Twins On The Way. Janice Maynard
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him the same, he told himself. She was nothing special. “What’s your name?” he asked.
When she lifted her head and smiled, the hunger intensified. “Cassidy. Cassidy Corelli. My friends call me Cass. And who are you?”
“Gavin Kavanagh.”
The elevator dinged. Together, they stepped out. Gavin’s room was down the hallway and around the corner. He inserted the key card, opened the door and stood back for his guest to enter.
Cassidy surveyed the plush suite with raised eyebrows. “You’re either a high roller or somebody very important.”
“Not exactly.” He sprawled in an armchair, trying to appear relaxed. It was probably not a good idea to let her see the beast that rode him. “I don’t gamble. My friend was supposed to do the keynote at a conference here, but he got sick. I’m subbing.”
Casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, Cassidy slipped off her shoes and went to the minibar. Without waiting for permission, she extracted a soft drink and a jar of macadamia nuts. “Do you mind? I missed dinner, and I’m starving.”
“Help yourself.” When she took the chair opposite his, he nearly swallowed his tongue. The skirt of her dress was unforgiving. As she curled her legs beneath her, he caught a glimpse of bare thighs all the way to the mother lode.
He swallowed hard. “Do you have a phone, or do you need to use mine?”
She took a swig of soda, managing to look entirely comfortable and yet ladylike. “Why do I need a phone?”
“To call the authorities?” Her artless stonewalling scraped his nerves. Was she deliberately tormenting him?
Cassidy wrinkled her small, perfect nose. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea. This is sort of a family squabble.”
His gut tightened. “As in the mob?”
Her jaw dropped. “Good grief, no.”
“Are you married to the guy?” She wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean anything. The scene he had interrupted could have been a domestic dispute.
Cassidy stared at him. Her lips were painted the same deep red as her toenails. “I’m not married,” she said, enunciating each word carefully. “I don’t have a significant other. I’m entirely unencumbered. And I don’t have to be anywhere until ten in the morning.”
The look she gave him tightened the back of his neck...and other body parts. Still, caution won out. “Are you a working girl?” he asked. In Vegas it could be hard to tell. Cassidy Corelli more than lived up to male fantasy, but she seemed awfully young.
She pursed her lips, suddenly looking more like a schoolmarm than a woman for hire. “I work,” she muttered, glaring at him. “But not like that. I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.”
“How old are you?” In other circumstances, he would never ask such personal questions, but he also didn’t want to contribute to the delinquency of a minor.
“I’m twenty-three,” she said flatly, erasing most of his misgivings.
“Good.”
She cocked her head. “Why is that good?”
He gave her a gentle smile. “Because if I follow up on your invitation, I want to make sure I don’t end up in jail.”
“What invitation?” she asked, feigning innocence, though in those huge expressive eyes, feminine excitement lingered.
His customary distrust of unknown women cautioned him to slow down. But Cassidy was light and warmth and spontaneity, all the things that were missing from his life. He was irresistibly drawn to her vibrant personality like the proverbial moth to a flame. But he’d been burned once...badly. So the doubts remained.
“Don’t be coy. A woman doesn’t outline her relationship status quite so succinctly unless she wants a man to know the score.”
“Ah.” Cassidy popped a nut into her mouth and chewed it slowly before swallowing and taking another sip of her drink. “Why don’t you gamble?” she asked.
The non sequitur caught him off guard. He shrugged. “I’m good at math. But the house always wins. I prefer to control the outcome.”
She gave a mock shiver. “So intense. I like that in a man.”
“Is that why you were hanging around with Bozo the Bruiser?”
“Trust me,” she said. “There’s nothing romantic there.”
“What were you arguing about?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“You’re willing to have sex with a stranger, but you won’t answer a simple question?”
She tossed her head and stood up, cheeks flushing. “Who said I’m willing to have sex?”
He gazed at her intently, letting her see the arousal that had built since he looked her over in the elevator. “No games, Cass. You tossed out a pretty blatant lure. Stay or go. Your choice.”
* * *
Cassidy shivered inwardly. Gavin Kavanagh was a man, not a boy. He’d rescued her from what he thought was a dangerous situation, not pausing to consider the consequences. Though she was more than capable of taking care of herself, Gavin’s masculine assurance triggered all sorts of non-PC feminine emotions.
He was a beautiful man. Tall and broad...exuding confidence. The combination made her damp in places she’d rather not ponder. His streaky brownish-blond hair was short and spiky, not expertly styled, but like a man who didn’t care to fool with anything he considered a waste of time.
His gray eyes with the hint of blue were cool and distant at the moment. “Which is it?” The question was rife with masculine demand.
“Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy.” She wanted more time to think about this, but if she let the moment pass, she would never see him again. She was tired of being her father’s good little girl. Everyone expected her to live like a nun. And she had. But why? Her whole life was about work, work, work, and earning the love that should be a gift.
She’d been edgy and stressed for weeks now, arguing with her brother and going head-to-head with her father. Perhaps if she’d had a mother, she could have talked frankly about the fact that she felt like the world’s oldest virgin. About her choice to wait for the right man. And the fact that she’d never even met a guy who honestly tempted her.
Being raised in Vegas had exposed her to a whole lot of mature situations that gave her an insight into all kinds of adult behavior. But it also took some of the bloom off the rose when it came to romance. She was probably holding out for a fantasy that didn’t even exist except in books and movies.
She took a deep breath, feeling a funny spin in the pit of her stomach. To hell with her status as the firstborn who never strayed from the straight and narrow. She could blame Gavin for her sexual epiphany, but truthfully, this moment had been coming for a long time. She’d been saving herself for some unknown white knight, but surprisingly, the tarnished armor of a gruff, no-nonsense, make-my-day kind of guy punched all her buttons.
Though it took a measure of courage and nonchalance she wasn’t sure she could pull off, she went to him and perched on his lap, curling one arm around his neck. “You could kiss me. It might help me make up my mind.”
A firm hand gripped her hip. He smelled amazing. Woodsy cologne and warm male skin. She wanted things from him. Wild things. Wicked things. And that was saying a lot for a girl who had grown up in sin city.
“I should toss you out on your butt,” he muttered. “You’re a menace to the male sex.”
“Really?” Could he be telling the truth?
“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
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