“Like what?”
“Well, it was a bad idea to tell Brae her book was sweet. Why is that?”
“Oh, it’s not bad, but sweet romances don’t have any sex in them. It’s like a different subspecies, and Brae’s kind of sensitive about that. Her trademark is dirty sex.”
“Huh. Anything else?” He raised a dark eyebrow.
“Well. Heroes are always heroic. And are always willing to snuggle, even if there’s no possibility of sex.”
“Is that sweet?” He and his desert scent moved a step closer.
“No, it’s just heroic.” And incredibly unlikely to ever be an issue.
He was right over her now. She could feel the planes of his body through the charged air between them. “So heroes aren’t ever disturbed by unrequited lust?” He stroked her arm with the back of one finger, leaving a wave of shivers coursing over her body.
She suppressed a whimper. “Um, heroes are always disturbed, they just…hero on through their disappointed libidos.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I could be that kind of hero.”
“No one said anything about realistic expectations.” She cleared her throat and stepped back, feeling suddenly shy. “Any other questions?”
The spell of want he’d cast over her eased when he grimaced. “My balls are never going to forgive me for this outfit, so let’s just go.”
She nodded and found her key card and purse.
But before she made it to the door, Quinn grabbed her arm. “In case I die of asphyxiated genitals before the end of your party, I have one last request.”
“Okay…”
He hesitated, started to speak, then pulled her in closer and put his hands on her waist. Watching her face carefully, he moved in. His breath passed over her lips, giving her an instant to dart her tongue out to wet them, then he pressed his mouth to hers. Softly, but thoroughly, he kissed her. His lips were soft, and he tasted like mint. He didn’t shove his tongue in her mouth, but licked at her top lip just enough to make sure she felt his kiss all the way down her neck, to her nipples and then down, down, down. And then he backed away.
“We’d better go, or my strangulation is going to happen sooner rather than later.”
Chapter Seven
The “Bring Your Hero to Dinner” party got off to an interesting start.
Quinn had been introduced to a guy who was five two, but could probably bench press a pickup truck, had curly blond hair down to his ass, and wore a kilt. He was with a very generously proportioned elderly woman in some sort of old-fashioned dress with a leather vest thing over it.
A younger Goth woman in chains, and not much else, carried a blow-up doll in a tuxedo—with a big purple dildo hanging out of the fly and a red leather whip duct-taped to one hand.
It was a strange crowd—and this was strange to a man who had grown up in Las Vegas, Nevada.
Kellie, on the other hand, seemed to be completely at ease. She knew most of the women and some of the men and didn’t blink at their interesting outfits, just introduced Quinn as Zeus, her bad-boy, time-traveling Greek god biker, and then asked them about their own dates. Some people were readers, some were other authors. All were batshit crazy, as far as he could tell.
But Quinn was more than impressed with his own date, and how she made everyone feel important. He wondered who she had to make her feel that way. It wasn’t her friend Brae, as far as he could tell.
He wished, just for an instant, that she was going to be around long enough for him to be that person. Which was crazy. He was barely keeping himself afloat—at least financially. But she didn’t need that, did she? She didn’t seem worried about his less-than-respectable job and his lack of financial security—she just liked him.
Of course, that was because he was temporary, right?
“Quinn, er…Zeus, I’d like you to meet my friend Gail, and her date, uh…Gail, who did you bring?”
“Hi, Gail.” Quinn shook hands with a slightly plump thirtysomething woman wearing soccer-mom-at-PTA clothes and holding two giant stuffed parrots who seemed to be engaged in mutual gratification.
“This is Rick, and this is Gary,” she said, indicating the birds. “They’re bisexual wereparrots, part of my jungle ménage series.”
To say that Quinn was grateful to see Toby and Brae make an entrance would have been an understatement. Before he could escape Rick and Gary’s company, however, there was a buzz and a squeal from the front of the room.
