Box of 1Night Stands: 21 Sizzling Nights

by Anthology

  Instead of sitting down in the chair across from her, he strode over to the bar, pulled a bottle of wine out of a sterling silver ice bucket, and poured two glasses. He handed her one, then lifted his in a toast. “To new friends.”

  In a daze, she lifted the goblet to his and the crystal sang a lovely, rich chime. The first sip of the fragrant, chilled wine surprised her. “This is wonderful. I love a good Riesling.”

  “I know.” The corner of his mouth lifted as he admitted, “You mentioned it in your profile.”

  It impressed her more than she cared to admit that he’d noticed, let alone bothered to plan ahead and arrange to have hotel management place the wine in their room. The idea never would’ve occurred to Mark to be so organized, or thoughtful of oth—

  Put him out of your head, Leah. Tonight is about moving ahead, not dwelling on the past.

  She cleared her throat, and peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “It’s been so long since I filled out that profile, I don’t really recall much of what I wrote.” Liar. You agonized over every word. And you looked it over again this morning.

  Jackson met her eyes over the rim of his glass, and for a split second, she had the very real sensation he’d read her thoughts, and concluded she’d lied. “I remember it well. You said you liked to travel, and you’ve been all over the world. You were the only girl on the boys’ surf team in high school.” He swirled the wine in his glass for a moment, watching the movement of the liquid. “You eat your vegetables, and you like your steak rare. And, if I recall, you have a particular fondness for cats, but you travel too much for business so you can’t have one right now.”

  Wow. He’d paid attention, almost memorized the personal information in her profile. Madame Eve required an extremely detailed questionnaire, as well as a background check to protect both clients she brought together. But while she used that information to find the best matches for the clients, she also kept most of the information on the questionnaire confidential, revealing only the basics to the couple, including interesting tidbits giving insight into the individual personalities of the partners. Beyond those basics, according to 1NightStand’s FAQ page, what partners chose to divulge to each other was up to them.

  “You know, Leah…” began the very handsome Jackson as he settled across from her, “Madame Evangeline explained the reason for your…desire for an evening like this.”

  So much for putting my dead fiancé out of my head. Leah lifted the fine crystal stemware to her lips, buying time before she replied. “Really. What did she say, exactly?” Oh, God. Here comes the pitying glance and soft apology over her loss. She didn’t think she could stomach even one more condescending mention of Mark’s death. Nobody felt comfortable discussing it, but that never stopped them from trying, which usually compelled her to try and make them feel better instead.

  Jackson’s steady gaze locked on hers. “Your fiancé is dead. You need some closure in order to move on, and you think sleeping with a look-alike will do the trick.”

  She froze. And suddenly missed the pity, apologies and condescension she’d expected. Where did he get off, putting her need to move on in such crass terms? And what did he care anyway? He knew what her deal was, it still hadn’t stopped him from showing up. Opening her mouth to tell him to shove the evening up his undeniably attractive ass, she stopped short when he slid to the edge of his seat.

  “Losing someone you love is never easy, but it does get easier to bear. With time.”

  The sincerity in his voice wasn’t feigned and though she’d heard the same words a hundred times or more since Mark’s death, hearing them from a stranger who had no reason to say them other than he actually meant them took the wind out of her sails. Especially when his dark eyes conveyed more than mere sympathy. He understood exactly what she’d experienced.

  “You’ve been through it, too.”

  He nodded. “I lost someone important to me a few years ago.” That was it, no further explanation forthcoming and no more words needed. He’d experienced the denial, the anger, the struggle to accept what was out of his control.

  “Then maybe you can understand that people need to come to terms with their loss in their own way.” His eyes narrowed at the words but he didn’t look away. The butterflies took flight again. “This is how I choose to do it, Jackson. Moving on requires me to leave everything I had with Mark behind. And in order to do that, I need to make new memories to replace the old.”

  Jackson reached across and took the glass from her hand, setting it on the table beside her chair. Leaning in, he cupped her nape and drew her forward until his lips hovered a fraction from hers. “You’re certain this is what you want?”

  He had the most incredible eyes, long black lashes framing them, but not too long. His smooth skin had the merest hint of stubble and up close, the scent of an expensive cologne lingered. He’d shaved very recently and the thought made her curiously happy knowing he’d probably prepared for their date as much as she had. Well, maybe not as much. She doubted he had eight different items of discarded clothing strewn across his bed at home.

  Regardless, this stranger stirred emotions in her she hadn’t experienced in a long time—excitement and lust. It felt marvelous. And so normal.

  She stared at his sensual lips, the lower being a bit fuller. Tipping her head a fraction, she leaned in to touch her lips to his. He allowed her to take control of the kiss, and she appreciated his sensitivity. Lord, he smelled good and tasted even better. Reaching up, she placed a palm on his shoulder. Staring into his dark eyes, she smiled. “Yes, Jackson. This is definitely what I want.”

  Chapter Three

  His cock wasn’t going to take no for an answer. It swelled and strained against his zipper, and stifling a groan of frustration, Jackson shifted to ease the painful pressure. He never anticipated the favor he’d promised Evangeline would cause blue balls.

  “Are you okay?”

  Leah’s soft voice pulled him back to the present. Leaning away to put some distance between them, he ran a hand through his hair and nodded. She watched him, her blue eyes filled with uncertainty, and his protective instinct flared again. Jesus, he never got involved with needy women—that was the surest path to hell. He damn well wasn’t going to start now, even if he did feel sorry for her. Misery may love company, but he liked being alone, thanks.

  He stood abruptly, catching the chair when it threatened to topple backward. Shrugging out of his constricting suit jacket, he threw it over the back and asked, “You hungry?” Not waiting for a reply, he strode to the desk to call room service. The last thing he wanted was food, but he needed to get away from her scent and warmth, her total femininity. Eating could be just the distraction necessary to clear his head and tame his libido. He hoped.

  Wide-eyed, she gripped the arms of her chair and watched him stab the numbers for the kitchen. The kitchen manager answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, Marcus. Let me speak to Gina.” When the head chef picked up, Jackson didn’t bother with a greeting. “How long will it take to get a meal sent up here?”

  The chef chuckled. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

  He scratched his chin and glanced over his shoulder at Leah. She’d moved to stand in front of the window, her back stiff. His fingers groped at the knot of his tie and he worked it loose until it hung like a noose around his neck. What the hell is wrong with me? He never lost his cool, not with his staff and definitely not with women.

  “I apologize, Gina.” He attempted contrition though the woman on the other end of the line knew him better than that. “What’s on your menu tonight?”

  “Steak, those mashed potatoes you like, and….” She paused. “Where are you?”

  Shit. Nobody at the hotel knew he had a date. The most they knew was he’d asked them to get the best suite ready for a special guest, not an unheard of request in Vegas. But, he’d forgotten the staff had the ability to know which room a call originated from.

  “Upstairs
.” He peeked over his shoulder again and found Leah clutching the drapes with both hands and continuing to take great interest in the traffic on the Strip below.

  “What are you doing in a guest room? Why aren’t you in your office?”

  Jackson narrowed his eyes. He was so not answering that question—the whole freaking hotel would know about Leah and 1NightStand and his stand-in routine to fill a dead guy’s shoes…nope, not answering.

  “I need two meals. You know where to send them.” There. The boss had spoken. He hung up before she could ask anything else.

  He turned back toward Leah and his breath hitched. Golden light from the desert sunset shone in, creating a halo around her blond hair and diminutive form…giving her an almost fairy-like appeal…a very sexy little fairy. And when she glanced over at him with a look both questioning and timid, his heart tripped.

  Damn. She was utterly, vulnerably beautiful.

  He joined her at the window, standing behind but not touching her. Staring out over her shoulder, he viewed the skyline, one he’d seen so many times without ever really noticing it. Wondered what her thoughts were and tried not to think about where his own thoughts kept heading.

  “Do you want to hear something funny?” She spoke in a soft voice.

  Their images reflected back at them from the window and he caught her gaze in the glass. Even in the dim reflection, her eyes were a stunning blue.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s ironic that I’ve been to Las Vegas so many times, but I’ve never gambled in my entire life.”

  “Never? Not even a bet?” He wondered where she was going with the declaration.

  “No.”

  He tilted his head. Contacting Evangeline had been risky behavior for her then. “Something tells me you haven’t always followed the rules though.”

  “Well, obviously not.” She caught his eye in the window again and laughed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Oh yes, she was definitely here. He ached to touch her, to feel her again. Shifting forward, he put his hands on her waist and drew her back against his chest. She surprised him by molding into him naturally, as though she’d done it a thousand times. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her waist. She fit perfectly.

  Ah, hell.

  ***

  It felt so good to be held by a man. It’d been so long, too long. Strong arms locked her tight against a hard, muscular body. She wondered if the unexpected embrace was for pity’s sake…until Jackson pulled her hair away from her neck and ran a tender trail of kisses up the side, zeroing in on the wildly erogenous zone behind her ear. Goose bumps rose over her entire body in a rush. Any notion it was a pity embrace fled when an insistent erection pressed against her through the thin fabric of her skirt.

  Hello.

  Jackson surprised her though, when he didn’t continue the seduction but seemed content to hold her. She glanced down. His hands were large, with long fingers and just a slight sprinkling of dark hair peeking from the cuffs of his dress shirt, so stark white in contrast to his tanned skin.

  “What do you do, Jackson?” She angled her head to look at him.

  “For a living?” His deep voice vibrated against her back and he quirked a black eyebrow. “Or for fun?”

  Oh, man. That look, both teasing and erotic, had her stomach somersaulting as the most delicious images of the things Jackson probably did for fun flipped like flashcards through her mind.

  “Let’s start with your job.” We’ll explore the fun stuff in much greater detail later.

  He frowned. “What did Eve tell you about me?”

  Looking back, Leah realized Madame Eve hadn’t revealed a whole lot about Jackson. In fact, he knew a lot more about Leah than she knew about him, right down to her pet preferences and how she liked her steaks cooked. Leah, on the other hand, didn’t even know his last name. “Not enough, evidently.”

  “Well, for starters, I own a business.”

  No big surprise there. She’d heard him on the phone, he knew how to order people around. “Small or large?”

  “Started out as a small, family-run business.” He rested his chin on her hair and tightened his hold. “The family still owns it, but now it’s huge. More than I can handle most days.”

  She heard the pride in his voice. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “It’s my life.” He shrugged behind her, the motion reminding her of his evident, pressing desire.

  He’d come to meet her still dressed for work, straight business attire all the way, right down to his red tie. She’d always been a sucker for a man in a suit—it spelled power. And there was nothing sexier than a powerful man. “Is your business local?”

  He chuckled. “About as local as you’re going to get. You’re standing in it.”

  Her mind raced. What was he talking ab—

  Dear God. Slowly, she turned in his grasp. “You’re Jack Castillo? The Jack Castillo who owns the Castillo Hotel chain?” She didn’t know much about his personal life, he’d always kept a low profile, never showing up in the tabloid rags, never having any sort of gossip attached to his name. But anyone who followed the hotel business world knew who the Castillos were, and the enormous amount of money the company made providing top-notch, impeccable lodging and service. And suddenly, Madame Eve’s discretion for not revealing Jackson’s last name prior to their meeting made sense.

  It did, however, raise another question. With his wealth and incredible good looks, he sure as hell didn’t need the services of a company like 1NightStand to get a date. Or get laid for that matter. Then another thought struck her—maybe guaranteed anonymity was the only way he kept the gold diggers away. Or maybe he was into some kink. Or both. “What are you doing here?”

