Vegas Heat

Attorney Sonya Miller keeps her professional and personal desires strictly separate…until she meets her devastatingly sexy new client, Dante Ricci. His new business, a Vegas hotel that promises to fulfill clients’ ultimate erotic fantasies, is all about pleasure. When he dares Sonya to reveal her secret desires, she confesses she wants to share a night of wild, wicked sex with a taste of dominance. But will she be able to give in when Dante asks her to give up control and put her pleasure in his hands?

Vegas Heat

Lisa Renee Jones

www.spice-books.co.uk

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Copyright

Chapter One

Thick raven hair. Intelligent chocolate-brown eyes. Perfectly honed body accented by a well-tailored, outrageously expensive suit. Dante Ricci, the thirty-four-year-old heir to the Ricci Fashion empire, dripped sex and money. A fantasy for women, an idol for most men. And he’d chosen her. Sonya Miller. A choice that had delivered to her the task of discovering what pleased him, of ensuring his satisfaction.

Attorney Sonya Miller sat across from him now, her hands primly folded on the shiny mahogany conference table of one of Vegas’s top law firms, not nearly as unaffected by Dante as she would have liked to be. But then, she was quickly learning he had a way of looking at a woman few other men did. A way of casting an attentive inspection that seeped through one’s pores, a way of listening that seemed to drink in every word spoken. The man just plain refused to go unnoticed. Not even by her, a woman who kept her professional and personal desires devoutly divided. A woman who never mixed business with pleasure.

And this wasn’t about pleasure, not one bit. No matter how much he made her want it to be. This was about him, a high-profile potential client, requesting her as counsel, not one of the senior partners. At twenty-eight, only three years out of law school, this was more than a compliment. It was a much-needed feather in her cap. The one that might finally earn her the “partner” title she’d fought so diligently to achieve. That her seventy-hour work weeks and a recent win against the city that had earned a client a cool three million hadn’t done the job was a bitter pill to swallow.

Regardless of the reward Dante’s interest might offer, Sonya listened to his business needs with genuine interest that extended beyond any gain, enthralled by his plans. She clung to his every word as he explained his intention to expand the Ricci name through the heart of Vegas, branding it with his mark, his claim to fame.

Sonya kept her tone as prim and professional as her long blond hair, which was pinned conservatively at the back of her head, despite her excitement over this new project of Dante’s. “Acquiring three major casino properties and then re-creating them is a high stakes venture, Mr. Ricci.” Her voice lifted despite her best efforts to contain the eagerness she felt to earn this challenge. “But it’s also an exciting venture I’d love to sink my teeth into.” She enjoyed corporate law, the negotiations, the edge of knowing the right play at the right time. “I sincerely hope you’ll do more than consider us as counsel. We won’t let you down.”

Sonya’s boss, Michael Roberson, sat by her side, gaze fixed on Dante with his own form of lusty inspection—the kind born of dollar signs. “We’re confident we can deliver results,” he assured Dante, his diamond-studded cuff link catching in the lights above. His dark hair was cut short and neatly styled, his face smooth shaven. “No other firm in this city has the diversity of skill that we do. Anything that can be thrown our way, we can handle.”

Dante offered him a cool reply. “Frankly,” he said, his stare direct as he spoke to Michael, “I rarely choose a large firm. Too many chances to be handed off in the midst of miscommunication. My confidence is not in this firm, though I’m aware of your respectable reputation.” Dante’s gaze shifted to Sonya. A gaze so warm, so rich with inspection, she felt as if he could see every intimate detail covered by her conservative light blue blazer. “It’s in Ms. Miller.” His lips lifted ever so slightly. “I saw you on the news a few nights ago. Quite a victorious courtroom showing.”

“Thank you,” she said, proud of her win, proud of the tears and sweat she’d put into achieving success, but unsettled by the flutter of ridiculous awareness in her stomach, the heat in his eyes becoming hard to ignore. Why, she didn’t know. Arrogant, rich men were plentiful enough in her profession to give her perspective enough to know they were trouble. Arrogant, attractive rich men, like Dante Ricci, were bigger trouble. Without hesitation, Sonya left those types of men for other women to fawn over and please. Except this man, she thought. She couldn’t leave him for others to please. He’d become hers for now, hers to please, and trying to block out the sultry images that idea produced, she delicately cleared her throat and added, “It was an exciting accomplishment.” She met and held his gaze, never wavering despite the intimate way the contact stroked her inside out, the way she felt the connection in every inch of her body.

