Книга - Let it Ride

Let it Ride
Katherine Garbera


Long legs, luscious curves and a passionate nature were fine, but what Las Vegas casino owner Deacon Prescott really wanted was a woman with c-l-a-s-s! And prim Kylie Smith fit the bill like an ace-high royal flush. The tempting brunette divorcée had a way of melting his heart even as she made his pulse race.Seducing her was easy. He'd made a bet that he could win her hand in marriage and had won. But then she'd turned the tables on him. Now this tough guy's only chance to save their whirlwind marriage was to risk his closely guarded heart, something he'd vowed he would never do….









“Mind If I Join You?” Deacon Prescott Sank Down Next To Her On The Brocade Love Seat Without Waiting For An Answer.


“I guess not,” Kylie said wryly.

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

“Really? Why is that?” she asked.

“Because of fate,” Deacon said.

“Fate?” To Kylie, the man who’d boldly taken the seat beside her didn’t look like he left much to destiny. There was a will of pure steel under his five-hundred-dollar suit.

“Angel, I’m all about chance and luck,” he answered.

She couldn’t help but smile. Deacon Prescott was very charming, but his manner had an air of ritual to it. She might be unsophisticated, but she had the feeling she wasn’t the first woman to hear these lines from him. Knowing this, Kylie tried her best not to be interested in him, but she knew she was holding a losing hand….


Dear Reader,

Welcome to another compelling month of powerful, passionate and provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire. You asked for it…you got it…more Dynasties! Our newest continuity, DYNASTIES: THE DANFORTHS, launches this month with Barbara McCauley’s The Cinderella Scandal. Set in Savannah, Georgia, and filled with plenty of family drama and sensuality, this new twelve-book series will thrill you for the entire year.

There is one sexy air force pilot to be found between the pages of the incomparable Merline Lovelace’s Full Throttle, part of her TO PROTECT AND DEFEND series. And the fabulous Justine Davis is back in Silhouette Desire with Midnight Seduction, a fiery tale in her REDSTONE, INCORPORATED series.

If it’s a whirlwind Vegas wedding you’re looking for (and who isn’t?) then be sure to pick up the third title in Katherine Garbera’s KING OF HEARTS miniseries, Let It Ride. The fabulous TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE STOLEN BABY series continues this month with Kathie DeNosky’s tale of unforgettable passion, Remembering One Wild Night. And finally, welcome new author Amy Jo Cousins to the Desire lineup with her superhot contribution, At Your Service.

I hope all of the Silhouette Desire titles this month will fulfill your every fantasy.






Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire




Let It Ride

Katherine Garbera







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




KATHERINE GARBERA


has had fun working as a production page, lifeguard, secretary and VIP tour guide, but those occupations pale when compared to creating worlds where true love conquers all and wounded hearts are healed. Writing romance novels is the perfect job for her. She’s always had a vivid imagination and believes strongly in happily-ever-after. She’s married to the man she met in Walt Disney World’s Fantasyland. They live in Central Florida with their two children. Readers can visit her on the Web at katherinegarbera.com.


To my parents, David and Charlotte Smith, who never say no when it’s in their power to say yes, and who always support me with their love.




ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:


Thanks to Mary Louise Wells who took time out of her busy schedule to help me. Thanks also to Allie Pleiter who was my partner in adventure in Vegas. I think we’re the only two people to visit Sin City and not gamble a cent! Also thanks to Blossom and Bubbles—it’d be no fun fighting crime (or writing romance) without you two!—Buttercup




Contents


Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue




Prologue


“Did you discover anything being a woman?” Didi asked me when I appeared in front of her.

The body-disappearing thing still made me crazy. Twenty-five years as a mob capo ordering hits and living large had not prepared me for life after death. I’d cut a deal with God, or rather with Didi, God’s emissary at the Pearly Gates. And now I was a freakin’ matchmaker to the lovelorn. It wasn’t as bad as I made out to Didi, but the skinny-angel broad got on my nerves and I didn’t want her to know that I actually liked doing these good deeds.

However, I didn’t like the surprise she’d left me with last time, sending me to Earth in a woman’s body. No man should ever have that experience. “I didn’t,” I answered her. “This time I want an assignment where I get to be a guy. Not an old fart, either.”

“Was it a hard adjustment?” she asked. I didn’t like her tone. But then, I didn’t have to like her. Staying up here, instead of going to hell, was a heck of a deal.

“Let’s skip to the good part. Just give me one where I can be a guy.”

