What Happens in Vegas…. Kimberly Lang
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to her slightly exotic bone structure and causing something in him to stir.
“Oh, my God, you’re wearing my drink. I’m so sorry.” Her hands were on him, brushing at his chest and sending jolts through him as they did. Damn. What was wrong with him?
“It’s fine.”
“It shouldn’t stain, but I’ll pay your dry…” She trailed off as he grabbed her hands and held them away from his chest. “Um…your dry-cleaning bill.” She slid her hands out of his grasp and extended one to him. “I’m Evie.”
“Nick.” Her hand disappeared inside his larger one, but she squeezed gently.
Evie looked as if she should be gracing a stage: she was tall and willowy, with that dark hair cascading over her shoulders, and she carried herself with grace and self-assurance. Kevin would say Evie looked “expensive”—and she did—but without that fake plastic look or the sense of entitlement that normally accompanied it. He knew all too well how to spot women like that and avoid them.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Nick. And you have excellent reflexes. I never even saw that guy coming.”
“It happens. Testosterone, alcohol and a pretty girl is a bad mix. A common one, but a bad one.”
“So that’s what it was about.” Evie seemed to think for a minute, then she turned that electric smile back on him. “I feel like I should at least offer to buy you a drink or something.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“But—” Evie stopped and shook her head. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You’re probably here with somebody. I don’t want to start another fight, so I’ll just—” She stepped away and indicated she would leave.
Oddly enough, for someone who’d come strictly to case the joint, he was now uninterested in the club itself. Evie, on the other hand. “I’m not,” he heard himself say.
Evie caught her bottom lip in her teeth, and the sparkle came back to her eyes. “Then I can buy you that drink after all.”
“Isn’t that my line?” A couple abandoned a zebra-striped couch in favor of the dance floor, and Nick steered Evie in that direction.
“I believe the rescuee should buy the rescuer the drink.” She sat gracefully and sighed. “At least it’s a bit quieter over here. I can barely hear myself think out there.”
“That’s kind of the point. Most people don’t come here in search of stimulating conversation.”
Evie cut her eyes at him. “I guess not.”
A waitress appeared almost immediately to get their order. Evie ordered a vodka tonic, and though he didn’t normally drink anything stronger than water when he was working, he asked for the same.
It was slightly quieter in the corner, but Evie still had to move close to him in order to hear him. As she did, the faint spicy scent of her perfume tickled his nose. It suited her perfectly—just slightly exotic and very natural.
“So where are you from, Nick?”
It took him a second to get his mind back in the conversation. “North Las Vegas.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened.
He was used to looks of pity or scorn when he revealed his less-than-blue-chip background, but Evie’s reaction was unexpected. “Why do you seem so surprised?”
“Because I am. I mean, I just never thought of people actually being from Vegas, you know? It seems like one of those places where everyone is really from somewhere else.” As Evie spoke, her hands moved animatedly—until she seemed to realize she was doing it and clasped them in her lap.
“Everyone has to grow up somewhere. What about you?”
“Dallas.” There was a touch of exasperation behind the word, and her mouth twisted the tiniest bit. If he hadn’t been so focused on her lips, he’d have missed it. “I’m only here for the weekend.”
“Not on business, then.”
“God, no. Just fun.”
That phrase—practically the code word for trouble—should’ve sent him to the nearest exit, but something about Evie kept him in his seat. “On your own?”
“Oh, no, I came with a friend.”
He looked around pointedly, and Evie laughed. The sound caused a physical reaction—almost as if she’d run her hands over him again.
“But my friend made a new friend, so…”
Evie was on her own tonight. The same part of his brain that was overriding his common sense took that knowledge and ran with it. He shifted on the sofa, looking for a comfortable position as his body’s physical responses took over.
Thankfully, the server returned with their drinks, shifting his attention as he reached for his wallet. Evie stayed him with a hand as she handed over a bill to the server and told her to keep the change. “Smart women don’t let strange men buy their drinks in bars.” She winked. “It can lead to misunderstandings later.”
Evie wasn’t naive. He liked that. “Then I’ll get the second round.”
Her eyebrows went up in challenge. “That assumes there will be a second round.”
“I’m not assuming anything. Just thinking positively.”
“Hmm, I’ve heard folks talk about the power of positive thinking. Does it work for you?” Holding her drink carefully, Evie smiled as she leaned against the sofa back and crossed those unbelievably long legs. Although the action didn’t look rehearsed or intentional, it was still outrageously seductive. His imagination sprang to life, and all the reasons why he didn’t pick up women in bars anymore were blotted out by the images.
“I’m positive I’m glad your friend made a new friend…”
“Leaving me to make a new friend of my own?” Evie finished.
“Exactly.”
That word sent a shiver down Evie’s spine and kicked her heartbeat up another notch. The power of positive thinking? Hell, she was positive she wasn’t thinking straight, but she was also very positive there was no place on earth she’d rather be than here, with Nick’s dark eyes causing her stomach to turn funny flips. When she’d landed on him and his arms tightened around her, it felt like time stopped. The imprint of his chest against hers, the heat of his skin under the silky cotton shirt, the thump of his heartbeat seeming louder than the music. And when she’d looked up to see her rescuer…
The strobe light kept sending parts of his face into shadow, emphasizing the sharp cheekbones and the strong, square line of his jaw. Dark hair fell across his forehead, nearly covering a scar above his left eyebrow that gave him a dangerous look. She’d had to break eye contact before those eyes of his sucked her in completely and turned her to mush.
Then she’d noticed how the dampness of his shirt caused it to mold across his chest, and her hands had been on him before she realized it. The electric tingle he caused in her fingertips only intensified when he grabbed her hands, and Evie had sent up a fervent prayer of thanks that God made men that looked—and felt—like him.
Only the years Gwen had spent trying to teach her to be a lady had saved her at that moment, letting her fall back into simple conversation instead of throwing herself into his arms. Her sister-in-law would be horrified at the very unladylike way Evie was flirting with Nick now, but someone else seemed to be inhabiting her body at the moment.
Exactly. Was that a challenge? A promise? Nothing at all? Evie knew she was flirting way out of her comfort zone—and probably flirting with disaster at the same time—but she couldn’t seem to dredge up a care. This was a whole new world, and she felt as if she’d slipped out of a confining costume and was