“We’re quite proud of Sonya,” Michael commented.

“You should be,” Dante said, flicking Michael what appeared to Sonya to be an irritated look, as he added, “Because mark my word, she’s why I’m here. She’s hungry for success.” He shifted his attention back to her, his eyes warm with regard. “Exactly what I’m looking for. Understand that I’ll need a great deal of services. There will be contracts to negotiate on many levels once the properties are secure. There will be a local management operation to set up as well. All the more reason for me to be clear. If I sign a retainer with your firm it will be under the condition that she and I can come to terms that place her as my lead counsel.” His cell phone buzzed, shaking on top of the table where he’d set it. He reached for it and punched a button, eyed a text message and sighed. “I’m afraid I must depart.” Regret laced his tone as he glanced at her. “Sonya.” He said her name softly, a silky play along her nerve endings that stroked her into attention. Damn it, the man got to her when he should not! He continued, “Do you know Parr’s Restaurant inside Bell’s Hotel and Casino?”

“No,” she said, her throat thick, deciding her lack of interest in the casino scene might be best left unspoken. “I’m a bit of a workaholic. I don’t get out much.”

His gaze narrowed ever-so-slightly. “We’ll have to fix that,” he said, again his voice low, his words spoken to her as if Michael wasn’t present. “Parr’s personifies the concept I intend to embrace with this new venture.”

“Which is what concept exactly?” she asked, knowing it was the expected reply and that the answer was going to be a loaded one.

“Divine pleasure,” he drawled. “Every desire made possible, if only for a few days a year while on vacation.” His words, his eyes, his very presence seemed a warm caress with those words. “The atmosphere at Parr’s is elegant, the dishes served like art masterpieces. It is an exploration of the senses—taste, touch, smell. That is what I want each of my casinos to offer.”

Sonya felt her lips part, felt the ache of awareness in every single inch of her body. There was something about this man that reached right inside her and made her melt. She ached with awareness that defied her professional role. She squeezed her legs together and willed the feeling to ease, to no avail. “It sounds like a success waiting to be found.”

He pushed to his feet and Michael instantly followed. Sonya stood as well, smoothing her hand down the slim-cut skirt of her light blue suit. “I’d like to finish this conversation over dinner at Parr’s,” Dante said, clearly speaking to Sonya. He was tall, broad, more dominant than ever, his very demeanor saying he wouldn’t take no for an answer, as he added, “Perhaps by morning we can have this contracted.”

Sonya inhaled slowly, a warning going off in her head. Alone with this man in a place he defined as “divine pleasure” did not seem like a smart move. The look in his eyes, the heat lancing her from their depths, said she better set limits and do it fast—and not just for Dante…for herself, too. “It’s Wednesday. If it’s possible, I’d like to clear my desk and finish up a case. I could be ready by Monday and devote myself to your needs.” The minute she said those words, she knew they were wrong, and only practiced cool kept her from flushing red.

His eyes danced with mischief. “As appealing as your devotion to my needs is, Sonya, I think we still have a few things to discuss before I’m confident I can put my vision in your hands.”

“Don’t worry about your desk,” Michael said. “Any help you need will be offered. Focus on Mr. Ricci’s plans and the rest can be divested to another attorney.”

Dante arched a brow at Sonya, an obvious challenge that said he knew she was sidestepping being alone with him. “What time should I be there?” she asked, her tone cool and collected when she felt anything but.

He smiled his approval and rounded the conference table. “I’ll have a car pick you up at seven.” His hand extended to hers.

Sonya steeled herself for the impact of his touch before sliding her palm against his. “Seven sounds excellent,” she said, her voice softer than she intended, the heat of his fingers closing around hers, stealing her breath.

Seconds passed that felt like hours, his hand over hers, their eyes locked. “Bring your contract,” he said. “Perhaps before the night is over, we can toast to a signed agreement.”

