Let it Ride

“Deacon?”

“Who else?”

“I don’t think you know me well enough to call me angel,” she said. The tart note in her voice would have done a schoolteacher proud.

“I will after tonight,” he said. The sensual promise he’d seen in her eyes earlier guaranteed it.

He remembered that scared moment when she’d almost bolted, but then found her sass and stayed. He knew she wanted to have dinner with him. But he also knew that her life to date had conditioned her and he was moving too fast. He’d have to find a way around her objections.

“Um…about that…”

“Not going to back out now, are you?” Deliberately he pitched his voice low. He’d been told by one of his ex-girlfriends that she’d do anything for him when he asked her in that tone.

“Well…”

She was wavering. “Take a chance. This is Vegas, angel, and you’re not living it unless you take a risk.”

“Are you risky?” she asked.

“Not for you,” he said, surprised to realize he meant it. He wanted her to feel safe with him. Safe and secure. And sure that he wasn’t going to wine her, dine her and then walk away in the morning.

“It’s just dinner,” he said after a few moments of silence.

She hesitated. He heard the catch in her breath. She was going to say no.

“Okay. I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she said.

“Good.”

He disconnected and headed for the lobby. Again his trip through the casino was slow. He entered the lobby and paused. Kylie was waiting for him by the fountain. But she hardly resembled the woman he’d originally seen in the security camera.

Her hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders, her sundress delineated the curves of her body, and her long legs were bare. A wave of lust hit him hard. And he knew himself well enough to know that waiting for her, seducing her slowly, was going to be hell.

Kylie had changed her mind and her clothes about fifty times in the hour since she’d left the lobby and Deacon Prescott. If it wasn’t for Deacon’s phone call, she’d be sitting in her room, eating a room-service cheeseburger and reading The Scarlet Pimpernel. But instead, she was in the lobby waiting for a man who made her heart beat double time and who had awakened her senses with his touch.

That didn’t gibe with the sensible administrative assistant she was in her normal life. She’d thought about having a reality check. Calling her mom and listening to all the reasons that sane, sensible Kylie shouldn’t be in Vegas. But she was tired of being sane and sensible.

She’d checked in with her girlfriends before leaving for the evening. And they were prowling the casinos tonight with some guys they’d met earlier. They’d all made plans to meet in the lobby bar just after midnight.

She glanced at her watch and then around the lobby. Her breath caught in her throat. Deacon walked toward her with the self-assured stride of a successful man. His suit jacket was buttoned and his silk tie perfectly knotted. He stopped to exchange pleasantries with a few people on his way to her.

Their eyes met and held for a moment. It seemed as if only she and Deacon existed in the lobby. His gaze skimmed down her body, stirring all her senses to life and making her blood flow heavier.

He moved very close to her. His scent surrounded her and she breathed it in deeply. She wished she was more like Deacon just then, who could reach out and touch someone he was attracted to whenever he wanted. Her fingers tingled with the need to touch him.

“You look lovely,” he said, sliding an arm around her shoulders and brushing her cheek with a kiss.

His words threw her because she was the “nice” sister. Not the pretty one. Not the smart one. Just the nice ordinary one. She knew she wasn’t any man’s definition of lovely. Even with his intense gray eyes shining with sincerity.

She stepped back, not knowing how to take him. No man had ever made her feel what he did. A million and one different things at once. And she wanted to believe. Believe that this was the one man who’d see her and she’d be lovely in his eyes, but she doubted it.

“That was a compliment,” he said, slipping his hand under her elbow and leading her out of the hotel. “You’re supposed to say thank-you.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said.

“You didn’t. But there was something in your eyes that said you may not believe me.”

“That’s because my dad’s Irish and I heard my share of blarney growing up.”

“I can’t be the first man to compliment you.”

She tugged her arm from his grip and pulled her purse strap higher on her shoulder. She didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Can we talk about something else?” she asked. She was tempted to believe him. The way she’d believed Jeff’s lies. But she wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl anymore, and the woman she was at twenty-eight was a lot smarter. Yeah, right, she thought.

