by Erika Wilde
Serena arched a dubious brow. “My birthday isn’t for another four months.”
“Eh, it’s all a matter of semantics,” Chelsea refuted with a shrug. “It’s a gift that Dylan wanted to give to you, so just embrace it instead of being so resistant.”
Serena exhaled a deep breath and forced her stiff shoulders to relax. On one hand, she was touched that Dylan wanted to do something so sweet, but there was that part of her that thought about his ex-girlfriend, Brandy, and how she’d taken advantage of what was in Dylan’s bank account to offset the fact that he hadn’t given her the emotional attention she’d craved. Serena wasn’t that kind of girl, and never would be, but it was also difficult for her to accept such a luxurious, expensive gift for no reason at all—because she certainly didn’t believe his excuse about buying it for her birthday.
Chelsea put her hand on Serena’s arm, bringing her back to their conversation. “I say you wear the outfit and enjoy the sexy, confident way it makes you feel. You deserve that after . . . well, the whole debacle with Ashton,” she said with a cringe, since she’d been partially responsible for introducing her to the guy. “Let’s meet Dylan and Eric for dinner, then go to the nightclub and live it up for the evening, because I can guarantee that one look and guys are going to flock to you. And even better, you can show Dylan what he’s missing out on.”
Serena laughed derisively at that, because Chelsea knew all about her unrequited love for Dylan. “You can’t miss what you’ve never wanted,” she said of his platonic feelings for her.
A knowing smile curved Chelsea’s lips. “Trust me. He’s a guy with a dick. And best friend zone or not, he’s going to notice your perky boobs and firm ass in that dress. He’d have to be dead or impotent not to, and I really don’t think he’s either,” she teased.
“Whatever.” Serena waved a hand between them, dismissing that possibility when she’d never seen Dylan look at her with anything more than affection. She just didn’t inspire desire, lust, or passion when it came to him . . . except in her own fantasies.
“Okay, you win,” she said, because she clearly wasn’t going to get the upper hand in this difference of opinion. “I’ll wear the outfit and solemnly swear that I’ll have a good time while doing it.”
Chelsea beamed triumphantly. “I knew you’d see things my way. Now let’s head back to the hotel and enjoy a few spa treatments before we meet the boys for dinner.”
5
“Damn, I could get used to this VIP treatment.”
Dylan had to agree with Eric as he leaned back in his leather chair and glanced out the floor-to-ceiling window next to him that offered a spectacular view of the Las Vegas strip. The two of them had just been seated in a private area of the five-star restaurant located on the fortieth floor of the Sapphire Casino and Hotel, where an expensive bottle of champagne was already chilling in a silver ice bucket—to celebrate the contract he’d just signed with the company, the hostess informed him before leaving them with their menus.
His meeting with the marketing manager had gone exceptionally well, and Dylan was excited to get back to San Diego, work out the last of the glitches on the Boyfriend Experience app that was frustrating the hell out of him, while starting on the framework for the Sapphire Casino and Hotel app, which was most likely going to take a few months to complete since it was such a large and intricate job.
As they waited for Serena and Chelsea to arrive, Dylan returned his gaze to Eric, trying once again to persuade him to be a guinea pig for his current project. “So, what’s it going to take to convince you to be one of the beta testers for the Boyfriend Experience? I really need someone I trust giving me reliable feedback on the app before it’s released to the public, and since you’re single and available, you’re the perfect guy for the job.”
“How about a million dollars?” Eric said, his tone completely serious before his face broke out with a grin. “Oh, wait, I don’t need the money, or anything else for that matter. I’m telling you, there is no bribe large enough that would entice me to sign on to a dating app when I do just fine on my own.”
“It’s not a normal social app like Bumble or Tinder,” he corrected Eric, and not for the first time. “It’s not about hooking up and getting laid, but rather standing in as boyfriend material for a woman who needs a short-term date.”
“No sex?” Eric shook his head, as if the concept was foreign to him. “Then what’s the point? Why would I want to risk ending up with some fatal attraction kind of date, with no guaranteed payout?”
“Okay, fine,” Dylan said, realizing that Eric wasn’t going to give in or agree. “But trust me, this app is going to be huge once it launches.”
“Yeah, okay . . .” Eric’s voice trailed off as his gaze seemed to focus on something over Dylan’s shoulder. “Jesus Christ. I think we’re looking at double trouble coming right at us.”
Dylan turned his head to see what Eric was talking about and felt his mouth go dry at the sight of Serena and Chelsea being led their way by the hostess. But it was Serena who held his full, riveted attention, because holy shit, she looked like a certified goddess in a pale gold, shimmering dress that outlined her centerfold curves. Lush breasts. Nipped-in waist and the flare of her hips. And long, slender legs that ended in a pair of four-inch heels with straps that wrapped provocatively around her ankles.
She’d worn her hair down in soft waves that fell over her bare shoulders, with the ends teasing the upper swells of her firm breasts. Her makeup was more dramatic and smoky hued than her normally fresh-faced look, her chest and arms dusted with the tiniest flecks of gold, and there was a sultry confidence to her walk that made his dick sit up and take notice.
Eric jabbed him in the side with his elbow, knocking Dylan out of his stupor. “You might want to pick up your jaw off the floor before the girls get to the table. It’s not polite to drool in public.”
Dylan snapped his mouth shut, but the heated buzz of awareness sluicing through his veins wasn’t so easy diverted. It just kept heading inappropriately south until the front of his pants felt way too tight. Jesus, keeping his attraction to Serena concealed on a regular basis was difficult enough, but this bombshell had his hormones flipping into overdrive.
“Look out, gentlemen,” Chelsea said with flair as the two of them arrived. “I convinced Serena to embrace her wild side tonight.”
The girls sat down, with Chelsea taking the chair next to Eric and Serena settling into the one next to him as the hostess placed menus in front of them, then left them alone. The scent of whatever perfume Serena was wearing seduced his senses further, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes on her beautiful face, instead of the creamy swells of her breasts.
He tried hard not to acknowledge the fact that this version of his best friend had him more than a little hot and bothered. “Serena doesn’t have a wild side that I know of.” Okay, yeah, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say, because he didn’t care for the daring arch of her brow as she met his gaze.
“Are you insinuating that I’m boring?”
Yep. There was a definite challenge in that question. “Not boring, per se. Just . . . conservative. That dress is indecent compared to anything I’ve ever seen you wear.” So much so that he had to resist the urge to take off his jacket and cover her up with it so no other guy had the chance to ogle her. He was sure this was his punishment for giving Chelsea free rein with his credit card to buy an outfit for Serena.
Amusement shifted across her face. “Indecent? Really?”
“Do not answer that, bro,” Eric cut in quickly, laughter in his voice. “Trust me, it’s a trap. There is no right answer, and you’re going to dig yourself deeper than you already are.”
Dylan chose to ignore Eric. “You look . . . beautiful,” he said instead, hoping that would diffuse the situation, but instead Serena just rolled her eyes as if he’d insulted her.
Eric groaned. “From indecent to beautiful?” he echoed incredulously. “Jesus Christ, Dyl
an. You’re giving Serena whiplash and those are not the compliments these ladies are waiting for.” He glanced from Serena to Chelsea, a charming smile curving his lips. “Let me set the two of you straight since this idiot doesn’t know how to flatter a woman. You both look fucking hot and sexy.”
Both girls beamed as though Eric had bestowed riches upon them. “Thank you,” they said at the same time.
Much to Dylan’s relief, their waiter arrived, shifting the conversation to the evening’s specials while he opened the champagne and filled everyone’s glasses with the bubbly wine. Once everyone placed their orders and the other man was gone, Serena glanced at him and picked up her flute.
