With Love From Las Vegas. Cat Schield

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      “Did I get you something nice?”

      She threw her arms wide and gestured down her body. “A day of pampering in the spa and a total makeover.”

      “I have excellent taste,” he said, his smile rueful. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the bar.” It probably wasn’t the best comparison in the world because men occupied most of the chairs. The few women he noted were older and downright frumpy.

      Her eyes narrowed. “Gee, thanks. Knowing that I’m hotter than a bunch of grandmothers is a huge boost to my confidence.”

      Regret pinched him. He could do better than that. She deserved better from him. It was her birthday, after all. But the only way he could think of to show her how gorgeous she was involved taking her upstairs to his suite and peeling off her very sexy dress.

      He took another kick to the groin. The residual ache made him frown. He was speeding down a dangerous path. Whatever had awakened a latent fire inside her, turning her into a seductress capable of ripping out a man’s heart, was having a detrimental effect on his self-control.

      “No, really,” he assured her. “You look incredible.”

      “Incredible, incredible?” she demanded, seeking clarity as she often had to do with him. “Or incredible for thirty?”

      Ah, a milestone number. No wonder she’d freaked out. She was facing another decade. That was especially difficult for a woman with a ticking clock.

      “Incredible.”

      She pulled a face at him. “You probably think I’m overreacting to the whole turning-thirty thing.” She paused so he could inject a comment, but Sebastian held his peace. “It’s just that I always figured I’d get married at twenty-eight. Seemed perfect, you know? I’d have enough time for a career. Travel the world. Sow some wild oats. Make some mistakes.”

      He couldn’t picture Missy doing any of those things. She liked going to movies. Knitted prayer shawls for her church. Rescued cats and fostered them out. If any woman seemed doomed to stay close to home and live a quiet life, it would be Missy.

      But that was before she turned up tonight looking like sin, smelling like heaven, and tasting like …?

      He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her cheek.

      Tasting like perfection.

      She put her hand against her skin where he’d kissed her and regarded him warily. “What was that for?”

      “Happy birthday.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re still feeling warm and fuzzy when you see what I spent on my birthday present.”

      He shrugged. “You’re worth it.”

      Missy’s lips opened into a perfect O. How had he never noticed how sexy her mouth was before? With a thin, arched upper lip and a plump, delectable lower one, her cupid bow mouth practically demanded he smear her perfectly applied brick-red lipstick.

      Without warning, her fist shot out and hit him hard on his arm. “Damn you, Sebastian Case. You can be such a jerk.”

      With that, she slipped off the stool and as soon as her shoes hit the patterned carpet, she was off. Rubbing the spot where she’d struck him, Sebastian stared after her in surprise. She had a hell of a punch for one so feminine. He launched himself off the stool as she neared the exit and tossed some bills on the bar before he raced after her.

      She wasn’t used to walking in four-inch heels so he caught up with her easily. Sliding his arm around her waist to offer her support as she stumbled, he murmured, “Where to?”

      “I’m off to celebrate.” She pushed his hand away from her hip.

      Sebastian’s palm tingled as he strode after her. He rubbed his hands together, trying to eliminate the uncomfortable buzzing sensation, and watched the way Missy’s determined stride gave her curves a little bounce and jiggle.

      His ex-wife had been model thin and forever on a diet. She’d lacked the one thing he’d always adored in a woman, generous handfuls of breasts. That might account for why he’d lost interest in sex with her. Or perhaps he’d grown tired of her neediness. Her lies about being pregnant every time he talked about leaving her.

      Missy veered to the right as Sebastian was cataloging all the things that had gone wrong in his marriage. A beat later, he changed direction, stalking her down the row of gaming tables. She moved with purpose, seeming to know exactly where she was heading. He caught up to her at the roulette wheel.

      “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” he demanded, certain he already knew the answer.

      “I know exactly what I’m doing.” She pulled out a wad of cash. “I came here to blow this and I’m not leaving until I do.”

      Missy had fallen in love with Las Vegas the second she’d stepped into the hotel lobby this afternoon. The ringing slot machines reminded her of the final bell before summer vacation. Flashing lights and the prospect of a big win around every corner unleashed her long-repressed wild child. She’d barely resisted the urge to dash into the casino and plunk down twenty dollars on the first blackjack table she came to. In a heartbeat, fifteen years of sensible living went out the window.

      Sebastian set his hand on her arm and used his body to block her view of the roulette table. “You don’t want to play this. It’s one of the worst games for winning. Let’s go play blackjack. The odds are better.”

      His touch awakened a shiver despite the warmth of his skin. He restrained her with gentleness, but Missy knew he could call on steel if he ran out of patience.

      Rich. Powerful. Used to getting his way. Intimidating when he didn’t. A man in control of every aspect of his life. He never relaxed. Rarely smiled. Demanded excellence from everybody.

      If she’d known what she was getting into before she’d accepted the position as his assistant, she probably would have run screaming from his office. Instead, she’d been drawn to the mystique of Sebastian Case, the elusive, gorgeous, exasperating millionaire businessman.

      She shook off his grip. “I don’t care.”

      “You’ve gone completely mad. How much do you have there?” He plucked the bills from her hand and riffled through them. His lips puckered in a silent whistle.

      Afraid he might hold on to the money in some misguided attempt to save her from herself, she snatched the cash back. “It’s enough to buy the wedding dress of my dreams.”

      If her use for the money surprised Sebastian, he didn’t show it. “And how much is that?”

      “Five thousand dollars.”

      “That’s a lot of money to bring to Las Vegas.” Concern deepened his voice into a dusky rumble.

      Missy dodged eye contact, refusing to let his censure keep her from throwing caution to the wind. “It sure is. Took me two years to save it. I ate tuna sandwiches three days a week. I never bought any clothes unless they were on clearance. I limited myself to one movie and one dinner out per pay period.”

      “Those СКАЧАТЬ