With a sigh, she plopped down in the same seat she’d vacated an hour ago and remembered she’d left her money in the machine. She glanced at the poker screen and saw that her sixteen dollars was still there.
“Cain said you took off pretty fast.” Tami slid a napkin in front of her. “We made sure no one played your machine.”
“Wow, thanks. Who’s Cain?”
“My boss.” Tami flicked her thumb behind her, directing Heather’s gaze to the yummy man at the other end of the bar. Once again, Heather took in the sexy vision. Straight black hair, tan skin and etched cheekbones. Definitely had Native American in his background. Dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt like many of the cowboys, he filled out the denim in a sweet, sweet way.
“Wow,” she said again.
Tami just laughed. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
A drop of sweat slid down her cheek. “How about some water for now?”
“You got it.”
Heather sighed. Mr. Right, or at least whoever this dress decided was Mr. Right, had been nearby. She couldn’t lock down the whole city but somehow, she was going to find him.
Tami brought the glass back and put it on the napkin.
“So, can I ask?”
Heather smiled. “Why am I wearing a wedding dress?”
“Yeah.”
“My luggage didn’t make it.”
“Bummer. What about your groom?”
Heather forced a laugh. “Oh, he’s around here somewhere.” She dismissed the comment with a wave.
Tami’s lips quirked into a sad smile. “Well, good luck.”
* * * * *
Cain watched as Tami chatted with the pretty woman at the end of the bar. The low-cut dress made her breasts look nice and plump. Cain admired the sight but he was more of an ass man himself and the fluffy white dress made it impossible to see. It looked like a wedding dress but if it was, it was the ugliest wedding dress he’d ever seen.
Tami brought the woman a glass of water. She’d been drinking chardonnay before. He’d set the glass in front of her, said “good luck” as he always did, and she’d run off, following that group of men who’d been drinking beer in the corner of the lounge.
Now she’d come back, an hour later, looking flushed, sweaty and her hair all messed up. His cock twitched at what she might have been doing in the past hour. He had a personal rule against sleeping with any of the women who came into the bar. He flirted and teased—better tips that way—but then let them go. Too many complications. They often didn’t understand a “one-night stand” meant one night. He’d had too many women appear in the bar the night after and he couldn’t escape. He had to work.
But looking at a woman like that made him reconsider. He’d love to see her slim body stripped out of that dress.
Tami walked away and Cain called her over.
“What’s with the runaway bride?”
“Oh, her luggage didn’t show up.”
“What about her groom?”
“I got the impression he’s off gambling, ignoring his bride. What a horrible way to spend your wedding night.”
Cain nodded. He leaned against the bar and watched the woman for a little longer. She used her left hand to tap the video screen and even from this distance, he could see she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. What woman takes off her wedding ring right after the wedding?
And she’d chased after those cowboys, coming back looking like she’d spent the last hour in really vigorous activities.
Yeah, something about the woman’s story didn’t add up.
Chapter Two
Dear Diary,
I had these wild dreams of hot sex, two guys fucking me. Not that I didn’t enjoy it :) but damn, I woke up before I could come and when I tried to do it myself, the stupid dress kept getting in my way. Hard to think sexy thoughts when you want to scream.
Well, I know the man is, or was, in the building and I’ve got a plan. I’m going to find this guy and get the hell out of this dress!
Heather climbed out of the shower and ran a comb through her long red hair. The mass of curls bounced back into shape after a few minutes. She loved her hair, thought it was her best feature, but it did get in the way sometimes.
The dress dripped dry, leaving a puddle on the floor of the bathroom. She’d taken a lot of “birdbaths” over the past couple of weeks, but after her race around the casino floor last night, she’d needed a full shower.
She glared in the mirror as she brushed her teeth and finished getting ready. She hated the sight of that stupid dress but she couldn’t exactly put mascara on with her eyes closed. On the positive side, her morning routine took almost no time when she didn’t have to decide what to wear.
Fluffing her hair and putting on a clean pair of panties, she was ready to find the man who made the dress fall off. She wasn’t going to think of him as “her true love” as Tasha called him, because, really, how could a dress pick her soul mate?
Still, she needed to find him and the only way she could think of, was to repeat what she’d done last night. She knew from her wedding-planning business that people picked up habits quickly. If they went to a bar one night, they were likely to hit it the next. Humans liked the familiar.
Just as she was getting ready to leave, her phone rang. Knowing it might be Tasha or her mother with an answer, Heather grabbed the vibrating and chiming box out of her purse. Tasha. Good.
“Hey there.”
“Hey.”
“How’s it going?”
“Fine.”
Heather sighed and waited. Tasha was a great friend but she had a tendency to lean toward avoidance. Heather was more of a “face it head on” kind of girl.
“Well, did you get ahold of your mother?”
“No. Not really. I mean, I sent her an email. I’ve texted. I’ve left voicemail messages. She pretty much told me she and Nick were going off the grid for a month, and not to worry.”
“What if someone died? Or you got hurt?”
