It’s tempting; I have to admit. The thought of flying to Vegas and leaving my worries and responsibilities behind for two days sounds like heaven.
“You will, won’t you?” Brooke says.
Was I seriously considering leaving my business for a whole weekend of fun and merriment in Vegas? I thought about how hard I had worked for the last five years. As Brooke pointed out, I had never taken time off.
Surely, I deserved two days of fun. “OK then, I will.”
“That’s my girl,” Brooke says.
Chapter 2
Declan
I shuffle around before I find a comfortable position. My long legs are an advantage everywhere except on a plane. I relax back in the seat and let out a sigh as my muscles relax.
I’m looking forward to this weekend. The last few months have been filled with stress after stress from mounting debt to lack of capital, which I sorely need to expand the business.
A peppermint scent alerts me to the presence of another person near me. I turn away from the window, and when I look at the caramel beauty who slides into the seat next to mine, my breath hitches.
She smiles as she adjusts her body to find a comfortable seating position. The more I look at her, the more I think I’ve seen her before. “Do I know you?”
She gives me a cynical look.
“I promise it’s not a pick-up line. Honestly, I feel as if I’ve met you before.”
“It’s a big city,” she says in a voice that sounds like a race car. Throaty. Sexy. A voice that conjures up an image of her whispering into my ear, begging me to do dirty things to her.
I have to tear my gaze away. She’s gorgeous. My attention is momentarily grabbed by the flight attendant as she takes us through the safety briefing.
“I’m Declan,” I tell my seatmate a few minutes later when the plane is in the air.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says. “My name is Marian.”
I bite my tongue from saying the automatic response that comes to my mind. I have a feeling that if I tell her she has a beautiful name, she’ll raise that cute eyebrow at me again.
“Are you from LA?” she says.
“Santa Monica, born-and-bred,” I tell her. “What about yourself?”
“I’m from a small town in Northern California called Arlen,” she says. “But I’ve lived in LA for almost six years now.”
The flight attendant interrupts our conversation as she wheels the drink trolley down the aisle. I settle for a bottle of water, as does Marian.
I still can’t shake the feeling that I know her from somewhere, but no matter how much I wrack my brain, it doesn’t come. Not to mention that I would have remembered if I’d met her. Marian has the kind of looks that you don’t forget. Not if you’re a hot-blooded male. She oozes sex appeal. From the length of her gorgeous legs, I can tell that she’s tall and curvy. I’m in full arousal mode, which goes to show how long it’s been since I’ve dated. The last year or so has been all about my business.
Marian is easy to talk to, and we flirt all the way to Las Vegas. We land in the afternoon, and when the plane comes to a stop and the ‘seatbelts off’ sign flashes, Marian and I smile at each other and shake hands.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” she says.
“The pleasure was all mine,” I tell her. “Enjoy the wedding.”
“Enjoy yours too,” she says, and with a wave, she disappears out of the door.
Her peppermint scent lingers behind, and as I leave the airplane, feelings of regret that we would not see each other again come over me.
I’m in Vegas; I forget about Marian as soon as I step off the plane. The weather is warm, with a slight breeze that stops it from being too hot.
Vegas baby. I stroll toward the terminal and then to the baggage claim. Minutes later, I’m in a cab on the way to the hotel where all the guests are staying.
The Dash hotel is all glitter and glam, and I can’t wait to sample everything it has to offer. I quicken my step across the thickly carpeted lobby as I spy a familiar figure leaning on the check-in desk.
“Hi again,” I say, weirdly pleased to run into Marian again.
She beams when she turns to me. “It is nice to see you again. Are you staying here too?”
“Yep,” I say.
“OK then, I’ll see you around,” she says, and with the wave, she heads toward the elevators.
The hotel is huge and sprawling, with several wings, and I don’t think I’ll be lucky enough to run into Marian again. I check-in and follow a porter to my room on the sixth floor.
After shelving my suitcase into the closet and taking a quick shower, I go downstairs for a drink at the bar. I’m in Vegas, after all, and it’s a Friday evening.
I opt for The Lounge bar, which is on the northern wing of the hotel. I head straight to the counter and chose a stool at the far end.
“Welcome to The Lounge bar,” a friendly bartender said. “What can I get you this evening, sir?”
“I’ll have a cold beer, please,” I say.
“A cold one coming up,” he says.
He places a coaster on the bar in front of me and seconds later places my beer and a glass on it. I don’t need the glass and drink straight from the bottle. I swing the barstool around to have a view of the whole bar, and that’s when I see Marian walking in.
She’s changed from the black trousers she was wearing on the flight into a pinkish miniskirt and a sleeveless top. She’s also let her thick golden-brown mane loose, and it falls to her shoulders.
My eyes are drawn to her long shapely legs, but I quickly avert my gaze when I realize that she’s headed my way.
She comes to