A large pile of file folders materialized on the desk. I took pride in the fact that though the stack still was big, it was lighter by two.

She smiled at me, which I didn’t trust. Despite being an angel, this one had a mean streak in her.

“How about one in Vegas?” she asked.

Now I really didn’t trust her when she was being nice to me. “Am I going to be a showgirl?”

She laughed. She wasn’t half-bad-looking when she smiled. “Not this time.”

She was trying to scare me again. It wasn’t going to work. I’d faced a man with a loaded Glock and hadn’t quivered.

“This one is special.”

Special. The word echoed in my head and I shuddered. Merda, I didn’t know if getting to heaven was worth all of this. “How special?”

“You’ll see,” was all she said.

I opened the file and scanned it. The chick, Kylie Smith, was a secretary from Los Angeles. The guy, Deacon Prescott—he was my kind of guy. He’d grown up on the streets and worked as an enforcer for the Vegas mob.

“This one doesn’t look so tough,” I said to Didi.

“Good. Then you won’t have any problems.”

My body dissolved before I could retaliate. Didi liked having the last word. But that was okay. I was on the Vegas strip, standing in front of one of the newer casinos, and for the first time since I’d died, I felt like my fate wasn’t so bad.




One


Deacon Prescott leaned closer to the ten-inch security monitor and found the woman of his dreams. Her features were indistinguishable. But every other detail was perfect.

Her brown hair was caught at the back of her neck; her clothing was understated—elegant. He zoomed the camera in for a closer look.

“Perfect,” he muttered. She was everything he’d been searching for. She had classic bone structure and a sedate hairstyle, everything he’d been hoping to find in a wife and never expected to see in the lobby of his hotel/casino, the Golden Dream.

She surveyed the lobby. Damn. She was probably here with a boyfriend or husband. He adjusted the camera’s zoom lens—she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Her green eyes were wide-set and her features delicate. She was an ordinary woman in the real world, but out of place in the garish world that was his life.

At thirty-eight it was well past time for him to settle down and start a family. And the only thing that had been holding him up was the right woman. A woman who could be that other half of his life without engaging his emotions. If he’d learned anything from a lifetime in Vegas, it was that fortune changed on the roll of the dice. Happiness in life and forever love were only illusions.

“What are you staring at?”

Deacon glanced over his shoulder at Hayden MacKenzie—Mac to his friends. Mac owned the Chimera Casino and Resort. The Chimera was the second-most successful operation in Vegas behind the Golden Dream.

Mac was one of the few people Deacon called friend. Mac knew Deacon from his days of running in the gray area that bordered on lawlessness, and he’d used his influence to show Deacon another way to make a living. Deacon. He freely admitted that he’d learned most of what he knew about moving in the moneyed class from Mac.

“Nothing,” Deacon replied.

Mac leaned over his shoulder at the enlarged picture of the woman. Her face filled the screen. Mac snickered. “Oh, is that what we’re calling women these days?”

“Let me see her,” Angelo Mandetti said. Mandetti was from the gaming commission. He was observing Deacon’s operation as part of an annual review process. The man had been in his hotel for a week already, and Deacon respected him. He reminded him of one of the guys who used to hang around his mom when he was little. A guy who’d noticed Lorraine Prescott’s skinny kid and taken time for him.

Mac stepped back and Mandetti leaned over the monitor. He let a low wolf whistle escape.

“She’s not just a woman,” Deacon said.

“What is she, then?” Mac asked.

“Nothing…yet,” Deacon said. Mac had something Deacon had always wanted. The easy confidence that came from being raised with every privilege. Though they were the same age, Deacon often felt much older. Deacon wanted assuredness, and the woman in the security camera was the key to the life he’d always wanted.

“Meaning?” Mac asked.

“She’s going to be my wife.”

“Your wife?” Mandetti asked. “Congratulations, man.”

Mac snorted. “He’s never met her.”

“Really?” Mandetti leaned closer to the screen, observing the woman again. “She doesn’t look like your type.”

Deacon shrugged. He didn’t say it out loud, but that was precisely why he wanted her.

Deacon watched as the woman took a book from her handbag and started reading. He had a glimmer of doubt. What if she was too staid to tame the restlessness inside him? Honorable men didn’t cheat on their wives. He’d have to see if there was a spark of attraction between them before he settled on her as his wife.

“I’ll be right back.”

“This should be interesting.”

Mac and Mandetti both moved to follow him. “Stay here.”

Mandetti held his hands up and moved back from the door. Mac chuckled and sank into one of the leather chairs in the security booth. “It’s not like we can’t watch from here.”

Deacon left the state-of-the-art room without comment. Walking down the long quiet hallway that housed the office of the front-desk manager and the casino-floor supervisor, he tried to plan what he would say to her.

He straightened his designer tie and opened the door that led to another world. The world that he’d lived in since he’d been old enough to walk. A world of ostentatious lights, ringing bells and spinning roulette wheels. He paused for a moment to look at his kingdom.

Pride in what he’d accomplished filled him, and he knew, if the woman showed the least bit of promise in the realm of sexual compatibility, he’d seduce her into becoming Mrs. Deacon Prescott. The queen of his little kingdom.

His journey through the casino was anything but quick. He was stopped by regulars and by a recently hired dealer who wanted to talk about a new invention he had for dealing. Deacon rang his secretary, Martha, and had her schedule the dealer for an appointment at the end of his shift. Finally he was out of the casino and in the lobby. He glanced around for the woman.

Suddenly all the suave lines he’d cultivated over the years left him, and he couldn’t think of a thing to say. He was back on the streets for a moment, the grubby little boy looking at the glamour he could never touch.

He smoothed his hands down the sides of his pants and stood a little taller. He was Deacon Prescott, dammit. Entrepreneur magazine’s Man of the Year two years running. Certainly no ordinary woman could keep him from achieving his goal.



Kylie Smith heard someone approach. The Golden Dream was a classy hotel with Old World charm, but the men who frequented the casino weren’t as classy. She’d been approached by four different guys while waiting for her friend.

Unwanted male attention made her uncomfortable. And she knew it wasn’t because she was drop-dead gorgeous. It was only because she seemed available.

She’d pulled back her hair into a haphazard ponytail, put on her reading glasses, complete with “grandma” chain, to keep from losing them, and she held her favorite classic novel. Her outfit should have been daunting enough to deter even the most determined male. But this person didn’t go away. Maybe it was Tina. One glance over the edge of her book and she realized it wasn’t. Unless Tina had taken to wearing Italian men’s loafers, which seemed highly doubtful. She turned away from the man and tried to concentrate on The Scarlet Pimpernel.

Except the man smelled good. He had on some kind of cologne with a woodsy scent that made her want to take a deeper breath. She glanced up quickly, from her book, with the intent of averting her gaze quickly but he stopped her.

His features weren’t classically handsome but there was something arresting in those gray eyes. Something that hinted at hidden passion and inner fire—two things she’d never had. Nervously Kylie pushed her glasses farther up her nose and tried to put on a calm face.

Attractive men simply didn’t talk to her.

“Hello,” he said. His voice was deep, not a soft sophisticated sound but a gravelly one that awakened senses she’d thought had gone into a coma.

“Hi,” she said. Yes, she was the queen of scintillating conversation.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. He sat down next to her on the brocade love seat without waiting for an answer.

“I guess not,” she said wryly.

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“Because of fate.”

“Fate?” This guy didn’t look as if he left much to destiny. She sensed a will of pure steel under that thousand-dollar suit.

“Angel, I’m all about chance and luck.”

“Those are decidedly different from fate.” In response to his raised eyebrows, she stumbled on. “Fate implies that something is destined. Luck—not so much.”

“Depends on whether or not you’re fated to have good luck.”

She couldn’t help with smile. He was very charming, though his charm had an air of ritual to it. She had the feeling she wasn’t the first woman to hear those lines.

“How about dinner?” he asked.

“I don’t know you,” she said.

He stood. “Deacon Prescott.”

She took the hand he held out and tried to shake it, but he grasped only her fingers. With his thumb he caressed her knuckles, then brought her hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss to the back of it.

She shivered. More than the hotel had Old World charm.

“And you would be?”

“Kylie Smith.”

“May I join you, Kylie?”

She wanted to pretend not to be interested, but she was. Before she could answer, he sat down again this time, leaving only six inches of space between them. Kylie felt crowded. He was long and lean, but there was a breadth to his shoulders that made her feel small, delicate even.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for someone.”

“A man?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Fair enough. What brings you to Vegas?” he asked, sliding his arm along the back of the love seat. His heat and scent surrounded her. Tempted to lean into his touch, she scooted farther away, instead.

“Girls’ weekend out.”

He gave her a half smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She shivered with awareness. She simply wasn’t a touchy person by nature. And it’d had been a long time since anyone had touched her, unless you counted her mom, who always hugged her when they met weekly for brunch.

