Hot Number (25 page)

“I never go near the casinos except for my
job. I work too hard for my money to throw it down a slot machine,
or blow it at a table,” he said as his gaze scanned the area around
them. He seemed to do that about every thirty seconds.

Her irritation climbed another notch up the
scale. Could he at least
try
to keep his focus on her? “And
when someone like me comes along, someone who gets lucky for a
while, they can arbitrarily decide I’m no longer welcome in their
playground,” she said in a biting tone. “That’s the score, isn’t
it?”

“Well, that’s Vegas.”

“Well, that sucks,” she shot back.

Nick didn’t try to hide the obvious heat in
his dark eyes as they momentarily focused on her naked breasts.
“Only if you let it.”

“That’s easily said, isn’t it? But some
people have difficulty controlling their impulses. Or maybe
gambling compensates for something missing in their lives. It’s not
like they’re able to simply turn it off and walk away, just because
you think they should. And if it’s just for a little while, and if
nobody else gets hurt, why is it so wrong?”

He studied her, his face impassive. “We’re
talking about you, right?”

Her stomach lurched as she realized she’d
said too much. What had possessed her to grind away at the same
miserable subject that had landed them in trouble last night? Plus,
this was hardly the time or place to have a serious discussion.

“Nick, how late are you working tonight?” She
winced at the plaintive tone to her voice.

He looked away again. “I’ve got kind of an
open-ended assignment. I’ll probably be here late.”

She frowned. What did that mean?
“Then...perhaps we could resume our conversation at the end of your
work day?”

“Sounds good, he said with a nod. “Meet you
at the blackjack pit?”

At the blackjack pit?
She peered at
him, but she couldn’t see any judgment or disapproval on his face.
Had he really given up trying to convince her not to gamble?

Whatever. She wasn’t going to push it, not
when they’d managed to get this far. “Fine. If I’m not there, you
have my cell number.”

Nick rose from the low-slung lounger,
bringing his groin almost level with her face. Her fingers twitched
with the impulse to cup his package.

Sadie almost groaned out loud at the absurd
thought. Since when did her hormones make her IQ plummet fifty
points?

Since you met Nick Saxon, that’s when.
She looked up, going all soft inside as his protective gaze swept
over her.

“Be careful out there, Sadie. I mean it.”
Nick turned and walked away, his long stride quickly carrying him
out of sight.

Nick gave himself several mental kicks in the
ass on his way from the pool through the casino, across the hotel
lobby and up the elevator to the operations center. What the hell
had he been thinking? Hunting Sadie down, coming on like a jealous
boyfriend, and then drooling over her like a St. Bernard? Maybe he
hadn’t literally drooled over her, but his cock had threatened to
punch a hole in the front of his pants.

It was totally insane how much he wanted that
woman, and seeing her again—practically naked, all creamy white
skin and generous curves—had brought that roaring home. As he
flicked his eyes over her body, all he’d been able to think about
was how he’d caressed her in the shower while he drove into her
from behind. What he should have been thinking about was how Carson
would soon force him to confront Sadie about her card counting and
then blacklist her, and how much she would hate Nick for that.

The inevitability of that result gnawed away
at him with surprisingly sharp teeth. Sadie was clearly still angry
and hurt, but she had obviously more or less forgiven him. He’d
almost fallen off the lounge chair when she asked him, in that
tentative, almost-shy voice, when he got off work. He’d forgotten
for one rash moment that they couldn’t really have any future
together. And in that moment he’d grasped at the opportunity to be
with her again, even though he’d recognized only seconds later how
hopeless and messy the whole thing would quickly become.

Tonight would probably be his last time with
Sadie Bligh—the end of their Vegas fling—and he intended to make it
a memorable night for both of them. Yeah, that made him a selfish
bastard, but when it was over he’d do his best to make her
understand why he’d had no choice. The chances of her forgiving him
again seemed slim to none, but it was worth a shot.

She
was worth a shot.

