Chill Factor

Manolos, but I wasn't monogamous.

'Day or evening, miss?' she asked, raising perfectly shaped eyebrows. She had a perfect, cultured, West-End- London accent.

'Evening.'

'Casual or-'

'Tell you what, gorgeous, just show me what you think will make me absolutely irresistible.'

She grinned, and mischief danced in those gray-green eyes. 'That won't be difficult,' she said, which made her my best friend ever. 'Have a seat. We'll sort something for you.'

Forty-five minutes later, I was standing in front of a trio of mirrors, wearing a knee-length midnight-blue raw- silk sheath dress. That wasn't anything so special, until you considered the parts that were missing. I turned slowly, gauging the effect. Transparent blue mesh from a high neck to a band of raw silk over my breasts-the parts that get you arrested, anyway-that faded into transparency again over my waist, dipping into beaded splendor low around my hips. Gorgeous. Striking. Utterly impossible to wear without supreme self-confidence.

Twenty-four hundred dollars, plus change. I did a slow turn again. The salesclerk draped a sapphire pendant around my neck, something large and real enough to make my heart skip a beat.

'Well,' I said. 'They say accessories are everything.'

She gave me a knowing, conspiratorial smile and held up a pair of matching Manolo Blahnik pumps, midnight- blue raw silk, with pinpoint heels that raised me a good three and a half inches.

We high-fived. She gave me eight hundred in change from the chip card, bagged my old outfit, and promised to send it up to my room after cleaning. I tipped her generously, squared my shoulders, and called up my A- game.

Time to get to work.

I cut a swath through the bazaar, drawing stares from men and whispers from women; there were few who didn't look, even if they frowned. The Manolos felt perfect on my feet, completely natural; the dress clung like an expertly tailored second skin. Security watched me just like the rest of the gawkers, with a touch of assessment. They knew who I was, of course, but still, the dress had its effect.

I headed for the highest-stakes tables and came up with a likely candidate. I didn't recognize him, but he had designer clothes and two big, burly guys who were obviously bodyguards, and he had a stack of chips that could build a model of the Titanic without losing too much in scale.

I eased up to the table, gave him my best smile, and put down a single chip. Ah, we were playing blackjack. Cool. I was good at blackjack.

The croupier took my chip and dealt cards, and I crossed my legs as I sat down on the high stool. The man I was smiling at started smiling back. He nearly forgot his hand.

'Your play,' I said, and nodded down. He focused quickly on the cards, asked for a hit, asked for another, busted, and watched about a thousand bucks travel into the croupier's territory. Then he swung around and watched me in open, frank appraisal. I pretended not to notice, checked my cards, and flipped over the ace on top of the jack. 'Pay me.' I salved the pain for the dealer with a smile and a wink. He smiled back.

Two professionals at work.

I got paid, a tidy little profit, and left a chip to ride as I scooped the rest back into the small, elegant bag that the saleswoman had insisted on throwing in. Midnight blue, with beadwork. Matched the shoes, of course. It wasn't Fendi or Kate Spade, but you don't get Fendi for free, now, do you?

The guy next to me leaned in closer with every turn of the cards. We did a little gambling, a lot of flirting. Drinks were free, but I had a passenger on board to worry about now, and even though Djinn were well-nigh indestructible I wasn't so sure about baby ones. I stuck to cola.

Mr. Big Spender introduced himself as a blur of syllables I didn't bother to catch. He mentioned a couple of TV shows and a film he'd starred in, none of which I'd seen. Big, broad-shouldered, dark hair and dark eyes. A face that was beautiful or brutal, depending on the lighting and angles. He liked dark colors-black, cabernet, midnight blues. We matched well.

Which was, for him, what it was all about, the look. I could tell that within seconds of making eye contact. He wasn't looking for intellectual stimulation. I wasn't sure if he'd ever actually had intellectual stimulation.

I was on his arm, with the bodyguards trailing behind, in about ten minutes, and suggested that the casino at the Bellagio might put out (and I might, too, with the proper application of cash or credit). We cut quite a swath through the crowd on the way to the lobby. A substantial number of tourists recognized my pickup, and stopped him for autographs; some snapped photos. He took it with good humor and used me as a poseable doll, which I suppose was the function most of his dates fulfilled both in public and in private.

We were halfway across the lobby, heading for the doors, when Quinn appeared. He took one look and knew what I'd done; fast, that boy. He didn't try to go for my date; he stepped straight up to the larger of the two bodyguards and did some whispering. Dammit. I was watching plan A turn to crap.

The bodyguard moved up to whisper in the pale ear of my escort, who looked nervous and gave me a twisted smile. 'Ah…' He didn't seem to quite know what to say. We were in the lobby, nearly to the doors. 'Sorry. You're really… that's quite a look you've got going. The dress and all. It would fool anybody. But I really don't… I can't be seen with… no offense. Really.'

He nearly tripped over himself in his haste to beat a retreat back to the blackjack tables. His bodyguards closed in to let me know my presence was no longer welcome when I tried to follow.

I turned to Quinn and glared. 'You told him what, exactly?'

He gave me a top-to-bottom look, and smiled. 'That you had a little surprise for him under the pretty wrapping. Of the frank-and-beans variety.'

'You told him I was a guy!'

Quinn shrugged.

'And he believed it?' In this dress? I think I was more upset about that than the failure of plan A.

'Some men are not very bright,' he assured me solemnly. 'Walk with me.'

'Where?' I didn't move. Plan B was in the warm-up stage.

'Someplace quiet.'

'You mean with fewer witnesses.' I was too close to the exit not to take advantage. 'Look… veni, vendi, vici. I came, I spent your money, and now I'm leaving. Try to stop me if you want. But in this dress, you'd better believe people are going to notice, especially when I start screaming at the top of my lungs right here in the lobby.' I gave him a sweet smile. In the shoes, I was at least two inches taller than he was. 'And then I'll start an electrical storm that'll disrupt every circuit in this place and fry half the computers, at least. Then I'll dump six inches of water onto this extremely expensive carpeting and short out the slot machines. Do you think they have flood insurance out here?'

Quinn wasn't amused. He gave me a hard look. 'Don't be stupid, Joanne. You know I can hurt you. I can't sling around magic spells, but I can definitely hurt you.' Great. He had a dress immunity. It figured.

I leaned closer and put my lips next to his ear. 'Let me lay it on the line for you, Quinn. We're not in some private room now where your Old Republican Guard can zap me with lightning bolts out of pure spite. We're right out in the open, and I'm walking out the door. If you want to stop me, you'd better get your big guns out here, because you're going to need 'em.'

He took my arm. I broke free, stepped back, and raised my voice. 'Hey! Please don't touch me, you pervert! I will not wear your daughter's panties!' It stopped traffic and drew even more stares. He jerked his head at some security guards. I gathered power into my hands, felt the easy response of the aetheric, and sent a stiff breeze through the lobby. It rattled papers and stirred some exclamations from the clerks at the counter. Lifted a few full skirts, to feminine exclamations and male appreciation. I played to him this time, not to the audience. 'Word of advice, Quinn, don't fight me. I'm not afraid of a little drama. I'm the one who ripped a hole in the UN Building in full view of the Security Council.'

He stopped, staring into my eyes, and I got that sense of cold menace from him again. Quinn was nobody to underestimate. 'They'll kill you, you keep this up.' He flicked his gaze around. There were uniformed security closing in on us fast. 'What are you doing?' Oh, he was quick. He knew I wasn't trying to get away, or I'd have broken for the doors already.