What Happened in Vegas…

What Happened in Vegas…
Wendy Etherington

That weekend in Vegas with Gideon Nash is one of Jacinda Barrett's steamiest memories.

Too bad it's also the one she most wants kept secret. After all, working as an exotic dancer to fund college doesn't exactly fit with her current upscale lifestyle. So when Gideon reappears like a sexy ghost from her past, can she refuse his promise of an even better time?

The temptation is simply too much for Jacinda to resist. But as their fling revisited evolves into something that looks like commitment, she discovers Gideon has a dirty little secret of his own. And it's one that could make their weekend in Vegas seem like family entertainment.

WENDY ETHERINGTON

What Happened in Vegas…

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

To my editor, Wanda Ottewell. If you weren’t so

damn brilliant, I wouldn’t be losing you. Congrats

on the promotion, girl! No one deserves it more.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

1

JACINDA BARRETT dropped into the chair behind her desk with an uncharacteristic plop. “Wasn’t I just here?”

Her assistant, Andrew, handed her a cup of coffee. “We all were, honey. The auction has everybody hopping.” He leaned over her desk and whispered conspiratorially, “I think even the boss man stayed after five last night.”

Jacinda sipped coffee to hide her smile. If Sherman Pascowitz, chairman of Callibro’s Auction House since before Moses parted the seas, worked late, then the auction that was due to take place in less than a week must truly be extraordinary. And that fact added to her anxiety. She was only an assistant curator. This was the first time she’d been given the opportunity to take charge of an auction—and that was no doubt because her boss was currently on maternity leave. Still, Mr. Pascowitz could have chosen any one of the three other assistants.

“How many more items do we have to inventory?” she asked Andrew.

“About a hundred.”

“Then let’s hope this caffeine kicks in soon. Let me answer my e-mail, then we’ll get to it.”

Andrew spun and headed toward the door. “I’m there for you as always.”

Jacinda didn’t hide her smile this time. She faced her computer and began the process of sorting through her mail.

Andrew was an amazing asset to her office—and no doubt one of the main reasons she’d risen to the attention of the chairman after only working at the auction house for two years. Andrew was an NYU grad with an amazing eye for antiques. He was also a future fashion icon, at least as he told it.

Frankly, she thought his chartreuse suits and purple striped pants paired with sober dove-gray shirts were a bit over-the-top. But nobody—even the wildly conservative Mr. Pascowitz—seemed to care, since Andrew was completely brilliant.

Though she’d graduated at the top of her class, double majoring in history and business, she’d done so at University of Nevada, Las Vegas, which wasn’t exactly Harvard. And her family’s history involved lots of cocktail waitresses. Andrew came from big money, so he grew up with class, plus he was one of those IQ-off-the-scale people. She’d lucked out in a big way by having him assigned to her.

She was nearly through her inbox when the intercom beeped.

“Ms. Barrett, do you have a moment to meet with a potential client?” Andrew asked.

Andrew only addressed her formally when he had a VIP in the office, so Jacinda had to fight back a groan. She barely had half a cup of coffee in her. “Of course. Send him in.”

Seconds later, the door to her office opened and Andrew strode in, followed by another man. A gorgeous man wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt. A man who had shoulder-brushing, black wavy hair, green eyes and a sculpted jaw.

A man she recognized.

Damn, damn, damn.

Half out of her chair, Jacinda swallowed her fears and held out her hand, praying she’d changed enough, hoping like crazy that enough time had passed and that a certain weekend in Vegas had been easily forgotten.

No such luck.

Their hands connected along with their gazes. Recognition sprang into his, followed by sexual awareness and amusement. “Ms. Barrett,” he said smoothly.

“Ms. Barrett, this is Gid—”

“Oh, she knows who I am,” Gideon Nash said, still staring into her eyes, still holding her hand.

Resisting the instinct to melt into a puddle as she desperately shoved aside memories of hot skin, heavy breathing and intense satisfaction, Jacinda pulled her hand back. She glanced at Andrew long enough to see his eyebrows lift, then he winked and left the room.

Jacinda, who’d run from a fight exactly once in her life, nearly ran after her assistant.