His 7-Day Fiancée. Gail Barrett
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frowned, shook himself out of his daze. This woman didn’t need his protection. For all he knew, she was here to swindle him. “Amanda Patterson?”
“Yes.” Her low, smoky voice slid through him, doing strange things to his insides.
He crossed the room. “I’m Luke Montgomery.”
“Yes, I know, I…” A blush crept up her cheeks. “My sister pointed you out earlier.”
He’d bet. He reached out his hand. She hesitated, then gripped his palm. The smooth, silky feel of her skin arrowed through him, deleting his thoughts. He was held immobile by those amazing blue eyes. His heart beat hard in his chest.
After several long moments, he realized he was still holding her hand. He scowled, pried his fingers loose, annoyed by the effort it took. What the hell was that about? Hehadn’t been that affected by awoman in years.
And this one could be trying to deceive him.
“Have a seat.” Anxious to put some distance between them, he retreated to the desk, then leaned back against it and folded his arms.
She perched on the leather chair in front of the desk and crossed her legs. His gaze fell to her lean, bare thighs, traced the elegant curve of her calves. Realizing his thoughts were derailing again, he lifted his eyes.
“So what happened?” His tone was more brusque than he’d intended, and she blinked.
She sat up straighter, flexed her wrist as if it ached. Her chest rose as she drew in a breath. “I was going to the blackjack tables to find my sister, but I got lost. I’ve never been here before. I started to turn around but then a…a man came up behind me.”
Her voice trembled convincingly, but he was determined to stay objective. “He was armed?”
“I think so. He jabbed something into my back. I thought…it felt like a gun.”
“Then what?”
“He said…he wanted my jewelry, my ring.”
His gaze cut to her unadorned ears, to the cleavage bared by the plunging dress, and his mind flashed back to the tapes. He hadn’t noticed any jewelry before the attack. A slipup there.
“So you handed it over?” he asked, knowing damned well she hadn’t.
But she surprised him by shaking her head. “No, I…I don’t have any jewelry, not anymore.” She lifted one slender shoulder and lowered her eyes. “I sold everything a while back when I needed the money.”
So she was short on cash. Good motive to run a scam.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. No matter how attractive she was, he didn’t have time for this farce. He’d make sure the Rothchilds weren’t involved, keep this damned thing out of the news, then let the police handle the rest.
“So you’re saying a man held you up with a gun you didn’t see, and demanded jewelry that you don’t have.”
A small frown creased her brow. “You don’t believe me? You think I made this up?”
“We have cameras all over the casino. I saw the tapes.” He raised his brows. “You looked nervous even before the man showed up.”
Her smooth lips parted. The color drained from her face. “But that’s because I thought…I thought…” She pressed her fingers to her lips and closed her eyes.
“You thought what? That you’d pretend to be attacked and sue the casino?”
Her eyes flew open, and she gasped. “You think I’d pretend about something like that? Are you joking?” She let out a highpitched laugh. “Oh, God. This figures. I thought…” She shook her head, gathered her bulky purse and rose. “Forget it.”
“The hell I will.” He pushed himself away from the desk and blocked her path. “You thought what?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” She tried to step around him, but he reached out and grabbed her upper arm. She flinched, jerked back. “Let me go.”
He dropped her arm, stunned by the urgency in her voice, the flash of fear in her eyes. She quickly scuttled away.
He studied her, taken aback. She couldn’t be this good of an actress. She was actually afraid of him.
He eased apart his hands, made his expression neutral, his voice nonthreatening so she wouldn’t bolt. “Look, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just need to know what happened.”
“I…” She nodded, sucked in her breath, as if to pull herself together. “I didn’t really…It was just…my exhusband. Wayne Wheeler. I thought he was here.”
He eyed the distance she’d put between them, the wary way she watched him—defensive, alert, like a cornered animal ready to run. And anger stirred in his gut. He had no patience for abusive men. And unless he was wildly off base, this woman had been attacked.
He struggled to keep the emotion from his voice. “Your ex lives around here?”
She shook her head, sending her silky hair sliding over her arms. “He’s in Maryland, in jail. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t even his voice. But I thought, earlier…I was just nervous. I overreacted. I’m sorry.” She rubbed her forehead with a trembling hand, sank back into her chair.
He frowned. He didn’t doubt her story. Her fear looked real…And the facts would be easy to check.
So what should he do about it? Assuming she was telling the truth, this still didn’t eliminate the Rothchilds’involvement. Or her sister’s. It wouldn’t be the first time an unsuspecting family member had been an accomplice to a crime.
Which led him back to his original problem. He paced across the room, pivoted, then returned to lean against the desk. He had to contain this, keep it out of the news. He couldn’t let that consortium implode.
Which meant making sure Amanda Patterson didn’t talk.
But somehow the thought that anyone would hurt this gentle woman made it hard to stay detached.
“I need to go.” Her eyes pleaded with his. “My sister will be wondering where I am. I left her a voice mail that I’d meet her in the lobby.”
“You can leave as soon as you talk to the police.” A knock sounded on the door, and he rose. “That’s probably the detective now. I’ll walk you out to the lobby when you’re done.”
“All right.” Their gazes held. The vulnerable look in her eyes tugged at something inside him, urging him to shelter her, to keep her safe.
He shook it off. Her life, her problems were none of his concern. The only thing he needed to do was convince her not to talk. But she had been attacked in his casino. He could at least alleviate some of her fear. He turned, strode out the door.
Ramón Martinez from the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department was waiting for him in the hall. “Martinez.” Luke shook his hand, briefed him on the situation, and the need to keep it quiet for now. “Could you check on the ex and make sure he’s still in jail?” he added. “The name’s Wheeler. Wayne Wheeler.”
“No problem.” The detective flipped open his cell phone, called in the information. “It’ll take a few minutes to run him through the system. I’ll get a statement from the Patterson woman and get back to you on that.”
“Thanks.” Luke returned to the main office, had his security guard run the tapes again as he waited for the detective to finish up. Now that he’d heard Amanda’s version of events, the anxiety in her eyes made sense.
His gaze lingered on the seductive flare of her hips, those endless legs. It was too bad she wasn’t his type. She was a damned attractive woman. But he only dated celebrities, supermodels, women willing to hang on his arm for an evening in exchange for a fancy meal.
He didn’t