The only thing he did know about Nicole was she was a writer of some sort, and she’d attended the speed- dating event to research an article about dating trends. But that information was too general to find out who she was, or to track her down. Not without a last name to help his search.
Last night, in the heat of passion, pertinent information about her hadn’t been a concern, mainly because he’d thought this morning they’d have plenty of getting-to-know-you time to exchange those personal details about each other.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t given them the opportunity.
After getting over the initial blow of finding Nicole gone, Nathan took a shower and tried to focus on work and preparing a plan to get close to Preston Sloane. He was determined to write off the entire situation with Nicole as a one-night stand, which had become his regular mode of operation over the years, ever since his downhill spiral after Katie’s death and the loss of his fiancee, Jill, due to his alcohol abuse.
Emotionally, he just wasn’t ready to give any woman what she needed out of a relationship, and he wasn’t sure he ever would be. He’d already failed too many people in his life. He found it much easier to be alone and responsible only for taking care of himself; he didn’t have the worry of disappointing someone he cared about.
Nowadays, hooking up with a female was all about physical pleasure and little else. He didn’t do long-term relationships or emotional involvement, and he was always the one to walk away when things turned too demanding.
He realized Nicole had used his own tactics on him, and he didn’t like being on the other end one bit. He couldn’t remember a woman ever getting under his skin in just one night the way she had. So much about Nicole intrigued Nathan, and he would have bet money she’d felt the same about him-even if she had ditched him before the light of day.
Despite his frustration, he turned his concentration to the Internet and digging up as much information on Sloane as he could find. When he checked his e-mail later that afternoon and discovered a note from Cindy in regards to the speed-dating event, he felt a glimmer of hope that Nicole had checked his name on the scorecard, as he’d done for her.
She was the only woman he’d said yes to, but as he read the generic message blinking on his computer screen, he was forced to accept the fact that she truly didn’t want to be found.
The final rejection stung, more than he cared to admit. But he’d never chased after a woman before, and he wasn’t about to start now. In fact, she’d probably done him a huge favor by ending things so abruptly. With the Ramsey case demanding his undivided attention, and going undercover in the next week or so, the last thing he needed was a hot, sexy female distracting him.
Chapter Six
Nathan spent the next two weeks attending the same social events as Preston Sloane in an attempt to gradually work his way into the other man’s social circle. Because of how personal this case was to Nathan, he was anxious to put an end to the assignment as quickly as possible and return to his job at The Onyx.
Thanks to Lucas Barnes’s unsurpassed skill in creating forgeries of official documents, Nathan now had a new identity as Alex Keller, along with an ironclad background as a wealthy entrepreneur who had just moved to the Vegas area.
To keep in sync with his new affluent persona, Nathan had also endured an image overhaul. Faded jeans and T-shirts were replaced with slacks and designer-label collared shirts. He was now the proud owner of a high-dollar, tailored suit with a collection of designer shirts and ties. His too-long, shaggy hair had been shorn into a short executive cut, and he’d sat through his first-ever manicure to give his hands a polished, rich man’s look.
The best perk of immersing himself into Sloane’s prominent world was the black Ferrari he now drove-a temporary rental car, but a very cool upgrade nonetheless. As Alex Keller, he’d taken on a short-term lease at Turnberry Towers and was currently living in a fully furnished suite. The luxurious condominium building wasn’t the type of place he’d ever choose to live, but all the trappings were necessary to authenticate his new identity and image.
Networking in the same places Sloane frequented had paid off for Nathan. After discovering that Sloane preferred to meet with a personal trainer at a private athletic club for his morning exercise regimen, Nathan had arranged his own workouts to coincide with the other man’s and afterward, in the sauna, had struck up a few casual conversations with him. During those times Nathan had managed to feed the other man information about his lifestyle, as well as drop subtle comments about his interest in the younger teenage girls who frequented the gym, rather than the mature women.
Nathan had also finagled an invitation to an elite, private casino-night party and had played a few games of high-stakes poker with Sloane sitting at the same table. A few times Nathan had deliberately arrived at the same restaurant where Sloan had reservations for lunch or dinner, and made sure he went up to the other man to say hello. Every move Nathan made in regard to Sloane was a calculated attempt to build their acquaintance into a more personal relationship-one that would eventually gain him access to a party at Sloane’s estate so he could locate Angela Ramsey.
Over the past two weeks, Nathan had gotten plenty of face time with Preston Sloane, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to figure out a course of action to gain the man’s trust in a way that would get Nathan what he ultimately wanted. He hoped tonight’s appearance at an art gallery exhibit that Sloane was also attending would finally present him with the opportunity.
He turned into the parking structure for the Ethan Layne Gallery, located downtown in the Las Vegas Arts District, and brought his Ferrari to a stop at the valet. An attendant hurried over to the driver’s side, the eager gleam in the other man’s eyes telling Nathan he was looking forward to getting behind the wheel of such a rare, turbocharged sports car. Nathan tossed the young guy the keys, retrieved his claim ticket, and headed inside the building, where he took the elevator to the fourth floor. The double doors opened directly to the spacious gallery, where tonight’s reception and exhibit was in full swing.
A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne, and Nathan took one of the crystal flutes to sip on while he mingled with the crowd, pretended interest in the framed, black-and-white photography artwork on the walls, and kept an eye out for Preston Sloane. Husky feminine laughter caught his attention, and he turned his head to see a young woman with long, wavy brunette hair, exotic dark brown eyes, and a willowy body draped in a black silk dress.
He immediately recognized her as Stephanie Diaz, the pretty, up-and-coming nineteen-year-old artist whose photography was on display tonight. After a bit of digging, Nathan had discovered that Stephanie was linked to Preston Sloane, who’d arranged tonight’s exhibit for her with his very good friend Ethan Layne.
Apparently, the girl had been one of Sloane’s “favorites” for the past few years, and tonight’s reception, teeming with the who’s who of Vegas, was his way of giving Stephanie a jump-start on her career now that she was getting too old for him. From what Nathan knew, the girls Sloane preferred ranged in age from fourteen to eighteen; he either discarded anyone older or-if she was deemed special-made sure her future was secured.
Katie, the girl Nathan had sworn to protect during his time as a vice cop with Las Vegas Metro, hadn’t been as fortunate and had met with a tragic ending to her young life. Chances were that Angela Ramsey and the many other girls who passed through Sloane’s estate home in Summerlin wouldn’t be rewarded with the kind of generosity he had bestowed on Stephanie.
Pushing those dark thoughts out of his mind, Nathan shook off the tension gathering across his shoulders and continued perusing the gallery, the guests, and the artwork on the wall. He had to admit that Stephanie had talent. The black-and-white pictures she’d taken encompassed a wide range of subjects, from landscapes, to nature shots, to portraitures, and with Sloane’s help she’d no doubt achieve success.
As he turned a corner that led to another section of the crowded gallery, he finally caught sight of Preston Sloane standing with two other couples, engaged in a conversation that was occasionally dotted with jovial laughter. For a man in his mid-fifties, Sloane had managed to keep the aging process at bay, most likely with the help of expensive cosmetic procedures. His hair was still thick and dark brown, without a hint of gray or signs of
