Nobody Does It Better (18 page)

"Told you we should have gone to the hotel," she teased.

He planted a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. "Ever made love in a stairwell?"

"Devin!" She hoped he was joking, because if he was serious, she doubted she'd have the wherewithal to insist on more traditional surroundings.

Footsteps pounded on the metal stairs, and two teenage boys descended toward them, lost in an animated discussion of video games.

She cocked an eyebrow at Devin in an I-told-you-so sort of way.

He shrugged. "So, we'll keep our eyes open for a better staircase." He pulled his arm around her, and she snuggled close as the kids scampered past.

"Devin," she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"What's on your hand?"

With a chuckle, he presented her with his lightly fisted hand. She uncurled his fingers to reveal several lines written in black ballpoint.

"Directions from the bookstore to the beach?"

Devin bent to kiss her forehead. "We'd been to so many bookstores, I was afraid I wouldn't remember the way back. And I wanted to walk with you in the surf. I wanted to see you on the beach at sunset. I figured if we ended up lost, so would the moment."

Paris
blinked back tears. That had to be the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her. "Thank you," she said, as he pulled her in front of him and closed his arms around her. She buried her head in his chest, and sniffed. "And thanks for dragging me out tonight."

"Sweetheart, this night is just beginning."

* * *

The man kept magic in his pockets,
Paris
decided hours later, as they stood barefoot in the surf. How else could he make a night of late-night television seem like the best time she'd ever spent, and then twenty-four hours later turn around and hand her the entire universe on a platter?

He wrapped his strong arms around her waist and pulled her close to him, burying his face in her hair. They stood that way a long time, looking out at the ocean.

The sun had long since escaped beneath the horizon in a pyrotechnical display of pinks and purples and oranges.
Paris
even swore she saw the green flash. Scientists might insist the little pop of green that made up the last bit of light from the setting sun was nothing more than refraction and other characteristics of light. But
Paris
knew they were wrong. It was magic.

Devin had given her a magical sunset.

Now she leaned against him, feeling warm and safe despite an endless ocean spread before them and the unfathomable universe above. Billions of stars reflected on the gentle waves laid out like a blanket just for her.

"It's beautiful,"
Paris
whispered, sure that she couldn't have imagined a more perfect night, or a more perfect man, even if she'd tried.

"Yes," he agreed. "You are."

She hugged his arms tighter around her, trying to memorize the moment. "We should get back."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"No. But we've got a long day tomorrow, and I actually have to work some on this trip."

He didn't argue, and she was grateful for that, fearing her resolve would melt if he kissed her one more time. Movies and television might suggest otherwise, but she was pretty sure the
Santa Monica
police wouldn't take any more kindly to finding a couple making love on the beach than in a stairwell.

Back at the hotel, they headed first to her room, their fingertips lightly grazing as they walked.

"Are you sure you don't want to have another film festival?" he asked. "I think there's an old Bogart film on tonight. You could work after."

Paris
kissed his cheek, resisting the temptation he offered. "We've seen how much work I get done after. No, I owe
Brandon
a Montgomery Alexander synopsis. Plus, I'm anxious to work on
Passages.
The ideas just won't leave me alone." She stifled a grimace, hoping that maybe that little white lie would spur some creativity.

He brushed his fingertips lightly over her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. "Well, let no one say I interfere with the creative process."

But he did. Once she sat down, she stared at the blank computer screen, thinking about Devin. The way his mouth curved when he smiled. The scalding heat of his hands on her body. The sensation of him deep inside her.

She gave up. Maybe she could work later. Right now she needed Devin.

When she pushed open his door, she heard the shower running. For a moment, she considered joining him, then had a better idea. After she pulled the covers down, she spread her jeans at the foot of the bed. Her T-shirt took a prominent place in the path from the bathroom to the bed. She hung her bra from the doorknob, and dropped her panties to the floor, right at the threshold of the bathroom.

Naked, she slid onto the bed. With the sheet smoothed beneath her, she leaned back against the headboard. Then, in case she alone wasn't incentive enough, she unwrapped the chocolate hotel candy and balanced it on her breast.

By the time he finished his shower, she knew she'd be hot and wet from nothing more than the anticipation of his touch. Truth be told, she already was.

* * *

The cold shower wasn't doing a thing for him, and he shut the water off with a jerk. They'd been apart for maybe forty minutes, and already he was going nuts without her.

Truly and without a doubt, he'd gone completely head over heels for this woman. No great newsflash, true, but he also had a sneaking suspicion that
Paris
felt exactly the same way about him. She just wasn't ready to admit it.

That was okay. He could wait. Devin could be a very patient man.

At least most of the time. Right now, he wanted to slam through the door to her room and convince her with his kisses to toss work aside for one more night. As appealing as the thought might be, he quashed the idea. Except for the public appearances, he was practically on holiday. But this was a working trip for
Paris
.

He considered calling Jerry to check on the pub, but dismissed that idea just as quickly. So far, he'd checked in at least once every day of the tour, and not a thing had gone wrong. During the last call, Jerry'd griped and swore he'd quit on the spot if Devin didn't wait at least thirty-six hours before calling again.

That left packing or sleeping. A movie was out of the question. Not without
Paris
there with him.

Devin stepped out of the tub and wrapped the child-size towel around his waist. He'd seen a lot of hotel rooms and no one had ever given him a good explanation as to why the damn towels had to be so small.

He opened the door and stepped into the room, stopping when he felt something soft and cool under his foot. Panties. Strange place for her to have left them. Then he noticed the bra swinging from the doorknob.

Suddenly the evening had potential.

The path of clothes led to the prize on the bed,
Paris
, spread out like a temptress for him. Her dreamy eyes beckoned, urging him to lose himself in her. He groaned and stiffened under the towel.

A seductive smile eased across her face. She reached up and grabbed the headboard above her, arching her back so that her breasts lifted toward him.

When he noticed the candy, he came close to losing control.

"I realized you missed dessert," she purred in what he knew in his heart was a voice meant only for him. "Can I offer you a snack?"

He managed some feeble noise. Right then, at that moment, everything in his life depended on touching her. Urgency moved him toward her. He dropped the towel at the foot of the bed and straddled her.

His erection pressed against her belly as his mouth closed over her breast. The candy melted on his tongue, as he pulled and sucked until the chocolate was gone and she was moaning in his ear, begging him not to wait, not to stop, not to do anything except be inside her.

That was a demand he had no intention of denying. Positioning himself over her, he slid into her, relishing how hot and ready she was for him. She lifted her hips, urging him to take her harder. Devin cupped her bottom and raised her to him, pulling her against him with each thrust, wanting to touch the deepest places within her. He didn't want her to have any doubt that she was a part of him.

Her back arched down, leaving him with a stunning view of her body joining with his. The taut skin of her stomach flushed pink from their lovemaking, and her breasts, round and perfect, bounced with each powerful stroke. Her shoulders grazed the mattress and her head tilted back, golden curls splayed wildly across the pillow. She was beautiful. And for now, she was his.

She licked her lips. "Yes, now, please."

With one final thrust he took her where she wanted to go, her body quaking and trembling, tightening around him, as he lost himself and joined her on the far side of passion.

* * *

Devin woke with a start and his hand moved to the other side of the bed. Empty. He sat up, panic threatening, then fading when he noticed the crack of light where the connecting room door was slightly open.

He peered into the next room and saw
Paris
hunched over her computer, banging away at the keyboard. "
Paris
?" he said softly, but she didn't look up. He walked up behind and peered over her shoulder. Random words jumped out at him.

Joshua Malloy.
Greece
. Vivian Jones. Stiletto. "
Paris
?"

Her hand flew to the top of the notebook, slamming the screen down. Then she twisted in her chair to face him, a pretty pink blush consuming her cheeks. "Devin. Hi."

"I didn't mean to scare you. I woke up and I…" He trailed off, reaching out to stroke her hair. "I wanted you next to me."

She relaxed a little and smiled. "I woke up with all these ideas. For
Distant Passages."

He frowned. "Going well? You were rather engrossed."

"Oh, yeah. It's really coming together."

He opened his mouth to argue. The page he'd just seen was not a literary saga of epic proportions. But no protest came out.

What was she up to? Devin wondered later, as they stretched out on the bed. Twice now he'd seen her working on a new Montgomery Alexander book, and twice she'd denied it. His glance at the screen tonight had been fleeting, but Devin had seen enough to know that there was a new woman on the scene. Vivian. She'd had a stiletto knife tucked into her boot, and stabbed some dissident general through the heart before he could stab Joshua.

Very interesting.

More so since
Paris
kept insisting that she was working so hard on her epic, that it occupied her thoughts totally, that she was overflowing with ideas for her great literary work. Clearly,
Paris
had fibbed. From what Devin could tell, she was overflowing with images of guns and knives, plots and schemes. Not historical sagas and prose worthy of the Pulitzer Prize.

An enigma, that's what she was. A woman who said she was proper, that she wanted the right kind of life and the right kind of man. That was all fine in theory. But what was "right" for
Paris
?

She might want to think of herself as prim and proper, but Devin knew better.
Paris
had a wild side, an impulsive side he found incredibly appealing. That side of
Paris
didn't balk at things like inventing Alexander. That side didn't hesitate to traipse all over the country despite her fear of flying.

That was the part of
Paris
that had flirted with him in the elevator, had kissed him with gusto in the bar, had relaxed in his arms watching a classic movie. And that part gave herself completely to him every time they made love.

No question,
Paris
was a woman who needed to take a good long look in the mirror. And Devin was just the guy to hold it for her.

Because with each passing day, Devin wanted more and more for her to see that his reflection was right there beside hers.

Chapter 10

«
^
»

D
espite unexpected turbulence, she'd survived the flight from
Los Angeles
to
Las Vegas
. And even though the taxi driver seemed to confuse the Vegas Strip with the racetrack at the Indy 500, she'd survived the drive to the casino hotel as well. So
Paris
had no intention of collapsing in mortification now that she'd made it this far. No matter how many smirks and giggles the teeny-bopper clerk in the casino gift shop aimed in her direction.

Sure that she was blushing,
Paris
snatched her change and the paper bag, and headed out of the shop and back into the tacky opulence of the casino. Rachel skirted a cluster of polyester-clad women contemplating the slot machines and caught up with her, a wicked grin plastered across her face. She snatched the bag and peered inside. "Well, well."

"It's not what you think,"
Paris
said.

"A twelve-pack, no less. Did you get fluorescent? Ribbed? Tell me you at least bought extra large."

"Rachel!"
Paris
came to a standstill, glancing around to make sure no one, especially Devin, was listening. "You're such a—"

"I know. I am. It's true." The smile returned. "Come on. Give. Or I'll just jump to my own sordid conclusions."

Paris
allowed herself a tiny smile. Any more self-satisfied and she could pose for Da Vinci. The surprising thing was that in just a few days she'd gone from wanting to keep her secret all to herself to wanting to tell. "It's not what you think. What
do
you think?"

"That since you're in
Las Vegas
, land of lust, you finally got smart and decided to jump his bones. I only hope that you at least wait until you're in your room. Casino security frowns on that kind of thing." She leaned forward. "And they have cameras. If you're not careful, you'll end up in the sale rack at Big Barney's Triple-X Playhouse."

Paris
rolled her eyes and pulled Rachel behind a bank of slot machines.

"Are we doing espionage?" Rachel quipped.

"I told you it isn't what you think,"
Paris
sang. She watched Rachel's eyes widen at the scent of gossip.

"What, then?"

"You think I'm planning a seduction."

"Yes. Either that or it's his birthday and you're buying really unique balloons."

"Too late."

"Too late, what? His birthday?"

"Seduction, stupid."

Rachel's eyes widened. "No way. You and the Boy Toy? That's fabulous." Her brow furrowed. "It was fabulous, right?"

