Her 24-Hour Protector

by Loreth Anne White

  During the limo ride Jenna had plied him with top Scotch en route to one of the most opulent establishments in a city already renowned for excess. More cocktails awaited at the restaurant, which she’d reserved solely for the two of them—an octagonal, glassed-in affair that revolved slowly over the Vegas skyline. Candles shimmered in crystal holders on every table, a silvery sheet of water cascaded over a rock feature into a pool of lilies in the center of the room, while staff, dressed in black and white, stood discreetly in the shadows. And sitting at a baby grand, tinkling ivories for them alone, was a renowned singer from New Orleans with husky jazz vocals to rival the best of Nina Simone.

  Lex would bet his last red casino chip that Jenna’s choice of music was intentional. Somehow she’d known he loved jazz.

  That meant she knew way too much about him.

  “I hear you’ve been in town nine months now, Lex, and that you put in for the transfer to the Vegas field office from your post in Washington.”

  Definitely too much.

  Jenna smiled the smile of a woman who knew exactly what wattage she generated. She was dressed in pure, virginal white and looked anything but virginal. Her blouse was low-cut, sheer. Her palazzo pants were silky. She wore them over impossibly high strappy gold sandals, and Lex had been unable to stop himself from fixating on the way the fabric had swished around her long legs when she walked. Or was that sashayed? Jenna didn’t do anything ordinary like “walk.”

  In contrast to the white silk, her butter-smooth skin was tanned a soft biscuit-brown, and her limbs were taut—a woman with time for the pool and the gym. She looked vibrant, athletic, radiantly alive. And somehow sophisticated at the same time. Pure privileged casino princess. And way out of his league. Hell, she was out of his freaking hemisphere.

  Her eyes glinted with some secret amusement as she waited for him to answer. Lex wondered if it was his obvious discomfort that she found so entertaining. “And you got this information from who?” he said guardedly.

  She swiveled the stem of the crystal glass. “Let’s just say I mounted a little covert investigation of my own.” Her eyes slanted up. “I learned quite a few things about you, agent.”

  “Including the fact I like jazz?”

  “Maybe.” She smiled.

  “Cassie Mills? Did she wheedle it out of my partner, Perez, at the gym?”

  “Perhaps.” She took a slow sip of champagne, eyes fixed on his with a directness that made him think of sex. “Is that why the feds paid Cassie a visit today?”

  He leaned forward, irritation beginning to lance dangerously through the lust burning a hot and persistent coal into his gut. “How about we just cut to the chase, Jenna? Are you trying to compromise the investigation? Is that what the auction stunt was about?”

  Maybe he’d just blown his chance at getting anything out of princess here, but he’d had his fill. Spending any more time with Jenna Rothchild was going to be real bad for his health. And quite possibly his job. Because no matter what Quinn had ordered, Lex could see himself taking the fall if this so-called “under the covers” operation—a farce if he ever saw one—went downhill. And because this murder and this Vegas family was so high-profile, FBI top brass would need to make an example of him. He could smell it all from a mile away.

  And it stunk.

  She cast her eyes down, tracing her fingertips slowly, seductively along the silver knife alongside her plate. Lex felt his body go hot.

  “No, Lex,” she said finally. “I did not set you up to mess with the investigation.” She lifted her eyes. “I’ll concede, though, that I did know you were the lead in the investigation, but when I glimpsed you at Natalie’s wedding and saw your photo in the paper, I also knew you’d be the star of my bachelor auction, if I could get you. I also figured it would be a tough sell to get you to play because of your involvement with the case, so I kept my name out of it and sent Cassie to talk to Rita instead. We learned you had a thing for the Nevada Orphans Fund, so I swung the entire event around you. And then, when I saw you up on that stage, half-naked and getting all hot under your tie, well—” she paused, watching him intently “—I just had to have you for myself.” She placed her cool hand over his. “Does that make you angry, Special Agent Duncan?”

  Lex tried not to flush. Crap, he didn’t even know where to look for a moment. She was flat out, shamelessly, seducing him. Or mocking him.

  How far did she really want to go? He glanced down at her hand, her slender fingers splaying slowly over his, and perspiration prickled under his dress shirt. The idea he could have sex, tonight, with this intensely gorgeous young heiress—if he so chose—lodged hot and fast and sharp in his very male mind. And Lex knew he wasn’t going to get the image out of his head any time soon. His gut turned molten, and his brain felt thick. Quinn’s words crawled into his mind.

  The legal stuff will be in the clear as long as you keep your hands off her.

  Yeah, sex was the last thing he needed.

  “Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing, Rothchild, but I’m not buying the fact you just felt like raising money for an arbitrary charity, for fun.”

  She made a moue. “You are angry.” She feathered the back of his hand softly with her long red nails. “But you do look rather cute when you’re worked up.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I knew there was a fire buried somewhere inside that buttoned-up suit of yours.” She slipped her manicured nails gently between his fingers as she spoke.

  Heat arrowed straight to his groin. “I don’t like being played, Jenna,” he said, his voice thick. “You know what I think? The real reason behind this whole auction gig is to have my case thrown out of court down the road, when Rothchild lawyers start pointing out I was having a relationship with the victim’s sister. Maybe you want to see my career tank right along with the case, too?”

  Her eyes flared.

  He leaned forward. “And what I want, is to know why? What’s in it for you, Jenna Rothchild? Is it because you’re trying to hide some personal involvement in Candace’s murder by obfuscating things like this? Because this is not some party trick, some amusing distraction for a bored young socialite. This is serious. This, Jenna, is life and death, because there’s still a killer out there.” He paused. “One who could very well strike again.”

  Her eyes flickered sharply, and a blush started to rise up her neck. Lex went for the gap. “Do you not want to find your sister’s killer, Jenna? Do you not want a murderer punished?”

  She withdrew her hand, glanced away for a moment. “I’m not trying to hide anything,” she said very quietly. “Of course I want Candace’s killer brought to justice.”

  Lex zeroed in on the crack forming in her facade. “What is it with you people anyway?”

  Her eyes shot back to him. “What do you mean ‘you people’?”

  “You people who live in this rarefied Vegas air,” he said with a wave of his hand, indicating the extravagance of the empty restaurant. “You people have none of the touchstones normal, everyday folk do. You live in your daddy’s casino castle, Jenna, playing with your glittery toys, fancy parties, little dogs. You’re immune to the world. To reality. I don’t think Candace’s death means a whole lot to you.”

  Jenna’s cheeks went red, his comments cutting to the quick and infuriating her. Lex clearly didn’t like a single thing about her or her family. And quite honestly, when her father had asked her to come up with the auction shenanigan, Jenna hadn’t thought of the ripple effects—the very real and dark implications down the road. Like having Lex’s case thrown out of court and a killer walking free because of her. Or him losing his job.

  Jenna couldn’t help wondering what her dad had been thinking when he persuaded her to mess with Lex Duncan. Harold was renowned for his sharklike business acumen—he used people. God, was her own father using her, too? And why wouldn’t he come clean about the provenance of that damn ring?

  Jenna was convinced he wasn’t telling her everyth
ing he knew about the history of that stone.

  She suddenly felt scared and small. And stupid.

  Like she used to as a kid.

  Lex was right—she didn’t have normal touchstones. She’d never had them. She’d been born into a family that always led her to believe the same rules that applied to everyone else did not apply to them. They were the Rothchilds, special, above it all.

  “Wow, you really do have a problem with my family.” She reached for her glass, took a deep sip of champagne, trying to hide her hurt. She’d be damned if she was going to let him see how badly he’d rattled her.

  Guilt pinged through Lex.

  He was lashing out at Jenna, making it personal, mostly because he was irritated with himself for being so damn attracted to this woman. For being weak. For falling under her bewitching spell.

  He moved uncomfortably in his chair and suddenly felt the hard shape of The Tears of the Quetzal in his pocket. His pulse quickened at the reminder he still had it. What the hell had possessed him to take it? He had to get it back into lockup ASAP. Never mind Jenna and her games—if he lost a piece of evidence, a rock worth millions, he’d tank his own career all by himself.

