Inside Bet: Vegas Top Guns, Book 2 (18 page)

Damn if he wasn’t addicted to mystery. Other than speed, it was his drug of choice.

His thoughts shot right back to Heather. What would she wear to a girls’ night out? Didn’t matter. He knew the secrets of her body, what she’d be hiding beneath the most demure ensemble. The thought made him smile, and he indulged in a surge of arousal. The sex in the air at The Lux only heightened his awareness of every female body, every gyrating hip, every pout—whether faked or genuine.

What sort of bullshit emotion had he been contemplating with Heather? She was the best time he’d had in years. Walking amidst that churning chaos of hormones, his impulses crystalized around the most relaxing thought he’d had in days. She was his for the taking. His for the pleasuring.

Fantastic.

When the petite hostess waved toward a round table encircled by a black-backed booth, he had no trouble picturing a much different end to his evening. He shot off a quick text. Let her try to ignore his invitation. For a moment he’d contemplated that maybe, just maybe, she was good for his ego. Knock him down a few pegs. Screw that. She
would
come to him. She had yet to refuse one of his dares, which was such a fucking turn-on.

He faced the hostess. “If a Ms. Heather Morris arrives, she’s with me.”

The woman nodded and made a note on her clipboard. Dash and Leah perked up, even as they slid into the booth. Leah waved down a waitress. The Princess of the 64
^th
could always be counted on for a wild night.

“And who exactly is Ms. Heather Morris?” Dash asked. “A one-night stand or three-week stand?”

“I’ve stopped counting.” Jon sat and hitched his arms over the back. “Let’s just say she hasn’t bored me yet.”

“Miracle,” Leah muttered, after ordering the first round.

“Don’t get lippy, Princess. Shouldn’t you be bumping and grinding by now?”

“In search of tasty beef? Definitely.” Off she went, already shaking her ass in time to the pulsing rhythm.

Easing into the possibilities of the night, into that same rhythm of sex and temptation, Jon nursed a scotch. What really went to his head was anticipation. If Heather didn’t come to him—a dare in itself—he’d make sure she knew that tomorrow wasn’t soon enough. Bust down her door. Strip her bare. Take what they both wanted.

Chapter Twenty-One

Heather was just about to roll another hunk of hair around her curling iron when her cell rang. Not Jenn, thank God. Neither of them could stand another delay to their plans for a girls’ night. And she was thankful it wasn’t Jon. Only the trouble she and Jenn constantly had in aligning a night out had held off the temptation of saying yes to his invitation. The
yes, yes, yes
in her head had been loud, with her libido shooting into overdrive. God, he was good. A few slinky syllables and she was ready all over again. Nothing came close to the way they drove each other crazy.

His apology, however… She’d spoken the truth. What was she supposed to do with that? Ignoring it for now seemed the best answer. It had been polite and completely appropriate, considering his behavior at the country club. Mostly she’d been pissed that his anger continued to weave under her skin. Beneath his playboy exterior was a real person, a real man with real emotions. Dangerous stuff.

She thumbed the cell phone. “Hey, Dad,” she said with a smile.

“Hiya, honey. How goes?”

Her father’s welcome voice hadn’t tensed a knot in her stomach for years. They were on fantastic terms now. So why the sudden unease?

High school. That weekend when she’d hopped on the back of a Harley and run away. She’d needed years to erase the damage she’d done, all because of the crazy chances she’d taken. Earning back their respect had propelled the ambition of her twenties. She still remembered the stony, hard-bitten silence of that car ride home from Jersey.

If her dad knew what risks she was taking with Jon…

And there it was. The answer to her tight gut. Her arrogant playboy added napalm to the fiery wildness she’d kept under wraps for years. A harsh reminder of what she’d inflicted on herself and her family.

“Honey?”

She put down the curling iron. “Sorry, Dad. Just sort of distracted. Getting ready to go out.”

“Am I interrupting?”

“No way. How’s Mom?”

“Good,” he said, always so upbeat. Heather dragged that happiness into herself. “She’s sitting by the campfire, reading.”

“Where are you now?”

“Somewhere in the eastern half of Virginia. At a campground. You’d hate it. Total roughing it.”

