Lethal Seduction (50 page)

But how to achieve that without anybody noticing?

It shouldn't be
that
difficult. Rosarita was excellent at solving problems.

•

The moment Chas opened his eyes after taking a short nap, he was ready to gamble. “Let's go,” he instructed Varoomba,
thrusting a couple hundred dollars at her. “Get yourself some chips and cruise the casino. We're gonna make us some money.”

“Did you book the table for lunch?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I did it.”

“Remember you promised to meet my grams?”

“I didn't promise nothin',” he growled.

“Yes you did.”

“So?”

“Well, um . . . can she come to lunch?”

“Lunch?”

“That way she can meet everyone. I don't ask you for much, Chas.
Please
let me invite her.”

“Ah, jeez!” he mumbled under his breath, he hated it when women pleaded.

“Is that a yes?” she asked eagerly.

“It's a maybe.”

“Thank you, hon,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “You're such a big, sexy teddy bear. I love you
so
much.”

Love? The “L” word had never entered Varoomba's vocabulary before. Hearing it made Chas extremely nervous. He reminded himself to call the house to make sure that they'd packed up her things.

Never leave anything to chance—that was his motto.

•

Now that it was daylight and she was sober, Jamie decided that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. But how to stop something
she'd
started?

Kris had extremely fast-moving and nimble hands, and it was glaringly obvious he hadn't lied when he said he had nothing on under his white terry-cloth robe. She tried not to look, but his erection was poking through the material like a signal.

First he kissed her, bending her back, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, his hands in her hair. Then he started feeling under her sweater like a schoolboy on a sure-thing date.

“Take it easy, Kris,” she gasped, backing off. “You're moving
way
too fast.”

“Cor blimey,” he muttered. “We don't 'ave much time, luv. Let's get to it. It's what you've bin after, isn't it?”

“I thought it was
you
who were after me,” she said. “You were always calling me in New York.”

“Your old man didn't like that, did he?” Kris said, chuckling. “What's the deal with you an' 'im anyway?”

“I caught him cheating,” she said flatly.

“So
that's
why you're 'ere.”

“Maybe. But I also find you attractive.”

“I bin told
that
one before, 'aven't I,” he said. “Is it
me
you find attractive, or the whole rock-star bit?”

“You,
Kris. I couldn't care less about your fame. It's completely irrelevant.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I am.”

Before she realized what he was doing, he'd deftly unhooked her bra. She felt a shiver of excitement, and yet at the same time, she still wasn't sure that she wanted to rush into anything. It was one thing to boast that she was going to fuck Kris Phoenix. It was something else to actually go through with it.

His hands dove under her sweater, reaching bare tit.

Once more she backed off.

Once more he came after her.

“Got somethin' t'show you,” he said, leering.

“What?” she said.

“This.”

And then he flashed her, opening his bathrobe to reveal an extremely impressive erection.

“Oh . . . my . . . God . . .” she managed.

And as she uttered the words, the door of the suite opened and in walked Amber.

“T
HIS IS GREAT
,” Madison said, lying back on the sundeck of the boat they'd rented, her head thrown back to the sun, enjoying the fact that she was doing nothing, thinking about nothing, merely relaxing and having a nice time with a man she liked.

“I'm kind of liking it myself,” Jake agreed. He'd been snapping away with his camera, but she'd hardly noticed.

“I feel so relaxed,” she said, well aware that when this assignment was over she had to get her life together and discover exactly what her father was all about. But right now she didn't have to do a thing. Right now she could live in the moment and simply enjoy being with Jake.

“Do you have a ringside seat tonight?” he asked.

“I guess so. Can't
wait
to have their blood splattered all over me.”

“That's a gruesome thought.”

“Boxing is
such
an archaic sport. Two guys beating the crap out of each other. For
what?
Entertainment? Isn't that going back to Roman times and the gladiators?”

“Things never change,” he said. “They just go round in circles.”

“And he's philosophical too,” she murmured.

“Last night was special, Madison,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. “You make me feel incredibly comfortable.”

“That's exactly how you make me feel,” she said.

“I think this means we're going to be seeing more of each other,” he said.

“That depends on you, doesn't it?” she said, adding a flippant, “Got any trips to Paris coming up?”

“Very funny,” he said, kissing her again.

“I'm serious, Jake. Where
is
your next assignment?”

“No idea. You hit on it last night when you called me a wanderer. It's true—I am like that. I have no home, I prefer staying in hotels.”

“Where's your stuff?”

“Who has stuff?” he said quizzically.

“Normal people.”

“Maybe I'm not normal.”

“Well,” she said, stretching, “I'm considering going to L.A. for a few weeks after I leave here. I need to get my head straight about my father. I miss him, and yet I
don't.
I love him, and yet I hate him. Does that make sense?”

“Maybe.”

“I
have
to find out the truth, Jake.”

“You will. In your own time.”

“Where are
you
going next?”

“Wherever you go, I shall follow,” he said lightly.

“Jake,” she answered seriously, “you don't have to follow me around. We can keep in touch and get together when it suits both of us. I'm not a clingy person, you know.”

“You're not clingy at all. And believe me—
I
can tell you about clingy women.”

“Can you now?” she said, amused.

“There
have
been other women.”

“No!”

“Bitch!”

“What happened to that blonde you were seeing? The call girl?”

“You
have
to remind me.”

“She
was
very beautiful.”

“I told you before:
you're
beautiful—
she
was pretty.”

“And he has a way with words.”

“And
you
—have the most kissable lips I've ever had the pleasure of getting close to.”