  The ring began to burn a hole into his conscience—and into his pocket—and an insane thought suddenly struck him. What if the ring had made him pocket it?

  That was absurd. He was losing it. His body temperature elevated as the urgency to get out of this place and return the darn thing wound him tighter.

  “You read me wrong, Lex,” Jenna said sweetly, feeling anything but. He’d taken a mean jab at her, below the belt and personal. And now in her mounting anger, Jenna was growing even more determined to win. Because now this went straight to the core of her self-image, her secret vulnerabilities. There was just no way she was going to accept she couldn’t seduce this man. And she sure wasn’t going to leave here empty-handed, either. She was going to get the information her daddy wanted.

  “I want Candace’s homicide solved as much as you do, Lex. But I wasn’t thinking about the investigation at all when I arranged the auction. I was thinking solely about charity, and entertainment. It’s what I do—entertain. It’s my job, and I’m good at it. And you saw what kind of money I raised.” She smiled flirtatiously. “So why can’t you just accept that and put business aside and enjoy a meal with me on behalf of your orphans?”

  His gaze held hers, and the air between them began to vibrate with hot, dark tension. Something tightened in Jenna’s stomach. Apparently he wasn’t immune to her after all. And she felt a hot rush of pleasure. It fueled her determination. Heat began to pulse low in her belly, a shimmering excitement, anticipation welling inside her as she met the intensity in his sparkling, moss-green eyes. Right now, in the candlelight, they gleamed with the same hints of color she knew existed in the facets of The Tears of the Quetzal, if you held the stone just right. A strange, overly powerful sensation, came over her. It was so bizarre, so potent, she felt dizzy. Goosebumps broke out over her arms, and her heart began racing.

  “Jenna? Are you all right?”

  “I…um, yeah. I…I’m fine.” She laughed lightly, unconvincingly. “For a second, I just felt as though…” Some kind of ghost had walked over my grave. “It was nothing. I just felt a little…dizzy. That’s all.” She blew out air, placing a hand on her chest, gathering herself. “To tell you the truth, I was thinking about The Tears of the Quetzal.”

  His brow lowered instantly, and his eyes sharpened forcefully. “What about it?”

  “I—I was wondering where you’re keeping it? Where is it now?”

  He leaned back, studying her, the pulse at his jawline throbbing. He looked suddenly edgy. Dark and dangerous. “I thought you said no business. No more games.”

  She met his gaze, unflinching. God, he really was gorgeous. Suddenly she couldn’t get the idea of sleeping with him out of her head. All she could think about was wrapping her legs around him, feeling his body against hers…inside hers. It was like she was possessed by a force beyond her control. “You know what I think, Lex,” she whispered, her voice going husky as she leaned forward, showing him her cleavage, watching his eyes flicker downward with a small hot flare of female satisfaction. “I think you really do like to play games. You’re a consummate poker player, aren’t you, Lex?”

  He forced his eyes away from her low-cut blouse, cleared his throat. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because you’re a watcher. I think you like to study people from the shadows, the sidelines, assessing weaknesses, while showing nothing of yourself. Then you suddenly take them by surprise.” She sipped from her champagne glass, and his eyes dipped down to her lips. Jenna moved her fingers lightly down the stem of the glass, slanting her eyes back to his. “I suspect you know exactly how much a man can lose by carrying emotion in his eyes.”

  “You get this on Dr. Phil? I’m a cop, Jenna. Not a poker player.”

  “Same psychological posturing, same strategy, right? Whether it’s casino chips or criminals.”

  He said nothing. Because she was right. Lex chose not to wear his heart on his sleeve, a skill honed from a very young age, right from that day in the closet. The day he saw his mother’s throat being slit. The first day of his life alone.