“Then I’ll just say ‘Gee, I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Dad!’” She couldn’t help but smile. Her parents had taken to the road on a grand RV adventure, as if their years of relocating from base to base had left them unable to settle. In the meantime, she took pride in being able to protect the assets they’d worked all their lives to scrimp and save. If she set aside a little more from her own salary to serve as an extra guarantee…

It was the least she could do.

“Warm here today,” he said. “Really nice. But I suppose you’re still sweltering?”

“AC’s running full blast.” She touched up her blush then found her killer black pumps. “I’ll step outside and all the work I’ve put into looking nice will melt right off me.”

“Hot date?”

At one time, so long ago, she would’ve taken those two words as quiet condemnation. She swallowed back the old reflex. She was thirty-two and she wasn’t even seeing Jon that night.

An uncomfortable pinch of disappointment under her ribs made her movements edgy as she gathered purse and keys. “Nah, just a girls’ night with Jenn. Cocktails and a movie, I think.”

“Sounds great. I haven’t been to a movie theater in… Wow, I can’t remember.”

“Too busy seeing real life. We cubicle types need Hollywood to live it for us.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed. At the moment, real life includes watching a squirrel taking a shit. I have to say, that’s a first for me.”

Heather stopped in the doorway to her garage, holding on to the frame as she laughed. “You’re gonna make my mascara run!”

“Seriously, Heather. I wouldn’t have thought they’d have so much in them.”

“You’re gross!”

“Your mom tells me that at least daily. Normally I’m completely innocent.”

“But not this time?” She gingerly wiped tears from her eyes.

“Nope. Pretty damn crass. But I’m keeping you from cocktails. Gotta be better than my nature-show narration. Have a good night, honey.”

“Thanks, Dad. Say hi to Mom for me. Love you both.”

“Love you too, Heather.”

She switched off the phone and tucked it in her shiny metallic green clutch, a strong accent to her entirely black ensemble. For a moment, she stood in the garage doorway, her back against the wood. Had her father been any less forgiving and patient—odd considering what a hardass he’d been to his Army subordinates—they never would’ve made it. Relationship kaput for good. Her behavior back then had been bad enough to snap a saint in half.

Now he was the one person on the planet guaranteed to make her smile.

“Squirrel shit,” she muttered to herself as she started up her Camry. “What a dork.”

She was still grinning as she drove to a bar off the Strip. Called Inescapable Future, which was so pretentious as to add to her amusement, the place was decked out in sci-fi Japanese-style cute. Just cuteness
everywhere
, as if Hello Kitty had barfed up a cocktail lounge. Pink and iridescent polka-dot paint, strings of flashing lights in fuchsia and purple, and pictures of every cartoony cat and puppy and pony imaginable. Heather stood in the entryway with her mouth slightly agape. Only when she noticed a cutesy squirrel did she let loose another laugh.

“You’re in a good mood,” came Jenn’s voice. “Good! Let’s do this!”

Perfectly quaffed, perfectly put together, Jenn flew in the face of stereotypes about stay-at-home moms. She wore a low-cut fire-engine-red top and a dark, slim-cut pair of slacks. Only her flats gave away the fact she didn’t dress to the nines every day.

They settled onto very, very high barstools, the fluffy upholstery of which was pink-and-white leopard spots. Their round table was lacquered in black with itty-bitty seagulls flying in letters that spelled Inescapable Future.

Heather laughed again and smoothed her hair. “If this is the future, I’m pretty sure I want to die young.”

“Damn skippy.” Jenn flagged down the nearest waitress. The woman wore a uniform that included thigh-high metallic boots and a white sixties-style micro-dress. “Mojito,” Jenn said. “A big one.”

“I’ll have one of those frou-frou martinis made with Godiva liqueur.”

The waitress nodded, which barely shifted her black angle-cut bob wig. No telling her expression behind huge silver sunglasses and gold lipstick as thick as wax.

After chit-chat about work and Jenn’s family, the cocktails arrived in massive glasses. “Ooh, I’m glad you drove!”

Heather grinned. “Suddenly the twenty-two-dollar price tag makes sense. You could measure these by the gallon.”

“They’re cheaper than La Rocca’s would’ve been. You know, it’s okay if you talk about the place. I promise my feelings won’t get hurt since I got laid that night and you didn’t.”

It only took about two and a half seconds for Jenn’s eyes to go wide. Heather wondered if she was really that easy to read, and hoped that ease was confined only to her closest friend.