“You have beautiful hair,” he said.

Was he hitting on her? Kylie could never be sure if a man was just being friendly or really interested in her. She wished for a minute she was more like Tina, who flitted from one man to the next, enjoying what each had to offer.

But she never had been. She’d been raised to believe that settling down and raising a family was a good thing. And it was something she’d always wanted.

Even after her failed marriage, she still wanted to find the right guy and have kids. But that didn’t mean she wanted to meet him in Vegas. She scooted still farther away and tottered for a moment on the edge of the seat. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Why are you in Vegas, Deacon?”

“I live here,” he said as if nothing had happened.

“Do you really? Sorry, don’t answer that. All the bells have rattled my brain.”

He laughed and it was a kind sound, seeming almost strange coming from a man who looked as dark and forbidding as he did. Jet-black hair and tanned olive complexion. He had large hands. On his pinky was a rough-looking gold ring with some sort of insignia she didn’t recognize.

Realizing she’d been staring at him too long, she glanced up to see if he’d noticed. He had. He touched her face with one finger. Why was he touching her? She should pull away.

But she couldn’t. An indefinable emotion in his eyes froze her in place. The intensity of his gaze on her made her feel special. Made her feel as if she was a fairy-tale princess and he was a knight willing to slay dragons for her. Made her feel for once as if she wasn’t staid and safe, but the kind of woman a man would choose for a vacation fling.

But she wasn’t really any of those things. Her stomach growled and Kylie blushed.

“My offer for dinner still stands,” he said.

“I’m reading a really good book,” Kylie said. That had to be the lamest excuse she’d ever come up with.

“The day a book holds more excitement for a woman than I do is a sad one.”

“Prepare to cry.” She wanted to say yes. In fact, she thought, closing the book and putting it in her purse, she was going to. But she didn’t want it to be that easy for him.

“Come on. It’ll be fun,” he cajoled.

“Fun? I’m not sure I’m ready for fun.”

“How about friendly?”

She’d come to Vegas to live a little, and sitting in her room reading didn’t sound exactly exciting. There was something in Deacon’s eyes that promised more than fun and friendly, and Kylie was sick of always being…herself.

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“Meet me back here in an hour.”

“An hour?”

“Fate takes time.”

“Then it’s not really fate.”

He shrugged.

“What should I be prepared for?” she asked.

“To be swept off your feet,” he said with a wink and walked away.




Two


Deacon returned to the security booth after calling his secretary to find out where Kylie was staying. He was pleased when he discovered she was a guest at his hotel. He’d made arrangements for a picnic dinner to be prepared by the Golden Dreams head chef. He also called the bellman and ordered his Jaguar to be brought around front. Then he called the flower shop and had a bouquet sent to Kylie’s room.

“Smooth work down there,” Mandetti said when Deacon reentered the security room.

“Yeah, I especially liked the part where she almost fell off the bench trying to get away from you,” Mac said with a grin.

Deacon ignored them, his mind on Kylie. She had returned to her room. Thanks to Martha, he knew she was in the east tower, room 1812. He keyed up her hallway on the monitor. It was empty. He tried not to think about her as a woman. She was the means to an end. The faceless model in the Ralph Lauren ad wearing a cable-knit sweater and holding a child.

Except she wasn’t a faceless woman. She was Kylie Smith, a woman with sharp wit and a sense of humor. He hadn’t expected humor from her. He’d never really considered that as a qualification for the right family.

Mac leaned over his shoulder again. “You got it bad.”

“Got what?” Deacon asked.

“The lust bug.”

“Ha. This has nothing to do with lust.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Deacon didn’t discuss women with Mac, because they tended to disagree about them on a fundamental level. Deacon had been raised by his mom and surrounded by showgirls. Mac had been raised by his father, a bitter man who hated all women. Mac’s attitude toward women was that they were after only one thing—money. Deacon had seen firsthand how money could make the difference between life and death to a woman on the streets.

“She doesn’t seem like the one-night-stand type,” Mandetti said.

Deacon knew that; his intentions toward her were noble. Kylie was even better-suited to the label in his head that read WIFE than he’d thought she’d be.

“I can’t believe you, old man,” Mac said.

“What’s not to believe?” He turned to Mandetti. “Doesn’t she look like marriage material?”

Mandetti nodded.

Mac leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “You really think you’re going to marry her.”

Deacon shrugged. Unless he’d lost his touch, hell, yeah, he was going to marry Kylie.

“She won’t do it,” Mac said.