  Lex had come to realize that no matter what a man did in life, no matter what friends he made, no matter what women he slept with—or married—he’d always be alone. People were born alone and they died alone. Pain was suffered alone. Sure, he’d tried to convince himself otherwise. He’d gone and gotten himself hitched to a beautiful woman who’d said she loved him, tried the whole classic nuclear family thing. Been there. Done that. Didn’t work.

  It was a farce.

  Now he just tried to be there for his at-risk kids whenever he could. But inside, Lex knew that, like him, they’d always be orphans. They’d always march alone. All he was doing was keeping them marching somewhere near the right track. Just like the old sheriff from Washoe County who’d stepped in to put him back on track when he’d started to run afoul of the law. That man had shown Lex he could take back control of his life.

  Sheriff Tom McCall was the reason Lex had gone into law enforcement, a career Jenna Rothchild could end up costing him if he wasn’t careful tonight. These thoughts suddenly chilled the edge off the lust simmering inside him. Sleeping with Jenna was not worth losing his life over. Because, in truth, that’s what his job was—his life. It’s all he really had, along with his charity work. Even his friends were all tied to law enforcement one way or another.

  The food arrived, and a sommelier brought wine. They sat in awkward silence until the servers left again.

  Lex took a deep slug of what was obviously a very fine merlot, but he was more interested in the numbing effect and getting this dinner over with than the vintage. It had taken strange turns and felt oddly personal.

  Personal was not a place he cared to go.

  “You still haven’t told me what brought you back to Nevada, Lex,” Jenna said between mouthfuls.

  He stopped chewing. “Back?”

  “I know you grew up in Reno.”

  “Rita told Cassie this?”

  She nodded.

  I swear I’m going to kill Perez.

  Jenna dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “Cassie can be rather persuasive.”

  He grunted, chewing. The food was excellent, and Lex realized he was famished. “I was born in Reno,” he said, slicing into his fillet. “My mother was a Vegas native.”

  “She’s deceased, then?”

  He held her eyes for a moment. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “But I guess you know all that, too.” He took another swig of merlot.

  “I don’t,” she said, her big brown eyes softening with a genuine compassion. It made her more beautiful, and Lex had to tamp down a strange impulse to tell her this, to let her know that when she dropped the act, he actually saw something he really liked, beyond her body. “She died when I was five,” he said, a weird compuls
ion driving him to tell Jenna things he’d really had no intention of revealing. “She was working at the Sun Sands Casino in Reno at the time, as a croupier. Before that, she worked here in Vegas, at Epstein’s old place.”

  “As in Mercedes Epstein?”

  “One and the same. Frank Epstein used to own the old Frontline Casino before he razed it to make way for the Desert Lion.”

  Jenna frowned. “It was Mercedes who forced your price sky-high at the auction, you know.”

  “And why do you think she did that, Jenna?”

  “Probably to rattle the chains of the Rothchild clan—there’s an old rivalry between Frank Epstein and my dad. She likely wanted to force me to fork over top dollar for her precious orphan charity. I mean—” she flushed. “I’m sorry, Lex, I know the charity is special to you. It is to Mercedes as well. She’s known for her largesse when it comes to the Nevada Orphans Fund.”

  “So the Epstein-Rothchild feud runs deep. Why?”

  She looked a little flustered. “I…I don’t know. Honestly. My dad used to do business with Epstein back in the seventies. They had some kind of partnership deal. Then when my father wanted to move toward the construction of a couple of family-friendly super casinos, they had a falling out and parted ways. They won’t speak to each other now. Not even in public.” She brushed it aside with a quick wave of her hand. “But that’s Vegas,” she said, as if it explained everything.

  Lex digested this information, wondering if the rivalry between the two casino moguls should be factored into his investigation. The FBI was looking for a motive—any motive—in Candace’s death. It was the one thing the LVMPD, and now the FBI, could not get a handle on. At first they’d thought she was killed because of The Tears of the Quetzal, but then the ring had mysteriously shown up again in the purse of a single mother. Nothing about this case was making sense.

  But Jenna artfully swung the focus back to him. “What happened to you, Lex, after your mother died? Did you stay with your dad?”