isn’t Bond.”
Taylor laughed. Angel grinned, and it wasn’t because she’d dealt herself twenty-one.
“Very good, Sarah. If you ever get tired of post-production, you’d make a good detective.”
She smiled, mightily pleased with herself. “Is that what you really do?”
He held out his hand. “Ben Bowman, Private Detective.”
She shook his hand, but her gaze went to Taylor. “Are you a P.I., too?”
“I’m a paralegal, which isn’t half as interesting.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
“Are you playing, sir?”
Ben realized he’d abandoned his cards altogether. He slipped two five dollar chips into the rectangle, and put another five above it, playing the bet for the dealer.
Taylor and Sarah both straightened, made their own bets, and each of them followed suit in tipping Angel. It turned out well for everyone. Angel busted with twenty-four.
“It’s almost noon,” Taylor said. “My mother’s going to be here in an hour.”
He shoved his whole stack of chips toward the center of the table. “Cash me in, please.”
Taylor’s laughter was as intoxicating as the drink that arrived while he waited for his chips.
“Still want to cash out?” Taylor asked.
“Oh, yeah.”
“But our drinks…”
“Are portable.”
“Good point.”
Sarah sighed. “You guys are so lucky. How wonderful to be in love in Las Vegas.”
Ben froze, Taylor cleared her throat and Angel wasn’t at all successful in hiding a knowing grin.
Taylor pushed her chips in after Ben got his money back. “We are lucky, thank you. But we’re actually here for my brother’s wedding.”
Sarah leaned forward over the lip of the table. “Why not make it a double wedding? Or better yet, run off to one of those cool chapels. You could get married by Elvis.” She reached frantically into her oversized purse and pulled out a small notebook and a pen. “This is my room number. I’m here for three more days. If you guys do get married, I want to be there.”
“I’d be delighted to take your card,” Ben said with a bow. “But I’ve been married. It’s not going to happen again. Ever.”
Sarah smiled at him slyly. “You never know. Magic things happen in Las Vegas.”
He looked at Taylor. “Magic, yes. But some things aren’t in the cards.” Nodding once more at Sarah, he said, “Hope you win a bundle.”
She glanced back at the Wheel of Fortune. The same man was still desperately pressing the max bet button, the only thing to have changed was the number of empty cocktail glasses beside him. “I’ll settle for not losing my shirt.”
“Good girl.”
“I’m ready,” Taylor said, and from the high flush of her cheeks, he believed her.
Sarah was forgotten in a flash, as was blackjack, gambling of any sort, the casino, the hotel, the entire city. All that mattered was the woman in front of him and getting her to his room. There was so much to do.
He took her arm at the elbow. “Let’s go.”
TAYLOR PRACTICALLY had to run to keep up with Ben’s long strides. He darted and weaved through the crowd, aiming for the elevators. Her drink sloshed as she tried not to step on toes. It would have been smarter just to put the glass down, but there was no stopping Ben. Nor did she want to. She felt like a teenager…. No, like the teenager she’d been with Ben. How she’d loved him! He’d been the only thing in her life for well over a year.
She sidestepped to avoid a woman in a wheelchair, her purse banging into her side, then they were clear of the casino.
Ben looked back at her, and his grin made her toes curl. She didn’t know the specifics of his plan, but she was all in favor of the general idea.
Good thing she’d dressed with care this morning; shaved everything that should be, worn her matching pink lace bra and panties. She’d even put a couple of condoms in her purse. Then she’d written to her friends at Eve’s Apple, filling them in on the distinct possibility that her Man To Do would be Done before tomorrow. She hadn’t really thought it would happen quite this soon, but who was she to complain?
Ben slowed as they neared the elevator, pulling her close enough to slip his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t remember,” he whispered, “if I told you how beautiful you look this morning.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think you did.”
He nipped her earlobe. “You’re stunning.”
She shivered all the way down to her toes. “Why Mr. Bowman, I do declare.”
His laugh added to her shivers. “I didn’t know Southern California was part of the Deep South.”
Finally, they were at the elevator. The button had already been pushed, but Ben pressed it again. They waited with a family of four, all wearing Las Vegas T-shirts, the adults from Caesar’s Palace, the kids from Circus Circus. The littlest kid looked to be about three, and very cranky. He tugged on Daddy’s shorts, whining about something named “Snooky.”
By the time their elevator arrived, three more people had joined the queue and they all clambered in together, Ben guiding her to the back. He stood next to her, his hip against hers.
As they ascended, she felt a slight tickle just below the hem of her shorts. She jumped, but then realized it was Ben’s fingers, brushing lightly against her skin.
With each floor, his fingers moved up the back of her thigh. She felt herself blush even though no one was looking at them. It was an incredibly intimate gesture, brazen, and yet totally discreet.
His fingers kept inching up until he brushed the curve of her buttock. Barely touching her, he swept his finger back and forth over the same small patch, giving her goose bumps everywhere. Driving her crazy.
She pressed back against the elevator wall, trapping his hand. “Stop,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Just wait.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“There’s only one more stop before our floor.”
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem. Come on. Move.”
She shook her head, figuring she’d won the battle.
Wrong. He turned until he was directly in front of her, his body pressed against hers so tightly she could feel his hard length, the sharp edge of his belt buckle. He smiled, his brown eyes filled with wicked intent, and then he kissed her.
Thank goodness the family had gotten off two floors down, because the kiss was definitely not G-rated. His tongue slipped between her surprised lips, exploring, darting, daring her to respond, to forget where they were, that they weren’t alone.
Her hands went to his shoulders, trying to push him back, but he wasn’t having any of that. Instead, he folded her in his arms, and reminded her what it was she’d loved about kissing.
His mouth opened just enough, his tongue, tasting slightly of gin, teased her into a moan that should have embarrassed her a great deal more than it did.
Then he was gone, leaving her on shaky legs, her mouth still open and moist. It took her a second to realize the elevator had stopped, that the strangers at each corner were staring at her, that Ben had already walked into the hall.
She