Her Secret Lover (What Happens in Vegas)

by Robin Covington

  “Saul”—Babette nudged her husband and purred with a generous portion of a whine—“tell her what I really want.”

  Kelsey was glad for so many years of practice in hiding her candid reactions from guests, because it took a lot of effort to ensure that the Forasches didn’t see her teeth clenching at the sound of her voice. Nails on a chalkboard and failing brakes were more soothing than Babette’s childish tone.

  “Of course, I will strive to get you anything your heart desires while you are guests at the Masquerade,” she said, leaving the “as long as you don’t mind the bill” unsaid. Dreams were never free, especially in Las Vegas.

  “My wife wanted to come here to attend the Romance Lovers’ Convention. She loves those books, and I love reaping the benefits of all those sex scenes.” Saul leered at his wife and pulled her close. “If you know what I mean.”

  Ew. Yeah, they all knew what he meant. Kelsey sneaked a glance at Perry, who was clearly trying not to throw up. “I think we all know what you mean.”

  “Well, Babette is a huge fan of this guy, Micah Holmes, and she wants one of those ‘Ultimate Fan’ packages with him.” He leaned over and licked his wife’s ear, and Kelsey could not stop the shiver of revulsion. “She wants to spend the day with him, go to dinner, hang out.”

  “I want an early copy of his next book.” Babette pouted and actually batted her fake eyelashes. They resembled two dead butterflies stuck to her eyeballs.

  “Don’t we all,” Kelsey muttered before she smiled and broke the bad news. The hotel had repeatedly asked Micah to participate in the packages they put together to showcase the convention, but his agent had been firm that he was not interested. “Mr. Holmes declined our numerous requests for that package, but I would be happy to try to arrange it with any of the other authors attending the convention.”

  “I thought you were Supergirl.” Saul turned and repeated his pseudo question to Perry. “You said she was Supergirl.”

  Perry opened his mouth to respond, but she didn’t want him to open his big yap.

  “Supergirl, yes. A magician, no.” She smiled at Saul and Babette, using her most persuasive tone. It worked on an Arab sheikh once, and she bet it could work on a guy from L.A. who owned a suspect import/export business. “Mr. Holmes’s representative made it very clear that he is not available for the Ultimate Fan experience.”

  “Maybe you could ask him again since you’re his personal concierge,” Perry said, every syllable dripping with “I got ya.” She turned and glared at him, but he was undeterred. “He might change his mind.”

  Saul was not a man to pass up an opening like that. “I’ll sweeten the pot for you and guarantee you an excellent reference for the management trainee program you told me about the last time I was here.”

  “What? You remember that?” she asked, stunned that he recalled a conversation that happened over four months ago.

  “I always remember things that I might be able to use as leverage later.” He twisted his lips in a smile that creeped her out. It was the kind of line guys in films delivered right before they slapped duct tape over a girl’s mouth and shoved her in the trunk of a car. “You make this happen for my Babette, and I’ll give you a reference that would get Satan back into heaven.”

  “Jesus,” she said, letting her polish slip with her shock.

  “He’s already there,” Saul joked as he rose to his feet with Babette.

  “Tell Micah I’m his biggest fan,” Babette said and reached out to squeeze Kelsey’s hand with another flutter of the dead butterflies.

  Kelsey was torn. Micah had been adamant about not participating, and she dreaded bringing it up again, but they’d shared a connection earlier, and maybe she could persuade him to change his mind. It should probably make her stomach turn to think about using their obvious attraction to get what she needed, but it wouldn’t be the first time she used whatever advantage she had to seal the deal. It’s how things worked in Vegas. It couldn’t be the first time Micah was asked to do itit was part of his job with his publisher. With a little time, she guessed she could persuade him. She nodded.

  “I’ll do my best, Mr. and Mrs. Forasch.”

  She watched them leave, Babette chattering on about going to shop at Chanel and Harry Winston.

  “I feel like I should call and warn Carla at Chanel,” Perry said, his voice carrying a derisive tone he would have never used in front of a guest. They had personal contacts all over the city, and the very nice woman at Chanel would definitely appreciate a heads-up that Saul and Babette were on their way.

  “For a man who works in hospitality, you really don’t seem to like people all that much,” Kelsey said, turning to face the guy who’d just thrown her under the bus.

  “I don’t like most people. Just a select few.”

  “Well, I’m clearly not one of the select few for you to serve me up like that. You know he’s already declined twice, Perry. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Work your usual miracle. You’ll figure it out, you always do.” He flashed her a semi-genuine smile, and his words sounded a little bit like a compliment.

  She snorted and folded her arms across her chest, examining him closely, looking for the catch. “I guess I’ll have to now that you practically promised them.”

  “You could have told them no,” he said, watching her and raising an eyebrow when she didn’t answer. He nodded his head as if he’d made his point. “And that is why you’re on the short list for the program, Kelsey. You do whatever it takes to get the guest what they want. You don’t apologize for being a shark in a shark tank. Now, go do what you do.”

  Again the unease of asking Micah Holmes crept back in. He seemed like a nice guy, a little bit on the quiet side with a hint of the shyness that kept him holed up in his room for five days. He probably had a very good reason for saying no.

  Was he a guy who would help her out if she asked really nicely? Not a clue. Sure, they’d bonded over the box of spilled sex toys but that didn’t mean he’d do a favor for her. It would take some time to get to know him better, to build on their acquaintance, before she could find the right angle to approach him with the request.

  And there was the spark of attraction between them, a mutual interest.

  She wouldn’t stoop to sleeping with a guy to get Babette what she wantedshe drew the line at outright sexual favorsbut it didn’t hurt that he liked her. Everyone flirted a little to get what they needed—a big smile for the bouncer to get into the club, teasing banter with the guy at the airport to get the free seat upgrade. It was harmless. This would be no different.

  Her earpiece buzzed, and she answered it. “This is Kelsey Kyle.”

  She was surprised to hear Micah’s voice on the line. “Hi…this is Micah…Mr. Holmes…in the Executive Suite.”

  “Yes, Mr. Holmes. What can I do for you?” She looked at Perry, who was listening intently from the desk.

  “I was wondering…” He cleared his throat and his voice took on that southern, whiskey-laced, gravel edge that made her shiver. She turned away from Perry, very aware of him staring her down, and she didn’t want him to see her reaction to this guest. It was bad enough that her voice sounded breathy and shaky to her own ears. Damn, but that southern drawl made her heart pound. “I wanted to talk to you about some things for this week, and I was wondering if you have time to come back to my room.”

  “Yes, of course. I can come right up. Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything you need?”

  A long bout of silence followed; so long she wondered if he’d hung up until she heard whispering in the background. A muffled murmur and Micah’s sharp “shut up” made her curious about whom he had in his room.

  She hoped to God it wasn’t a hooker.

  Kelsey had no desire to go to his suite and find some chick ordered off one of the many flyers they handed out on the Strip. Micah didn’t strike her as the call girl type, but most of the time the guys who rented girls by the hour didn’t
look like the type, which was why they usually got away with it. In Vegas, nothing and no one was what they seemed, but she didn’t want her bubble burst when it came to Micah Holmes, because today when he’d been down on the floor helping her corral sex toys, he’d appeared to be the sexy, honest, open kind of man who wrote books that made her cry and wish that the fiction could be reality.

  His voice was louder when he spoke, like he had to force it out before he lost his nerve. “Towels. I’d like more towels, please.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Holmes. I’ll be up in about twenty minutes.”

  She clicked off the call and stared at the photograph of the Vegas Strip on the wall, the Masquerade front and center.

  “That was Micah Holmes,” she told Perry, in case he hadn’t figured it out.

  “My mother was a religious woman, and she’d call that a sign,” Perry said behind her.

  “My mother wasn’t, and she would have said it was kismet,” Kelsey murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. She weighed her options, balancing her squeamishness at trying to convince Micah and what she had to lose. She knew what she had to do.

  If you grew up in Vegas, you knew that Lady Luck didn’t show up very often, but when she did, you didn’t ignore her. You closed your eyes, kissed the dice, and rolled for the jackpot.

  And everyone knew that when you were born within the city limits of Las Vegas, gambling was in your blood.

  Chapter Four

  Wednesday

  “Allen, you need to leave before she gets here,” Micah said.

  He moved around the room trying to organize his piles into neater piles and make the suite look more like a VIP hotel room and less like a frat house after Greek Week.

  “No way. Not even your highly-trained Marine ass could get me out of here with anything less than a whole bunch of your brigades or regiments or whatever.” Allen waved him off as he tried to shove a box into the overfull trash can.

  “I was in a platoon, you moron.” Micah lifted the couch cushions to make sure there weren’t any unpleasant surprises under there. The room wasn’t dirty, but he wasn’t very good at picking up after himself when he was in full-on writing mode. He glanced around the room and determined that it was as good as it was going to get when the doorbell to the suite rang. He pointed at Allen as he walked over to the door. “You say hello and then you leave.”

  “Sure. Whatever.” His best friend’s agreement was completely refuted by the shit-eating tilt of his grin. This was not going to go well.

  He opened the door and found Kelsey standing on the threshold, peeking over several plush white towels stacked in her arms. Her eyes met his, and he felt a jolt of heat along his skin, in his groin. He sucked in a breath and steadied his reaction, watching her cheeks flush with her own response to him, but she didn’t look away. Good. He hadn’t imagined the attraction from earlier.

  He took his time to take in her appearance—long, sexy legs, full breasts, her long fall of dark hair, and her light mocha skin. She was still dressed in her uniform of black, fitted suit and was still gorgeous. Gorgeous enough to make him stumble over his words a little. “Kelsey…um…you look…”

  “Let her in,” Allen said, and Micah gritted his teeth. He flashed a “shut up” glare at him before he pulled his head out of his ass and fell back on the manners instilled in him by his mom and finely-tuned by the U.S. Military.

  “Come in, please. Thanks so much for coming up. I really appreciate it.”

  “It’s not a problem at all.” She smiled at him; it was warm and did a lot to loosen the tension in his body. He felt like he was in high school again, all false starts and insecurity around someone he was interested in. She looked over his shoulder and nodded at Allen. “Good evening.”

  “This is my agent and friend, Allen George,” he said. “Allen, this is Kelsey Kyle, a junior concierge here at the hotel and the one assigned to me for the convention.”

  Allen was as smooth as ever and walked over to extend his hand to her. “Nice to meet you. I really appreciate you helping Micah out. His regular PA just left to be a full-time mom, and we had no time to get a replacement.”

  “It’s no problem at all. I’m looking forward to it,” Kelsey replied.

  Allen smiled and then slid a look at him, and Micah knew he wasn’t going to like what came next. He moved toward his friend, prepared to chokehold him until he passed out if necessary, but he was too late.

  “Micah, she is as beautiful as you said.” He grinned the grin of the truly evil and kept talking. “I totally support your plan to ask her out on a date.”

  For a split second, time actually stopped for the sole purpose of letting that piece of information hover in the air between them, long enough for him to plot the slow, painful death of his best friend.

  Kelsey’s gaze whipped back to Micah, but he couldn’t tell if the new blush and half-smile was because she was embarrassed or pleased by the news he had a crush. Allen dropped that little grenade right in the middle of the room and then grabbed his coat off the back of the chair, clearly intending to leave him there to deal with whatever fallout ensued.

  Bastard.

  Allen held his card out to Kelsey who took it. “My contact information is on there in case you need something from me.”

  “Thank you. It was nice to meet you.” Kelsey bobbed her head at him and then turned toward the bathroom with a nod toward Micah. “I’ll go and put these towels away for you.”

  Micah watched her go, making sure she was out of earshot before he turned back to Allen.

  “Thanks a lot, dickhead.”

  “Look, I knew you’d take forever to put it out there, so I saved you the trip. She knows you think she’s cute. The way she was looking at you, I think it’s mutual. Turn on that southern charm that all the girls fall for, and I’ve seen you use on rare occasions, and get the girl for once.”

  Micah stared at him, pissed that his little speech had seeped out a good part of his anger. Allen might be a douchebag sometimes, but he meant well, and he had just cut to the chase in a way that eliminated any way for him to chicken out.

  “I’d say thank you, but part of me still wants to punch you in the face,” he finally said as he pointed to the door. “Go. Get me an offer on my thriller.”

  Allen laughed and opened the door, yelling “you’re welcome” before the door shut behind him. He raked his hands through his hair, yanking on it in frustration, and turned around to find Kelsey staring at him with a smooth expression on her face that probably served her well when dealing with crazy, grouchy, demanding hotel guests, but she couldn’t hide the spark of curiosity in her eyes.

  “So…” he said, lowering his hands and shoving them in his pockets for the lack of knowing what else to do with them. He was not a people person, and it only got worse when he was interested in a woman. Being with Becky had given him no experience in the dating department. That’s what happened when a guy married his elementary school sweetheart two weeks after high school graduation and two weeks before boot camp.

  “I placed the towels on top of the others in the bathroom,” she said, jabbing her thumb at the door behind her. “You have quite a collection of them in there.”

  “Yeah, I do.” He liked to have fresh towels, but the hotel had been so amazing at remembering his preference that he couldn’t use them fast enough even with a shower when he woke up and one after his workout. It was habit he’d developed after he’d returned home from his deployment, and a simple thing like a clean towel felt like the world’s best luxury. He’d meant to clear some of them out before she arrived, but he’d run out of time. Now he looked like a freak with a towel fetish. That was worse than the truth so he confessed. “I knew that. I asked for more towels so that if you got up here and I flaked out on asking you out, I’d have a good excuse.”

  He rushed out the last sentence, forcing himself to take the plunge. Something told him Kelsey might be worth it, so he ignored the painful twist in his stomach and
went for broke. “I’m really terrible at this, but you’re the most gorgeous woman I think I’ve ever seen. I’d really like to take you to dinner and get to know you better.”

  “Oh.” She closed her mouth, breaking eye contact for a moment to look around the room for her answer in the artwork or the skyline just outside the windows. When she looked back at him, her expression was torn, regretful, and he knew what her answer would be. “The hotel doesn’t allow us to date guests. I’m sorry.”

  He tried his best to hide the disappointment that shoved his guts down in his toes, but he knew he did a terrible job at it. Micah was no poker player. “Well, the last thing I want to do is get you in trouble at work. No worries,” he said, waiting for her to make her excuses and leave.

  “It’s not that I don’t think you’re hot or anything or that I wouldn’t love to go out to dinner with you.” She paused and bit her bottom lip, the sigh that passed her lips telling him that she regretted saying no. “I just can’t.”

  The pit eased up in his gut. She thought he was hot? He wasn’t being blown off. And even though the answer wasn’t what he wanted, if that was the only obstacle, he could work with it.

  And…she didn’t move, she stood there staring at him with a million things passing through her eyes: regret, calculation, decision, and then indecision. She was thinking really hard about this, and it gave him confidence that maybe he could change her answer.

  “How about if it wasn’t a date?” he asked, surprising himself with the turn this had taken. Taking the steps necessary to put himself right in front of her, he looked down at her and smiled. “What if I had a way for us to have dinner, and it wouldn’t violate the rules of your job?”