  “Evangeline and I are friends. I owed her a favor.”

  Leah laughed. “That must have been one big favor.” Like someone as busy as Jack Castillo had the time for blind dates.

  She gasped when he pushed her back until she bumped into the window. Desert heat radiated through the thick glass and warmed her from behind. Sensual, all-male body heat warmed the front of her. Her pulse spiked.

  “So far, it hasn’t been a hardship.” He grinned. “But don’t tell her I said so.”

  He had her completely tongue-tied. All she’d hoped for the evening was some consensual sex and the opportunity to put Mark in the past on the anniversary of his death. She’d never in her wildest dreams expected to spend the night with one of the wealthiest hoteliers on the planet. One who seemed to be enjoying it.

  A discreet knock interrupted her jumbled thoughts and Jackson dropped his hands from her waist with a fleeting look of regret. “That was quick.”

  She watched him stride the few steps to the door, enjoying the view. He had an animal grace, confident and somewhat predatory, which made sense. A wimp didn’t run a hotel empire.

  Jackson murmured a few words to the room service delivery staff then rolled a dinner cart into the room. Lifting the domed lid from one of two plates, he inspected the meal with what Leah assumed was the same critical eye he used for all things Castillo. He appeared satisfied and nodded. “I hope you like things spicy.”

  A heady aroma of beef filled the room. She hadn’t eaten much in two days, in nervous anticipation of the evening ahead. Her stomach growled and embarrassed, she laid a hand over it. “It smells delicious.”

  He nodded toward the fare. “I’m sure it will be.” Pulling two hidden panels out from under the linen cloth covering the cart, it became a table for two. After placing the chairs they’d sat in earlier across from each other at the little table, he held out a hand to her. “Come on. My sister prepared my favorite meal for us.”

  Leah approached him, ignoring the flutter in her belly when she took his hand. “Your sister is the chef?”

  “One of the best.” He grinned. “If she weren’t, I’d let the Bellagio have her.” He pushed in her chair as she sat down.

  Mark never would have
done that. Leah bit her lip in penance for thinking poorly of him. No matter what, he didn’t deserve thoughts like that. Even if they were true.

  Jackson waited until she lifted a fork and took a bite before he began eating. She closed her eyes in bliss as the heavenly taste and scent of the exquisitely prepared meat filled her head. “Oh, this is….” She took another bite, unable to finish the thought around the delicious perfection.

  He nodded. “I told you, I only have the best chefs working for me.”

  “You were right.” Leah sipped her wine. “But please don’t mention to them I licked the plate clean when I was done.”

  His burst of laughter surprised her. Glancing up, she flushed at the amusement in his eyes as he watched her. “Knowing my sister, Gina, she’d be flattered.”

  They ate for several moments, comfortable in the silence before Leah finally pushed her plate away. “Now that I can’t finish another bite, tell me what that was.” She sat back and watched him eat, European style. The economy of movement fascinated her. Or maybe it was simply watching his strong hands handle the utensils with precision and grace. She cleared her throat and tried to ignore another mental flash of those hands, stroking her sensitive flesh.

  “Cuban fusion. My sister studied with Chef Emilio Diaz in Miami for several years before returning home.”

  Impressive. Chef Emilio, the gifted, arrogant Cuban who made even Oprah swoon. “Home being Las Vegas, and not Miami?”

  “This is our flagship hotel, so yes, Vegas is home. Most of the family is here, although a couple of my brothers and a cousin manage resorts elsewhere.” Jackson leaned back in the chair and crossed an ankle over one knee.

  His intense gaze never left hers. She searched for something to say. “Is your family Cuban?”

  “My parents emigrated from Cuba prior to the revolution. Our heritage plays a role in nearly every aspect of our lives.” He reached over and lifted the lid from a small bowl on the table. “Including dessert.”