Sex, Lies and Dirty Secrets

by Jamie Sobrato

  Then she noticed her suite. It was amazing. Probably bigger than her apartment in San Francisco—no, definitely bigger, she realized as she wandered from the entryway to the living room. And the view—wow. She opened a balcony door and stepped outside to a panoramic, sparkling, glittering view of the Las Vegas strip.

  Down below was a replica of the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco Bay, where tourists were taking boat rides around the faux cityscape.

  From the next balcony, someone cleared his throat, and she looked over to see Griffin watching her. He smiled. “Pretty amazing, huh?”

  “I may never leave this suite,” she said.

  His gaze traveled over her. “Want to order room service?”

  “No way. I lied,” she said. “I’ve gotta leave long enough to check out Las Vegas. After I do that, then I’m never leaving this suite.”

  He leaned against the railing and pinned her with a blatantly sensual gaze. “As long as you don’t change your mind, I’d say we’ve got plenty to keep us busy behind closed doors.”

  Oh, yes, they did. Macy smiled. “I won’t change my mind.”

  “I’m going to clean up,” he said. “See you in a few.” And he disappeared behind the dividing wall and into his room.

  She needed a little pep talk, Macy decided. She went back inside and dialed Lauren’s number, then spilled the details of her so-called evil plan.

  “I’m impressed,” Lauren said when she’d finished. “You really took my idea to heart.”

  “Impressed enough to help me?”

  Lauren laughed. “Let me guess—you need a distraction for that Carson guy.”

  “He’s cute,” Macy said. “Very cute.”

  “You’ve got room in your suite for me?”

  “I’ve got room in my suite for a football team.”

  Silence on the line, while Lauren was probably trying to decide whether Macy was exaggerating Carson’s physical appeal.

  “Please, please, please, please?”

  “Okay, fine, just stop groveling.”

  “Look at it as your contribution to my career. If it weren’t for your study, I wouldn’t even be doing this.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll catch the late flight and call your cell phone when I get to the hotel, okay?”

  “You’re a goddess!”

  After she’d hung up, Macy sank onto a brown leather sofa and surveyed her new kingdom. Luxurious gold, red and brown textiles and woods were used throughout the suite. A plasma TV sat on a reproduction art-deco cabinet, and across the room, a bed the size of Macy’s entire bedroom at home beckoned. It was the perfect locale for her Las Vegas debauchery—or at least Griffin’s probably identical bed would be, since Lauren would likely be occupying this one.

  Macy had been telling herself all day that her plan for Griffin was strictly a career move, that she’d never have been doing it if it weren’t for Lauren’s study, and being in Vegas and blah blah blah.

  But she realized now it was more than that. She just plain wanted him. She’d wanted him the first time she saw him, she wanted him even when he pissed her off at work and she wanted him now more than ever. He wasn’t the kind of guy she dreamed of falling in love with. He wasn’t the kind of dark, brooding lone wolf she couldn’t get enough of in the romances she read.

  No, he was the kind of guy she would have had a huge crush on in high school, the kind she’d outgrown long ago. But maybe this was all a matter of scoring for her inner nerd. Maybe taking care of her adolescent fantasies would allow her to move on and fulfill her adult ones with someone else.

  That motivation made this whole no-orgasm thing trickier than ever. Unless he was lousy in bed…

  Hey, a girl could always hope.

  GRIFFIN AND Macy had gotten the VIP tour of the casino and hotel, had a short meeting with the owners and now they were free to do as they pleased. Griffin was trying hard not to resort to a childish chant of, “Can we do it now, can we do it now, can we do it now?”

  But that’s pretty much all he could think about.

  Sex.

  With Macy.

  Nearest private location.

  ASAP.

  He was like a kid on Christmas Eve and she was the only toy he wanted from Santa. He wasn’t going to be satisfied until he had the object of his desire unwrapped and in his hands.