He deliberately took her arm again and continued leading her through the lobby. They reached the bell stand and the valet led them to a Jaguar convertible out front. “Your car, Mr. Prescott.”

“Thank you, Scott,” Deacon said, slipping the man a folded bill.

“Mr. Prescott, a moment?” said another man from the hotel entrance.

“Do you mind, Kylie?”

“Not at all,” she said.

Kylie suspected that Deacon was more than a guest at the Golden Dream casino. He held the door for her and she slid into the leather passenger seat, then watched while Deacon went to talk to the man. He returned in less than five minutes. And they headed away from the lights of the Vegas strip and out of the city.

The radio was tuned to a jazz station playing Ella Fitzgerald singing “Blue Skies.” The sun was setting in the west and her hair was blowing around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. The warm wind caressed her skin, and for once she didn’t think about being the nice ordinary sister.

“You’re not just a guest at the casino, right?” she asked.

“I own the Golden Dream,” he said.

She tilted her head and glanced at him. He wore a pair of aviator-style sunglasses and he held the wheel easily in his strong hands. His profile was chiseled and raw. There was something very masculine about him that called to everything feminine in her. The tension and pressure she’d felt while waiting for him in the lobby was slowly unwinding.

At this moment in the car with him, with the sun setting and the wind in her hair, she knew she belonged here. She’d never had such a sense anywhere before but in the small garden of her equally small house.

“How does one train to own a casino? Is there a casino school?” she asked.

“There might be. I learned the ropes working at other places on the strip.”

“You must have been employee of the month,” she said.

“Not quite,” he said with a wry grin.

A few more miles passed and she realized they’d left Vegas well behind and there didn’t appear to be any restaurants on the highway unless you counted the small barbecue joint on the side of the road. But he didn’t slow as they approached it.

“Where are we going to dinner?” she asked.

“Somewhere private.”

“Oh,” she said. Excitement tingled in her veins and she laced her fingers together to keep from nervously tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Don’t sound so scared. I’m not the big bad wolf.”

But when he smiled at her with all those teeth in that sexy face, she wished that he was the big bad wolf and that she was on the menu.

Deacon pulled off the highway and followed a road that led to a deserted stretch of land. He brought the car to a stop. The sun had set and the moon was rising over the horizon. When he was younger, the desert had always been a place to get away from the pressures of life in the city and to hide out. He still left the strip behind for the quiet nothingness of the land when things got too crazy.

Tonight his motives were simple. He wanted a chance to get to know Kylie without the pressure of knowing that any public place they went they’d be on camera. And knowing Mac as well as Deacon did, he knew he’d get some sort of critique of his behavior with Kylie.

“Is this the spot?” she asked, nervously finger-combing her hair.

It fell in soft waves around her shoulders. The wind from riding in the convertible had added to the fullness of the long dark curls. He reached out and touched one of them, then wrapped a smooth strand around his finger. God, she was worlds too soft for him.

He had no business taking this sweet young woman to the desert. Out here he always felt as if he could strip away the sophisticated layer he had to add in Vegas. Once he shed that layer, there was nothing left but the tough guy who was raised on the streets and conned his way up to the top.

This woman, with her innocent questions about casino school, had revealed more than she’d ever know with that one query.

“Deacon?”

“Yes.”

“Are we getting out here? Are we going to have a picnic?” she asked. A hint of nervousness permeated her words.

“Yes to both.”

“Can I help?”

“No. Tonight is just for you,” he said as he climbed out of the car. “Why don’t you flip through the CDs and find one you like, while I take care of everything.”

He removed the cashmere blanket from the trunk and quickly set up their picnic dinner. He opened the bottle of wine to let it breathe and then put out the china plates.

The dinner the chef had provided was still warm from the bags it had been packed in. He heard the throaty sounds of Louis Armstrong come from the car and then Kylie appeared at his side.