“So, do we have something to celebrate tonight?” she asked curiously, her peach-hued lips glossy and enticing in the dim lighting. “Like a signed contract?”
“Yes, we do.” They all lifted their glasses and toasted to his success, and after he gave the girls the key details of the meeting, Chelsea started chatting with Eric . . . or rather continued flirting with him, which had started at the airport this morning.
Serena turned her attention to him, her eyes soft and appreciative. “Thank you for buying me the dress and shoes today, even if you weren’t there at the store to approve of the purchase.”
There was a wry note to her voice, and he knew she was referring back to his stupid indecent remark, which he suddenly wanted to make up for. “I really do approve. The dress looks amazing on you.”
Her bright, happy smile was like pure sunshine. “Thank you.” She self-consciously touched her fingers to her chest and drew them down to where her cleavage started. “You know, this dress isn’t normally me, or anything close to what I’d buy for myself.”
“I know.” Which was why the whole package was so fucking sexy and had him feeling possessive and protective and all out of sorts. “But I’m glad you spoiled yourself.” Which was something she rarely ever did.
“Well, you really shouldn’t have,” she said, her tone sincere.
“Why not?” he asked, watching her take a drink of her champagne, then lick a droplet from her bottom lip that made him thirsty as hell for the same taste.
“Because it was a lot of money.”
“I know,” he said with a laugh. “I got the credit card alert text on my phone when the charge went through.”
She winced, as if the thought of the cost physically hurt her. “I’m so sorry.”
“I swear I didn’t say that to make you feel bad.” God, what the fuck was wrong with him and his choice of words tonight? Trying to make up for being an ass, he reached out and placed his hand over hers on the table, noticing the way her lips parted and her eyes went soft at his touch. “You’re worth it, Serena.” He meant it. Besides, the outfit had barely put a dent in his bank account.
A light frown furrowed her brows. “I don’t ever want you to feel that I’m taking advantage of you, or your money . . . like Brandy did.”
He understood her concern because that whole situation had put a sour taste in his mouth when it came to dating women, but Serena was the last person who’d ever use him for his financial status, let alone want tangible things from him because he now had more money that he knew what to do with.
“The difference is, I want to spoil you,” he said, speaking the truth, “while Brandy expected me to spend money on her because I had it.”
And admittedly, he’d indulged her because, quite frankly, Dylan now realized that he hadn’t been there for her emotionally, and it had been his way of making up for his lack of attention. But she’d taken advantage, until Serena had pointed out what, exactly, was happening and forced him to make the easy decision to end the relationship. Since then, he’d had a few other dates who’d expected him to dole out money on expensive items, which was now a huge red flag for him, and it was just easier to keep things casual from the beginning.
Their waiter arrived with their dinner orders, and as they ate the fantastic gourmet meals made by a Michelin star chef, Dylan and Serena joined in on the debate that Chelsea and Eric were in the middle of having over the latest episode of Survivor and the contestant who had been eliminated.
Over an hour later, with their stomachs full and the bottle of champagne consumed, they headed out of the restaurant, with Chelsea and Serena walking ahead of him and Eric, who was blatantly staring at Chelsea’s ass, while Dylan tried not to do the same with Serena. He’d already looked at her breasts so many times tonight that he knew he was going to hell for all the impure thoughts he’d had of her in that dress, and out of it, during dinner.
“It’s too early to go to the nightclub,” Chelsea said, checking the time on her phone. “Things don’t really get started until after ten, so how about we head down to the casino and do some gambling for a while?”
They all agreed, and a few minutes later, Chelsea and Eric were veering off toward the poker tables, while Serena followed him to the roulette table, which was his preferred method of gambling. With only a few people currently playing, Dylan easily found a spot at the table.
“I’ll watch and cheer you on,” Serena said, standing a bit off to the side and out of the way.