“Don’t be silly. I have ways to contact her in an emergency.”
Heather glared at her phone. “You don’t think this is an emergency?”
“No. It’s your own fault.”
Heather growled. “I get it. I’m being punished by fate. I apologize but I have to get out of this dress. I can’t run my business. I can’t live my life.”
Tasha sighed and Heather knew from the sound that her aunt was rolling her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. You wanted to prove us wrong and now you’re paying the price. I had nothing to do with it so apologizing to me gets you nowhere, except now I’ll take all your shoes out of the bags I was donating to Goodwill and return them to your closet.”
A strangled garble came out of Heather’s throat and she fought to breathe. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“You’ll just have to see when you get home, won’t you? When are you coming home by the way?”
“I’m here for a week.”
“How is life as a Vegas bride?”
“Kinda sucks. But—I found a guy last night who makes the dress fall off.”
“Then why are you asking about my mother?”
“Because the dress didn’t actually fall off, which was good because I was in the middle of a casino at the time, but the point is, a guy who was in this hotel made the dress fall off.”
“Ooh, so you could come home with your true love.”
Heather laughed though it was more of a sad sound than joyful. Tasha was such a romantic. She actually believed this dress revealed your one true love. Tasha had been storing the dress for years waiting for the right moment to use it.
“I doubt I’ll come home with anyone but myself but if I can find the guy, I can get out of this damn dress and that’s all that matters.”
Tasha was silent on the other end of the phone. Heather knew it was because Tasha didn’t want to contradict her.
“Anyway, I’m just about to head out and find—” Damn, what did she call him? No
way did she want to think of him as Mr. Right. “That guy. Whoever that guy is.”
“Well, have fun. I’m meeting Jason for lunch.”
Heather forced herself to smile, not wanting Tasha to hear anything but joy in her voice. In truth, Heather really didn’t care for Jason. He was a good enough guy but he was boring and Tasha had a “boring” tendency as well. She needed someone to shake up her life and show her how much fun it could be.
But Tasha loved him so Heather wasn’t going to be the one to burst her best friend’s bubble.
“That’s great. You guys have fun. I’m off to sit at the bar.”
Tasha’s laughter followed her as Heather hung up the phone.
She thought about Tasha and Jason. They would be the boring couple but that was what Tasha wanted. She wanted kids and the white picket fence. And she was thirty-three, so if she wanted to physically have those kids, she needed to get started soon, and Jason was the best prospect so far.
The thought made Heather want to scream.
Heather gave herself a shake and stood up, her mission firmly focused once again in her brain.
She went downstairs and ate breakfast in the café. It was probably too early in the day for him to be near the bar, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She took up her place near the end and plopped her money in the video poker machine.
A different bartender was on duty—Robert. He brought Heather her diet soda and left her alone to play. The atmosphere was different this early in the day. After a while, she noticed few cowboys were walking the aisles. But she could hardly ask Robert where all the cowboys had gone.
“Seems kind of quiet,” she prompted when he came by to refill her glass.
“Oh, there’s a bull bucking event going on right now at the arena.” He pointed in the direction of the rooms. “Most of them are probably there, but they’ll head back here for lunch.”
“That’s probably where he is,” she muttered.
“Your groom?” Robert blurted out.
Heather’s head snapped up. “What? Oh yes, my groom. Probably watching those bulls buck.”
A quizzical look moved across his face. “Well, if you just go up that hallway, it leads right to the arena.”
Walking through an arena filled with people, all staring at her? No thanks.
“Oh, he’ll be back. He always comes back.”
“Okay.” The bartender patted the counter in front of her. “Let me know if you want something stronger.”
Heather nodded and winced as he turned his back. How much sympathy can one woman take?
She decided to keep her position through the lunch rush. Maybe he would walk by. At lunch, the crowd flowed back into the casino, the restaurants filling up. But nothing triggered the dress.
Finally, by midafternoon, Heather had had enough soda to float a battleship and her butt was tired from being perched on that barstool. And she’d run through almost two hundred dollars on the poker machine. She grabbed a sandwich at the deli and headed back to her room.
A new sign appeared near the elevator lobby announcing the Fetish Ball—Friday night, right here in the hotel. She stepped out of the way of the passing crowd. The desk clerk from last night had made her curious.
Based on the pictures on the poster, it involved a lot of bare skin and leather. She’d never gotten into the whole bondage thing—found it more silly than sexy—but the party looked like fun. She glanced down at the ugly wedding dress. If she got out of the dress before then.
No way was she showing up in a ballroom of leather freaks wearing this dress.
With a sigh, she made her way upstairs. Just one more thing to blame on the dress.
A nap helped and when she got up, she was ready to go searching again.
She returned to the bar, took up her same seat and played poker, a little slower this time, just enough to feel like they wouldn’t ask her to leave.
Yet another bartender served her. Her nametag read Chelsea. She took Heather’s order and brought it back. The boldest of all of them, she placed the wine in front of Heather. “So, what’s with the wedding dress?”
“Oh, the bastard stood me up at the altar and drove off with all my clothes.”