She believed his reasons for choosing her for counsel. No smart business person, and Dante was that and more, chose an attorney based on attraction. She wanted to toast a signed agreement. This agreement, this man, held the key that could finally lead her to her goals. Years of working two jobs to get through college, of piles of bills that had built up while her mother had recovered from a brutal car accident, came down to Dante Ricci. A man who was the only client that had ever made her want more than a contract. But it didn’t matter what she wanted. The temptation he represented, no matter how alluring, was a forbidden one, a path to career suicide. Dante Ricci was off-limits outside pure business.

And that judgment was final.

Chapter Two

It was seven o’clock on the dot when the limo Dante’s secretary had set up in advance pulled to the curb of Sonya’s office building. She shoved open the door and exited into the hot July night, not about to give the uncharacteristic nerves fluttering in her stomach a chance to take root. Nerves that she was all too aware were a product of hours of inappropriate, but oh-so delicious, fantasies about what “divine pleasure” might be with a man like Dante Ricci. She needed to prove to herself, and perhaps to Dante, that this was business and nothing more. She was pretty sure it was time to get a social life. Heck, the closest thing she’d had to a date in a year was her friend/neighbor/sometimes bedroom buddy that had taken a job in New York and left.

The driver, a gray-haired slender man she guessed to be in his fifties, quickly rounded the hood of the vehicle to help her with the door. “I hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long, Ms. Miller,” he said, sounding quite formal.

“Sonya,” she said, noting that he either logically guessed her identity, or Dante was inside the car and had told him. The tingling heat sliding down her spine said it was the latter. “And I just arrived moments before you pulled up.”

He inclined his head. “Jeffrey,” he said and pulled open the door. “The ride is short but if you need anything at all, I’m at your service.”

“Thank you,” she said, thinking the only thing she needed was for Dante to suddenly become a rude jerk, and therefore unappealing. Since she doubted Jeffrey had such a skill in his arsenal of services, she discreetly drew a calming breath and let it out, willing to bet that she was about to be in a highly intimate space with her highly appealing new client.

She slipped her briefcase/purse combination over her shoulder and did her best to hold her skirt in place as she slid inside. The scent of leather and spicy masculine cologne teased her senses even before she brought Dante into focus.

“Mr. Ricci,” she said as she maneuvered a bit to tug her skirt down to about midthigh and squeezed her knees primly together. To Dante’s credit, he was a gentleman and kept his eyes on her face, while she, on the other hand, couldn’t help but notice his jacket was missing and his chest and shoulders flexed impressively beneath his finely tailored button-down shirt. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here or if you were meeting me at the restaurant.”

“Call me Dante,” he said.

“Dante,” she repeated. “And please, call me Sonya.”

Jeffrey shut the door, sealing them in the small space that was every bit as intimate as she’d expected it to be. Seconds ticked by in silence, the air crackling with the kind of instant electricity that only happened when two people shared wicked hot, inescapable chemistry.

“Sonya,” he repeated finally in a voice as rich and sultry as Godiva dark chocolate. And she liked her Godiva dark chocolate way too much for her own good, just like this man. “And I came along for the ride,” he continued, “in case you needed further persuasion to join me for the evening.”

She narrowed her gaze on him, reading the message beneath his words. “You thought I was going to back out?”

“You hesitated to accept my invitation,” he said, his brown eyes as rich with intelligence as his voice was with sensuality. “It seemed a good bet that you might decide to cancel.”

“My boss would have had a conniption fit.”

“Otherwise you might have?”

“I’m not beyond admitting that I considered calling you and asking you to reconsider tonight’s meeting.”

Surprise at her frankness flickered across his handsome, chiseled features. “Because you don’t want my business?”

“I do want your business,” she said. “Very much. And I’m both flattered and thrilled that you would believe in me enough to ask for me as your lead counsel.”

“Then why would you cancel this dinner?”

She opened her mouth and then shut it, before saying, “I’m not completely sure I know the answer to that.”

“Try.”

Try. She should have seen that one coming. “You have to know that your account could make, or break, my career. You said we needed to discuss some points before you signed with me.”