“Did you meet someone?” Jenn leaned in. “You did! No wonder you sent those wine-tasting notes through your cell at, what, two in the morning? I noticed, you know.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. I could’ve been working late.”

“You’re a blushing liar. You’ve been having hot caveman sex and haven’t told me!”

Heather took a sip of her chocolate martini, which was just
gorgeous
. Jenn moved in for the kill. “Don’t think that old sip-and-look-away thing works on anybody but dudes.”

“What, Rich not keeping it spicy enough for you?”

“He’s not the problem. Midnight kid puke and a busted water heater can be wet blankets, though.” She grinned in a way that proved married mothers in their thirties had filthier minds than society gave them credit for. “But we’re here now, interruption free, and I need details. Our fate as friends depends on it.”

“That serious, huh?”

“Spill.”

After a deep breath, Heather started with the basics. Met at the wine tasting. Roulette. One-night stand.

Jenn raised her neat brows. “
You?
Rock it out.”

“Yes,
me
,” she found herself saying. Why? As if being seen as a stick-in-the-mud hadn’t been her goal for more than a decade. “I’m not dead.”

“Which is what I’ve been saying for three years now. Was he worth it?”

Heather answered with an uncontrolled giggle. She took another hasty sip, smiling without pretense. “You could say that.”

“Caveman sex for the win!”

“Nah, that seems too…derogatory. Jenn, he’s so damn upper class. Comes from old New England money.”

“What does he do?”

“Air Force. Flies F-16s at Nellis.”

“You’re shitting me.”

Heather shook her head. He sounded even more too good to be true when described aloud. “Nope. I thought he was teasing too, there at the wine tasting. But nope. Air Force ID and everything.”

“Wow. And he’s not an asshole?”

“Oh, no. He totally is. Perverted as hell. But…” She realized the weird, dreamy quality to her voice when Jenn’s smile turned knowing.

“Keep it comin’. But what?”

“He’s amazing. A gentleman. I’ve never met anyone like him. All cool culture on the outside. Swear to God, Jenn, he’d blend in at a White House Christmas party. He’s funny. I just like him, attitude and all.”

“Probably
because
of the attitude.” Jenn sipped deeply of her mojito until only ice chunks remained. “I mean, who else do you have at work? That guy Grant? Please. Loaded fighter pilot sounds much more appealing.”

As Heather filled in the details she’d gleaned about Jon’s background, her respiration increased. Where was he? Who had he decided to spend the evening with? A flash of disloyalty to Jenn made her divulge more than she intended—or else she just needed to share.

“And he’s a damn rock star in bed. Or in an abandoned coat closet.”

Jenn laughed. “You whore!”

The waitress had returned, her eyebrows raised above the silver sunglasses. Jenn ordered another then leaned in to whisper, “A coat closet? Not, like, one in your house?”

“With all the crap I store in there? No way.” Heat flushed up from her nape. Her whole face was bathed in the waves that danced off a bonfire. “At the Paulson Country Club ballroom.”

“Double whore! Oh, I’m totally telling Rich on you.”

“He won’t believe you.” The alcohol had gone to her head, just a little, or maybe it was the thrill of finally being able to tell her friend. “Wait, how does one become a double whore?”

“Doing it in a posh country club.” Jenn shrugged. “Or two dudes at once.”

Heather flinched, but perhaps they’d strayed even further beyond what Jenn believed her capable of having done—and well beyond what Heather would ever admit.

“So have you seen his plane? That would be hot.”

“Not yet.” So many times she’d meant to ask. Make a formal request, as opposed to how she’d placated him at her birthday dinner. She didn’t like lying to her friend, but the alternative—admitting her cowardice—was not going to happen. “I can’t just take off from work during the day.”

Jenn waved a negligent hand. “I’m assuming you make time to hook up?”

“Yeah.”

“I hear another ‘but’, don’t I?”

Heather took a deep breath. The chocolate liqueur churned in her gut. Not so gorgeous anymore. “I want to know more about him. See where he works. Meet his friends. And yes, there’s a but. Because all of that’s scarier than getting caught doing…”

“The coat-closet sex.”

“Yup.”

Despite having dipped heavily into her second giant mojito, Jenn looked remarkably sober when she took Heather’s hand. “It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it? The scary shit?”