What Happens in Vegas (Girls Weekend Away)

by Shana Gray

  Before Bonni knew it, money was on the bar. “Wow, guys, talk about a nonconfidence vote.”

  Chapter Four

  After an afternoon of shopping (and some napping—stupid jet-lag!), Bonni stood under the flattering lights in the envy-inducing bathroom off her private bedroom. The girls insisted she have the master bedroom with the king-sized bed and en suite bathroom, since this was all her doing. They didn’t have to pressure her too hard, but it did make her feel a tad uncomfortable.

  Showered and standing in her bra and panties, both bought today, Bonni was pleasantly pleased at her reflection. Being on the job meant daily gym visits, tough workouts, and a body that was fit and lean. She nodded, glad the hard work had paid off.

  But her hair!

  “Fuck, what a mess.”

  She made a face and scrubbed her fingers through her disheveled locks, newly trimmed just that afternoon to hang just to her shoulders, her bangs skimming her brows. She had product that would at least calm the strands. Digging through her bag, she squirted some cinnamon-scented oil into her palm and rubbed it through the dampness. She left it to dry naturally and shook her head a bit to encourage the straight locks to fluff up.

  Bonni rummaged through her little makeup bag, hoping everything was still usable and hadn’t dried up. To her satisfaction, she managed to apply eye makeup and not look like a raccoon.

  “Not bad,” she told her reflection in the mirror. “Oh, where did I put that lipstick?” She’d taken the saleswoman’s advice and bought a new deep-red lipstick that complemented the dress she had treated herself to.

  She leaned toward the mirror and carefully applied the guaranteed-twenty-four-hour color.

  Done, she stepped back and scrutinized herself. The slinky little black dress the girls had talked her into looked pretty damn good. She’d spent a small fortune on it and some shoes—another uncharacteristic impulse, but, hey, you only live once, right? And tonight was a celebration. They’d already had a scrumptious late lunch, and now it was time to live it up. She swung her hips and liked how the beaded, flared skirt swung at mid-thigh.

  “When you’re sexy and you know it,” Bonni crooned softly, then placed her palms on her cheeks when they heated up. She was feeling a little silly and, you know what? She was liking the silly.

  She pointed her foot and checked out her shoes. The heels were ridiculously high, but she loved them. They matched the dress perfectly. Being a cop didn’t lend itself to many occasions where she could strut her stuff. Maybe she’d have to add a few pairs of heels to the scads of sneakers, boots, and work shoes she already owned.

  “I can chase down a runner, I’m going to make sure I don’t fall off these heels.” Bonni paced a little in the bathroom, her heels making a satisfying clicking sound, and she only wobbled once.

  Grabbing the little sparkly clutch (yet another impulse buy), she shoved in a few items she might need and slid the delicate beaded chain over her shoulder. Now to face her biggest critics.

  “Time to get this show on the road,” she told her reflection.

  Bonni took a deep breath and pulled the door open.

  The girls were laughing and carrying on in the other room. There was a pop, followed by more laughter.

  “Quickly, pour it, don’t spill a drop!” she heard Celia say in the living room.

  “What are you guys up to in here?” Bonni asked, as she entered the central living area. She caught her breath at the spectacular sunset she could see through the windows.

  “Champagne!” Celia crowed.

  “Holy shit. What happened to you?” Fredi blurted out.

  “What’s the matter?” Bonni asked. “Is something wrong? You guys said it looked good in the store.” She glanced down at her dress.

  “No, no,” Fredi assured her. “You look fabulous. It’s just I’ve never seen you so wonderfully dressed up before. I think I may have to make you model some of my wedding dresses.”

  Bonni tipped her head to the side and stuck a hand on her hip. “Seriously? Me, a model for wedding dresses? When the possibility of me getting married is as remote as—”

  “You winning a hundred grand in Las Vegas?” Ava quipped, and Bonni shot her a look. Ava blew her a kiss.

  “I highly doubt there’s a wedding in my future. My job isn’t the best for raising a family or having a significant other. Plus, I’m far too independent and complicated.”

  “True, dat,” Fredi said, and then ducked when Bonni reached out to swat her.

  “Never say never,” Ava argued.

  “Celia! Back me up here!” Bonni was looking for someone to take her side.

  Celia had been uncharacteristically quiet up until now. “Look,” she said, “No one’s saying you’re going to get married tonight—”

  “We would never let you have a drunken elopement, like in a romance novel,” Ava stated, shaking her head.

  Fredi regarded Ava for a beat before continuing, “But, come on, Bonni, you don’t know what tomorrow will bring.” Bonni was a little shocked by Fredi’s uncharacteristic philosophical musing.

  “Matrimonial bliss aside,” Celia said with a nod, eyeing Bonni up and down. “You’re definitely gonna get some tonight. Va-va-vroom!”

  Bonni furrowed her brows. “Maybe I’d better change then. I want to have a good time with you guys, not spend the whole night fighting off drunken married tourists looking for a vacation fling.”

  Ava jumped up and put her arm around her. “Hey, remember what you said in the store. Turn the cop brain off and stop being so cynical, dammit! You look fantastic. We all do.”

  Celia stood up and did a little pirouette in the middle of the living room. “I do look pretty damn hot. Maybe I’ll take a page from Bon-Bon’s book and cut loose, too, look for a Mr. Right Now.”

  “Oh Lord, this is the Kappa Sigma Bachelor Auction all over again.” Fredi rolled her eyes.

  “It was not my fault the twins didn’t know how to share,” Celia defended.

  Fredi looked at her watch. “What time is the limo coming? ’Cause speaking of sharing, we should go share our sexiness with the world.”

  “Not before we drink some of that champagne,” Bonni said. “It’ll only go flat before we get back and we still have a few minutes. Bottoms up, ladies.”

  She poured them each a glass and they clinked them together.

  Fredi shivered. “I’ve never been able to get used to champagne. But if we’re starting off like this, who’s got the bail money?”

  Everyone looked at Bonni.

  She nodded her head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve got my badge. Don’t worry.” She pulled it from her clutch and held it up before tucking it back inside. “But no gun. I left that locked up at home.”

  Celia craned her neck and commented, “I don’t see any cuffs in there.”

  Bonni gave her a withering look while Ava and Fredi let out a whoop.

  After a few more drinks the girls rode the elevator down and climbed into the waiting limo. They were flying high by the time they arrived at the club. The bouncers checked their names against their lists before letting them through the velvet ropes.

  “Wow, VIP service or what?” Ava gushed.

  “Oh my God, this place is fantastic,” Celia said, leading the way, her hips swaying to the thumping beat. “We’re gonna have some fuuunn.”

  “The concierge assured me this is the It place right now. We might even see a celebrity or two. There should be a table reserved for us in the VIP section, with bottle service.”

  Ava was gawking at everything. Bonni took her hand and led her through the crowd. “Don’t trip,” she instructed.

  “Stunning,” Ava said. “The dance floor is so packed!”

  Bonni looked around. She felt a little exposed, in this dress, among hordes of people, and without her gun. Of course, if she had it, there’d be nowhere to put it. Bonni rolled her shoulders.

  Go with the flow.

  “Ladies, your table.” The hostess gestured to
a raised seating area. They looked at each other and giggled.

  “You first, Bonni. Since this is your winning night.” Fredi stood aside.

  Bonni climbed the clear steps, lit with internal mini-lights, to a beautiful spot set up like a private living room with comfortable couches, throw pillows, and low tables. Three of the walls were strung with a zillion little beads that shimmered and shifted in the air, reflecting prisms of light. It was totally magical. Like a fairyland. The girls settled in after Fredi had slipped the hostess a tip. The round center table had a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket.

  Bonni said, “This must be the night of champagne, but I didn’t order ahead.”

  Ava leaned forward and plucked an envelope from underneath the bucket. “It’s addressed to you, Bonni.” She handed it to her friend.

  Celia clapped her hands. “You have a secret admirer already!”

  “I do not!” Bonni pulled the card out of the envelope. “A little something to help you enjoy your first night in Las Vegas. Gladiators Management.”

  “Wow.” Celia said. “Money sure begets money.”

  “That’s unbelievable,” Ava commented.

  “Why couldn’t they give us a bottle of Jack Daniels?” Fredi pouted.

  “I’ll get you a bottle of Jack Daniels, or whatever you’d like,” Bonni told her. “The Southerner in you is showing,” she teased.

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with Jack!” Fredi defended her favorite alcoholic beverage.

  Luckily, a waitress appeared before the conversation could turn heated. Fredi was very protective of her Jack. “Good evening, ladies. What can I get for you?”

  “I think my friend would prefer Jack Daniels instead of the champagne. Ava, Celia, do you want the champagne, or something different?” Bonni wanted to make sure her friends had what they wanted. Nothing but the best for her besties.

  “Why don’t we keep the champagne for later? I’d like to get a cocktail—is there a house specialty?” Ava inquired.

  Celia perused the bottle menu, making little gasping noises at some of the prices. “Ya know what? I’m going to get a cocktail, too.”

  After a few more minutes of discussion, Bonni opted to help Fredi demolish the Jack and the waitress left to fill their orders. Bonni settled into her comfortable chair. She could definitely get used to this. Her job and her temperament didn’t lend itself to gambling, but the thrill of getting lucky was a seductive one.

  “The music’s amazing,” she shouted, loving how the throbbing music crept into her blood.

  Ava nodded. She was the super-ladylike one. But when music was playing she could be an animal. She jumped up, reaching for Bonni’s hand. “Come on, let’s go dance. This is my favorite song.”

  Bonni stood. “Every song is your favorite song, Ava. You should have been a professional dancer, you know that.”

  “Things in life take you down different paths than the one you started out on.”

  Moments later they were out in the crowd on the dance floor, grooving to the music and having the time of their life. Bonni let the music, and her mild buzz, smother her feelings of self-consciousness.

  Not only did she feel good, she looked good, too. Let them look. Now she was glad she’d splurged on her dress and shoes. She ran her hands up her sides, loving the way the dress rode over her flesh, then pushed her fingers into her hair so it swung about her shoulders.

  A hit song from a popular movie soundtrack came on and Fredi and Celia joined them on the floor, leaving the VIP security to watch over their stuff. They strutted to the song, doing the risqué moves that were in the music video. Shaking their butts and giving a playful slap at the precise moment. Laughing and having a ball.

  Bonni twirled with her hands up over her head, feeling like a sexy and confident woman She was having a fabulous time. So were her friends. What more could she ask for?

  Chapter Five

  Quinn was doing his usual ritual for the night before a tournament began: sitting at the bar and chilling with a drink. One of the highest-payout poker tournaments started tomorrow. And he planned to win it. His plane had landed a couple of hours ago and he’d headed straight to his favorite club to get himself into the Vegas vibe. He was here to try and woo Lady Luck. Again. She was an elusive bitch and, when she was generous, it was good, but he also knew she could be equally tight-fisted.

  Quinn gazed around the room, taking in the crowd. It was going on 11 p.m., and he knew he needed to get some rest, but he had tossed back his Scotch and was now ready for a second. He was far too wound up to settle down just yet.

  The dance floor was packed, and no one intrigued him enough to go and cut in. Quinn was one of those rare male specimens who actually liked to dance. His mother had made sure he and his brother knew their way around the dance floor. He hadn’t enjoyed it much as a kid, but he’d appreciated it when he discovered girls and learned that women loved a man who could dance. He tapped the bar with his fingers, indicating that he wanted another drink.

  They knew him here. The barman placed a glass in front of him.

  “Thanks, man.” Quinn wasn’t in a talkative mood.

  “You in the tournament?” the bartender asked him.

  Quinn nodded. “Yep.”

  “I heard it’s pretty tough this time.” The bartender was chatty tonight.

  Quinn shrugged his shoulders. “They’re all tough.” He sipped his drink and turned back to the crowd.

  A familiar song came on. One that women seemed to love and which usually led to a slew of drunk chicks trying to move seductively in sky-high heels. This ought to be interesting.

  He sat back and watched the crowd. Then the sea of people parted and he saw her. Quinn froze, the glass to his lips. She was in the perfect position on the dance floor. A spotlight bathed her in its beam, the beads on her dress reflecting the light, shimmering, and giving her a soft glow. The thin straps clung to her shoulders and the sheath hugged her lean curves, ending high on her thighs. She had fantastic legs. He put the glass down and swallowed. Her skin was pale and a complete contrast to her dark hair.

  Quinn was mesmerized. Lord, he wanted to unwrap and discover everything about her. The sensation of the silky dress beneath his hands, and the heat of her body… She was magnificent.

  Quinn stood.

  It appeared she was with friends. They were an attractive group of women and he was surprised no men had claimed them yet. Of the four of them, though, she was the one who had caught his eye. Quinn smiled.

  The inherent grace in her dance moves, even as she nearly clocked her blonde friend in the eye with an enthusiastic hand wave, told him all he needed to know. She would be just as sensual underneath him. In his bed. He preferred not to pick up women the night before a tournament, as he didn’t want any distractions in the morning, but she intrigued him and he needed to meet her.

  After about fifteen minutes the group of women bounced off the dance floor and up to their table. To have a table like that in a club like this meant there was cash flow. He watched as his brunette beauty slipped a twenty to the security guy. If she had money, she wouldn’t be after his.

  “Those women”—Quinn leaned sideways toward the bar and pointed—“what are they drinking?”

  “I can find out for you, Mr. Bryant.”

  Quinn sat back on his stool and kept his eye on the women. He didn’t want to lose track of them if they began to get ready to leave before he could play his hand.

  “Mr. Bryant, they’re drinking house specialties and they ordered a bottle of Jack Daniels.”

  “Okay, send them over a round of the cocktails.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Nursing his second drink, Quinn saw the waitress take the tray of drinks. Leaving his glass and a sizeable tip on the bar, he moved to their table, but hung back until they were served. The waitress spoke and the woman he was interested in glanced around. He caught his breath when they made eye contact. Her eye color was hard to determine in the shifting l
ight from the dance floor. But her eyes were expressive, almost a smoky gray, and he was snagged by them in a way he hadn’t thought possible. It was the first time he’d ever been rattled under the intense scrutiny of a woman and he was shocked when his heart actually did a double beat. It was like she saw right through him, past his outer shell, and deep down through the layers. But that was impossible. He never showed anything. A professional poker player needed the proverbial poker face, and he could keep emotion off his features with the best of them. She smiled and nodded. He returned the gesture. The other women all turned around to look, but he saw only her.

  Time to ante up.

  …

  Fredi said, “Looks like Bonni really does have a secret admirer.”

  “Oh my God. Bonni! I told you!” Ava whispered.

  “Uhm, is it me, or did the sexual tension up in here suddenly get thick?” Celia declared.

  “We’re all going to need oxygen soon,” Fredi replied. “Come on, Bonni, invite him up.”

  Bonni barely heard her friends talking. She was pinned to the spot by this man’s stare. No one had ever looked at her like that before and it was paralyzing, in a wonderfully erotic way. Her breaths came more shallowly. Her heart raced, pumping her blood heavy and hot through her veins. Holy, this man gave her all the sensual feels. She forced herself to breathe, but she still couldn’t move a muscle.

  Bonni willed her body to behave and lifted her drink, sipping and keeping her gaze glued to his over the rim of the glass. It gave her a few moments to gather her thoughts, make a quick plan and decide to do a little harmless flirting. Flirting never hurt anybody, right? This sort of thing happened all the time in Vegas. Probably nothing would come of it.

  He walked to the stairs, and Bonni watched him. He moved fluidly, with a leashed power that she could almost feel. Suddenly nervous, Bonni gulped the rest of her drink.

  “Bonni!” Celia was nearly bouncing on her toes as she blurted out, “He’s coming. He’s coming.”

  “I see that, don’t need a play-by-play. Be quiet. I’m nervous enough.” Bonni swallowed and did her best to keep her composure, placing the glass on a low table. She wanted her hands free. Why? She wasn’t entirely sure yet.