by Jan Moran
“Just out of curiosity,” she said, “how much is it to spend the night with you?”
Chapter 2
The moment Leticia asked the question, she cringed inside.
What in the world had made her ask that?
Okay, she would admit that she truly was curious about one of the three gigolos who’d been pointed out to her by Anita. And it wasn’t as if Leticia was propositioning this one, either. He was hot, no doubt about that, but she wasn’t the type who ran around sleeping with professionals or even one-night stands.
She was definitely only curious.
As the cowboy raised an eyebrow at her forwardness, she searched for a way to gracefully reword her question. Wow, she was buzzed, and it had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to indulge as much as she had tonight.
Then again, why not let him answer? After all, how many gigolos had she ever met? Tonight, she was inebriated, giddy, and happy that she had such a wonderful life—also, it was her thirtieth birthday and she’d consumed enough rosé to not really stress out about a sassy question.
Just one little question and then she would shut her mouth and go back to the table, even if she’d blown out those candles, wishing she could let go of herself for the next several hours…
She tried not to blush again. The moment she’d seen this cowboy walk through the front door, she’d wanted him as a very special birthday gift. When Anita had seen the direction of Leticia’s gaze, she had certainly noticed.
“You have a thing for cowboys?” she’d asked while the rest of the girls at the table had chatted among themselves.
Leticia had only shrugged in answer to Anita’s question. She usually went for the button down Wine Spectator type. But when had any of those relationships ever been successful? Never, that’s when.
Anita had poked her and glanced again at the cowboy, along with the two other men who’d walked in with him. “You like him. I can tell.”
Leticia had blown off the comment. “First you girls get me good and soused, and now you want to get me into some trouble. The Vegas kind.” She’d laughed. “I’m only here to build the Ruby Room’s wine list and that’s all.”
“Didn’t anyone tell you that Vegas comes with perks?” Anita winked at her, her false eyelashes with a touch of decorative rhinestones a remnant from her showgirl past. “If you like him, he’s available. In fact, all you have to do with that guy is name a price.”
Leticia had blinked at Anita. Was she saying what she thought she was saying?
The other woman had laughed and flipped a long brown curl back over her shoulder. “You’ve always been so innocent, chica! I can’t wait to educate you more about life in the fast lane here.”
Leticia had wondered if a blush would shine through the lightly tanned skin that had been handed down to her from generations of Bravo family genes. And as Anita joined in on some story the other girls were in the process of sharing about one of the other gigolos—apparently “Jonsey” was his name and he was a real ladies’ man—Leticia’s attention had wandered back to the tall cowboy with dark hair that peeked out from under his hat. She couldn’t get enough of him and his firm, square chin, plus eyes so blue that she could tell what color they were, even here at the table.
Hot, she’d kept thinking. So hot that she couldn’t look away if she tried.
What if she did a little fly-by, a little innocent flirtation on her way to the restroom? It wouldn’t mean she and he were bound by a contract or anything, and she was so in the mood to do something different, to explore.
She was thirty, dammit.
Yup, tonight, on her big 3-0, she wanted to flirt hard. She also wanted some yippie-ki-yay, maybe not with a gigolo, but with someone. Why not? It was darn time and she’d worked hard enough to earn one night of fun as a birthday gift to herself.
Now, as she stood in front of the cowboy, she took another fortifying sip of her rosé, which filled the corners of her mouth with a burst of fruit. The heat traveled down her throat and through her chest, and it was as if confidence rayed out from the center of her. Drunk confidence, but that was fine by her.
The gigolo had pushed up the brim of his hat, revealing even more of his face. Those blue eyes only added to the heat that was blossoming through her, mixing with something that made her tingle all over.
“If I didn’t know better,” he said, “I would think you just made me some kind of interesting offer.”
Interesting? He probably said that to all his clients. “Call me nosy but it’s my birthday, and I’m buzzed, and I would genuinely love to know some details about your job. I’m not trying to reserve you for the next few hours or proposing anything…”
“Reserve me. What do you mean by that?”
So he was teasing her about this. Maybe that was the way he put his customers at ease. “You know. Reserving your time, which I’m sure is very valuable. But I’m only inquiring. I’m not the type of girl who…Well, officially inquires.”
“Ah. So we’ve established that this conversation ain’t official. Whatever this conversation is actually about.”
He grinned, and he was so tall that he had to look down at her, even if she almost matched the height of most guys she met. Then, when he came closer to lean on the same brass railing that was practically holding her up, she got a whiff of his skin: a hint of tobacco, leather, earth, just like a savory wine. She nearly closed her eyes and devoured the scent of him, but she managed to refrain.
She lifted her glass in a careless shrug, acting as if she was about to abandon the conversation and putter off to somewhere safer. Probably she should, because it’d just hit her that the longer she stood here talking to him, the more the girls at the table were likely to think that she was trying to hire him. He would no doubt think the same.
“Okay then,” she said. “I’ll leave you to your business. I don’t want to drive off customers.”
