Her Sexy Vegas Cowboy. Ali Olson
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be sure. In his state, he couldn’t help staring, and as he did so, he wondered what the airport girl’s breasts looked like. He’d bet they were beautiful.
That was when he looked up, and there she was, as if materialized from his fantasy. She was turning away from him and several yards away, but even then he could see that the dress she was wearing revealed the tops of the luscious breasts he’d just been imagining, and the short skirt and tall heels showed off her impossibly long legs. Even drunk, he was clearheaded enough to see that shifting the dress just a few inches in either direction would serve up some amazing views.
If he’d been sober, he would’ve tried to be a little more suave, though with the way she made the bottom drop out of his stomach, he wasn’t so sure it would have worked, anyway. He might have sounded like a blathering idiot when attempting to talk to her at the best of times, but the alcohol made it worse. Worse than he could have imagined.
He sat up in the giant bed, turned the light on and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until it hurt. The pain was a welcome relief; it distracted him from his thoughts and how awful the entire evening had gone.
It seemed pretty certain that she wouldn’t be calling him. His stupid choices made any chance of him getting her into his bed impossible. He wanted her like crazy, and he maybe even had a chance at her, and he’d blown it.
She’d stormed away from him, and she might have even been crying. That didn’t make any sense, though. He’d been an ass, but could it have been awful enough to make her cry? The thought made his stomach twist unpleasantly.
After she left, he’d been so irritated at himself and everyone who had dragged him around all evening that he took a separate cab back to the hotel, leaving Jeremiah to deal with the women whatever way he wanted. They had protested when he left, but he just told them he wasn’t feeling well and got out of there as quickly as he could.
The ride to the hotel had been a blur of lights and frustration, and he had rushed up to his room as quickly as he could, only to sit there, alone in the dark, and replay the evening over again. Not only had he not forgotten about the woman from the airport; he had screwed things up with her, quite possibly with his best friend, and with a couple of other women he normally would have loved to have alone in a room with him.
What a start to the weekend.
He sighed and shook his head, but that only made him feel nauseated. The alcohol hadn’t worn off yet, but he was sober enough to realize that he was in for an ugly morning.
He turned off the light and lay back again, trying unsuccessfully to coax his mind into quieting enough for sleep.
After hours of tossing around on the bed, he finally got up and opened the shades, revealing the floor-to-ceiling window that took up an entire wall of the room. The bright sunlight of the morning was blinding, but his view of Las Vegas, with the desert mountains as a backdrop to the iconic cityscape, was beautiful. He sat on the wide leather couch in his boxers, his feet up on the elegant glass coffee table, and stared out at the majesty of it all.
It was a new day, and he was going to stop the nonsense from the night before and get himself back to normal. After a few minutes of looking at the view, he felt a little more serene, though his dissatisfaction from the previous night was still roiling inside him.
He and Jeremiah were supposed to meet up with their teams at two in preparation for the evening’s events, which meant he had a few hours to get himself back to some semblance of normal. Aaron could miss it if he wanted, since there wasn’t much for him to do, but he knew Jeremiah thought it was important, and Aaron wanted to support his friend.
If Jeremiah wasn’t too pissed at him for abandoning him and being a jackass, of course.
He had to get some air if he was going to make it through the day. Throwing on some workout clothes and running a few miles wouldn’t make up for tossing and turning alone all night instead of sleeping curled around the luscious redhead, but it was the best he could think of to get his head right.
Working on his ranch was plenty of exercise, but he had found that running was a great way to clear his head and improve his mood, so he usually ended up going out for a jog several days a week. It was the one thing that might get him back on track.
He hated running on treadmills, so he bypassed the hotel’s gym and instead made his way through the casino, heading for the exit. After stepping out the front door and into the mild sunshine of winter in Vegas, he turned toward the Strip, figuring it would be more pedestrian friendly than regular streets.
As he jogged, the fresh air against his cheeks and his shoes slapping against the pavement, he started to feel better. By the time he made it to the Flamingo Hotel, he felt halfway normal, and most of the nausea and headache had dissipated.
Aaron continued on his way north, passing several ornate casinos, finally making it to the Venetian and Palazzo hotels. He decided to run a little farther before heading back the way he had come. There were a surprising number of tourists on the streets despite the fact that it was early for vacationers to be up, not even ten, but he managed to move through them without breaking pace.
* * *
JESSICA STOOD OUTSIDE the Venetian, leaning against the railing of one of the bridges that arched over the fake canal running in front of the casino doors. As she looked around and soaked in the oddity of the oasis in the middle of the desert and the pedestrians walking by with large Eiffel Tower–shaped alcoholic drinks at barely ten in the morning, she saw a man jog past and instantly realized who it was. The shock and thrill of seeing Aaron once again, this time in basketball shorts and with only a thin white T-shirt on, ran through her body like a jolt of adrenaline.
It had been so difficult to get him off her mind all morning that she wondered if she had somehow deluded herself into thinking it was him, but no. It was definitely the man who had been starring in her imagination since their encounter at the airport.
Before she could do anything stupid like call out to him, he was out of sight, hidden by people and the decorative hedges that lined the Venetian’s walkway. The breath she dragged in shakily after he was gone felt like ice in her lungs, despite the relative warmth of the air.
She bit the inside of her lip, frustrated at her reaction. She knew that she would never feel his body tight against hers, so why did she torture herself with images of him? Erotic thoughts flooded her, but that was enough in itself to make her keep her distance. Trying to start a relationship with this guy would only leave her sitting on a plane home, frustrated with herself for making a choice she knew was bad before it even happened.
There was another option, though. She’d never truly considered having a fling—it wasn’t in her nature—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t. She was always careful around men, distant, thoughtful. In fact, she hadn’t admitted it to anyone but Cindy, but Russ had been her first and only, and that was only after months and months of dating.
Still, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t let go once and enjoy herself without it meaning anything more. Women had no-strings-attached sex all the time. It was the twenty-first century. She could do that.
Hell, maybe it’d be good for her. She had spent so much time anxious about her dad or unhappy about her failed relationship that perhaps a little time feeling sexy and passionate for once in her life would be a welcome change of pace. She didn’t need to be methodical and sensible all the time.
Except she had thrown out Aaron’s number, so even if she decided to change her stripes and enjoy a wild night with an irresponsible man, she had no way to contact the particular man who sent fire through her veins. She was never going to see him again. Even with how crappy she had felt the night before, the loss of the possibility made her sad.
Throughout her musings, she continued to stare at the place where he’d disappeared. When he ran into view again going the opposite direction—as she’d secretly hoped he might—she allowed herself to bask in her attraction, knowing she was safely hidden from his eyes by the crowd.
As he disappeared from view yet again, she came to a decision: