to get to know him better, even in the biblical sense. Especially in the biblical sense.
I was a sucker for a bad boy.
Especially when he was hot.
Like Simon Chase.
I was a lost cause.
I was also moments from being discovered.
Sweat dripped down between my breasts, but I wasn’t sure whether it was from the heat or anxiety. Probably both. I was also incredibly uncomfortable in this position. These trousers were definitely done for.
Springsteen started blaring. I hadn’t shut off the cell phone. Stupid me. By the time I muted the thing, noting that it was Tim again-he’d just have to wait-Simon Chase was leaning over the hood of the truck, staring down at me with a grin on his face.
“What are you doing down there?” he asked, holding out his hand to help me up.
I took it. What else was I supposed to do?
“Dropped my keys,” I said, cleverly having taken them out of my bag as I shut the phone. I dangled the keys in front of his face. “Silly me.”
He didn’t buy it. Not for a second. But to his credit, he didn’t call me on it, just said, “You have a very… well, interesting voice.”
He was referring to my karaoke attempt inside. My speaking voice was just fine, thank you very much.
“I’ll get you back for that someday,” I said.
“I certainly hope so.”
The flirting was back; the darkness from before had vanished like Elise and Matthew. Which reminded me…
“She left.”
“Who?”
“Elise. With Matthew. What’s going on? Why did she want you to meet her here?”
Simon shrugged. “Talk about old times?”
“How old were those times, really? Didn’t seem like they were too old,” I said.
He stepped closer and ran a finger along my jawline, his face close, his eyes smoky. “They’re old enough,” he whispered and leaned in, this time really kissing me, not like that little peck outside the elevator.
His hands slid around my torso, one landing on the dragon’s tail, the other on the lily just under my breast as we each leaned closer, our bodies pressing against each other, neither of us wanting to come up for air. I let my fingers do a little walking under his ever-present suit jacket, outlining the muscles that I’d seen in that picture on my Google search.
Someone shuffled by. “Get a room,” he said loudly as he passed.
Proper Catholic embarrassment caused me to pull away, even though I didn’t want to. The disappointment in Simon’s eyes was obvious.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since I met you,” he said.
I didn’t trust myself to say what I’d wanted to do since I met him, because I might just actually tell him.
“Bet you say that to all your girls,” I tried lamely.
He took a step back, adjusting his shirt and jacket as he nodded. “All right, I guess I deserve that. But maybe I’m just looking for love in all the wrong places.” He ran a hand through his hair and gave me another intense look, one that I felt between my legs.
I caught my breath. I had to change the subject.
“Why did Elise want to meet you here? What’s going on with her? Have you known all along where she was?” I asked, not sure what direction to go in.
It was a wrong turn. If I could do a U-ey, I would.
“I don’t know why you keep pushing this,” he said.
I wasn’t sure why, either, but I was like a dog with a bone. I didn’t want to let it go. He saw that, too, and sighed.
“I’m going back inside. Maybe you should figure out what you want.” He turned and started back for the bar.
I stared after him. He thought I kissed him only because I wanted information about Elise. I opened my mouth to call him back, but I shut it again and watched him go inside without turning around. I still wasn’t sure what he was up to, and I didn’t want to get in too deep, just in case. There were too many unanswered questions.
I had dropped my bag on the ground when he’d kissed me, so I reached down to pick it up, slung it over my shoulder, and went inside.
Joel had stopped singing and was now sitting at the bar with Bitsy, who had another big, colorful cocktail in front of her. Joel was nursing something that could have been a gin and tonic or just a tonic. I didn’t see Simon Chase anywhere.
I slid up on a bar stool next to Joel.
“Where’d you go?” he asked. Before I could answer, he said, “Hey, you got up and sang. Good for you.”
“Glad you enjoyed it, because you’ll never see it again,” I muttered.
The bartender asked if I wanted a drink and I shook my head. “I need to get out of here,” I said.
“What about Elise?” Bitsy asked as she slurped her drink through a straw.
“She’s gone. Don’t know where.” I got off the stool.
Joel made a face at me. “I can’t go home with Bitsy. I can’t fit in that car,” he said.
“Well, the Mustang’s leaving, so if you want a ride, you have to come with me now.”
Joel looked from me to Bitsy and back again. “I want to stay,” he whined.
Why anyone would want to stay here baffled me. It had gotten more Elvis-congested since I’d been outside; the music was blaring, the singing atrocious. But Joel and Bitsy did seem like they were having a good time. Go figure.
I pulled a twenty out of my bag and dropped it on the bar in front of Joel. “Cab’s on me,” I said. “Sorry, but I really do need to go.”
Bitsy waggled her fingers at me as she turned her attention to an Elvis who’d come up behind her and started chatting. Joel pocketed the twenty and asked for another drink before leaning over and air-kissing my cheek.
“See you tomorrow, hon,” he said cheerily.
I did a quick look to try to find Simon, but when it seemed futile, I wandered back out through the black-lit hall and pushed the door open. The sun had almost set now, streaks of red and yellow dancing across the desert sky, the air almost comfortable.
I climbed into the Mustang and turned the key in the ignition. As I waited a few seconds for the air-conditioning to kick in, movement in the rearview mirror caught my eye.
Simon Chase was coming out of the bar. He hit a button on a key fob and opened the door to his vehicle.
A white Dodge Dakota.
Chapter 42
I watched it ease out of the lot, and I didn’t waste any time. While I hadn’t followed it before, I certainly wasn’t going to miss the opportunity now. Especially since Simon was driving, and even if he were mixed up in something criminal, I didn’t think he’d hurt me.
Of course, that’s what abused wives always tell themselves, too.
I pushed my concerns away and concentrated on the Dakota in front of me. He was going about ten miles above the speed limit, which was ten miles above my comfort zone, but I wanted to keep up. I also didn’t want him to see me behind him, so I kept a couple of cars between us. The Mustang was low enough to the ground and the Dakota high enough off it so maybe I was out of his line of sight.
He turned toward downtown, and soon we were heading along the Strip.
I knew where we were going.
The Dakota pulled into the Versailles entrance, and I parked along the side of the road with my flashers on.