Feeling slightly better now that he had at
least a half-assed plan to deal with her, Nick went into the ops
center and looked around for his boss. He’d promised Carson an
answer on Sadie today, but now he was going to ask for an extension
until morning. All he’d been able to come up with as an excuse was
to claim he’d been so preoccupied with his mother’s injury that he
hadn’t been able to focus on monitoring Sadie. It was a lie, but a
halfway believable one. Any normal boss would be sympathetic.

But Buzz Carson was not a normal boss.

Fortunately, he found out that the chief had
left the ops center a short while ago, probably to welcome TinyZ on
his arrival to the casino. That being the case, Nick could finally
plow through the reports that had piled up. There was no rush to
get back to the monitors, since Sadie wouldn’t be returning to the
blackjack pit any time soon. He headed into his office and settled
behind his desk to work his way through the reports.

But Nick quickly found he couldn’t
concentrate. He couldn’t shake the restless, irritated feeling that
he should be doing something—anything but frigging paperwork. Sadie
Bligh had shot his concentration to shit, and no matter how hard he
tried he couldn’t focus. After half an hour, he muttered a few
choice curses and gave up.

Heading down to the casino floor to do a
walkthrough he noticed that outside, the day was brilliantly sunny
and hot. But inside the cavernous casino, the massive air handling
units kept the temperature at a brisk sixty-six degrees, and the
dim, eerie, lighting made it seem even cooler. Quite a change from
his days in the desert heat of Iraq, where he’d had to battle both
the harsh elements and the enemy. He didn’t miss that part, but he
did miss being a Marine, doing a job that had real purpose. Being
part of a real team.

“Hey, Nick.” DaRon Washington snapped a
two-finger salute as Nick approached. One of the Desert Oasis’s
smartest floor agents, DaRon blended in easily with the class of
gamblers the casino attracted. Young, hip and immaculately dressed
in a navy blazer and tailored gray wool slacks, he played the role
of gregarious casino employee to perfection, managing to layer a
joking, carefree personality on top of a wary, hyper-alert nature.
More than any of the other security guys, Nick could count on DaRon
to have his back.

“Anything interesting going on, DaRon?”

“Hell, yeah. Look at the crowd lined up
outside the west entrance.” He jerked his head to the right.
“Tiny’s due any minute. In fact, he was supposed to be here half an
hour ago.”

Nick hadn’t paid much attention to TinyZ’s
arrival arrangements. That was Carson’s baby. But craning his neck
to look around the central bar gazebo that blocked their view of
the west entrance, Nick did a quick double take. The crowd massed
in front of the glass doors looked enormous and agitated.

“Let’s take a walk, DaRon,” Nick said,
starting across the casino floor.

Four sets of heavy glass doors, now locked,
lined the west side of the hotel and casino complex. An undulating
mass of humanity pressed against them. Bodies—hundreds of
them—filled the wide sidewalk and spilled down the block. At least
twenty uniformed Las Vegas police had formed a cordon to allow
TinyZ to enter the hotel without being crushed by his devoted
following.

“Shit. I guess he’s popular,” Nick said.

“Dude, do you live under a rock? Popular?
He’s the biggest act we’ve had here since the Black-Eyed Peas. All
three shows sold out the first day tickets went up.”

Nick guessed he did live under a rock,
because the rapper was barely on his radar. “I hear Mr. Z likes
poker and blackjack. I suppose he checked in early to get in some
table time before he gets down to work tomorrow.”

DaRon nodded as a convoy of stretch limos
pulled up in the driveway. Screams erupted as fans tried to
surround the cars but were pushed back by security staff and
police. “He does like to play,” he said, raising his voice above
the noise. “We’ve got teams assigned to close off any table he’s
playing. He’ll have his own personal bodyguards, too. The man
doesn’t take chances.”

Nick shook his head as the cops pushed the
fans back so Tiny and his party could get out of their cars. “We’re
going to set up a private table for him, right?”

“Unfortunately for us, that’s not what he
wants. Tiny likes to pick his spots on the fly. They say he gets a
kick out of meeting ordinary folks. He absolutely insisted on it,
and the chief gave in. But the security team’s going to be all over
him wherever he goes.”

“I don’t envy you guys. Sounds like a fucking
nightmare to me.”