“He really is a bastard.”
“Yep.” Heather sipped her wine, trying to hide her smile. This could be kind of fun.
“Well, I’d buy you a drink but they’re free.”
“Just keep ‘em coming,” she said, getting into the role of the dumped wife.
“The little store here has a few things if you want to get out of that dress. It’s mostly touristy stuff but it’s got to be better than wearing the same thing every day.”
You have no idea. She kept the words in her mouth.
“Oh!” Heather tried to sound surprised. “I’ll have to check that out tomorrow.”
“They’re open most of the night.”
Damn. Such a helpful staff.
“He took off with my wallet as well.”
A light in Chelsea’s eyes flickered and Heather could see the sympathy travel across her face. Crap. She’d gone from feminine outrage to pity.
“Maybe we can get you some food tickets. I’ll talk to Cain.”
“No, that’s not—”
Before she could reply, Chelsea had walked off. Heather watched as she talked with the sexy man with the long black hair from last night. He looks like a “Cain”, she thought. Dark and a little dangerous.
Great. Now the whole casino is going to think I’m abandoned and broke.
The man looked up, his eyes meeting Heather’s. She braced herself for the sympathetic stare, but instead suspicion crinkled the edges of his eyes.
The urge to run away was tempered by the need to find the guy who made the dress fall off. Having Cain act as gorgeous eye candy didn’t hurt. Even if she never found “the one”, she could look at him for days.
Only, he didn’t look happy to see her.
His mouth curled down into a frown and he nodded to Chelsea. The woman smiled, turned to Heather and winked.
Heather dropped her gaze and stared at the poker machine. Playing a quarter at a time, she’d managed to stay fairly level. She concentrated on the game until a crowd of men moved in around her.
This seemed a convenient location to return empties as several men reached forward and placed their bottles on the bar. The dress sagged forward, dropping dangerously low on her chest.
He’s here. He’s—
“Miss, Chelsea mentioned—”
She heard the male voice as she spun around in her chair, her eyes tracking the backs of the men moving away from her.
“Miss?”
She glanced up and saw the sexy bartender, Cain, but she couldn’t stop. The chance to get out of this dress was at hand.
“Later,” she waved, grabbing her purse and chasing after the men, relieved when she discovered they were all staying together. She wasn’t going to have to race through the casino tonight. She stared at their backs, not sure how to approach them. They looked older than she’d expected, white hair, a bit of paunch on most of them.
Maybe the dress thought she needed a “sugar daddy”. Certainly none of them fit her personal image of a “true love”.
You’re not looking for Mr. Right. Focus on the goal.
They turned into the steakhouse entrance and Heather stopped. This was perfect. She would wander by the table and discover which man made the dress fall off.
The dress tightened around her waist and she remembered Cait’s description of what happened when the dress found “the one”. Not wanting to be caught unprepared, Heather propped her hands on her hips. The movement plumped her breasts nicely in the bodice.
She opened the door to the steakhouse and smiled to the hostess. “I see my friends,” she said as she walked by.
Her gaze homed in on the table of men. Somehow she couldn’t imagine any of these men being the right one but damn it, the dress had moved. Keeping her hands firmly locked on her
waist, she strolled around the table, waiting for the bodice to slip.
Nothing.
Damn. Maybe I’m not close enough.
Smiling at the men, she took a step closer. “Good evening. Are you all having a good time?”
All five nodded, confused looks on their faces. She stepped between two of them looking down. Their eyes zeroed in on her chest but the damn dress didn’t shift one millimeter. With another smile, she moved around the table, pressing close to each man.
“Excuse me, Miss?”
“Just a second.” She held up one finger to the voice coming from behind her as she approached the last man. Nothing. “Damn it.”
“Miss.”
“What?” she snapped, turning and coming face to face with a security guard. She huffed out a breath.
“Could you come with me?”
“What? No, I can’t. I have to get back to my seat. He was there, damn it, and I missed him.”
The guard nodded, his eyes growing wary as she rambled. “Really, Miss, you need to come with me.”
He cupped his hand under her elbow and led her out of the restaurant.
“I’m fine, really.” She tried to pull her arm out of his grip.
“I’ve been asked by the head of security to bring you to his office, Miss. You can explain it all to him.”
A line burned down the center of her chest, pooling in her stomach.
Her hopes of blending in as a “Vegas Bride” seemed to be dashed.
* * * * *
“Rogers found her flirting with a table of men in the steakhouse.”
Cain nodded when he heard the news. He hated snitching on a customer but damn it, something wasn’t normal about that woman.
Paxson, chief of security, good friend and a star in a more than a few of Cain’s late-night fantasies—though Pax could never know that—shrugged. “I can’t really kick her out for wearing a wedding dress.”
“It’s more than that.” Cain dropped down into one of the high back chairs that faced Paxson’s desk. “Everyone I’ve talked to, all of my bartenders, has gotten a different story out of her. The one tonight was that her new husband stole her wallet and dumped her here. She was scamming for free food.”
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