What Happens in Vegas…. Kimberly Lang
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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 finally herself.
It was scary and thrilling, and if she had an ounce of sense, she’d go back to her suite at the Bellagio and forget she’d ever laid eyes—or hands—on this man.
How many times had Will accused her of not having that ounce of sense? Obviously, he was right.
“Are you saying you’d like to be my new friend?” Dear Lord, had she really just said that? And where had that husky tone come from?
The corner of Nick’s mouth twitched. “Yeah.”
Oh, yeah, she was way, way out of her league. Switch to small talk. Small talk would give her a graceful retreat while she regrouped. You can do small talk. Maybe not, she corrected herself as no words came to mind. Flustered by, well, everything, she reached for her glass to help calm her nerves. The vodka burned as she swallowed, and she coughed painfully. Nick signaled the waitress and she quickly brought a glass of water over.
Embarrassed, she could only smile gratefully and hope the darkness of the club would hide the blush on her cheeks.
“Since that drink doesn’t seem to be to your liking, would you like to go somewhere else? Someplace a bit quieter with better-quality vodka?”
That offer nearly caused her to choke, and the water burned worse than the vodka. She cleared her throat. “Like where?”
“There’s a club not far from here—the Starlight—that I like, but the options are wide open. This is Las Vegas, Evie, anything you could ever want is available twenty-four hours a day.”
Her mind went to a dozen inappropriate places—complete with visuals—before she managed to rein it back in. “That sounds good to me.”
Nick stood and offered her his hand. “Then let’s go.”
She hesitated for a millisecond and covered by reaching for her water glass one more time. Out of habit, she immediately wondered what the gossip columns would make of her and Nick, but then she remembered where she was. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. No one here knew or even gave a damn who she was, what she did, or whom she did it with.
She placed her hand in his and her insides turned warm and melty when his fingers closed around hers and he pulled her to her feet. Feet that weren’t very steady at the moment, dancing as they were around excitement, desire and the knowledge of her freedom.
Then Nick smiled at her, and her knees wobbled.
Viva Las Vegas.
Chapter Two
EVIE KNEW SHE WASN’T DRUNK—she’d only had a couple of drinks—but she certainly felt like it. The freedom, the not-caring who was watching, the feeling of lightness—the intoxication was coming from Nick, not a bottle.
Who needed alcohol when every time she inhaled, his scent coiled through her, making her blood sing in her veins? And if there was anything more perfectly thrilling than the feel of his body pressed close to hers on the dance floor…Sweet mercy. She was about to spontaneously combust. This wasn’t dancing: it was rhythmic public foreplay, and the bass line vibrating through her body was an unnecessary additional stimulant.
Oh, no, Nick was more than enough.
But something more than just her libido was awake. At this moment, she wasn’t “Evangeline Harrison, heiress to half of HarCorp International.” She wasn’t under the lens of Dallas society’s microscope. No one was judging her or expecting an appropriate level of behavior from the sister-in-law of Texas’s leading etiquette expert.
She was just “Evie”—random girl-on-the-street—and that Evie was enjoying her time out of the Dallas fishbowl. Nick didn’t know any differently, and he certainly didn’t seem to care who she was when she wasn’t here in Las Vegas. Not only did he have no expectations of her behavior, but he also seemed blissfully ignorant of the kinds of rules she was used to.
Drinking beer straight from the bottle? He didn’t bat an eyelash. Joining the band on the stage and singing backup on her favorite song? He lifted her up there and then watched her with a fire in his eyes that had her stammering into the microphone.
Nick seemed sure of himself; he wore his rough edges with pride and did what he wanted without apology. She’d spent her entire life with the “right” boys who came from families much like hers and were members of the right country clubs. Even with a veneer of civilization, Nick was what the other girls in her debutante class had called a Bad Boy.
And she’d never wanted someone so bad so badly.
The music ended with a crash of cymbals, and the band announced they were taking a break. Her fingers dug into Nick’s muscular shoulders in protest. No. She didn’t want this dance to end.
Nick’s hand tightened around her waist, keeping her close, and her heartbeat jumped up another notch. From the way he was staring at her, she got the feeling he felt the same way. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard.
The arms holding her pulled her another fraction of an inch closer until she could feel the beat of his heart against her chest. The blood roared in her ears and everything that wasn’t Nick ceased to exist.
Then his mouth landed on hers.
Oh, yes.
His lips were warm and firm and hungry, and they fired the hunger in her. Her hand slid over the solid muscle of his shoulder, to the nape of his neck, where she was finally able to run her fingers through the inky-black silk of his hair.
She felt, more than heard, him growl low in his throat as Nick’s tongue swept into her mouth to find hers.
Then she began to burn.
The fire started low in her belly, moving down through her core until her thighs began to quiver. It spread up, causing her breasts to feel heavy and her nipples to harden against the silk of her bra.
Nick’s hands cupped her head, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones to her temples as he held her steady against the onslaught.
If she’d had any worry that the tension—the want—had been only one-sided, Nick dispelled that erroneous notion with one press of his hips against hers.
“Get a room!” someone shouted, and she broke away quickly, putting distance between them.
Oh, no.
The lovely heat of Nick’s kiss receded as the hot flush of embarrassment rushed to her cheeks. Nick didn’t seem to notice—or care—as he placed one last kiss on her temple and tilted her face back up to his.
The wry smile she saw answered her question. Nick didn’t care that a crowd was watching. But he did release his hold on her waist, taking her hand and twining his fingers through hers as he led her off the dance floor.
But he didn’t lead her back to the table they’d occupied earlier, winding his way instead through the crowd to the bar, where he ordered another round of drinks for them. He pressed a twenty into her hand and leaned close to her ear. “Wait for the drinks, and I’ll be right back.”
She didn’t have a chance to question him before he disappeared into the crowd. A couple of minutes