“Do you like it?” Deacon asked.
“Most days. But it’s just a job.”
“Let’s go up to my quarters,” he said to Mandetti. “I’ve arranged a cold buffet to be brought there.”
“I’ll join you in a few minutes, Deacon,” Kylie said.
“Why?” he asked.
She needed a few minutes to herself before spending any more time in his presence. She couldn’t switch gears as quickly as he did. And Deacon might approve of her body in this bikini, but she didn’t savor the idea of eating in front of Mr. Mandetti in only her swimsuit.
“I’ll give you two a few minutes,” Mandetti said, walking toward the executive hallway.
“What’s up, Kylie?”
“Nothing. I just want to change.”
“You look fine.”
“I’m not comfortable.”
Deacon nodded. Without another word he escorted her to the guest elevators. He pressed the button for her floor and rode up with her, not saying a word.
“Someday, angel, you will be comfortable, I promise you,” he said, kissing her as the doors opened.
“Go change. I’ll wait here for you.”
She nodded and headed down the hall in a daze. Deacon rattled her on so many levels. And she realized she didn’t mind in the least.
Mandetti had arrived just in time, Deacon thought, to keep him from blowing it with Kylie. He’d taken a cold shower last night and another one this morning, but still he knew nothing short of being buried hilt-deep in Kylie’s body was going to provide any relief.
And he’d vowed to let things develop slowly between them. But that had been before he’d realized that she was temptation incarnate and all of his fine plans for a wife and no premarital sex had gone out the window.
He’d only made the plan because it had seemed gentlemanly, even though the idea of it had gone against the grain. And he knew Kylie wasn’t waiting for a ring. Hell, she didn’t even know he planned to marry her.
The eighteenth floor had been decorated in hues of gold. In fact, every floor was decorated in some shade of gold. The wing in which Kylie’s room was located was dedicated to the legends of gold from ancient Greece. On one wall there was a hanging of a replica of the mythical Golden Fleece that Jason had successfully sought. He leaned against the wall and studied it.
He wondered sometimes what it said about him that he had only copies of mythical and valuable things. He knew it was a direct correlation to his own life in which he pretended to be a wealthy guy. One to whom things like thousand-dollar suits and fancy sports cars were taken for granted. But in his heart he was still a street fighter and he didn’t take anything for granted.
Not even Kylie. Especially not Kylie. He needed to woo her. Not seduce her. And though it was hard as hell to keep his cool, he knew he had to. He wanted her to accept his marriage proposal before she flew home. He didn’t even have the two weeks that he and Mac had bet on. He had four days.
She reentered the hall wearing a sundress similar to the one she’d had on the day before. Demure and not the least bit flirtatious. The skirt was respectable, reaching to the tops of her knees. Yet all he could see was her slim body covered in only that brief bikini.
“Sorry I was so long. Tina called to say she won’t be back tonight.”
“Good, then you’re free for dinner with me.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
He slipped his hand under her elbow and led her back to the elevators. The car was empty when they got on. Deacon made himself step away from her. Hell, she smelled good. Like flowers first thing in the morning.
No other woman of his acquaintance smelled like her. His mom and her pals had always smelled of Chantilly. And the women he’d dated recently had used something that had undoubtedly cost top dollar, but it hadn’t affected him half as much as Kylie’s simple smell of spring flowers.
“I was surprised when you invited the gaming commissioner to join us for lunch,” she said at last.
“Things are moving too fast for us. I don’t want to rush. And Mandetti makes an interesting chaperon.” Some classical music was playing in the background of the elevator. He liked the air it lent the casino, even though personally he couldn’t stand the stuff. He’d rather have some spicy jazz, but he knew most of his guests felt more pampered with classical music in the background.
“I’ll say. Are you sure that’s it? Or did you change your mind once you saw my body?”
He cursed savagely under his breath. And hit the elevator stop button. Her eyes widened as he closed the gap between them, caging her between his body and the mahogany wall of the car. Her widened eyes watched him, and Deacon was aware that he’d slipped the reins of his control once again. Something he couldn’t seem to avoid doing when Kylie was near.
“The only thing I thought when I saw your body was how quickly could we get to my room.”
“Promise?”
He lowered his head, brushing kisses against her shoulder where the strap met her soft skin. He turned her in his arms until they both faced the mirror on the back wall of the elevator car.
She looked so damned right in his arms. How could she be blind to that?
He normally kept his thoughts to himself. He didn’t like to let anyone inside his head. But in Kylie he found a kindred spirit. She’d been battered by life in a different way than he had. And he knew he could reassure her on this count.
“When I look at you, angel, I see the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Be quiet,” he said. “Your hair’s so thick and soft it reminds me of the finest sable. I can’t wait to bury my hands in it. To feel it against my skin.” He lifted a strand of her hair and brought it to his face. Rubbed it over his lips and nose.
“Your eyes are deep bottomless pools that fascinate me. Sometimes everything you feel is revealed in them, but mostly, they hide your secrets. I’ll do whatever is necessary to make you reveal them to me.”
“I don’t have any secrets. I’m just a plain ordinary girl from California.”
“No, you’re not. Your body is the stuff dreams are made of.”
He caressed her elegant neck, brushing her hair to the side to drop a kiss at its base. She shuddered in his arms, and he pulled her more firmly against his body. His skin felt too tight. But he’d started this and he intended to finish it.
He cupped her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Her nipples budded against his palms and his body answered by tightening. “Your breasts are—”
“Too small.”
“Just right,” he said, rubbing his palms in wide circles until she shifted against him.
He slid his hand down her stomach, lingering right above her sex. “This part is full of mystery. I want to spread you out on my bed and take my time discovering what touches you like.”
“I’m sure I’d like all your touches.”
“Don’t say things like that. We have lunch to get through.”
“Then you better stop—”
“But I’m not done yet.”
She crossed her arms. “Please don’t look at my legs again.”
“I’m going to. They fascinate me. I’m obsessed with thinking about their length and how they’ll feel wrapped around my hips when we’re both naked and twisting on the sheets together.”
She trembled and lifted her eyes to meet his. “Deacon, where have you been all my life?”
“Just a roll of the dice away,” he said with levity he was far from feeling. He radioed his office and had them tell the commissioner he was indisposed this afternoon. Kylie said nothing, but he knew she read the intent in his eyes as he put his hand in the center of her back and walked her down the long hall to the elevators that led to his private retreat.
Seven
D
eacon’s living quarters were spacious and state-of-the-art, a blending of elegance and comfort. Much like the man himself. The foyer was decorated with antiques that Kylie knew her mom would adore. The floor was Moroccan tile, and original artwork hung on the walls. He hit a button on the wall of the living room, and the window blinds opened to reveal the city of Las Vegas spread out beyond.
There was a bar in one corner of the living room, a large pool table in the middle and two separate sitting areas, one facing the windows, the other facing a top-of-the-line entertainment center. Pool was her dad’s game and she’d learned to play at his side.
“This is really nice,” she said inanely. She’d wanted to come with him. Wanted to make love with him. But at this moment she was nervous. Despite his reassurances in the elevator, she knew what she looked like when she was naked and laying on her back. Her boobs weren’t big enough to look like much when she was horizontal. And Deacon…well, Deacon was the kind of guy that was solid muscle. She was realistic enough to know that making love in the bright light of day was going to leave her vulnerable.
“I hired a decorator to do it. The only thing that’s mine is the pool table. Do you play?”
“Not in the last few years.”
“You didn’t think you’d be good at roulette, either,” he said in a low voice.
She remembered the feel of him pressed against her back. Remembered his arms around her as he placed the bet. Remembered the excitement of trying something new and of having him by her side encouraging her to be more adventurous than ever before. She liked this new woman. And decided then and there to stop letting her fears rule her life.
“I was only good with you by my side,” she said. The words resonated inside her, and she knew she was falling for Deacon Prescott, no matter that she’d known him only a short time. Her body and her soul said he was the one for her.