As she took a step away, he reached out to grab the red belt that accessorized her white sheath. The feel of his fingers on her waist sent a bolt of lust crashing through her, splitting her from clit to belly. Like a well-practiced seducer, he didn’t let go. He merely kept grinning in a way that had flutters of need circling her heart and making the muscles in her belly jump.
He chuckled, then slid a long look up to the table where her business associates—or friends, now that they’d worked together for the Ruby Room—were sitting. Just as Leticia glanced up there, too, she saw Anita giving the gigolo a wide-eyed gaze, as if warning him away from her.
Clearly ignoring Anita, the cowboy tightened his grip on Leticia’s belt and put his full blue-eyed focus back on her. Then he lowered his voice so that it nearly vibrated through her, under the smooth old crooner music and over her skin.
“Just what did those girls tell you about me?” he asked.
Why was he so curious? “That you…do what you do for a living.”
His fingers curled inside the belt, and she ached, her clit throbbing. He leaned closer, filling her senses with other aromatic notes: black tea, cherries, licorice. She thought of a Barolo wine that would pair well with a garlic butter mushroom risotto or…
Her.
The tips of her breasts felt sensitive against the material of her dress, and as his gaze traveled there, she knew he saw her arousal.
His voice was close to a low whisper. “Tell me straight…” He paused, as if wanting to add her name.
She supplied it. “Leticia.”
“Leticia.” He rolled the name off his tongue as if tasting her. “Tell me... What did they say?”
She swallowed and thought, Why beat around the bush? He knew what he was. “They said you’re an escort, along with the two guys you walked in with.”
He let go of her belt and backed away slightly—not enough to make her any less dizzy with his scent, though.
“Did they now,” he said. Then he took a drink of his beer, hiding his expression.
Even so, she thought he might b
e grinning. He seemed so carefree, so fun, and she wondered what it might be like to spend more time with him…
The very possibility of dropping all her good habits and going bad for a night turned her on. Really. A lot.
She was so drunk.
After she took another sip, she realized that she’d been aping him, a sure sign of flirtation. She got herself together and tried again.
“What’s your name?”
“They call me Buzz.” He slid her a smile. “That’s what you can call me, too. All night, if you want.”
A flash of temptation overtook her. “I told you—I’m only curious, not in the market. Besides, I’ve got to be ruining business for you right now.” She motioned toward the high-rollers—a bunch of Liz’s friends who were business associates of her rich husband; they were waiting near the dining room to go in for steak and all the fixings, drinking the most expensive wines from the Ruby Room’s list. “There’re some single ladies here who can afford you.”
“I’ll let you know if I spot someone who’s looking to hire me.” His gaze sparkled, and he chuckled again.
She tried not to let his humor get to her. “Buzz. Is that your professional name?”
“If drinking is a profession.” He gestured with his beer mug toward her wine. “It’s time I got to ask you a question or two. What does a wine consultant do, anyway?”
“I help collectors choose the finest vintages to add to their cellars, advise high-end restaurants about what to put on their lists, and arrange tastings. During the summers, I also lead wine and food tours through the south of France.”
“You don’t say.” That sparkle in his eyes was still there. “You run your own business?”
“I do. And my latest gig has me here, advising Liz. My friend Anita set me up with the Ruby Room since she runs the staff. I know Anita from back in college, when I was majoring in wine and viticulture and she was in journalism. That’s before she dropped out to come to Vegas to be a showgirl.”
“I’ll bet Liz is a good customer to have, seeing as she’s married to Ben Hughes. I’m sure he and his family can use a good wine consultant with all that money they have to spend.”
Leticia offered a modest shrug. Ben, the billionaire, had definitely hired her.
Buzz—was that some kind of professional name?—was back to surveying her with a frank appreciation that made her feel as if a sweet wine had been sloshed around inside her, leaving long, thick legs of liquid running down until they pooled and bubbled in her belly.
“So, Leticia,” he said, leaning close again. “Why aren’t you in the market for a good time tonight?”
Was he putting a sales pitch to her? She was tempted—so tempted—to take it, even if women like her didn’t hire men like him.
But one night, she thought. What happens on your birthday stays on your birthday…
As if sensing what was running through her head, he whispered in her ear. “If you’re interested, Miss Leticia, I’m definitely your man.”
Chapter 3
The smell of Leticia’s hair intoxicated Colin, and combined with the warmth of her skin, he nearly forgot that he wasn’t in the Rough & Tumble, where he would be perfectly at ease seducing one of the all-too-willing women who frequented the saloon.
But this was the Ruby Room. This was high-class, and so was Leticia, even if she was clearly well on her way to a good drunk. Too bad she thought he was a gigolo—and he was damned well going to give Anita some hell for telling that to Leticia.
Eventually.
He snuck a glance up to the women’s lounge table, finding Anita giving him a “stop it right now” slash across her throat. Did she expect him to back right off and confess that he was just boring old Colin Burton to the first woman who’d really interested him in a while?
Egged on by Anita’s bossiness, he grinned at her. When it came right down to it, this gigolo ruse wouldn’t cause any harm, and he was going to keep things going for a little while longer, having a good time before the fun wore off and Leticia went back to the life of a wine lover and he’d go back to the R&T…
Next to him, Leticia laughed softly, and he smiled into her hair, wondering if she was entertaining thoughts about shedding her nice-girl skin and being with a man for hire.
Nah. Couldn’t be. But he was curious, anyway.
Softly, slowly, he ran his fingertips down her bare arm.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“If I’m doin’ it right, then you shouldn’t have to ask.”
He brushed his fingers back up her skin, and she let him. His blood felt like it was being yanked through his veins in a tug-of-war—pull, stop, pull—and the uneven rhythm made the breath hitch in his lungs.
Only a ruse, he thought.
She slightly turned her head and gazed up at him with those big brown eyes, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman before…
Then Leticia pulled away from him, smoothing down her tight dress with one hand and clumsily resting her wine glass on the table with the other.
“I think this would be a perfect time to use the ladies room,” she said.
She’d obviously separated herself from him because he’d flustered her, and Colin fought a grin. She was intrigued, wasn’t she? And when she returned, Colin had half a mind—and a whole willing body—to give the joke a bit longer to play out. It wasn’t as if he was going to pull the wool over her eyes the entire night.
In fact, it was kind of nice to step out of his boots and into another identity. No one expected much out of him, anyway, so he didn’t have a lot to live up to as far as a reputation went. He wouldn’t let things go far enough for all this kidding to matter, anyway.
He watched Leticia walk away, and, boy, was it a nice sight. That white dress of hers clung to her tiny waist, her shapely hips, and a full ass that would fit real well into the palms of his hands…
Someone cleared her throat behind him.
As he looked to see who it was, he noticed that, up at the women’s table, nobody was sitting there anymore. Everyone had gone somewhere else, probably scattering to see to Liz’s guests for dinner, after they’d finished cocktails.
But one of the women had decided to grace him with her presence.
Anita, with her wild brown curls pushed back from her face, her false eyelashes competing with the tiny rhinestones that glittered near her eyelids. A showgirl till the end.
She tapped a long red fingernail against Colin’s arm, chiding him. “You’re such a payaso.”
Colin raised his eyebrows, then shrugged off the comment. Around the Rough & Tumble, he was the lighthearted pulse of the bar, and that was about the only thing people knew about him, seeing as they weren’t at the ranch to see how well he ran the cutting horse operation. They barely even paid attention to how he took care of his jailbird brother Jonsey and broody Tucker. This wasn’t even the first time Anita herself had called him a clown or a joker: Whenever she showed up at the R&T, Colin spent most of his time joshing with her over whisky and beer, because, before tonight, she’d seemed to enjoy his sense of humor—not that it’d ever gotten him anywhere with her. Anita had champagne tastes and he only had his beer budget, so it wasn’t as if they were meant for one another.
Nah, he usually went for the low-maintenance type—someone the opposite of Anita and Leticia.
At his careless response to her comment, Anita poked him again, and he lifted up his hands in mock surrender. In one of them he still held his mug.
“You’re saying that I’m fooling around?” He gestured toward her. “My new friend Leticia said that you called me and my brothers gigolos. How’s that for a joke?”
Anita narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t think she had enough wine in her to take it seriously. You obviously took the joke and ran with it, from what I just saw down here.”
“Hell, Anita, it was just a little flirting.” And a lotta lust. “Get that bee out of your bonnet—I’ll tell her soon enough that
I’m only an amateur and not a pro. It wasn’t as if she propositioned me, anyway. She’s only curious about my so-called career.”
“And you’re loving every minute of misleading her.” She pushed his arm, not that it sent him anywhere. He was an oak compared to her willow.
“I told you,” he said. “I’ll set things right when she comes back.”
Apparently, that semi-satisfied Anita. Instead of smacking him or pushing him, she only narrowed her gaze a little more.
“I need to start mingling with the guests, Buzz, otherwise I would clarify the situation with Leticia myself. She’s an old friend from school, and—”
“Yeah, she told me you went to college. Who knew?”
“Honey, we’ve all got our secrets. You just make sure you tell her about yours.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s yes, ms. And I’ll be checking with her later tonight to see that you did yourself proud, Buzz. Because I know you. If a joke’s got legs, you would run it all the way to a finish line.”
He saluted her with his beer, part of him stinging because she only trusted him to be a fool and not anything better, part of him dying to keep Leticia interested and asking more questions before she found out the true snooze-worthy man behind the jokes.
Anita shot him a stern glance as she disappeared into the dining room, where he caught a peek of candlelit tables, mahogany booths, and sophisticated guests dressed to the nines and ready for their multi-course meals. But he didn’t need a steak dinner tonight.
All he needed was a little more Leticia.
Speaking of whom…
The lady herself wandered back into the lounge area, putting one polka-dotted pump in front of the other as if she was trying to walk a fine line back to him. When she reached her wine glass on the table, she gracefully—a little too much so—lifted it to her lips, watching him over the rim and taking another sip.