Secrets and Seduction Las Vegas (Sexy Italian Imports Book 1) (2 page)

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A week later, Valerie hefted her laptop case from her SUV and walked across the parking lot outside The Omelet House, a quaint, no-frills old-Vegas icon—to attend a breakfast meeting with the city’s taskforce for the homeless. She’d agreed to sit on the committee as an advocate for the runaways at the teen shelter where she volunteered.

“I’m here for the mayor’s committee.” She smiled at the hostess, who pointed to a round table in the corner where the other six members sat.

As she took her seat, the mayor asked, “What’s it going to be today, Valerie?”

Their running joke was that they had a mission to try each of the omelets the restaurant specialized in—and there were forty of them.

She scanned the menu. “The Green Hornet.”

The mayor read from his, “Avocado and shrimp. Sounds good to me, too.”

After they ordered, the waitress set a plate of warm pumpkin bread in front of each of them. Valerie inhaled the homey smell, her mouth watering. She took a bite as the mayor stood and called to someone walking past.

“Antonio! Where’ve you been hiding?”

She looked up, still chewing. It was him—Blackmailer!—one hand on the elbow of a beautiful young woman, the other holding a leather jacket over his shoulder. Valerie almost choked.

Oh, God. This could turn ugly. In front of the committee, too. Her reputation was in jeopardy. She should grab her bag and leave, but she was boxed into a corner. A ripple of panic gripped her chest.

The mayor told the committee, “Antonio relocated here from Italy—what was it—four years ago?”

“Actually, five.” He grinned. “I’ve survived five long years in Las Vegas.”

“It’s a tough city for someone with so many vices.” The mayor smiled at the committee members and lifted his eyebrows.

Antonio said, “I’ve added a few to my repertoire since I met you.”

That got a loud laugh from the mayor and a few people at the table. But Valerie just stared, her heart skittering wildly. Was blackmail one of his vices?

His gaze flickered over her then shot back to her face. Recognition sparked in his eyes. A slow, decadent smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he stared intently.

She held her breath. So this was how it felt to be a deer in the headlights.

Then he looked away and ignored her.

She swallowed her pumpkin bread and started breathing again. Eyeing his biceps and pecs in the black Harley t-shirt, she let her gaze slide down his perfect body, down his long legs in black jeans. Then back up to the compelling features of his face. Long hair that brushed his shoulders, an aquiline nose, but his lips kept her attention—cruelly sensual.

Forcing herself to stop staring, she appraised his date. Tall, blonde, leggy, and gorgeous. Showgirl?

Antonio smiled at the girl. “Sherry, have you met our mayor?”

Valerie bit her lip. What a smile.

If he’d smiled at her that way in the dog park, she would have told him everything.

Sherry pumped the mayor’s hand. “Mayor, sir, I work at the MGM, and all of us in the dance line just love you. We all vote for you every time.”

“Thank you, dear. You are absolutely one of the loveliest girls I’ve ever met.”

She batted her eyes and purred, “Thank you.”

“And,” the mayor continued dramatically, “one of the front-line staff who makes our wonderful city of Las Vegas the greatest city in the USA.”

“You are too kind, Mayor.”

The mayor began introductions. “Valerie Kane, Psychologist to the Stars.” He alluded to her clientele of famous performers. “This is Sherry…” The mayor looked at Antonio, who smiled at the showgirl.

Jeez, he didn’t even know his date’s last name?

“Sherry McAvoy,” she said.

Valerie stood and reached across the table to shake the girl’s hand. “Good to meet you.”

The mayor continued, “This is Antonio Daniato, a.k.a. Grey Thornton, whose newest novel has been on the
New York Times
best-seller list for a month now.”

Valerie immediately recognized his penname. “We’ve met before, unofficially. So, you’re Grey Thornton.” She held out her hand.

He squeezed a little too hard, and his eyes narrowed.

Was it a warning? She nodded slightly and pulled her hand from his. She wouldn’t expose him if he kept her secret.

He looked as relieved as she felt. She didn’t want to make a scene in front of the mayor.

“Good to see you, Ms. Kane.”

The mayor piped up, “
Dr.
Kane. Best psychologist in Las Vegas, in my wife’s opinion.”