  This was yet another example of why they needed to do it and get all the tension out of the air. It couldn’t do anything but improve their working relationship for him to get over the idea that one of his coworkers and soon-to-be subordinates was the latest toy he just had to have.

  Macy had changed into a clingy little pink dress that was far more appropriate for the hundred-degree June temperature than her suit had been, and Griffin was damn glad of the desert weather. This was the first time he’d ever gotten to see her looking like anything other than a buttoned-up career girl, and as he followed her along the crowded sidewalk on the strip, he couldn’t help noticing that she had an even nicer body without all the clothes required by a San Francisco summer.

  When Macy spotted the arched walkways of the Venetian, she darted in that direction, and soon they were out of the sidewalk crowds and standing in the shade of the faux Italian corridors.

  She looked around and smiled. “If we squint really hard and ignore all the neon lights, we can sort of pretend we’re in Italy.”

  Griffin moved closer to her, and they peered out an arched window at the gondolas floating below. “Have you ever been to Italy?”

  She nodded. “I did the college backpacking thing. Slept in grungy hotels, ate cheap pizza, flirted with cheap men. But we never made it to Venice. All my stuff was stolen on a sleeper train and I had to cut my trip short.”

  “I’ve been to Venice,” he said, smiling at the image of Macy, young and on the loose in Italy. “Lots of pigeons.”

  “Oh, come on, tell me about it. There has to be more to it than that.”

  “Okay, there were lots of tourists, too. Sort of like here, but without all the strippers and fast-food restaurants.”

  She laughed. “I’ll be sure and tell Venice not to hire you for their next big ad campaign.”

  He slid his hand around her waist, savoring the firm, warm feel of her. “Who needs Venice when we’ve got Vegas, baby?”

  He wasn’t prepared for how much that simple physical contact would heat him up. And when it was this hot outside, more heat was a dangerous thing.

  “I think I’ve taken care of our Carson problem,” Macy said. “I asked a friend of mine to fly out and entertain him while we’re, um, otherwise engaged.”

  An image of Macy’s friend at the bar came to mind. But, no, that would have been too sweet a coincidence. “Carson’s a big boy. I’m sure he could find plenty to entertain himself with here.”

  She shrugged. “It’s nice to have some company. If they hate each other, no loss. I just thought it might be fun if they hook up.”

  “Speaking of Carson,” Griffin said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and checking the time on it, “I wonder if he’s checked into the hotel yet.”

  “Give him a call so we won’t look so much like we’ve completely abandoned him.”

  Griffin dialed Carson’s number and listened as the phone rang twice, then Carson’s voice said, “Hello?”

  “Hey man, where are you?”

  “Still stuck in San Francisco. My flight’s delayed but is supposed to leave in a half hour.”

  “Give me a call when you get in, okay?”

  “Got it. Catch you later,” Carson said, and Griffin offered a goodbye and clicked off the phone.

  A group of tourists wearing matching T-shirts that read Ping-Pong Club of America wandered by, and Griffin caught Macy’s amused expression.

  “Why aren’t there any clubs or T-shirts for the stuff I like to do?” she asked.

  “You mean like a fake orgasm club?” he asked, citing the only activity he’d ever seen her participate in outside of work. />
  She elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Ouch!”

  “I mean, what is it about Ping-Pong, and not, say, sleeping late on Sundays, that makes people don a T-shirt about it?”

  “I’m not even going to touch that question, but please tell me you have some other interest besides sleeping.”

  “Work hard, sleep hard—that’s my philosophy,” she said with a self-deprecating smile.

  “Don’t you have any hobbies? Sports you like to play?”

  A gust of wind whipped through the corridor, sending Macy’s dress billowing up around her hips. He caught a glimpse of white lace panties, and his cock stirred.

  God, he loved the desert. Heat, wind, big hotel suites—what more could a guy ask for?

  “Full-contact shopping,” she said in answer to his question, once she’d gotten her dress under control. “It’s both a hobby and a sport.”

  But witty as her answer was, Griffin had lost all interest in chitchat now. He couldn’t have cared if she liked to knit little hats and scarves for lawn gnomes. He wanted to sleep with her, sooner rather than later. He wanted a closer look at those white lace panties, and what lay beneath the white lace panties—not just a look, but a full-on tour and an invitation to stay a while.

  He pulled her against him and let her feel his erection pressing against her abdomen.

  “You’ll have to teach me about this shopping thing. Later,” he said as he slid his hand up her ribcage, over the soft fullness of her breast, along her neck, and into her hair. Just the way her own hand had traveled Wednesday night at the pub.

  Her hair felt like fine silk, and as she gazed up at him, he saw for the first time a look of uncertainty. “Are you okay?”

  A slow smile curved her lips, and the uncertainty was gone. “Definitely okay. What about you?” she asked, staring at his mouth. “What’s your hobby?”

  “It’s full-contact,” he whispered, dipping his mouth down to taste the delicate edge of her ear. “But not a large group activity, though some people try to make it one.”

  He covered her mouth with his, and all the air whooshed out of his lungs. She tasted like nothing he could name, but definitely better than cotton candy. Better than any childhood treat he could have imagined.

  She moaned and danced her tongue into his mouth, sending a little shock wave through him as she pressed his hips against hers, pinned him to the stone wall.

  So this is what it was like to kiss Macy. He finally knew. But there was so much more to know, and what seemed like so little time.

  She broke the kiss, and suddenly his mouth felt naked. “This hobby of yours—two people can do it together?”

  “That’s the best way,” he whispered, marveling at how her soft brown eyes resembled chocolate.

  He felt crazy, giddy, on a jittery sugar high. Like the first kid ever to taste candy.

  Like he’d finally gotten his hands on the toy of his dreams.

  And he wanted more.

  “I think I’ll need a hands-on demonstration,” she whispered, and he reclaimed her mouth, took another taste, wondered if he’d ever get enough.

  4

  MACY WAS not at all prepared for the way it felt to kiss Griffin. She was attracted to him, sure. But she hadn’t imagined how contact with him could set her every nerve on fire.

  His lips on hers, his hard body against her, his tongue coaxing her into opening up to him even more—it was scorching. It was sensory overload.

  She moaned into his mouth, and the sound reminded her that they were in public. She backed off, reluctantly broke the kiss and put a few discreet inches of distance between them. Griffin kept his arms around her, not letting her get too far away.

  “Sorry, guess I got a little carried away.”

  “You and me both,” she said, smiling.

  “You’ve got lipstick everywhere,” he said as he rubbed his thumb against her chin.

  “So do you.”

  She found a tissue in her purse, along with a compact, and they took turns removing all-day-wear hot pink from themselves.

  “Want to walk a little farther down the strip?” Griffin asked.

  Macy eyed the hordes of people crowding the sidewalks, and the long line of traffic backed up in each direction. She knew Las Vegas was a popular weekend destination, but wow. It was like Mardi Gras without the parade. No, the casinos were the parade.

  But as with everything else this weekend, she decided her policy should be to dive in head-first. “Sure, why not?”

  They walked back out to the sidewalk and joined the throng of people, took in the sights, gawked at the whole spectacle. When Griffin took Macy’s hand in his, her first instinct was to pull it away—he was her coworker, after all. And her biggest rival, too.

  But that didn’t exactly make sense if she planned to sleep with him in a matter of hours. And she did, didn’t she?

  Yes, she did.

  She took a deep breath and banished all the niggling doubts that had her on edge.

  She was in Sin City, and she wanted more than anything to let the town live up to its reputation. She wanted to have a weekend worthy of such a place, if that made any sense.

  “We could catch a show,” Griffin was saying, and Macy wondered what else she’d missed while she’d been spacing out.

  “Catch a show? Now?”

  He gave her a look. “Have you been ignoring me again?”