“Hi, everyone, thanks for bringing your heroes to dinner!” A woman with a microphone stood on a little raised platform. “I’m Amber Night, and I’ll be your emcee for the festivities. Let’s all take our seats and get started with the dinner, so we can move to the fun and games portion of the evening!”
“Fun and games?” Quinn asked Kellie as she led the way toward the table where Brae waved and pointed at some seats. “I don’t have to get naked with any same-sex werecreatures, do I? Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I mean, some of my best friends are bisexual werecreatures. It’s just not my thing.”
She turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “Well, dang. There went my plans for the rest of the night.”
Oh, shit.
She grinned then. “No, no kinky reenactments. Just a fun rendition of The Dating Game.”
Man, these romance people would keep a guy on his toes, wouldn’t they? But he found he didn’t mind being a little off-balance with Kellie.
Her hair was looser tonight, soft brown strands escaping a barely secured knot on the back of her head. When she paused to let another couple cross in front of her, Quinn was close enough to lean a little forward and catch another whiff of her summer meadow scent. The kiss he’d helped himself to in the room hadn’t been enough. Or maybe it had been too much. He was afraid he was in danger of becoming a Kellie-holic, unable to stop touching her, kissing her, wanting her, now that he’d had a taste.
She backed up, and he caught her waist just as her ass brushed his groin. Ah hell. These leathers of Toby’s were going to kill him. Definitely not designed for ease of movement. Feeling a warm, round bottom against his dick, however? Yeah, they heightened that sensation.
“We are so going to win this game,” Brae said, leaning over to kiss Toby on the cheek, distracting Quinn from his distress.
Toby smiled and put his arm around Brae, but his attention seemed to be on a sharp-featured woman with salt-and-pepper hair who was moving to sit on his right.
A waiter delivered a couple of bottles of wine to the table, and they were quickly opened and passed around. Quinn decided to stick to water for the time being and noticed that Kellie sipped slowly, but the rest of the table tore through the wine and called for more almost immediately.
Brae monopolized Kellie, while Toby chatted up the woman on his other side. That left Quinn to try to make conversation with a woman from Middletown, Ohio, who told him she only read vampire romances and was planning to meet every paranormal author at the conference to get an autograph, which she would then transfer to a quilt. The quilt would be auctioned off on eBay to benefit a literacy organization.
He admired her determination, but after acknowledging that he’d never read a vampire romance and didn’t recognize any of the authors she name-dropped, they lapsed into uncomfortable silence.
Kellie kept trying to include him in her conversation with Brae. Unfortunately, every time she spoke to him, Brae would look at Toby, who was still deep in conversation with the older lady next to him, take another deep drink of her wine, and then grab Kellie’s arm to tell her something else incredibly important.
As the main course was served, Quinn noticed that Toby’s friend, whom he’d learned was Joyce Rodgers, an Important Person, handed Toby a business card on which she’d scribbled something.
Joyce ate two bites of her dessert and then excused herself to take a phone call.
As the waiter tried to serve coffee, which only Quinn and Kellie accepted—everyone else asked for more wine—Toby stoo
d as well, saying that he’d forgotten something in the room and would be back in a few minutes.
Brae picked up her wineglass and drained it—again. Kellie turned to Quinn with a desperate look.
What did she want him to do? Save the day? He supposed he could have accidentally forgotten something in the room, too, and chase after Toby to try to…what? Head him off? Distract him from cheating on his fiancée, if that’s what the Tobe-Meister was up to?
“How can I help?” he murmured in her ear.
“Anything.” She gave a rueful shrug.
The woman with the microphone was beginning to talk again when Quinn stood to give it a shot, to go after Toby. But he was stopped as Kellie’s expression changed from gratitude to surprise, and then amusement.
And the words that the emcee spoke sank in.
“I’m so glad that we have such an anxious volunteer to be bachelor number one for the Romance Hero Dating Game. Bad-Boy Biker, come on down!”
