon, Assistant Chief of Security, Desert Oasis Hotel and Casino.
“Saxon. How appropriate,” she huffed, thinking he did look something like a marauding invader. “My name is Sadie Bligh, but I can’t say I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Saxon. Isn’t it rather high-handed to whisk one of your patrons off to this gulag under threat of permanent expulsion?”
His stare riveted her again. He seemed to regard her as if she were an alien. Still, she thought she detected the tiniest bit of softening around the edges of his mouth. That was probably as close to a smile as the man could manage.
“Not at all,” he replied. “It’s hotel and casino policy. Whenever a guest shows signs of excessive drinking and causes a disturbance, he or she is subject to questioning. You may refuse, of course, but the casino reserves the right to suspend or permanently remove your privilege of admission. It’s your choice.”
She was about to give him a piece of her mind when she noticed his gaze drop briefly down to her chest. Twice she’d caught his attention drifting there, as if he were having trouble staying focused on her face. Both times, she’d been shocked and mortified to feel her nipples hardening in response. Surely it must be the icy cold breeze of the air conditioning? Her body couldn’t possibly be reacting that way to the gruff sheriff. Though undeniably handsome, Saxon was treating her like a criminal. She could never be attracted to someone like him.
“Are you a guest at the hotel…” he glanced at her left hand, “…Ms. Bligh?”
“Yes, my friend and I checked in early this afternoon. And I was having a rather enjoyable time—until you came along, that is.”
He towered over her, of course. With his arms crossed over his broad chest and his legs parted in an uber-masculine stance, he was the living definition of an immovable object. No doubt he’d learned such an aggressive posture as part of the intimidation module at security school.
“Ms. Bligh, I’d appreciate it if you’d answer my first question,” he growled.