  She felt her face warming, and it had nothing to do with the heat outside. “Um…”

  “How are we going to work together if you think nothing I say is important?”

  “That’s not what I think at all. I’m sorry—I was just so busy looking at everything, I didn’t hear you.”

  “But this happens a lot—you tuning me out.”

  “It’s just that, well, you seem always to be so convinced that you’re right, you don’t want to hear anyone else’s opinion. And I guess I feel like, if my opinion doesn’t matter to you, then why should yours matter to me?”

  Okay, so this wasn’t exactly foreplay talk. But if he wanted the truth, she’d give him the truth.

  He stared at her, stunned for a moment. “Is that really how I act? Like I’m always right?”

  “Pretty much, yeah. Right now is a rare exception.”

  “You must think I’m a total jerk.”

  Uh, yeah. A sexy-as-hell jerk, but still a jerk.

  “No,” she lied. “I just think you’re maybe a bit arrogant, that’s all.”

  They reached a crosswalk and stopped to wait for the light to change. About thirty other people were already crowded around also waiting. Macy peered up at a giant flashing video screen advertising a show where almost everyone looked naked.

  Griffin followed her gaze. “Looks interesting.”

  “I guess if you like naked people, definitely.”

  “Does anyone not like nakedness?”

  “I hear it’s pretty unpopular in certain circles, but I, frankly, am all for it when done appropriately.”

  “Define appropriate.” His smile betrayed his confused tone.

  “You know. Not at weddings, not at the post office, not in a Speedo if you’re sixty years old—that sort of thing.”

  “Got it. Doubt you’d find anyone to disagree with those rules.”

  “Well, talk to the retirees wearing Speedos.”

  “You want to catch a show after dinner?”

  “I was thinking maybe we should see the one playing at the Golden Gate, since, you know, we’re actually supposed to be working on their campaign and all.”

  “True. Do you even remember what their show is?”

  The light changed, and the mob of people crossed the street with Macy and Griffin in the middle of the pack. The hotel on the next corner had rock music blasting from speakers hidden somewhere, and Macy waited until they’d passed before she spoke again.

  As they walked, she noticed there were no birds around. Not a single one. In spite of the fact that there were trees
and water fountains everywhere.

  “Isn’t it kind of weird that there aren’t any birds here?” she asked when they’d cleared the loud music.

  “I didn’t notice,” he said, looking around. “But now that you mention it…”

  “Maybe they have snipers on the hotel rooftops, shooting any flying creature that enters Las Vegas airspace and threatens to piss off the tourists who then might not want to gamble.”

  “And maybe there are guys up there with nets, too, to catch the bird carcasses before they hit the ground.”

  Macy winced at the image, then relaxed into Griffin’s side as he put his arm around her to steer her away from a discarded hot dog on the ground. She hadn’t expected to feel so at ease around him when they were away from work. Or to like his off-the-clock personality, which wasn’t nearly so cutthroat competitive and aren’t-I-great cocky.

  “You’re kind of sick, you know.”

  “You started it with the snipers.”

  Scary how they had such similar senses of humor. Macy rarely met guys who could not only laugh at her jokes, but could join in and do her one better.

  “We seriously have to investigate this no-bird phenomenon. Maybe we could use it in the ad campaign—Come to Las Vegas, where no birds will crap on your head.”

  “Or…Las Vegas—the town where nature will never interfere with your vacation.”

  “This is great stuff. We should be writing it down.”

  “I’ve got a voice recorder in my pocket,” Griffin offered.

  “Hmm, maybe on second thought…”

  “You never answered me about the Golden Gate’s show. Any idea what it is?”

  “Oh, sorry, I got distracted by the hordes of tourists. I think there’s a couple of shows. There’s that weird show with all the half-naked people wearing body paint and tap-dancing, and then they have a late-night adults-only show with what we can only assume are lots of dancing people in various stages of undress.”

  “Sounds like the show for me. But if it’s very late—”

  “I may be otherwise engaged.”