He crossed to the pool cues on the wall and took two down. “Wanna play?”
“Sure,” she said, reaching for one of the cues. Wouldn’t he be surprised when she learned she was a skilled player? After her dismal performance at roulette, she was looking forward to doing something that made her look good.
“Want to make things interesting?” he asked. The devilish gleam in his eyes made her pulse quicken.
“A bet?” she asked. In her heart she knew she should tell him she was very good at this game, but she wanted to see how far he was going to take this.
“Yes.”
“What did you have in mind? I’m not in your league—I can’t drop five hundred dollars and not worry about it.”
“Why don’t we play for something you won’t mind dropping?”
“I’m listening,” she said. She didn’t trust that gleam in his eyes. He moved around the table so that they stood side by side. He rested his hip on the pool table.
“Clothes?” he said with a nonchalance belied by the narrowing of his eyes and the straining body part in his trousers.
“Strip pool?”
“Kind of. But you can wager items of clothing. Say, for example, you wagered your panties and lost. You’d still be clothed.”
“Hmm. The loser takes off an article of clothing at the end of each game?”
“I was thinking we could bet on the sinking of each ball.”
She bit her lower lip. “You’re on. By the way, I want your pants first.”
“Why?”
“So I can ogle your legs,” she said.
“Do you remember enough to play, or do you want me to show you a few moves?”
“Maybe you better show me a few moves,” she said.
Deacon leaned his cue against the table and moved behind her. Her positioned his arms over hers and spoke directly into her ear.
“First make a bridge with your fingers,” he said, moving her hands on the green velvet tabletop until they were adjusted to his satisfaction. Normally she used her knuckles to rest the cue on, but Deacon made her form a bridge.
When he pulled the cue back to start the break, she shifted her hips and deliberately rubbed her butt against his groin. She felt a shudder of awareness run through him, and the cue bounced on the table when he dropped it.
She glanced over her shoulder. “You okay?”
“Fine. Do you have the idea?” He stepped away from her and picked up his cue.
“Yes,” she said, taking her cue and breaking the balls.
“I can see you
have
played this game before,” he said when she neatly sunk a striped ball.
“Maybe once or twice. But never for these odds. I’ll take your pants now.”
He removed his belt slowly and set it on the table while he bent down and removed his shoes and socks. Then he unfastened his pants and slid them down his legs. The hem of his shirt hung to the top of thighs, but when he tossed her his pants, she realized he wasn’t wearing any underpants. She’d sadly underestimated her foe. And missed her next shot.
“I’ll take your dress,” he said. Leaning over the table, he sank his solid colored ball and turned to her, waiting to collect his prize.
Deacon had never suspected Kylie was capable of conning him. He liked it. He liked that there was more to her than he’d first glimpsed in the security camera. He liked that she’d went immediately for his pants, too. Because he didn’t know how much longer he could let this game continue.
“Do I have to take the dress off entirely?” she asked, tipping her head to the side.
In a teasing mood, Kylie was more than he’d expected. Something had happened on the walk from the elevator to his suite. Something that had given her a confidence he’d known she had. Something that was responsible for the tingling in his veins. “I gave you my pants.”
She moved to his side of the table, leaning nonchalantly next to him. He could smell those damned flowers again and something more elemental. The scent of a woman.
“Indeed you did. Say I unbuttoned the dress and left it hanging open, would that be enough?”
He ran his finger down the side of her neck, dipping it into the scooped bodice of her dress and caressing the upper curves of her breasts. He’d tasted her, knew the texture of her nipple in his mouth, but he didn’t know its color. And he wanted to.
He wanted to carry her over to the patch of sunlight in front of the glass wall and spread her out on the floor so that nothing was hidden to him. And then make love to her with the city in the background.
“Only if you’re not wearing any panties,” he said, enjoying himself too much.
She bit her lower lip as she reached out to cup his face in her hands. Her fingers were cold but felt good against his jaw. She leaned up and brushed her lips against his. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I am wearing panties. Women’s undergarments must be cheaper than men’s.”