“No, you’re going to play, too,” he insisted, and as she opened her mouth to say that she didn’t want to risk losing her money, he gave her a pointed look. “I’m going to spot you a hundred, and don’t argue with me. You’re here this weekend to have fun, and you can’t go to Vegas and not gamble.”
She bit her bottom lip uncertainly, though he could see she really wanted to play, too. “What if I lose all of it?”
He refrained from rolling his eyes, because he knew her worry was real, and came up with the best compromise he could at the spur of the moment. “Then you owe me a week of home-cooked meals.” It was a fair trade considering his cooking skills were crap.
She thought about his suggestion for a moment. “Okay, deal,” she said, and he was pretty sure that the champagne from dinner was partially responsible for making her more agreeable.
Excited now, she came up beside him while he pulled two one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and put them on the table for the attendant to exchange into casino chips. While the croupier started the roulette wheel and spun the silver ball, the few people at the table started placing their bets. Dylan was methodical in his approach, while Serena didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason as to where she put her chips. But in the long run, it didn’t seem to matter because she was lady luck, while he was shit out of luck. As her pile of chips grew, his quickly depleted until he had to toss another hundred on the table.
Because of Serena’s excitement and cheering, she drew other gamblers to the table, one of whom was a guy who parked himself on the other side of her to play. Then the two of them started chatting and laughing, and Dylan clenched his jaw, hating the way Serena smiled at him and the interested way the guy looked at her. When Dylan caught the other man’s gaze drifting down to her cleavage, he had to forcibly tamp down the irritation—okay, fine, jealousy—that was bubbling up inside him.
A few plays later, while the roulette wheel was spinning, Serena reached out to put her chips on the double zeros but couldn’t quite reach. Before Dylan could help, the too friendly guy took her bet and placed it for her. Go figure, she was the only person who won that round based on her random wager. As Serena clapped enthusiastically, the stranger not-so-innocently placed his hand on her bare back, then slid his palm down to the base of her spine, and Dylan blew a fucking gasket.
“Mind getting your hand off of her ass,” he snapped, meeting the other man’s startled gaze with what he knew was a pissed-off glare. “She’s with me tonight.” Oh, shit, he hadn’t meant for that last part to slip out.
Serena’s gaze swiveled around to his, wide with shock.
The guy immediately lifted both of his hands in the air, his expression legitimately contrite. “Sorry, man. I didn’t know.” He picked up his remaining chips and went to a nearby craps table.
“Ready
to cash out?” Dylan said gruffly, before she could call him out on what a jackass he’d just been, which was beginning to become the norm for him tonight, all because of the goddamn attention-grabbing dress and fuck-me heels that had men salivating over her.
Much to his relief, she let it go and picked up her winnings. “Yeah, sure.”
They walked to the cashier cage and exchanged their chips into dollar bills. Serena collected her proceeds and turned to him with a huge smile.
“Oh my God, I almost doubled the money you gave me!”
She returned the hundred he’d lent her, and even though he didn’t want it back, Dylan didn’t argue because he knew it would be pointless. He was actually bummed that she’d won, because he’d been really looking forward to a week of home-cooked meals.
They started toward the poker tables, where Chelsea and Eric were still playing, and Serena glanced at him with a sly smile.
“So, I’m with you for the night, hmm?” she teased, bringing up his possessive, out-of-character behavior back at the roulette table.
He smirked and tried to make light of the situation. “Yep. Bought and paid for . . . Well, the outfit, anyway.” When both of her brows raised at his sexist comment, he groaned at the fact that he’d just put both feet in his mouth this time. Not only that, but he was certain he was giving her mixed signals about his attraction to her.
She stopped in between two rows of slot machines and faced him, her gaze narrowed slightly. “So, are you saying the outfit comes with a price, which is my attention for the night?”
He flashed a charming, dimpled grin because this conversation was not going in a positive direction and he was desperate to smooth things over and get things back on track. “Since when is spending the evening with your best friend a hardship?”