Las Vegas Nights: At Odds with the Heiress. Cat Schield

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      While her heart hopped wildly in her chest, she gave what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “Too bad because you gave a great performance.”

      Stoic, Logan crossed his arms and indicated the envelope Scarlett held. “Do you know what Tiberius sent you?”

      His grave question brought her back to her earlier musings.

      “Not yet. Why are you so interested?”

      “Lucas thinks Tiberius might have left Violet the files he gathered through the years.” Logan shifted his gaze from the envelope to her eyes. “I think he might have left them to you.”

      “Me?” She glanced at the package in her hand, but her surprise didn’t last long. “I suppose that makes sense. We shared a love of Las Vegas history. If his files go back to the fifties, there are probably all sorts of great stories that never made it into the history books.” The thought excited her. “It’ll make a great addition to my Mob Experience exhibit.”

      “It’s dangerous for you to have those files.”

      Was that concern turning down Logan’s lips and putting a dent in his forehead? She struggled to keep delight from taking over her expression. “Dangerous how?”

      “A lot of powerful people have secrets they’d like to keep buried.”

      This was getting better and better. “I’ll bet they would.”

      He looked none too pleased at her enthusiasm. “Up until now the existence of the files has been nothing but speculation. If anyone gets wind that you have them, someone might decide to come after them.” Logan exhaled impatiently. “You might get hurt.”

      “You’re worried about me.” Nothing could have prevented her giant smile. “That’s so sweet.”

      He actually growled. “Just because you and I don’t get along doesn’t mean I want anything bad to happen to you.”

      “We could get along just fine if you’d stop fighting your feelings for me.”

      “If you’re referring to that kiss in the elevator—”

      “That oh-so-steamy kiss in the elevator,” she corrected with a smug smile. “And you never did answer my question. Was I acting?”

      He regarded her without expression and said nothing.

      “Maybe another demonstration would clear up your doubts.” She reached out and ran her fingers down his tie.

      He snatched her hand in his, eyes blazing. “Damn it, Scarlett.”

      Before he could complete his thought, a young woman appeared in the doorway. “Hello. I’m Madison.”

      “Scarlett Fontaine.” It was tough taking her eyes off Logan’s stormy expression, but she managed. “Nice to meet you,” she said, moving out from behind her desk.

      “Logan told me all about you.”

      Amusement twitched Scarlett’s lips into a smile. “Really?” She caught his unrelenting gaze and drawled, “All about me?”

      Logan gave her a tight nod. “I told her that you’d been an actress.”

      “Not just an actress,” she corrected with dramatic flare sure to annoy him. “A star.”

      “Really?” Now Madison looked interested. “I don’t recall seeing you in anything.”

      Scarlett’s smile turned wry. “You probably wouldn’t recognize me. I was fifteen when the show ended. But for five crazy years I was Hilary of That’s Our Hilary.”

      “I don’t think I ever saw that. Have you been on anything since?”

      “Guest appearances here and there. A short-running cable show.” Scarlett glanced Logan’s way and saw that he was scowling at her again. Honestly. What had she done now to earn his disfavor? To distract him, she gave him the envelope. “Here, maybe seeing what’s inside will keep you from being so cranky.”

      “Tiberius left it to you.” He tried to hand it back, but she shook her head.

      “And not knowing what’s inside is bugging you, so open it.”

      With a harsh exhalation, he slipped his finger beneath the envelope flap and pulled out a packet of papers. A key card slipped to the floor. Madison looked curious as she bent to retrieve it.

      “It’s a rental agreement for a storage unit,” Logan said as he continued looking through the stack of papers. He handed a single sheet to Scarlett.

      Scarlett recognized Tiberius’s neat handwriting. The letter was addressed to her. As she scanned it, her throat tightened. Damn the old rascal. He had indeed passed his files on to her. She took the key from Madison and studied it.

      “A storage unit?” she mused. “Do you suppose there’s more than files in there?”

      “Possibly. I hope you’re not considering going there alone.”

      He might not like her, but that didn’t stop him from feeling protective. She could work with that. “Why not?”

      His phone chimed, indicating he’d received a text. Pulling it out of his pocket, he checked the screen. Air slipped between his teeth in an impatient exhalation.

      “Something’s just come up.” He turned to Madison. “I’ll be back for you at five.”

      “Five?” Scarlett echoed doubtfully. “The action doesn’t get started around here until much later. You just go ahead and do whatever it is you do and I’ll make sure Madison gets home.”

      “What time?”

      “I don’t know. Midnight?”

      Logan’s eyebrows dipped as his niece’s expression lit up. “Ten,” he countered.

      “Seriously?” Madison piped up. “I’m seventeen years old. You don’t think I’ve been out past ten before?”

      He looked as if he were chewing glass as he countered, “Ten-thirty.”

      “I’m almost eighteen.”

      “Almost being the operative word.”

      Madison rolled her eyes at him. “My birthday’s two weeks away.”

      “Ten-thirty.”

      “When I turn eighteen you can’t tell me what to do.”

      Scarlett watched the exchange with interest, noticing the way his gaze bounced from her to Madison and back. It was good to see that she wasn’t the only female who annoyed him.

      “Why don’t we say eleven,” she offered, voice bright, smile friendly.

      Her words stopped Madison’s revolt in its tracks. “Perfect.”

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