…
Kellie looked from Quinn’s deer-in-the-headlights expression to Brae, who had magically been transformed from tipsy, jealous fiancée to hooting, hollering strip club patron.
Quinn was led from their table to a high-backed stool at the front of the room. He shrugged good-naturedly. What a cool guy. How often did you run into a hot biker who was willing to play along at silly games with strangers? And one who kissed like she had the last pair of lips on the planet?
Darn it, he was a once-in-a-lifetime guy, wasn’t he? And she would be flying away from him in less than two days. She had to find a way to make the most of the time she had with him.
He seemed to enjoy being around her. That kiss…that kiss had been…wow. She touched her lips and remembered how warm and soft his were. Looking up, she saw him watching her, the heat in his eyes scorching her, sending a blaze of desire to her underwear parts.
The emcee had found two more victims…er, volunteers to fill the seats and asked who would like to be the first bachelorette.
“Oh! Me!” Kellie jumped out of her seat and waved her hand, surprising herself out of her mental sex scene. She had to take a chance and go for it before some other partygoer snatched Quinn out from under her.
“Well, it seems someone is desperate for a date. I think we should let her try her luck, don’t you?”
The crowd was lukewarm, considering everyone else there wanted to spend some time with one of the guys on the stage—Quinn/Zeus, a Billionaire named Chaz, and an open-shirted Duke—but Kellie didn’t care. She was going to get her date back before someone else came along and claimed him for dessert.
The Dating Game theme from the seventies game show played as Kellie took her spot on the stage, trying to think of something clever to ask the bachelors. She had three questions to ask each guy and then was supposed to choose a date.
“Bachelor Number One. What’s your idea of the perfect date movie?” she asked.
Bachelor Number One, who spoke with a Boston accent, said, “Something classic. To Catch a Thief with Cary Grant comes to mind. It would be best viewed in the theater on my private yacht, I believe.”
The crowd oohed and ahhed, and there was a “Yeah, baby” from somewhere in the back.
“Number Two?”
“I don’t believe I understand what you mean by a movie,” he said in a British accent. “If you’re referring to entertainment, a night at the theater is always enjoyable, but it’s not the performance that matters, it’s what happens behind the curtains of my private box.”
The oohs and ahhs changed to woo-hoos, and Back Row Woman said, “That’s sooo hot.”
“And you, Number Three?” What would Quinn say?
“I kind of liked Beach Party Babes Four,” he said. “But if that girl-on-girl stuff doesn’t work for you, we can get Nine ½ Weeks on Netflix.”
The crowd was silent while they digested that answer, so it was obvious when Kellie’s attempt at a polite laugh turned into a vigorous snort. She was really going to have to practice normal-sounding laughs next time she was alone.
Back Row said, “Pick that one, girlfriend.”
While she recovered her composure, she pretended to make notes before asking the next set of questions.
“Bachelor Number One. If we were snowed in together, and the power went out, how would you keep me safe and warm?”
“I have enough money to burn Benjis to keep warm.”
“Bachelor Number Two?”
“My country home is well stocked with firewood, I believe, but if we ran low, I would wield an ax myself, stripping from my waistcoat to reveal my manly muscles if you were chilled. And I would ensure that the servants heated enough water to bathe your chilled skin. I would see to the bathing myself.”
“Number Three?”
“Uh…I don’t know. You want to act out something from Beach Party Babes Four? We could just pretend there was another girl there.”
Kellie barely heard Bachelor Number Two over her own, and the audience’s, laughter. “My lady, I should like to call this scoundrel out at dawn for daring to speak to you so crudely.”
“I can have a contract put out,” Bachelor Number One offered.
“No, that’s okay,” Kellie said. “No duels or mob hits, please.”
“Sorry, babe, was that too much for you?” Quinn spoke over the catcalls from the audience. “I think burning up the sheets with you would be the best way to keep warm, but if you just want to snuggle, I can do that, too.”