“I’d think that would make you eager for this meeting.”

“I know what to expect in an office or courtroom setting. I don’t know what to expect in a Vegas hotel where you intend to show me your version of ‘divine pleasure’.”

He studied her a long moment without a word, or so much as a twitch. “Do you have the contract I reviewed earlier today with you?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “You want to see it now?”

“Yes.”

She quickly retrieved a file from her briefcase she’d set on the seat beside her and offered it to him.

“And a pen?” he asked.

“You’re going to sign now?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“Not at all.” She offered him her pen and watched as he signed every spot indicated and then removed a checkbook and wrote out a check before asking, “I thought you needed to talk to me about some particulars before you did this?”

He offered her the pen back. “I do, so let’s talk. Several conditions apply to this agreement being final. Number one, I don’t deal with Michael. I don’t trust the man and you better watch your back with him. I’ve already told him this, but I need you to know this as well.”

“You told Michael you don’t trust him?”

“Yes. And I told him that you will be responsible for coordinating everything for these acquisitions, no matter how big or small, period. The end.”

She bit her lip, trying not to smile. She liked Dante more every second. Michael was such an arrogant, mean person, with more of a God complex than her mother’s surgeon, whom she’d mistakenly dated for all of one week. “I can only imagine how he must have reacted.”

“By silently cursing me and actually believing I couldn’t see it all over his face.” He held out the file with the check on top. “Back to you and me. If we’re in agreement with my terms then it’s official. You’re my counsel.”

“Thank you,” she said, meaning it. Not only had he given her the opportunity of a lifetime, but he also hadn’t made her walk on eggshells all evening. “I meant what I said earlier today. I won’t let you down.” She reached for the file.

He covered her hand with his, his brown eyes darkening to nearly black. “I hope this means you can enjoy tonight without worry.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the words, at the idea of spending hours with this man, being tempted by him. She could have sworn fire slid up her arm and across her breasts. “Yes. Absolutely. Not many clients would do that, either. They’d leave me hanging and on edge.”

“I hope I surprised you in a good way then,” he said, and leaned back in his seat before knocking on the glass behind him. The car began to move immediately. He punched a button that opened a folding compartment in the floor between them that had an ice bucket and open bottle of champagne on top. “You, by the way, surprise me, and that’s not something that happens all that often.” He filled one of the two flutes sitting on the tray.

“I surprise you? How?”

He leaned forward to offer her a flute, and she accepted it, her fingers brushing his and sending a shiver of pure awareness down her spine. “You don’t tell me what I want to hear,” he said. “When I asked if you almost backed out tonight, you didn’t pretend otherwise. That kind of frank honesty isn’t common in business.” He reached for the other flute and touched it to hers. “Let’s toast to new beginnings.”

She swallowed hard. “I have a confession.”

One dark brow arched. “A confession.” He leaned back slightly, studying her. “Already?”

“It’s important,” she said. “For both our protection.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’m a lightweight when it comes to drinking and I haven’t eaten all day. So if I drink this then one of two things is going to happen. The best-case scenario is that I remember nothing about tonight and most likely make a fool of myself. Worst-case, you’ll have to pick me up off the floorboard because I pass out.”

His lips twitched. “That’s your confession?”

She nodded. “Afraid so.”

His smile was instant and it was a sexy smile. Everything about the man was sexy. “While I wouldn’t hesitate to pick you up if you fell,” he said, “we’ll postpone our toast until after dinner.” He set both flutes aside. “Because I most definitely want you to remember tonight.”

Chapter Three

The ride to the Bell’s Hotel and Casino, which was one of the most elegant understated properties in the city, was a short ten minutes by highway. Exactly the reason that Sonya wasn’t surprised to find Parr’s restaurant to be dimly lit, with a large seating area visible from the entryway and fine art decorating the walls. The floor was an expensive bamboo wood covered with even more expensive oriental rugs. It was just another fancy Vegas hotspot, aside from one unique feature. Thee were six equally spaced, winding black steel staircases on either side of the sitting area.

The hostess, a pretty brunette in a long black dress that might have been conservative if not for the way it hugged every curve she owned, which were many, greeted Dante by name.

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