What Happened in Vegas…

“I don’t think either of us thought beyond the moment that weekend.”

“A big part of the problem.”

She nodded. “We jumped over several steps in the dating game.”

He slid closer, then drew his finger down her thigh. “True. But fast isn’t always bad.” He grinned. “Not that I’m opposed to slow and easy.”

Her eyes widened, then she smiled. “I remember.”

“And I recall developing a taste for champagne that I hadn’t had before.”

“You licked it off nearly every inch of my body. I assumed you loved the stuff.”

He slid his hand over her knee, then drew it up, along her thigh and under her skirt. “I loved the taste of it on your skin.”

Her breathing hitched. She set her wineglass on the table.

His heart hammering, he leaned closer. His forehead brushed her hair as he spoke softly into her ear. “You have the softest skin.”

“You think so?” she asked, her voice high and strained.

His pulse jumped. The wild attraction he still felt was reciprocated. He wasn’t the only one veering way off his professional path and reliving their sensual history.

He glided his fingers up and down her thigh. Her skin heated beneath his touch. Her breathing quickened. He remembered those long, lean legs wrapped around his hips. He remembered them glistening with sweat, twitching in sensual need.

Drawing his hand higher on her leg, he moved closer to the juncture between her thighs. With the tip of his finger, he teased the edge of her panties. “I could make you forget your stress at work, even the conflict between us.” He slid his finger into her warmth, finding the button that would send her soaring easily and quickly.

She gripped the edge of the table. “Gideon…”

“Is that a warning or encouragement?” He stroked his finger up, then down. He moved so slowly he hoped her eyes were crossed. He couldn’t tell, of course, because she’d closed her lids.

To shut him out, or to better concentrate on the pleasure he was giving her?

The heat spilling off her body, pulsing against his fingers, had him holding his breath, anticipating her next sigh.

They were in a busy restaurant, staff and other customers just feet away, but that all fell away. There was only her. The woman he couldn’t seem to forget. The woman he, again, couldn’t resist.

“I think we should pick up where we left off,” he said quietly in her ear.

She gasped, her thighs clenching around his hand. “Wh—where was that?”

“Naked and horizontal.”

4

JACINDA’S EYES popped open. She clamped her thighs together, which only served to trap Gideon’s hand against her bare flesh.

She ground her teeth as the tension building low in her belly jumped another notch.

Naked? Horizontal?

Who needed that? She was on the verge of orgasm with all her clothes on in a busy restaurant.

Not a good move—personally or professionally. Gideon was, no doubt, attempting to seduce the emerald out of her. Or at least persuade her to help him get it away from the documented owners.

She was nothing more to him.

Part of her knew giving in to the pleasure he could bring was impulsive, unethical and cheap. And part of her just didn’t give a damn.

That was Jacy Powers talking.

She reminded the respectable Jacinda that it didn’t do any good to run from the past. Old mistakes and experiences always found you just when you thought you’d moved, even risen above.

Great, now I’m referring to myself in the third person.

“Shall I continue?” Gideon’s silky voice whispered in her ear.

“Certainly not here.”

Oh, boy, now I’m talking like Jacinda and thinking like Jacy.

“My place?” he asked. “Or yours?”

She bit her lip. “Mine’s closer.”

He urged her chin around so they were face-to-face. “Is that an invitation?”

Trembling with need, doubt and anticipation, she nodded.

“I’ll pay the check.”

As he slid out of the booth, she nearly called him back—and not just because he’d moved his hand from between her legs. Surely sophisticated Manhattan career women didn’t let guys feel them up in public, then invite them to their apartments for a hot, one-night stand they absolutely knew they’d regret in the morning.

If you knew you were making a mistake as you did something, shouldn’t you stop yourself?

Apparently not, because when Gideon reappeared at the table and held out his hand, she took it and followed him out of the restaurant.

Was she drunk?

She rolled her head from side to side to check for dizziness.

When the world didn’t spin and she continued to walk easily in her three-inch heels, she figured she’d passed that test. But was that a good thing?

She felt as if she were sleepwalking or dreaming, so she could explore what she wanted without consequences, because she’d wake up and come to her senses at any moment. But she didn’t want to wake up. And she’d just have to pay the price for whatever came tomorrow. She’d spent years being practical and smart. For once, for just one night, she wanted to let go, she wanted to remember what it was like to be wild and free.

Gideon hailed a cab, and they climbed into the backseat.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked.