With Love From Las Vegas. Cat Schield

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      “I never used to,” she complained softly.

      “You also never used to come to work dressed like you were tonight, either.” Hard as iron, his eyes held hers. “What is it going to take to keep you on as my assistant?”

      She pondered the long hours at her desk and the price she’d paid in her personal life. She’d made the decision to quit before she’d slept with Sebastian. Nothing had changed. In fact, moving on was more essential than ever.

      “It’s no use. You might promise me the same thing won’t happen again, but I know it will. You just can’t help yourself.”

      His eyebrows arched. “You think I can’t keep my hands off you?”

      At his misunderstanding, her body flushed asphalt-in-August hot. “I’m not talking about sex, I’m talking about your promise not to bother me evenings and weekends. You’d start regressing. I want to work for someone who understands that an employee’s off-hours are sacred.” She tossed her head. “In fact, someone already made me an offer. Someone who knows the value of a personal life.”

      “Who?”

      “Nothing’s finalized yet. But when it is, you’ll be the first to know.”

      Donning a plum-colored dress, Missy slipped out of her hotel room at six-thirty to make sure she missed Sebastian. After yesterday, she needed a cup or two of coffee before she faced him.

      Missy reached the ballroom where most of the summit meetings would take place. After checking on the food arrangements and making sure all the audiovisual equipment was working, she assured herself that Sebastian’s opening speech awaited him at the podium. Everything had to be perfect.

      “I see my son has you burning the candle at both ends.” Brandon stood at the back of the room, dressed for a round of golf rather than a business meeting. “Have you given any more thought to my suggestion that you take over for Dean as director of communications? Max liked the idea and wants to discuss it with you after the summit.”

      “I’m not sure I have the experience required,” Missy hedged, wondering if she should even be discussing a job change without talking to Sebastian first. The opportunity tempted her, but she’d be happier about it if the idea had come from Sebastian.

      Working for a family business, regardless of size, offered challenges. As Sebastian’s executive assistant, Missy had often found herself trapped in the middle of a power play between her boss and the head of the company. Since Brandon had stepped down as CEO, her job had grown less complicated politically, but he still owned a large share of the company and of late had begun to insinuate himself back into the business with frequent visits to the office and happily offered opinions.

      He’d escalated his interference by taking Lucas Smythe golfing yesterday. Not that Missy believed he’d come right out and tell Smythe not to sell his company to Case Consolidated Holdings. But involving himself by talking with Max about the communications director position was a pretty overt act. Was Sebastian right? Did his father want to be in charge once more?

      Brandon dismissed her concerns with a wave. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’ve watched you these past four years. Your talents are wasted on my son.”

      “I’m not sure Sebastian would agree.” But the truth was she had no idea if her boss appreciated her or just took her for granted.

      “You let Max and me worry about Sebastian.” Brandon held the door so she could exit the ballroom. “You’d make an outstanding director of communications.”

      Missy was flattered that someone had recognized her skills. She’d graduated two years ago with a degree in business and a minor in journalism. Her background made the position a dream job.

      Too bad Sebastian liked her right where she was.

      “I appreciate your faith in me,” she said as they strolled down the hallway that led to the hotel’s atrium and casino.

      “You should have been promoted years ago. I know you’ll do a great job.”

      And she would. Much better than the guy who’d held the position for the past three years. But staying at Case Consolidated Holdings meant seeing Sebastian all the time. How was she supposed to get over her feelings for him and move on in her personal life with daily reminders of how amazing they’d been together?

      Missy lifted her hand to hide a yawn. Sleep had eluded her for a long time last night. Sebastian’s visit had left her keyed up and wide awake. Damn the man for being so aggravating and attractive. Her seesawing emotions were a source of utter frustration.

      “Are you playing golf again this morning?”

      “No. I thought I’d stick around and listen to Sebastian give the opening speech.”

      Wincing in sympathy for her boss, Missy forced a bright smile. “It’s a good one. You’ll be impressed.”

      “I’m sure it’s wonderful. Did you help him write it?”

      “I offered a couple suggestions.” In fact, she’d created the first draft and Sebastian had revised it to suit his style.

      “I’m sure you did.” Brandon put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Have fun with the ladies today.”

      In addition to making sure the conference arrangements were hitch-free, she had the job of playing social director for the executives’ wives. Today’s schedule called for a sightseeing trip to the Hoover Dam. Then lunch followed by the Haunted Vegas tour.

      Brandon winked. “Don’t let them get you into too much trouble.”

      With that cryptic remark ringing in her ears, Missy watched Sebastian’s father head toward the casino. She had almost an hour before she was to meet the wives for breakfast. Yesterday she’d won another two thousand dollars. The windfall was burning a hole in her purse. A little gambling would go a long way toward distracting her from what had just happened with Sebastian.

      Lucky at cards, unlucky at love.

      Missy had become a walking, talking example of that idiom. Fetching a twenty from her wallet, she cruised the slot machines, looking for a likely candidate. The first machine swallowed her money like a party girl guzzling imported champagne. Thirty minutes later, she was down five hundred. Sighing over her change of luck, Missy checked her watch. She had fifteen minutes before she was supposed to meet the wives. Time enough to feed one last crisp twenty into a slot machine.

      At the center of the casino, a couple dozen machines surrounded a bright-blue, convertible Ford Mustang. Picking one at random, Missy fed in her twenty. Four spins later, she had resigned herself to walking away when five gold coins lined up in a row and her machine began whooping like a pack of crazed football fans with their team poised to score the game-winning touchdown.

      “You won a car.” Gloria Smythe stood next to her, wearing a big smile.

      Missy had met her last night at the cocktail party and liked her immediately. The vivacious blonde was twenty years younger than her imposing husband and smiled as much as he frowned.

      “I did?”

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