by V. K. Sykes
“Oh. That would be your preoccupation with my alcohol consumption.” She forced a smile. “Fair enough, though frankly I don’t see its relevance. My little contretemps at the Pai Gow table was clearly occasioned by ridiculously inappropriate footwear, not an excess of alcoholic beverages.”
Saxon actually started to smile before quickly catching himself. Sadie felt a small sense of triumph. Round one to the professor. Who knew babbling could be such an effective defense?
“Maybe, but there was more than one contretemps, as you put it. I witnessed three separate incidents myself in a very brief period of time. Are you telling me they were all caused by your shoes? That alcohol had absolutely no part in them?”
In all fairness, she couldn’t blame him for being skeptical. If she’d been thinking clearly, she would have gone back to her room and chucked the silly boots after the first stumble. But by then the champagne and the mojitos had blunted her self-preservation instincts. Besides, Cassie had been adamant about the boots. They were supposed to be man-magnets. Instead, they were likely to get her tossed out of the casino on her rear.
“I won’t deny that I did consume a few of your casino’s pineapple mojitos. They’re quite lovely, by the way. But I assure you I was entirely compos mentis when I sinned.” She tried on what she hoped was a sexy little pout. “Really, Sheriff, don’t you think the mortification I suffered with my derrière pointing skyward in front of a roomful of spectators was punishment enough for any faux pas on my part?”
That did it. First his eyes gave way, then his lips as they slowly curved into a lopsided grin. Just like that, his dark, menacing face was transformed, and a jolt of pleasure zinged along Sadie’s nerves. She could suddenly imagine an alternate Saxon persona—one very different from the hard-as-granite, badass security man. Round two to the professor.
Sadie returned his smile.
In a blink, Saxon wiped the grin off his face. “You have a point. I’ll admit that public humiliation does seem like a significant punishment. But it’s your future behavior I’m concerned about, too. If you’re going to continue to patronize our casino, Ms. Bligh, you can’t be crashing around like the steelie in a pinball machine. You caused considerable damage out there tonight. For starters, you’ll be getting a bill for refurbishing the Pai Gow table, and that won’t come cheap.”
His eyes were practically drilling through her head, but she held his gaze as he continued his lecture. “But aside from those costs, it’s the effect on the other guests that concerns us the most. The casino business is very competitive. We can’t afford to lose clients to other hotels where they don’t have to worry about some inebriated woman taking a header on top of them.”
Yikes! Round three to the security boss.
She had to regroup. Though it embarrassed her to talk about it, Sadie figured it was time to appeal to his compassion for the physically challenged. “I’m sorry, Mr. Saxon. I’m afraid I’m a clumsy person, and I’ve always been that way. My brain is wonderfully wired for many things, but certainly not for locomotion. Lack of coordination was the bane of my childhood and adolescence. If you could have seen me in gym class, you would have known exactly what I mean.”
Sadly, every word was true. What she had endured at the hands of her classmates all those years ago didn’t bear thinking about.
She studied his physique. “I’m sure you’re a very athletic person. I doubt you could possibly understand what it’s like to be thought of as a pathetic klutz.” She sniffed, and her eyes actually started to get misty. It must be the mojitos that were making her so maudlin, but maybe the sheriff would take pity on her. If her abject humiliation kept her out of any more trouble, so be it. “It’s not a happy feeling,” she finished, sounding as forlorn as she felt.
He looked pensive, drumming the fingers of one hand on his other arm. Then he sighed and relaxed his stance. “You’re right that I’ve never had coordination issues. And I can appreciate what you’re saying. But I don’t think that should let you off the hook for what happened out there tonight. I know you must appreciate that natural clumsiness combined with multiple mojitos and unfortunate footwear is a sure-fire prescription for mayhem.”
Round four to the security boss.
Sadie gave a morose nod. The sheriff was absolutely right, of course. She’d made a gross error in judgment. The first night of her busting loose trip had been simply a bust.