“She might,” Mandetti said.

Mac could be right. But when he put his mind to something, Deacon never lost. He’d carved a life for himself many wanted but few ever achieved. He wasn’t one of those guys who accepted defeat. Nothing gave Deacon the thrill wagering did. Though Kylie had the potential, he thought. “Wanna bet?”

“Now you’re talking,” Mac said. “Terms?”

“There are no terms. If I convince her to marry me, I win.” Deacon liked things simple.

“Okay, but you do it in two weeks. And it has to be a real marriage.”

Two weeks, was that enough time? Kylie was a little skittish, but he’d handle her carefully.

“Deal. When I win, you can finance a new addition to the children’s shelter,” Deacon said. One of the first things he’d done when he’d made his fortune was to finance a children’s shelter for Vegas kids. A place to keep them off the streets while their parents gambled or worked in casinos.

“Okay. When I win, you can finance a medieval-sword display at the Chimera.” Mac’s hotel/casino was known for its world-renowned traveling displays.

Mandetti’s cell phone rang, and he turned to take the call. Deacon heard him curse in Italian. “Give me a break, angel. I’m just getting started here.”

“See? Women are nothing but trouble,” Mac said. Mandetti covered the mouthpiece. “I better take this outside. I’m going to be observing your operation on the floor tonight, right?”

“Yes. I’ll join you after midnight. I’ll have Peter meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes, okay?”

Mandetti nodded and left the room. Mac followed him out.

Deacon settled back in one of the empty chairs in the security room. A small team of three men were always on shift. A glass wall separated them from Deacon and his bank of monitors. He’d had the room designed so he could come in and observe whenever he wanted without disturbing the security operation. Also, it allowed him to train new hires without disrupting the workflow.

Kylie emerged from her room, and he watched her pause in the hallway. She chewed her lower lip and turned back to her door. She was going to stand him up, he thought.

She went into her room. Deacon reached for his cell phone, dialed the front desk and asked to be connected to her room. Kylie needed some coaxing.

She answered on the second ring. Her voice had a sexy breathless quality.

“Hey, angel,” he said, trying for a lightness he didn’t feel. It shouldn’t matter to him if she changed her mind. If he lost the bet with Mac, he’d be out a bit of money but hardly enough to break him. And it wasn’t as if there weren’t other respectable women in the world. But there was something about Kylie Smith he wanted.

“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?

She knew Tina was probably having sex with the guy she’d met in the casino earlier this afternoon. Tina had the most incredible vacation flings. But Kylie had never been able to compromise her standards enough to have an affair. She wasn’t a prude. She didn’t have to be married to sleep with a guy. She just wanted some reassurance that there was something more involved than just sex.

Deacon watched her with his brilliant gray eyes. Suddenly she felt as if everything she was thinking was broadcast on her face. Insecurity swamped her. She pulled the lapels of his jacket closer around her. God, she loved the way he smelled. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. It was like being in his arms again. But a hundred times safer.

“I’m not sure what to say,” she said at last. She definitely should have stayed in the room with her book. Her book was uncomplicated. Her book was easy to deal with. She knew her heart was going to ache when the foppish Percy Blakney got down on his knees and kissed the cobblestone where his estranged wife had just stepped.

But there was nothing predictable about Deacon. Even though being here with him tonight had a certain excitement, the potential for heartbreak was too great. She wished she’d never stepped out of her safe little world. From the moment she’d stepped on the plane to come to Vegas, she knew she’d taken unsound steps toward something new.

“Which part scared you?” he asked. He lightly traced his finger down the deep V left by his jacket. She shivered with awareness, realizing she’d been fighting her physical reaction to him because it was something she didn’t know how to control.

“You have to know I want you,” he rasped. Leaning forward, he cupped her face and dropped the lightest of kisses on her nose. Then he took her mouth in a kiss that was more intense than the one they’d shared earlier. While that one had been all about instinct and passion, this one was more profound, because of the way he controlled it. Actually, controlled himself and her. His mouth was thorough, leaving her feeling completely exposed to him. She slid her hands around his neck and held him tightly to her.

She took from the kiss what he offered. An intimate knowledge of himself and the kind of desire she’d never experienced with another man.

Her body had reacted to his words. Her breasts felt full and heavy and her nipples tightened, needing his hands and mouth on them. Her center was dewy. She shifted on the blanket, trying to get closer to him. He fell back, cradling her against him. She moaned deep in her throat. Oh, man, this was getting out of control. She needed him deep inside her. She ached for him.





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