He got her seated on the blanket and served her dinner. She sat nervously next to him picking at her food. “Relax,” he said at last.

“I’m trying. This just isn’t my scene,” she said, gesturing to the picnic items.

“Not the outdoorsy type?” he asked. Truth be told, he wasn’t much of a outdoorsy guy. He could survive, because where he’d come from, you learned to do that early on. But he preferred the city. That jungle was his life’s blood.

It was a clear night, and the sky was filled with stars. She set her plate on the blanket next to her, then leaned back and looked up at the sky.

He realized that when she wouldn’t look at him was when she revealed the most about herself.

“Not that, so much as the whole date thing,” she said at last.

“Why not?”

“My mother says it’s because of my divorce.”

She was divorced. He hadn’t planned on his potential wife having been down the aisle once before. He needed to find out more about this. “Is your mother right?”

She shrugged, took a sip of wine and stared at the openness around them. He realized she wasn’t going to say any more. But he had big plans for her. And the bit of cleavage revealed by the neckline of her dress made it damned hard to concentrate on getting information about her past from her.

There was a sadness in her eyes that made him want to cradle her in his arms and promise that she’d never feel sad again. Of course, he knew that was a promise he couldn’t keep, but still she made him want to take vows that would keep her safe. “What happened to end your marriage?”

“You don’t want to hear about that.”

“But I do. I’m very interested in everything that made you into the woman you are today.”

“You don’t have to try so hard.”

He set his wineglass down, not sure he liked where this was going. He wasn’t really trying hard to do anything except keep himself from touching her body and finding out if she really was as soft as he imagined. And from kissing her full lips to ascertain if they were as luscious as they looked.

“Try so hard at what?”

“Hitting on me,” she said.

“Angel, you’re not even close.”

“I’ve heard that before.” She crossed her arms over and gave a look so prim it took all his willpower not to kiss it off.

He took a deep swallow of his wine and wished it was a double Scotch, instead. “No wonder you don’t date.”

“What do you mean?” she asked defensively.

“Exactly what you think it means. You’re a pain in the ass.”

“That’s more like it,” she said.

“What is?”

“Honesty. I know I’ve got more barriers than Nellis Air Force Base, but you have to understand that smooth talking is not going to turn my head.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because my ex-husband taught me a lesson about truth and men I’ll never forget.”

He didn’t really want to hear about the other men in Kylie’s life. Though he suspected there hadn’t been many. She’d confessed to not dating, and there was a look about her that warned men away. He waited for her to go on.

She sighed and said, “Men are looking for something different than woman are.”

“What is that?” he asked. He’d often wondered what women thought men were looking for. He also wondered about Kylie’s ex-husband and what a fool the man must have been.

“A combination of Martha Stewart, Cindy Crawford and Madeline Albright,” she said.

“And what do women want?”

“A woman wants to be loved for who she is. Not because of who a man wants her to be,” she said quietly. She abruptly stood up and looked out at the vast landscape, and he knew she wasn’t seeing the present but the past, and the woman she was and the man who couldn’t love her. He vowed not to make the same mistake her ex-husband had.

Three

Deacon wasn’t sure what kind of man her ex had been, but he knew he’d left Kylie with some pretty powerful delusions of what men wanted. Deacon was straightforward in his desires. The right lover made any woman feel like a supermodel. He made a mental note to prove to Kylie her desirability.

Love was a different matter. He’d learned early on that deep affection was an illusion. Every day he saw couples getting married in Vegas, couples swearing eternal devotion. A devotion that he suspected lasted only as long as they were in the make-believe land of casinos and nightclubs. A world apart from reality. He’d vowed at twenty-eight that he was through with love and he hadn’t once gone back on his word. He didn’t intend to.

“I’m not looking for any of those women you named, Kylie. Then again, I was raised around showgirls.”