•

Martha decided that cruising the Marigiano Hotel in Las Vegas was the most amazing thing she'd ever experienced. She had already spotted a Latin singing star, three movie stars and Al King, one of her all-time favorites. Her level of excitement was in overdrive as they left the Marigiano and walked along the strip toward Caesar's Palace for lunch at Spago.

“The women in my book club will
never
believe me,” she babbled, repeating herself. “It was exciting enough when Dickie landed on a daytime soap. Now this!” She hung onto Chas' arm. “I'm so
grateful
to you, Chas. You are such a wonderful man, and
very
generous if I may say so.”

“It's the least I can do,” Chas said, enjoying his role as the purveyor of good times.

Varoomba followed a few steps behind them. She had chosen to wear a tight red tank top with no bra, and everything was on show, including, to Matt's delight, her very prominent nipples. He'd spent the morning imagining what it would be like to chew on them, and wondering if there was any chance of visiting a strip club. He knew Vegas was famous for its lap dancing, but he also knew there was not much hope of him sneaking off to visit a club by himself. Dexter wasn't the kind of son who'd arrange it, and why would Chas be interested, considering he had a piece like Varoomba at his disposal?

Martha oohed and aahed all the way to Caesar's Palace. “The hotels here are out of this world,” she exclaimed. “I've never seen anything like this place.
Everything
is magnificent!”

Varoomba was hoping that Renee would be on time. Grams had a habit of always being late, and even though Varoomba had called her as soon as they'd arrived, Renee was never a sure
thing. “Meet us for lunch at Spago,” Varoomba had said. “And don't be late.”

“Christ!” Renee had complained. “Do I
have
to?”

“Yes,” Varoomba had insisted. “I told you—this one's likely to propose. Wouldn't you like to see your little granddaughter happily married to a rich man?”

“Did you bring money?”

“I brought a coupla hundred.”

“Is that all?” Renee said scornfully. “You, who make a fortune shakin' your boobies. Shame on you.”

“A few hundred is better than nothing, isn't it?” Varoomba said. “If I can get this guy to marry me, you'll get more.”

“Okay, I'll see you there.”

Now, as they headed toward Spago, Varoomba wondered if it was such a good idea. She hadn't seen Renee in a couple of years, and her grams was hardly the grandmotherly type. If Renee wore one of her outfits and managed to knock back a few drinks . . .

Oh no . . . it didn't bear thinking about.

•

Jamie was mortified. Not that she'd been caught with her pants down, but Kris certainly had. Although she had to admit, Amber was quite cool and collected.

“Hello,” the young actress said, walking into the suite as if she hadn't noticed Kris standing there with his dick hanging out.

“Uh . . . 'ello, luv,” Kris said, hurriedly closing his bathrobe and knotting the belt. “What's up?”

“My horse was temperamental, so I decided to come back,” Amber said, helping herself to a glass of orange juice.

“I can see that,” he said.

She glanced over at Jamie. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all,” Jamie said, completely flustered. “If you'll excuse me, I need to visit the powder room.”

She raced into the sanctuary of the guest bathroom and
quickly fastened her bra. This whole incident was so stupid. She'd come all the way to Vegas to sleep with Kris Phoenix and now, when she might have succeeded, she'd gotten caught—by his girlfriend of all people. This was like a bad joke.

She peered in the mirror, brushed her hair, applied some lipstick and hurried back into the room, anxious to make a fast getaway.

“Well, uh, Kris, I guess we've covered everything,” she said, calm as it was possible to be under the circumstances.

“Yeah, luv, we did.”

“So I'll hear from you in New York.”

“Look forward to it,” he said awkwardly.

“Amber—nice to see you again.”

“You too . . . um, Jamie, isn't it?”

“That's right.”

“I won't forget your name again,” Amber said with a vague smile.

“I'm sure you won't,” Jamie said. “Don't worry—I'll let myself out.”

She traveled down in the elevator feeling totally humiliated. This was all Peter's fault. Why hadn't he come to her and confessed? Why hadn't he said, “You know what, we'd better get a divorce because I've discovered I like men.” That would've been the civilized thing to do.

But oh no, Peter couldn't do that, he'd had to let her find out the hard way. Bastard!

She got out her cell phone and tried to call Madison at the hotel. No answer. Then she attempted to reach Natalie. The same there.

She needed to talk to Natalie about Madison's birthday dinner. Hopefully, Natalie had already taken care of ordering a cake.

She sighed and got into a cab. The driver was talkative. She gave him monosyllabic answers, hoping he'd get the hint. He didn't.

She was paying off the cab outside her hotel when she noticed Joel Blaine walking out.

“Hey,” he said, seeing her at the same time. “And still no husband?”

“I told you, he's in New York.”

“What kind of a man lets
you
run around Vegas by yourself?”

“A dumb one.”

“Whoa . . . somebody's angry.”

“Where's your girlfriend, Joel? Aren't you with Carrie Hanlon?”

“She's kind of boring. You know what those models are like, nothin' much to say. Where's your friend Madison?”

“I haven't seen her today.”

“She's different. I like her.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, she's a smart cookie.”

“You should ask her out.”

“You think she'd go out with me?”

“No. But you may as well ask.”

“Why
wouldn't
she go out with me?”

“She thinks you're a player.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Madison's not into serial daters.”

“Maybe I'd change for a woman like her.”

“Meanwhile you're here with Carrie Hanlon.”

“Wanna go play blackjack?”

“Why not?” Jamie said with a weary little sigh. “I have nothing else to do.”

•

“Charlie?” Renee shrieked.

“Ren?” Chas bellowed.