Paris
laughed. "You are not getting the prurient details. But yes. It was. It is."

"Is? I guess you're expecting some encores, huh?"

"There've already been a few encores." She counted on her fingers. "A few in
Los Angeles
, a few in
San Diego
, a few in
San Francisco
. And I plan to make the most of this last week. Like you said, we're both adults."

"And you've both got the hots for each other."

"Temporary hots,"
Paris
said. "We made a deal." A deal that was for the best. Long term with Devin would be a mistake, no matter how wonderful short term might be.

"So you're both just going to walk away after the tour?"

"Right."
Paris
saw Rachel fight back a grin. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just that we're in Vegas, the land of gambling. I'm thinking surely I can make some bucks off of this, 'cause sweetie, you are so going to crash and burn."

"No, I'm not,"
Paris
insisted.

"You really shouldn't bet against me," Rachel said, casually examining her nails. "So far I've been right on the money."

"You're infuriating."

"I know." Rachel searched the cavernous room. "So where is your little love toy?"

Paris
decided to let the "love toy" comment slide. Besides, she kind of liked the sound of it. She stepped back from the slots and turned in a circle, but didn't see Devin either. "He's here somewhere. After we checked in, he said he was going to look around the casino."

"Do you think that was a good idea?"

Paris
shrugged. "Why not?" And then she remembered. Twenty thousand. Gambling debt. Had she actually let him loose in the candy store?

She reached out and grabbed Rachel's arm. "You've got to help me find him."

Finding one man in a crowded casino in
Las Vegas
was not as easy as it sounded. After an hour, she'd still come up with no sign of Devin.

She found a bar tucked in a corner near the blackjack tables, and plopped herself down on a stool. She ordered a glass of wine and wondered if Rachel was having better luck.

And then she saw him, right there in front of her.

She stood up, then realized she was looking at a mirror. Spinning around, she tried to find him behind her.

Nowhere. The stupid mirror was at an angle, and was reflecting an image from yet another mirror. And Devin must have moved, because now he wasn't even part of the reflection. But he was nearby. That much was certain. Unfortunately, the bartender had also disappeared, so she couldn't pay her bar tab.

Cursing mirrors and bartenders, she plunked a ten dollar bill on the bar, blew off getting change, and set out to comb the area. She'd either find him, or she'd hire a mathematician to analyze the angle of that stupid mirror.

Paris
passed behind a pillar, mirrored of course, and stopped short.

"Counting cards isn't going to make you a success, Andy, any more than hanging out at the tracks back home," she heard Devin say.

"Carmen says I've got a knack for cards."

Paris
inhaled sharply, then dapped her hand over her mouth, afraid Devin might hear her. This Andy kid sounded much younger than twenty-one. What was the kid doing in a casino?

"I'm not surprised," Devin said. "You're a smart kid."

"Damn straight," Andy said, a cocky edge to his voice.

"You could do a lot better than spending the rest of your life gambling or working for Carmen."

"My uncle Carmen's not a loser."

"I didn't say he was," Devin said, his tone level and reasonable. "But the people he works for are scum. You could do a hell of a lot better."

"He wants to talk to you. Wants to make sure you're not taking the extra time he gave you and running out on him. He told me to remind you of the package I dropped off at your place a few weeks ago. He said that should convince you not to blow him off."

"Where is he?" Devin asked, and
Paris
shuddered from the ice in his tone.

"Over there. Waiting for you."

"Andy, you don't have to live like this, you don't have to grow up to be a strongman for your uncle. You're smart. Finish high school and go to college. Then decide. At least then you'll know what your options are."

"You are so lame, man. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do know. Just think about it."

Silence.

"Okay?" Devin pressed.

"Screw you."

Paris
saw the kid as he walked by, head down, hands jammed deep into the pockets of his black leather bomber jacket. She wondered if Devin really saw the kid, or if he just saw himself years ago.

"Damn," Devin groaned, then he must have slammed his fist against the pillar, because
Paris
felt the reverb as she leaned against the mirrored surface. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she knew what Devin was thinking. That kid wasn't going to give school another thought.

But at least Devin had tried.

Without thinking about what she was doing,
Paris
stepped around the pillar. She wanted to hold him, to comfort him, to tell him he'd tried his best and maybe he'd made a dent in the kid's armor. But he'd moved away. He walked in crisp, determined strides toward two burly men, one with a jagged scar on his cheek Carmen, surely, and someone else.

She couldn't hear what they were talking about, but she could tell Devin was furious. He stood rigid, his hands clenched in fists by his side. The man without the scar finally stuck his hand out. Devin put his hands in the pocket of his jacket. The man with the scar said something and poked Devin's shoulder. Devin shrugged away from the touch as the other man thrust his hand out once again.

Slowly, defiantly, Devin faced each of the men, then turned his back to them and walked away.

"You remember what I said, Devie-boy," shouted the man with the outthrust hand. "You know I'm a man of my word."

Paris
slipped away to the other side of the casino before Devin could see her.

"Devin," she called out when she saw him pass nearby, "over here."

"Hey there," he said, and after a moment, he smiled. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Yeah? Why's that?"
Paris
asked, hoping he'd tell her what the tête-à-tête with the gorilla twins had been all about.

Devin just shook his head. "I've been wandering around, lost in the crowd. Nice to see someone familiar." He grinned, and this time it seemed genuine. "Especially someone so pleasantly familiar," he added, then kissed her gently on the back of her hand. A sweet, gentle gesture, and
Paris
felt her heart swell.

"I was going to find Rachel and get some lunch. Want to come?"

"I'm not really hungry yet. You girls go on ahead. I think I'll hit the blackjack tables."

"The tables?"
Paris
squeaked, then coughed. "You're going to the blackjack tables?" After that lecture he'd given the kid,
Paris
couldn't believe Devin was going to dive headfirst into gambling.

Devin shrugged. "I'm in the mood for some mindless entertainment." He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll catch up with you in a couple of hours," he said, stepping away.

"Wait!"
Paris
caught up with him. "Uh, wait a sec, Dev."

He turned, a question in his eyes. "Do you want to come with me?"

"Do you think this is such a good idea?" He looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "I mean, well…"
Paris
drifted
off.
How did she politely point out that racking up another gambling debt probably wasn't such a great idea?

Inspiration hit. "We need to get you prepared for tomorrow. Do you really think we can spare an hour while you play at cards?"

His brow furrowed and he regarded her through squinted eyes. "I thought you were off to have lunch."

Yup, she'd said that all right.
Now what?
"Right," she said, regrouping. "Right, I did say that. And we are. Yes. Lunch. Oh! We'll take it upstairs, and work while we eat."

"Uh-huh." He crossed his arms over his chest. The corner of his mouth curled up, and
Paris
couldn't decide if he was hiding a smile or rehearsing his speech to have her committed.

She waved her arm toward the elevator banks. "So? Are you coming?"

"No."

"No?"

"No," he repeated, still fighting a grin.

Well, shoot.
She gnawed on her lower lip as she scoured the room with her eyes, hoping to find something, anything to get him upstairs. "Why not?"

"We've been over everything a hundred times. The last two weeks went off without a hitch. I think we can spare an hour."

She remembered the financial magazines he was always thumbing through and decided to try another approach. "Did you really buy the pub with money you'd made in the market?"

He leaned back against a slot machine. "Looking for stock tips?"

"Just curious."

"Didn't that kill the cat?"

He wasn't even trying to hide his grin anymore. Infuriating, really. He wasn't helping her in the least. She stood straighter, huffing up a bit. "I'm trying to have an interesting conversation and you're teasing me."

"Yes, I am."

"Devin!"

He leaned over and kissed her nose. "You're cute when you're annoyed."

Paris
tapped her foot and glared.

"Okay, I surrender." He grinned at her. "Now I've forgotten the question."

Had she said infuriating? She'd meant exasperating. And irritating.

And fabulously handsome, but that really wasn't the point.

She blinked and frowned at him for getting her off track. "I asked if you really made money in the market."