Everyone laughed at the mayor’s stab at humor, but Valerie barely heard the joke. Amazing. Grey Thornton. She lowered herself into her chair and watched as the mayor introduced Sherry and Antonio around the table.

She’d read a few Grey Thornton novels. Their graphic, violent nature, the erotic sex-without-love scenes, and unhappy endings hadn’t made her a fan.

Why would a writer, a popular writer, need to blackmail her cousin? It couldn’t be for the money, could it? Maybe they’d been involved romantically at some time in the past, and he wanted revenge. She’d ask her as soon as she could make a call.

The mayor jokingly invited Antonio to join their meeting. “Subjects that might interest you, Daniato.” He looked at Valerie. “What is your agenda item today, Doctor?”

She cleared her throat. “We’re discussing how runaway teens are affected by legal prostitution and nude dance clubs.”

The mayor said, “Valerie’s our expert.”

“Really?” Antonio looked at her, his face radiating anger. “She doesn’t look young enough to be a runaway. In which area does your experience lie, Doctor?”

Her eyes popped wide open, and her face heated instantly. Did he just ask her if she was a prostitute or a nude dancer? What happened to their unspoken truce? What had she said to make him angry?

Everyone at the table looked at her then looked at Antonio. The silence was deafening. Then the mayor cleared his throat. Oh, crap. She needed to diffuse the situation quickly.

She forced a laugh. “I realize you’re teasing, Mr. Daniato, but you’d better watch your step. In this town, you never know who has Mafia connections…oh.” She smiled at the mayor. “Sorry, sir.”

The group laughed, but Sherry looked confused, and the mayor leaned closer to her. “During my last run for reelection, rumors were spread about my connection to the mafia.”

One of the committee members added, “Rumored, but never proven in court.”

The mayor shrugged, grinning slyly. “No comment.”

As she looked into Antonio’s eyes, Valerie’s forced smile slipped. She couldn’t read the meaning in his intense stare, but she couldn’t look away—and neither did he.

His date broke the spell by sliding her hand into his and rubbing the side of her breast on his arm. “We should get going, Antonio.”

He shook the mayor’s hand and nodded to the committee in general. With one last glance at Valerie, he escorted Sherry from the restaurant.

She watched them leave, feeling the aftermath of his gaze. He was angry. He knew her name. And he was obviously volatile. Damn, this wasn’t turning out to be a very good day. She blinked and brought herself back to what the mayor was saying.

“That was interesting,” he commented to no one in particular.

She shrugged and said the first thing that came to her mind. “He and I had…an animated discussion recently. He must still be a little worked up.”

“You’re quite the diplomat, Dr. Val.” He winked.

She smiled. The mayor had been a family friend since she was a child. He was a kind, gracious man, and she liked him more every time they spoke. She couldn’t say the same for Antonio Daniato. He was an ass.

And the ass was sitting on the back bumper of her SUV when she left the restaurant a half hour later.

Chapter Two

Antonio watched her walk toward him. In her gray jacket and skirt, she looked thinner than she did at the dog park. She put on sunglasses against the bright summer sun. Only nine in the morning, but it was already damn hot, at least ninety degrees.

Leaving the relatively cool spot in the shade off the back of her Lexus, he stood. “Can we talk?”

She stopped three feet from him. As if he would bite.

“Of course.” Her tone sounded clipped, professional.

“Your office?”

“Why my office?” she asked, tipping her head.

He wanted to see her eyes, but it wasn’t possible through her dark glasses. Those amazing blue eyes. If he created her as a character in a book, he’d describe them as the color of the summer sky when she smiled, and the turbulent sea when she was angry. Or scared, like back in the restaurant. Damn right she should be scared.

He crossed his arms. “Unless you want to talk here and risk being seen by the mayor.”

She nodded, opened her phone, and pressed buttons. Was she checking her schedule or calling her Mafia connections to come and have him disposed of?

She snapped her phone closed. “I’m free for another half hour. Do you want to follow me?”

“I know where your office is.” Earlier, after he dropped off Sherry, he called a friend at the license bureau and got Valerie’s office address and vehicle description.