She tilted her head to the side and watched him. She was so shy sometimes and then at other times too bold. He had the feeling she was way out of her element here with him. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

“Was your mom a showgirl?” she asked.

He didn’t want to talk about his past, but he also didn’t want to lose Kylie because she thought he was like every other guy she’d ever met. If he knew one thing, he was nothing like those other men. Unless she’d frequented prisons. Only luck and determination had kept him from incarceration.

“Sort of.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

An evasive kind that he’d hoped would satisfy her. But he should have known better. He wished he knew the right words to say. “She’d stopped performing by the time I came along.”

“Did she quit working in the casinos?”

“Nah. She didn’t know anything else. She started helping with costumes and makeup—that kind of thing.”

“What about your dad?”

“Gone before I was born.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He didn’t regret not having a dad. He’d learned all he needed to know from Ricky the Rat when he was kid and then when he’d gotten older, he’d learned from Mac and others like him.

“You’ve always lived in Vegas?”

“Yes, I have.” Honestly, he didn’t think he could live anywhere else. It was in his blood. The twenty-four-hour world. New York and Los Angeles were okay to visit but too crowded for his tastes. The strip was busy, certainly, but it had a different sort of energy. The people in Vegas rejuvenated him.

Her eyes had lost that wounded look and for once he felt pretty good about himself. All this talking had helped her. “Where are you from?”

“Everywhere—my dad was career military. Growing up, we never lived in one place longer than three years.”

“And now?”

“Since my divorce I’ve stayed put. I bought a little bungalow in Glendale, California, and planted a garden. I don’t think I’ll ever move.”

“What if you get married?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t really date, so marriage doesn’t seem much of an option.”

The night breeze blew across the desert. Despite its warmth, she shivered a little, and he shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She smiled her thanks, but her eyes were still guarded.

He didn’t understand women and their need to label everything they felt, their need to analyze it to death, or at least that was what his mom did.

But he needed Kylie to trust him. Otherwise she’d never agree to be his wife. The moonlight painted shadows across the land.

He packed up the plates and cutlery and poured the last of the wine into Kylie’s glass. She didn’t take a sip, just toyed with the stem, rolling it between her fingers.

Her fingers were long and slender. He easily imagined her caressing him the same way she touched the wineglass. She licked her lips and scooted a little closer to him on the blanket.

“I have two questions,” she said.

“Ask away,” he said.

“Can I touch you?”

“Anywhere,” he said. And meant it. His pulse had doubled as soon as the words left her mouth. And though he didn’t plan for the first time he had sex with his respectable soon-to-be wife to be in the middle of the desert, he couldn’t resist the notion of her hands on him.

Her fingers were cold when she touched his face. She cupped his jaw and rubbed the prickle of his five-o’clock shadow. He’d meant to take the time to shave again before they’d come out this evening, but time was always a premium in his business.

Kylie didn’t seem to mind that he hadn’t shaved. She lifted her other hand, completely framing his face. Her fingers moved with minute strokes against his skin, and shivers of awareness slithered down his spine and pooled in his groin.

He lifted his own hands, catching the back of her head and bringing her closer to him. He needed to taste her. Explore the feminine secrets that kept getting more mysterious the more time he spent with her.

He leaned forward, felt the brush of her breath against his skin. Her hands on his face were light and teasing. She watched him with wide eyes as she touched his skin and discovered the differences between them. He waited patiently until she thrust her hands into his hair, linked her fingers at the back of his head and urged him closer.

He needed no urging. He stopped thinking and simply reacted. She was woman to his man. And he’d already decided she should be his mate. There was nothing left to do but claim her.

He lowered his head the last few inches. A savagery ruled him and he tried to tame it, but couldn’t. She was the embodiment of everything he’d been searching for in a woman, and here she was in his arms.

He took her mouth completely. Thrust his tongue past the barrier of her teeth and tasted the heart of her. He pulled her across his lap so that he could have better access to her mouth. He slid one arm under her neck and shoulders and deepened the kiss even more.

With his free hand, he cupped her jaw and held her still for his complete domination. Her hands moved on him, stroking his jaw with a calming touch that talked to the beast inside him. The beast that had decided to claim her. The repeated strokes of her hands brought him back to himself and to her. He lifted his head. Her lips were swollen.

He needed to taste her again, but sanity raised its head, and he knew if kissed her again, he wouldn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt in her luscious body. He tilted his head back, searching for control in the endless starlit sky and finding it only after he’d taken several deep breaths.

“You had another question,” he said. He should set her aside, but not yet. He liked the feel of her soft curves against him, her rounded buttocks against his rock-hard thighs.

“What?” she asked. Knowing she was as dazed as he confirmed that he’d found the right woman to be his bride.

“You said two questions,” he reminded her. He tucked her head under his chin and wrapped both arms around her.

“Why did you ask me out?”

“I’m attracted to you,” he said bluntly.

“Is that all?” she asked.

He didn’t know what she wanted from him. He knew that telling her he planned to marry her probably wasn’t it. “Should there be more?”

“I’m a planner.”

“I don’t follow you, Kylie.”

“I just want to know where this will lead,” she said. She scooted away from him, and his arms felt empty without her. “I’m not really the vacation-fling kind of woman.”

“I know,” he said quietly. That was part of her attraction.

Silence grew between them. Deacon didn’t have words to reassure her. Didn’t know what she was trying to ask with her veiled questions. But he did know that if he pulled her back into his arms, he could reassure her in the most fundamental way a man could.

“You make me forget that,” she said at last.

Her words were like a velvet glove on his groin. Hardening his arousal and strengthening his resolve to make her his. “Angel, sometimes your honesty is lethal.”

“I can’t be any other way,” she said, twisting her hands together.

“Come here and let me hold you,” he said.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I am.”

“Deacon, I don’t want to have sex with you out here.”

“Well, hell. That kiss said otherwise.”

“Which is why I’m backing off now. You make me forget things that are important.”

He nodded and touched her face gently. Because she was so different from every other woman he’d ever dated, he forced himself to only brush his lips across her forehead. Shifting away, he said, “I’d never push you into something you weren’t ready for.”

I’d never push you into something you weren’t ready for. The words echoed in her head, and she wondered how hard he’d have to push.

Kylie wanted to believe everything that Deacon said. And that was her first warning that her traitorous body had taken control. Her mind, her sensible mind, knew better than to give in to a smooth-talking guy with magic hands.

But there was something in Deacon’s eyes that was different from Jeff’s. A wildness to him that struck a chord in her soul. Tempting her with the knowledge that she could soothe him.

He made her feel desirable, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. She hadn’t been lying when she said she didn’t date. Jeff had wounded the heart of her femininity when he’d tried to shape her into his idea of the perfect woman. And the men she’d gone out with immediately after her divorce had proved to be cut from the same cloth.

Deacon wasn’t, though. She knew that with the wine and gourmet dinner he’d meant to seduce her under the stars. But his reaction to her touch had been instinctive, not part of any plan, she was certain.

She’d never been wined and dined before. Smooth jazz still poured from the speakers in his car. The night breeze had cooled a bit, Deacon’s jacket and the man himself kept her warm.

This was a fantasy night, though she knew better than to buy into the whole illusion of it. The last time she’d believed in happily-ever-after, she’d ended up alone in a run-down duplex with more bills than money and shattered self-confidence. She wasn’t going back to that place for anything, not even the incredible promise of pleasure in Deacon’s arms.

Deacon was worlds different from her ex-husband, but he was still a man. She knew that for most men she represented a certain ideal woman. No one had ever bothered to look beyond the surface of her girl-next-door looks and sunny personality.

Deacon was different, though. His words. His honesty touched a spark deep inside her, and though she knew a vacation fling wasn’t what she really wanted, a longing for him pulsed through her. She hated to fight herself. She wanted Deacon. Why was she making this so complicated?