Hold 'Em: Vegas Top Guns, Book 3 (27 page)

She’d been looking—officially—for over a week. She couldn’t find anything to match her specifications, and that didn’t count the unofficial, wistful looking she’d done before admitting how much she wanted this. Wanted Michael as hers.

The cuff couldn’t be silver because that color on her pet’s wrist would always remind her of another woman. Unacceptable. She also needed it to be rough and masculine. No girly shit for her Michael.

Absolutely nothing had hit her standards. Time was ticking down. Less than two weeks until they were going to celebrate their nearly joint birthdays. She wanted to give it to him then, but the fact that she wasn’t finding the right one…

Maybe it was another sign.

Or maybe she couldn’t think anymore. So tumbled around.

The guys hit a stopping point. Eric grabbed a six-pack and slumped onto his ass, shaded by the umbrella. Dash leaned a hip against Sunny’s chair. His long fingers casually draped on her shoulder. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear, kissed her there. The woman’s answering smile was so private that Leah looked away.

Michael approached her, but he didn’t stand close enough.

She wanted to tuck her fingers in the pockets of his loose shorts and pull him near. They dipped dangerously low on his hips. Combined with his bare chest, she was treated to a lovely display of skin. Unmarked, but Michael wouldn’t have taken off his T-shirt had he been bruised.

Eric took a bottle by the neck and reached across the table. “Beer?” he asked Leah.

It was the first thing he’d said directly to her. Ironic that it had to do with booze. Everyone knew she and Jon were close, while Jon and Kisser were
definitely
not. No skin off her nose if they wanted to play measure-the-dicks. The beer he held almost seemed like a peace offering. Too bad she couldn’t take it.

“Nah, save it for your second round.”

After a moment’s assessment, he nodded and leaned back in his chair. Dash snatched the beer instead.

“There’s soda inside,” Michael offered.

Sunny reached up to pat Dash’s cheek. “Hop inside and get me one of those?”

Another kiss from Dash, this time aimed at her temple. She turned and looked up at the last minute, just in time to meet mouth to mouth, both smiling.

“Regular?”

“Diet today.”

He laughed. “As if you need it.”

Holy Christ they were painful to watch. Leah had never felt so unbelievably hungry for affection, for that easy ebb and flow of acceptance and trust. She dug nails into her palms, when she wanted to be driving them into Michael’s back. The fact that he stood so close and so very exposed was almost too much.

Technically, all she had to do was reach out. If she slipped her fingers in his, she knew without asking that he’d accept them. Accept her. That’d be tantamount to declaring their relationship to the entire squadron.

Apparently she’d shaken the last dregs of her shitty reputation. She couldn’t throw another sordid layer on top—one that said she slept with squadron mates. To assume people thought of her as a fuck-up had become standard. To know they admired her recovery, only to watch her fall back into old patterns…? She couldn’t think of anything more humiliating.

So she all but sat on her hands. Mike shrugged and dropped into a chair just as Dash returned through the sliding glass door. He deposited a can of soda and a glass with ice next to Sunny’s magazine.

“Ice too. Very considerate.” With a cute little smile, she pinched low on his abdomen before pouring her drink. “But you can go away now. I’m done with you.”

“You’ll need me tonight.”

“If you’re lucky,” she said on a giant grin.

Eric knocked back a healthy swallow of beer and scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “If you lovebirds are done, can we get on with it?”

Mike stretched, cracking his back. “I appreciate everything you guys are doing.”

“No problem.” Leah hitched one leg over the other, crossing them. “I’m working my tail off up here. All this ogling is hard work.”

Eric didn’t smile so much as give a little twitch of his lips. He looked out from under his heavy brow. “I’ll give you something to ogle, sweet cheeks.”

“I’m pretty sure it still counts as sexual harassment even if we’re not on base,” Michael said.

“You haven’t given her a chance to respond.” Kisser waved his beer bottle. “Maybe she wants harassment. Some women are into that.”

Sunny maintained a beautifully ruthless smile. “I feel an overwhelming urge to give you my business card, but I don’t specialize in personal injury.”

The big bruiser gave a good impression of affronted, his full lips parting. “Why do I need personal injury? Hale and whole.”

Mike chuckled. “I worry about you, Eric. She totally meant for when some woman loses her mind on you and ends up breaking your head.”

“Kisser can live with a broken head.” Dash shook his head. “He just can’t live without
getting
head.”

Sunny cringed. “Worst pun of the day. Do you really have to break them out? Ever?”

He was absolutely unrepentant. “Of course I do. How else would I amuse you so thoroughly? But don’t make snap decisions about your
absolute
favorite. There’s hours yet until I rest.”

Eric stood, putting the beer on the table. He wiped his face with the T-shirt draped over the back of his chair. “I don’t care if someone breaks my head. Just leave my pretty face alone. It keeps the ladies rolling in.”

“C’mon,” Dash said. “We’ve got some layin’ to do. And there’s also sod to put down.” He mimed a rim shot in the air.

“Ugh,” Sunny said. “Please. No more.”

“But, honey, it’s why you love me.”

She answered by rolling her eyes. The guys went back to work. They’d be done in no time, with pizza on the agenda. Sunny offered Leah one of the magazines, but she declined.

Too much normal. Too much tempting.

She hopped up and made her way into the kitchen. On autopilot, she pulled a glass down from the cabinet, ice from the freezer and a soda from the bottom shelf. She stood behind the sliding glass door, watching. If anything, she knew Mike’s house better than her apartment. She’d certainly spent more time there than in her own bed, where she’d placed the dried rose in a vase on her nightstand.

Outside, Mike paused while bent over. His wrists were deep in a pile of dirt. He used the back of his forearm to push hair back from his forehead, then looked around. For her, maybe?

She really liked that. She wanted to be the one he looked for when he had a spare moment, when he wanted that quick connection. When he needed her.

So many maybes in her head. It actually hurt to look at him. It hurt to want something she didn’t believe she could have. As always, she pushed it all away. The sun was shining, an intelligent woman was there to chat with, and three half-naked men paraded around a lawn of green.

What else was a girl going to do but enjoy the view?

Chapter Thirty

Mike didn’t think he should be so nervous, but hell if his heart rate wasn’t way up. He sat at the bar, trying his hardest to sip his whiskey rather than slam it back.

It had seemed such a harmless idea earlier in the month. Now he was in the midst of it and having second thoughts. A birthday dinner together. What had he been thinking?

Probably that it wouldn’t hurt. That the coincidence of their so-very-close birthdays ought to mean something.

They’d agreed to go out. A private celebration. They’d do it up right too, which meant dressing to the nines, high-end reservations at Puccini’s, and a present exchange that was wearing a hole in his brain. The tenuous nature of their relationship meant shopping for Leah had been torture.

“Hey, Captain,” came a slinky voice.

He turned…and forced himself to shut his mouth.

“Damn.”

Leah was wearing a dress.

Not just any dress, but a spaghetti-strap number in fire-engine red. The shimmery material draped across her cleavage and fell in ripples that hugged her small waist and trim hips. The hem tickled just above her knees. Sexy red stilettos and elegant unbound hair made her seem even taller, more graceful.

Mike stood from the bar. He took one hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “You look amazing.”

An almost girlish smile tipped her scarlet lips. “Thanks. You don’t look too shabby yourself.” The frank appreciation in her dark honey eyes shot fissures of awareness through his muscles.

“Quit looking at me that way or we won’t eat.”

“Oh, but
I’d
eat, pet. You’re a feast.”

With a low groan, he tucked her hand through his arm and led her to the maître d’s stand. “Two for Templeton, please.”

“This way, sir.”

The man led them through the restaurant, which was thick with the smells of luscious Italian cooking. Mike’s stomach rumbled so loudly that he thought Leah must’ve heard. But she was too busy soaking in the sights. The intimate bistro created a sense of privacy for each table. Tin Tin had suggested the place, which meant it was both elegant and astoundingly expensive. One special meal with Leah? That was worth any price.

He grinned. Sure, he was nervous, but happy as hell too.

Only when they went to sit did he realize she carried her hot pink helmet. “You didn’t ride your bike in that dress, did you?”

Driving in from different ends of the city meant meeting up made more sense. To be honest, he’d liked the surprise of seeing her there in the bar. The awe of it.

Leah laughed, accepting a menu from the waiter. “Nah, took a cab. But you rode, yeah?”

“You asked me to, didn’t you?”

Pure satisfaction and a hefty dose of heat softened her expression. “Yes, I did. And you did while wearing that suit?”

“Sure.”

“Nice. Okay, I need a minute with that image.”

Mike grinned and touched his tongue to his lower lip—knowing it drove her crazy. “Take all the time you need, ma’am. I’ll be here.”

“You can take me for a ride later. That’s why I brought my helmet.”

“Dress and all?”

“Hitched around my thighs? Straddling that big beast of yours, my breasts pressed against your back? I’ll manage.” She slid him a saucy smile. “And now you have something to think about too.”

The energy between them quickened, deepening again. Mike tried to swallow, but it took a time or two. Shifting in his seat, he indulged in the feel of his cock swelling slightly and the delicate bite of the ring he wore.

They ordered antipasti, salads and a main course—the full Italian works. He kept flicking his gaze toward Leah and that astounding dress. He wanted her in it and he wanted to strip her out of it. Both. On his BMW and in a decadent hotel room bed. All of the above. She was far more of a challenge than deciding on the menu selections. So many possibilities.

Part of the fun of their sex life was not having to choose. He could ruminate on the many options—and happily would as the night progressed. When it came time to act, however, her whims dictated the play.

His thrill was the wait. Anticipating. Knowing whatever she chose would blow his mind.

Maybe other guys wanted control. Craved it. That didn’t appeal, which was something he’d decided long ago not to stress about. Whatever got people off in a safe and consensual way was fair game. Who wouldn’t want to be at the tender mercies of such a beautiful, deviant woman?

In deference to Leah’s valiant effort at going straight, and what seemed to be her request that he drive them to their room at Caesar’s, he switched to water. The condensation on the glass helped cool his palm. She’d used ice on him once, when he was strapped spread-eagle to his bed. On his chest. On his stomach. In her mouth as she’d gone down on him.

“You’re staring too, Michael. And risking an early departure.”

“Caught me.”

“It’s not like you were trying to hide it. When you get it in your head to stare at me, not even a statue could compete.”

He swigged a hefty gulp of water.

“I can tell, you know,” she said, her eyes heavy-lidded and soft. “When you’re wearing it.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t play innocent, Michael.” She leaned nearer, affording him the slightest glimpse of shadowy cleavage. “You’re thinking incredibly delicious thoughts. I can see them in your eyes. You’re wearing your ring, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shot her a grin. “Felt right for the special occasion.”

“Must be rather tight right now.”

“Getting there.”

“Such a good boy,” she said, leaning back. Her gaze walked down his throat, as intense as a caress. “Now, what did you get me?”

Mike chuckled. She always played him just right. Part tease. Part friend. “You’re not the most subtle person on the planet, are you?”

“Why bother? I want what you have to give, pet.”

The food arrived first, and Mike used the opportunity to realign his frantic heartbeat. He wasn’t going to last long if she kept winding him into knots. He loved it, but he wanted to put up a token resistance at a minimum.