* * *
Nick stared at the little bombshell who sat quietly before him. He had to deal with drunken bimbos every single day. It sure as hell wasn’t one of the more interesting parts of casino security work, but it came with the territory.
When he’d hauled this one’s tantalizing ass off the poker table, he’d pegged her as the usual single girl tourist on the make, too excited by Vegas to know her booze limits. But it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that with Ms. Sadie Bligh—and that was a name for the books—he had an entirely different animal on his hands. How many bimbos used the word contretemps, for Christ’s sake?
But the Desert Oasis had strict security policies and procedures, and Nick was a professional. People who caused disturbances didn’t get a free pass. With rare exceptions, they were taken to a room like this one so he or other security personnel could scare the living hell out of them. No way would he have abandoned that policy and let this woman off without a trip downstairs. Not even though her luscious, jiggling body gave him a hard-on that would only temporarily obey his mental commands to subside. During the long walk to the interview room, he’d had to focus his mind on the worst firefight he’d ever been in, just to make sure she wouldn’t see him pitching a tent.
Still, he couldn’t bring himself to really scare the crap out of her. She was harmless and she was cute, and he should just let her go back to her hotel room and sleep it off. But some instinct kept pulling him back. Though still a little tipsy, she’d had no trouble stringing together some of the most articulate sentences he’d ever heard in a casino. Or anywhere else, for that matter. With her around, you’d never need a dictionary. For some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, she wasn’t adding up.
She began to fidget, offering him a vulnerable smile that made her look even more adorable.
He wouldn’t call Sadie Bligh a model-perfect beauty. Her face was sweet and pretty, not stunning, or particularly beautiful. Her hair—a color his mother referred to as auburn but he called reddish-brown—fell to her shoulders in soft curls. He figured if she hadn’t dressed so provocatively, she wouldn’t have attracted a whole lot of notice on the casino floor. Legions of hot young women with skimpy outfits and pounds of expensive makeup easily overshadowed her.
She did, however, have a killer body, one which Nick couldn’t help taking the time to appreciate.
Ms. Bligh moved uncomfortably in her seat. “Sheriff...Mr. Saxon, there’s really no need to give me the silent treatment. I’m more than willing to admit you make a very good point. Truly, I should have exercised better judgment. I’m thoroughly embarrassed. I came to Las Vegas intending to have a really good time, but I seem to have started out badly, indeed.”
Nick was glad she’d ditched her faked-up brassy attitude in favor of an apparently sincere mea culpa. She’d tried her damnedest to make him believe he didn’t intimidate her. But while she could keep her words under tight control, she hadn’t been able to rein in the nervous hands and shifting feet that gave her away to a professional like him. “Where are you from, ma’am?”
She stopped fidgeting, probably glad he’d shifted the discussion away from her behavior in the casino. “Massachusetts, originally. Now I work in Chicago. It’s a nice city, but I absolutely hate the weather there. Boston was bad enough, really, but when you’re trying to walk down Michigan Avenue with sleet flying—”
“Right.” He interrupted her. As much as he enjoyed hearing her talk, he didn’t need a Weather Channel special on life in the Windy City. “And how long will you be staying in Las Vegas?”
&nbs
p; She smiled. “I was babbling, wasn’t I? Sorry about that. I seem to do that a lot when I’m nervous. As to your question, I’ll be here for just a few days. Less than a week.”
As much as he would have liked to have studied that hot little body some more, it was time to cut her loose. “All right, Ms. Bligh,” he said. “We can leave it at that for now. I’ll escort you to the hotel. I assume you’ll want to return to your room for a change of footwear.”
Her sigh of relief was both visible and audible. “Thank you. I do want to go back to my room, but I won’t be putting on new shoes. I think I’ve had enough excitement for this evening. So, I intend to crawl into bed with a book.”
Wouldn’t you rather crawl into bed with a security officer? He almost had to bite his tongue to keep the insane and unwelcome thought from transforming into words. Fraternizing with guests was strictly verboten. “That sounds like a good plan, ma’am,” he said in a gruff voice. “I hope you’ll continue to enjoy the Desert Oasis casino for the rest of your stay. But with a little less emphasis on the mojitos.”