Kellie heard the barely suppressed laughter in his voice, and the audience’s collective “awwww” quickly drowned it out, but not before her heart gave a little flip. He remembered the hero thing.
“Okay, final round!” the emcee trilled. “I think this is going to be a close race!”
Not in Kellie’s world.
“Okay, Bachelor Number One. Why are you such a good catch, and why are you still single?”
“Well, my wealth and power are certainly strong assets. I’m the classic alpha male. I know my way around a woman, and I’m not afraid to make her let me please her.”
Ugh. Nothing like being held down and forced to enjoy something, was there?
“And as soon as I find the perfect woman, my magic wang will recognize her and be unable to function for anyone else.”
Kellie snorted. Okay, Bachelor Number One had almost redeemed himself there.
“Thanks. Bachelor Number Two?”
“Ah. I’ve spent my life working to make sure my lands and tenants were prosperous while bedding the occasional lonely widow to sate my manly needs, but until recently, planned to allow my younger brother’s children to become my heirs. But alas, he met an untimely demise without reproducing. Now I am the sole living member of my family and if I don’t marry and produce an heir, our name will die out and hundreds of people will be left to suffer at the hands of a cruel, harsh landlord.”
“Oh. Well.” Here it came. “What about you, Bachelor Number Three? What’s so special about you? ”
“Hmmm. Well, I can put something exciting between your legs and take you for a nice, long ride anytime you want.”
If only you lived within riding distance.
“So why are you still single?”
“According to my ex-wife, no girl wants to be married to a guy without a real job.”
Chapter Eight
Well, he’d certainly plopped that divorce bomb out there on the table to smell up the party.
As the emcee rambled a little about how grateful she was that everyone had come to the party, and how everyone should make sure they picked up their copy of Romance Hero Mystery Date, a remade version of some old game, Quinn waited in agony for Kellie to choose her bachelor so he could escape.
“Bachelor Number Three,” she said, coming around the little divider that had been set up to screen her from him and the other two guys, who shook his hand and went back to their tables.
He stood up, dazed, and he hugged her, and the crowd applauded. Someone handed
him a big canvas bag filled with lovely parting gifts.
“Did you think I wasn’t going to choose you?” she asked, as she nudged him into a slow sway to the music that someone had turned on. “You have the weirdest look on your face.”
His body heaved a sigh of pleasure when she plastered her curves against him. “I just… I shouldn’t have said that last stuff. I kind of forgot to play the game. I didn’t mean to sound like Dougie Downer.”
She giggled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, so he kissed her back. He might be a lunkhead but he wasn’t a complete moron. She tasted like chocolate and spice, and he lost himself in the slide of his lips against hers.
Her arms slid around his waist, and he felt her lean into him. His cock began to harden, straining against the leather. Her belly brushed him, but not quite enough, so he put his hands on her hips and pulled her in even closer. Still not enough, but they were in public.
Besides. There would be talking now.
He let himself enjoy the slight movement of her body against his while he waited. He didn’t have to wait long.
“So. You were married.”
He sighed, but his dick wasn’t giving up, so he continued to hold her. Was it weird that he should be so turned on while talking about this? The way his heart was beating, he suspected he could share his worst Insidious/Saw nightmares with Kellie and still be hard. So yeah, his marriage. “For about fifteen minutes.”
“And?”
“Before we got married, I told her what I wanted to do—the bikes—but she thought I’d change my mind and get a real job after we got married. I didn’t change my mind, so Rachel changed hers.”
“I’m sorry,” Kellie said, and he knew she meant it. She got him, which was crazy, after such a short time.
Looking down at the woman in his arms, dancing to Barry Manilow in a conference room of a Las Vegas hotel, while dressed in pants that were about to ensure that he would never, ever have children, Quinn made a mental note to thank Rachel when he next saw her. “I’m not sorry. She’s happier now, and I’m doing what I want to be doing.” Would she get that he meant that literally?
Accidentally in Love With the Biker (What Happens in Vegas) Page 6