She paused. “You do? How…” She shook her head then pressed a button on her key, and the door locks popped. “All right, I’ll meet you there.” She walked a wide path around him and slid into her Lexus.

Walking toward his Harley, he heard her doors lock and smiled. She was wise to be so careful. He kick-started the motorcycle and took off. The heat rising from the pavement smelled like burning oil and instantly dried his throat.

In his mirror, he saw her pull out of the lot behind him.

Valerie. Pretty name. Pretty face. After their initial encounter, he studied her picture on his camera, at first to memorize her face so he would recognize her if he saw her again. Then she began to intrigue him. What motivated a beautiful young woman to become a blackmailer? She had a successful career, and she was somehow involved with the mayor. But the way she arrogantly taunted him at the restaurant—was she looking for a thrill?

Within minutes, he pulled up to her office, parked his bike in a shaded spot under a palm tree, and walked to the front door. Impressive building. New construction, adobe design, an upscale office in an exclusive part of town. Being the Psychologist to the Stars must pay well. Or was this bought with blackmail money?

The receptionist looked up from her computer as he entered the waiting room, and her eyes widened. A security guard got up from his seat in a corner and watched him. He must look rough in wrap-around sunglasses and black leather jacket.

Before being mistaken for a criminal, he said, “I have an appointment with Dr. Kane.”

The guard and the receptionist exchanged glances. She picked up the phone and spoke then pointed the way. “You may go right in, sir.”

Valerie must have entered through another door.

He walked into her office and closed the door. She sat behind her antique wooden desk and gestured to the chair in front of it. “Have a seat.”

God, she was sexy. He could almost feel all that long, black hair sliding through his fingers. He’d look down into her eyes and brush his lips over her perfect skin then graze her shiny pink mouth. He looked closer. Did she put on lip gloss for him?

She cleared her throat.

Back to reality. He glanced at the honor society pin on the lapel of her suit. Beauty
and
brains.

He shrugged out of his jacket and looked around the office. Tan leather furniture, new by the smell of it. Shelves filled with books lined one wall, and nondescript art hung between windows that faced the mountains. There was a Kleenex box on every table.

He tossed his jacket onto her shrink couch and, when he turned back, caught her looking at his ass. Nice.

He smiled. “On the couch?”

“Um, ah, no, just right here in the chair.”

She was stammering. Good. She felt the tension between them, too. The looks they shared at the restaurant, long minutes where they connected. He shook his head. Whatever was heating up between them needed to cool off. She was a blackmailer; she knew about his double life, had the nerve to allude to it in front of the mayor. But it would be a bitch to keep his hands off her.

As he took a seat, she set a bottle of water on a coaster on his side of the desk.

“Why didn’t you steal my car that night?” All business, no small talk for Dr. Kane.

He twisted the top off the bottle and took a drink. The cold water washed the desert out of his throat.

“Your car? Or the rental car?”

She shrugged her eyebrows. “Okay, so you did your research.” She watched him closely. “The rest of the money was in there. The keys were in the ignition. Why didn’t you take it? Save me the trouble of making the drop-off.”

“You’re assuming I’m the blackmailer?” He’d play her game, judge her reactions.

“Yes.” She tapped her fingers on the desk. “Why else would you be there? At the exact time and location I was there to pick up the money.”

He pulled a folded paper out of his back pocket and tossed it on the desk. “I
put
the money there.”

She picked up the paper and read then looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You dropped the money off at noon and sat in the tree for nine hours?”

He shook his head. “No, I was watching from a vacant house. I climbed the tree at dusk, about an hour before you got there.”

She spread the paper on her desk. “Interesting story.” She looked unconvinced.

“All right, your turn, princess. Why were you there?”

She stared at him for a minute then she sighed, and a look of resignation crossed her face. She opened her desk drawer, took out a paper, and handed it to him. The writing looked the same as that on his note. A man’s writing, his private investigator told him. Dr. Kane had an accomplice.

He read, “An hour after sunset tonight. The dog park in Henderson.” He read the rest and tossed the paper on the desk.

He’d call a friend at the Nugget and ask him to check into downtown surveillance cameras capturing the pawn shop area. He’d see if she really made the drop-off, and, if so, who picked it up.