Her lips curved into an effortlessly sexy smile—the first genuine one she’d given him since he’d hauled her off that poker table. Her mouth was on the small side, but her lips, tinted a bright pink that kind of matched her filmy top, were full. Lush, even. He couldn’t stop from thinking how much he’d like to crush those lips against his own, and then trail a string of wet kisses down into that soft, creamy, and very generous cleavage.
Nick frowned, disconcerted by his reaction to her. It didn’t make sense. Maybe that was because she didn’t make sense. Not to him. Or at least she didn’t fit into any of the neat categories he’d always used to classify women. Though sexy, she was odd, to say the least.
She tilted her head and stared at him, clearly puzzled. Her soft green eyes shone with an intelligence and perception that belied the trashy outfit she had poured herself into. Yep. Something just didn’t add up.
And right then, Nick decided to keep an eye—a very watchful eye—on Ms. Sadie Bligh for as long as she remained in his hotel.
* * *
“I’ll see you up to your room,” the sheriff intoned, punching the elevator call button. “You’re still not steady on your feet.”
Sadie had clutched his muscled arm all the way from the gulag. They now stood side-by-side at the south wing elevator bank, and her ankle hurt like hell. She hadn’t realized she’d twisted it until she got up from that chair in the interview room and almost fell on her face. Too tight to begin with, the boot had constricted her aching foot to the point where the blood circulation seemed to be almost non-existent. With a long-suffering sigh, Saxon had kept her upright and helped her from the room.
She smiled up at him as they waited for the elevator. “That would be an excellent idea. If I don’t get this boot off soon, I’ll be on crutches tomorrow. But it’s not a complete disaster. I planned on lying around the European pool all day tomorrow, anyway.”
Saxon’s dark brows shot up, his stony expression giving way to one of surprise. She gave herself a mental high-five.
I shocked the sheriff.
In spite of her outfit, he probably didn’t figure her for someone who would brave the hotel’s topless pool, so she wasn’t surprised at the uptick in interest. Not the way his hooded eyes had been scanning her chest for a good part of the time they were down in the gulag. With his hot dark gaze on what seemed like acres of her uncovered skin, she’d never felt so exposed in her life. It should have outraged her and, well, it did. Partly. But it also ignited a heat that melted her insides as quickly as the scorching Vegas sun would melt ice.
Maybe that was why she’d decided to see if she could shock the sheriff just now with her confession about the European pool. Otherwise, it was an inexplicable impulse for a dowdy college professor who’d never been impulsive.
Saxon kept his mouth in a tight line as he helped her into the elevator.
“I read that the European pool usually has a ratio of five men for every woman,” she said, watching for his reaction. “Those odds beat the pants off anything in your casino.”
This time she couldn’t quite decipher the look he gave her. His brain was probably warring with itself: was she an alien, or a slut? Or maybe an alien slut?
“That ratio’s about right,” he said, fixing his eyes on the panel lights displaying the floor numbers. His breathing seemed noticeably heavier. “Most women are hesitant about public nudity, and for some guys, it’s a chance to ogle and try to score. Twenty-five bucks gets them some cheap thrills.”
“You sound disapproving.”
“It’s a free country, and this is Vegas.” Saxon turned his head to focus his bedroom eyes directly on hers. “It’s just that after our conversation, I wouldn’t have taken you for that type.”
Sadie bristled. “And what type would that be?”
Saxon looked annoyed. “Relax, okay? I wasn’t trying to offend you. It was a compliment, actually.”
“Look, Mr. Saxon, my friend and I came to Vegas to have a good time—an extraordinarily, riotously good time. We need it. I need it. There’s no law against that, is there?”
“Not as long as you don’t wreak any more havoc in my casino.” There was that hint of a smile again. She wondered if he would look even more handsome when he was genuinely happy about something.
The elevator pinged, stopping at the thirtieth floor. Saxon grasped her forearm as she hobbled out and down the corridor toward her room. If she hadn’t been in so much pain, she would have been humiliated by her clumsy gait.
At her door, she pulled her hand away so she could rummage in her bag for the key card.
“Here, let me.” He whipped his left hand into his suit pocket, then swiped a card through the reader. Pushing the heavy door open, he stood back to let her slip by.
Sadie smiled. The badass security man had a good measure of gentleman in him. As she passed, she couldn’t help brushing against him, her nearly-exposed breasts dragging softly across the crisp cotton of his dress shirt. Her nipples contracted, and a flush rose up through her body until her face felt on fire. God, she must look as red as a Santa suit.
But Saxon was staring down at her chest, apparently not the slightest bit put off by her red face. In fact, he looked very, very interested in what he saw.
Busted. Her inconveniently hard nipples had betrayed her again.
Sadie ran her tongue over her dry lips as she groped to find the words to extract herself from the awkward situation. That in itself was disconcerting. She never had difficulty finding words.
Saxon was big and dark and scary and she wanted him gone. At the same time, he was big and dark and impossibly sexy and she wanted him to scoop her into his arms and throw her down on the bed. She’d come to Vegas to get a hot man in her room…but someone like the sheriff? He was so far out of her league it gave her vertigo.
But then why wasn’t he stepping away from her?
Nervously, Sadie inhaled a deep breath and put her hand on the edge of the door to start closing it. She’d had enough excitement for one evening, and the sheriff coming on to her would send her right over the edge.
“Thanks for taking the time to help me up here, Mr. Saxon.” Her brain scrambled for the right words to send him on his way. “I only wish we’d been able to meet in more propitious circumstances.”
He dropped his hand from the door but didn’t step back into the hallway. He was so close that she could actually feel the warmth of his breath on the top of her head. For the first time, she noticed a long, thin scar that snaked from the corner of his right eye into the thicket of hair above his ear. On him, it looked sexy.
Finally, and reluctantly, she thought, he took a step back. “I’m sure you’ll be fine from now on, ma’am. I need to get back to the floor, so I’ll wish you good night.” With a nod, he started toward the elevator.
Immediately and inexplicably she found herself missing him. She didn’t want him to stay, but she also didn’t
want him to go.
“Mr. Saxon, wait!”
He looked back over his shoulder. “Yes, Ms. Bligh?”
Sadie shocked herself with the words that sprang from her mouth—words she didn’t seem to be able to hold back. “Perhaps it would be a good idea if you were to keep an eye on me whenever you can. You never know what trouble these clumsy feet might get me into.”
Though a half-smile acknowledged he’d heard her, he strode away.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cassie’s scowl showed she was still seething at the way Sadie had been dragged away last night for questioning. “I’m glad you didn’t let that Prince of Darkness intimidate you. And it’s a good thing you called me right after he brought you back here, or I’d have had to hunt him down and murder his ass.” She flopped down onto Sadie’s bed, tucking her legs underneath her.
“That might have been a little extreme, Cass. I’d hate to see the best secretary I’ve ever had wind up on death row.”
Sadie had reached Cassie on her cell right after Nick Saxon dropped her off at her room. It hadn’t been easy to paint a realistic picture of her experience in the underground security room, or its aftermath. She had felt pitched onto a complicated roller coaster of emotions from the moment Saxon pulled her off that poker table and escorted her from the casino floor.
After a nearly sleepless night, Sadie had gone for long walk up the Strip before meeting Cassie this morning. Despite her fatigue, she’d needed to work off some energy—energy that still left her nervous and jumpy. But she needed to stop stewing about the sheriff and her own messed-up emotions, and get on with having a good time. Just on cue, the early afternoon sun streamed in the south-facing window, promising a perfect afternoon for a sojourn by the European pool.
Freshly showered and stark naked, Sadie contemplated the sunflower yellow scrap of fabric she was about to squeeze her butt into. She’d only worn a bikini once in her life and, appalled by what it didn’t cover, had promptly chucked it in the trash. And that bikini had twice the amount of fabric as the one currently resting on top of the fluffy hotel duvet.