DaRon shrugged. “It’s under control. There
have been a few incidents with Tiny’s crew at some hotels, but the
chief’s not going to let anything like that go down here. Me, I’m
looking forward to seeing him. Tiny’s a cool dude.”

Nick had heard about TinyZ on the news, but
had never seen the man in person. The “cool dude” who had just
hauled his massive frame out of the lead limo was anything but
tiny. Nick put him at six-four and at least three hundred and fifty
pounds. But he carried his massive bulk well. His black suit fit
him perfectly, and could have been tailored by Savile Row.
Underneath the suit he wore a bright white tee shirt, against which
hung an impressive collection of bling. Tiny flashed a broad,
disarming smile, waving at his fans. Security staff unlocked one
door and police formed restraining lines so Tiny and his group
could get through the crush.

The Desert Oasis’s general manager, Cole
Johnson, shook Tiny’s hand the instant he came through the door.
Buzz Carson followed immediately with his own handshake, though he
looked far less impressed with Tiny than his boss was. Seconds
later, the entourage was swept toward a private VIP elevator behind
a phalanx of security agents. The buzz from outside grew louder as
overly-excited fans tried to force their way inside.

Nick grimaced. “Something tells me we’re in
for an interesting couple of days.”

* * *

Sadie grinned at her reflection in the
fitting room’s full-length mirror. “Okay, now
this
is sexy.”
She twirled, letting the full skirt of the red silk dress float out
around her. The halter top showcased her breasts in a way that
would have embarrassed her a few days ago.

“Hell, yeah,” Cassie said with a grin.
“You’re going to need a shotgun to keep the hound dogs off you.
Then again, I suppose Sheriff Studly will probably see to that
chore.”

Sadie peered over her shoulder to
double-check that her butt didn’t look too big. “From your mouth to
God’s ears, Cass. I think I’m going to need a little extra help to
encourage the sheriff to keep his attention on what really
matters.”

As soon as Nick left the pool area, Sadie had
collected Cassie and decamped to the Forum Shops at Caesar’s
Palace. It might be a dreadful lapse into immaturity on her part,
but tonight she wanted to make Nick freeze in his tracks the moment
he laid eyes on her. Since he had never seen her in anything but
casual clothes, a truly spectacular dress just might do the
trick.

Her doubts about the wisdom of seeing Nick
again had faded the moment he apologized to her. Suddenly, her
anger about what she’d seen as his betrayal had seemed a dreary
waste of emotional energy. She had come to Vegas to escape her
depression, not foster it. And, yes, her romantic fantasy would end
very soon. But tonight she wanted the sheriff as much as she’d
wanted anything in her life, and that included the Eagleton
Prize.

Staring at the unfamiliar image reflected in
the mirror, she froze, stunned by the absurdity of comparing Nick
Saxon to an overarching goal she had spent so many years working to
achieve. How could that be possible? She’d known him for less than
a week, and after tonight she would probably never see him
again.

The impeccably attired shop clerk tapped on
the doorframe and then swept into the fitting room, breaking Sadie
free from the strange tension gripping her. “That dress was
absolutely made for you,” the clerk enthused. “You look fabulous,
and so sexy.”

“She’s out to hunt the hunter,” Cassie said
wryly.

The clerk laughed. “Then the poor man doesn’t
stand a chance.”

Sadie firmly squashed her worries about Nick
back into their mental box. Just this once, she would focus on the
fun. There would be plenty of time to figure out the rest of her
life after tomorrow. “I’ll take it,” she said, slipping the wildly
expensive dress over her head.

Cassie clapped her hands. “Atta girl. Now for
the shoes.”

“I know the ones I want—the red heels we saw
in the display case next door.”

Cassie looked at her as if she’d broken out
of an asylum. “Are you serious? I looked at those already. Do you
have any idea how much they cost?”

Sadie shot her a grin. “You’re forgetting
that while you’ve been soaking up sun and shamelessly flirting at
the pools, I’ve been plying my skills at the casino.”

“Right. And incurring the wrath of the very
man you want to bowl over tonight. I still don’t know about this,
Sade. I’m worried you’re playing with fire.”

Sadie took her time pulling her tee shirt
over her head. “You think I’m being foolish, don’t you?” She tried
not to sound defensive.