Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“The Bellagio.” When she’d said she was coming on this trip, he’d changed his reservation from the unassuming MGM to a place she wouldn’t soon forget.
“Really?” she asked, her eyes opening wider. “The hotel from Ocean’s Eleven? The one with the huge waterfalls?”
He’d obviously chosen well. The normally sedate Cara squealed in delight, making him extra glad he’d switched.
“Wait until you see the room,” he said, squeezing her hand and noticing how she’d forgotten all about the turbulence. “And I made a dinner reservation tomorrow night at Delmonico’s in the Venetian.” He wanted to show her what Vegas had to offer, including a gondola ride, something he’d never imagined wanting to go on.
“Are you sure about all this?” A tiny crease formed between her brows as she crinkled her nose in concern. “I know this has to be expensive and—”
He cut her off with a finger over her lips, and her pretty blue eyes dilated to a deeper hue. He was about to remove his hand when she nipped the pad of his finger with her teeth.
“Damn,” he muttered as his cock jumped in his pants, swelling against the rough denim of his jeans. “Unless you want me to make you a member of the mile-high club, I suggest you cut that out.” He pulled his hand back before he jumped her right there in her seat.
She grinned, mighty pleased with herself, making him laugh.
“Behave,” he muttered.
“If you insist.” She eased back into her seat, facing forward, an impish and irresistible smile still on her face.
Mike shifted in his seat, knowing he’d be uncomfortable for the rest of the flight.
“Oh! It’s calm now. Thank you for distracting me,” she murmured, now completely relaxed.
Unlike him, he thought wryly. He hoped he could wait to get to Vegas and check in because he needed stress relief before facing his father.
He needed Cara.
* * *
From the moment the plane took off until now when she stepped into the large suite—not a room, a suite—Cara had been in awe. She didn’t know what it was costing Mike, and to her surprise, she didn’t plan to ask. Instead, she’d decided to let herself enjoy.
And enjoy, she did. Mike clearly wanted her, pinning her to the California king in the center of the room as soon as the bellman left them alone. From there, they christened the bed—more than once, at which point it was after midnight, Nevada time.
They spent the next day doing fun things, like taking a tour of Madame Tussauds museum, playing roulette, making love, showering, and heading to dinner. At Delmonico’s, Cara ate the best steak of her life. She and Mike talked about everything and nothing, with the exception of the night ahead and his hoped-for meeting with Rex Bransom.
With Mike, she was at once comfortable and always aroused, enjoying her time with him whether they agreed on the topic at hand or not. He was easy to be with—too easy—and she had to keep reminding herself she couldn’t get complacent or convince herself Mike was someone who’d be around for long.
After dinner, they returned to the room to change clothes before heading over to Shots. On the ride up in the elevator and then back in the suite, Mike grew increasingly silent, and Cara gave him his space. She’d packed quickly, but she’d deliberately chosen the outfit she’d worn the first time she and Mike were together, a short skirt and her favorite cowboy boots that allowed her to strap on her ankle holster and small Glock. Airline rules allowed them to bring weapons but not ammo, so they bought bullets earlier in the day, just in case. They both felt more comfortable knowing they were armed.
The television blared the sound from a movie as they dressed without speaking. Cara wriggled into her cropped top with a deep V, pleased when Mike stopped to watch, his eyes drawn to her cleavage before he shook his head and pulled his gaze away. At least she provided a distraction for him.
They headed for the lobby; Mike kept her hand tight inside his. Although most people around them were more dressed up for the evening, the women in high heels and short sequined dresses, once they arrived at Shots, a dive bar on a side street far off the Strip, Cara and Mike’s casual attire worked just fine.
Unlike the light, welcoming atmosphere at Joe’s, the mood at Shots was heavy and dark. What lighting existed was minimal, and the place catered to a skeevy clientele that made even Cara, a seasoned cop, uncomfortable. As if sensing her emotions, Mike reached back and grasped her hand, pulling her close beside him as they made their way through the crowd.
She didn’t know his plan for tonight, and she hadn’t wanted to ask. She’d take her cues from him.