Las Vegas: Scandals: Prince Charming for 1 Night

“Too early for a drink?” she ventured. It was just past four. Hell, it was five o’clock just down the road in Denver. At least she thought it was. Of course, one never knew with Mountain Time.

He looked up, apparently surprised to see her sitting there. Oops. Should have kept her mouth shut.

“Come here,” he ordered.

She untangled her legs and did as he bid. Normally she wasn’t such a “yes” girl, but last night she’d quickly realized the considerable benefits of doing as he asked.

He patted the desk blotter in front of him, and she duly climbed up and sat.

“Open your robe.”

She smiled. The man was truly insatiable. Okay, this she could do. Her body already quickening, she unbelted the robe and held it open in anticipation of whatever he had in mind to make himself forget the conversation he’d just had with his father.

He didn’t touch her. Just looked. And looked.

“You have the body of a goddess,” he finally said. “You could have any man you want at the charity ball tonight.”

“Why would I want anyone else when I have you?” she asked, reaching out for his hand and raising it to her cheek. She kissed his palm. He frowned.

She knew it was the wrong thing to do. Men didn’t like it when a woman got all clingy after sex. But she just couldn’t help herself.

Heart on her sleeve? Look it up. Her picture would be right there under the definition.

Did she care?

Ask her tomorrow.

She brought his hand to her breast. He cupped her, running his thumb gently over the nipple. Shivers of pleasure went up her spine.

“And you make love like a god,” she murmured.

Abruptly, he rolled his chair forward and leaned her backward onto his arm, bracing her as he took her other nipple in his mouth. Using his tongue, he imitated what his thumb was doing to the first one.

She sucked in a sharp breath, already rushing toward climax. Her body had gotten so tuned to him, physically, all it took was a touch or a kiss and she was practically there.

He withdrew, kissing her on the mouth instead. A sweet, tender kiss.

Her stomach sank.

A goodbye kiss.

Momentarily stunned, her heart squeezed painfully. Wow. That had happened more quickly than she’d thought.

But okay. She was a big girl. She could handle it.

She steadied herself, physically and mentally, for the inevitable.

“Are you ready for the ball?” he asked. “You still okay with what you have to do?”

The question caught her off guard.

In between their lovemaking and occasional foraging trips from the bedroom to the kitchen, they’d talked about what she would do tonight, how she’d go about getting the information about Darla that they needed. How to lure Darla’s accomplices in the jewelry theft ring out into the open. Alleged accomplices.

Vera was still convinced Darla was innocent. But she’d sworn to do her best for Conner and she would. She’d rather know the truth about her sister, either way.

“Of course,” she answered. She was nervous as hell about it but ready as ever. She thought about that phone call. “Why? Has something happened?”

His gaze dropped to her breasts again, and he stroked his hands over them possessively. “No,” he said. “Nothing that affects anything important.”

Now, there was a nonanswer if ever she’d heard one.

“What was that argument with your father all about, Conner?” she asked, a sick foreboding knotting in her stomach. “What did he want?”

Her lover leaned over and pressed his lips to her abdomen, trailing down to her belly button. He flicked his tongue into it. “Nothing important,” he repeated.

Which probably meant it was. So important he didn’t want to tell her. Which probably meant she wouldn’t like it, whatever it was.

His tongue trailed lower still. “Spread your legs.”

“Conner—”

“Open them.”

He was definitely trying to distract her.

It was working.

She moaned as his tongue slipped between her folds, still swollen from hours of lovemaking. It felt warm and silky on her tender flesh. So good.

Ah, well. She’d find out soon enough what the problem was. No sense borrowing trouble.

Meanwhile, she planned to enjoy every minute she had left with him. And this was a very, very good start.

He had to tell her.

Consumed with guilt—and fury at his meddling father—Conner helped Vera into the white stretch limo he’d ordered to take them to the Lights of Las Vegas Charity Ball.

She looked like a princess in the strapless sapphire-blue satin gown he’d selected for her tonight. Worldly, sophisticated, stunning. He wanted her to be on his arm. All evening. So there’d be no possibility of other men charming her, dancing with her, tempting her away.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. Dear old Dad had unknowingly made certain of it.

The old bugger’d be even more delighted if he actually knew what he’d done. Conner’s father was a stand-up guy, but completely unreasonable when it concerned the family’s reputation. Dad had tolerated Conner’s rakish behavior—barely—up until now only because he was young, single and male. But he couldn’t imagine Michael Rothchild ever in a million years condoning his son taking a stripper to a high-profile social event like this one. Much less dating one. No matter how amazing a person she was. Or how incredibly gorgeous.

Conner took his place beside her in the limo and tucked her under his arm. She nestled against him, resting her hand on his thigh.

“Nervous?” he asked.

She nodded. “Terrified.”