Loving the Odds (What Happens in Vegas) (4 page)

“Selena,” he said loudly, pushing up from the table and sticking a hand out in front of them. “I was hoping I’d run into you at some point during the convention.”

Selena blinked, her heavily made up eyes narrowing as she tried to place him. She wouldn’t, of course, since they’d never actually met. But he wasn’t above a white lie in order to get what he wanted. And right now he wanted to help Bailey.

“I’m sorry. Have we met?” Selena grasped his proffered hand and gave him a firm handshake. “I don’t seem to recall your name.”

“Lance Fulton. I’m an image consultant with Take Two. We met at…” He scrambled for an event where they would likely have met in a place big enough for her to forget. “Book Expo America. Last year, I think it was.”

“Lance, right. I meet so many people it’s hard to keep up.” She smiled warmly. “This is my partner Julian Farnsworth.”

Julian hovered for a moment before sticking out his hand and offering a handshake limper than an overcooked carrot. “Julian Farnsworth
the Third
.”

“This is my lovely girlfriend, B—”

“Bailey?” Julian blinked, his jaw clenching visibly. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”

The tone in his voice made Lance want to punch him. If the word condescending had a picture in the dictionary, it would surely be of Julian’s over-styled hair and artificially white teeth. Really, the man should fire his dentist.

“Lance thought it would be fun to bring me to Vegas since I haven’t been here before.” She stood and tucked her bag over one shoulder.

After a millisecond of hesitation, she moved next to Lance and slid an arm around his waist. The gesture was so small and not sexual in the slightest, but having her body tucked against his set off a steady hum inside him. She smelled of fresh sheets and soap, clean and soft and lovely. It would have been impossible not to take advantage of the situation, so he curled an arm around her hip and held her tightly. Protectively.

A shiver ran through her and his blood roared in response. “That’s right, and these conventions are so much fun. Don’t you agree, Selena?”

“Absolutely. I honestly spend so much time at the computer by myself it’s nice to shake off the cobwebs and get dressed up.” Selena looked at Julian. “How do you two know each other?”

Uncertainty flashed in Julian’s dark eyes. “We uh…”

“We dated for a while,” Bailey supplied. “Actually, I’m quite glad I bumped into you, Julian. I’ve been meaning to come see you about something.”

“What’s that?” Julian’s jaw tightened and Lance resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air.

“My grandfather’s watch.” She pointed to the gold Rolex on his wrist. “I’m sure it was an oversight that you forgot to give it back to me. But I’d like to rectify that. Now.”

“This is most unorthodox,” he spluttered. “We should not be airing dirty laundry in front of our new partners.”

Selena held up her hands. “This sounds like a conversation for you two to have alone. I need to get to a meeting with my agent.”

“Selena, darling,” Julian purred. “This is nothing. Bailey can wait until we’re back in San Francisco. We’ll sort it out then.”

“It doesn’t sound like that big a deal to me,” Lance replied. “Give Bailey the watch and then she won’t need to take up any more of your time.”

At that point Selena turned to leave and almost walked smack into another person coming into the cafe. Lance turned and swore under his breath when he saw his boss stop mid-step.

“Selena, I see you’ve met Lance. He’s one of my team members.” Janet pinned him with a broad smile and cold eyes.

“Why didn’t you say you worked for Janet? We go way back.” Selena leaned in to give Janet an air-kiss.

Of course
they knew one another
.
Just his goddamn luck that Janet had decided to show up at the worst possible moment.

“I heard you were having your fan meet up,” Janet said. “I didn’t realize Lance would be attending.”

“Oh, no, we bumped into one another and he introduced me to his lovely girlfriend. Have you met Bailey?”

Shit, shit, shit!

The group stood awkwardly silent for a moment. Julian glared at Bailey, who looked as though she wanted the ground to swallow her up. Selena was checking her watch and Janet had trained her eagle-eyes on him.

“No, I don’t believe we have met.” She held her hand out. “I’m Janet Griswold, Lance’s boss.”

A flash of awareness crossed Bailey face and she smiled brightly. “How lovely to meet you. Lance has told me all about Take Two. It sounds like an exciting place to work.”

Janet blinked. “He has?”

“Oh, yes.” Bailey nodded and gave Lance a squeeze. “I work in a bank, and it’s quite conservative, so I love all the stories he brings home. Sounds like you make a great team.”

That little minx. Not only was she a surprisingly good actress despite her earlier claims, but she was quick on her feet. She could have thrown him under the bus. Could have focused on getting her watch back and made him look like a liar and an idiot in front of everyone.

But she didn’t. Only now, Julian had slipped off in the moment of distraction like a magician’s trick. He might have escaped this time, but Lance vowed that Bailey would have that watch back by the end of the weekend. No matter what.

Chapter Four

Bailey looked at her phone despairingly. They’d been hunting for Julian for the last hour but he appeared to have vanished into thin air. There wasn’t a peep from his hotel room, he wasn’t with Selena—whom they’d spotted having a meeting in the Barakoa café—and he hadn’t responded to her text demanding that he meet her in the hotel lobby. He was just…gone. And he’d taken the watch with him.

“I need to leave in fifteen minutes,” she said, settling her chin in her hands.

Bailey and Lance sat on a bench outside, watching the giant fountain in front of the hotel. The area was lined with striped poles with flags that looked like ribbons cascading over the sides. It was gaudy and kind of wonderful. Crowds milled about. Groups of tourists with cameras slung around their necks pointed and grinned.

Normally being around so many people would make Bailey feel antsy, but with Lance by her side she felt safe and shielded from the chaos.

“You’re going to go home empty handed?” Lance looked at her with raised brows. “After you came all this way?”

“What else am I going to do? I don’t have anywhere to stay.”

“You’re in the land of hotels, Bailey.” He swept his arm in a wide arc. “Look around you.”

The strip was already glittering with lights. Vegas felt like the inside of a Christmas tree crossed with the Mad Hatter’s tea party. It was colorful, extreme, and more than a little crazy.

“It’s not just that.” She hung her head, defeat traveling through her veins like sludge. “Money’s a little tight. Rent is so high back home and I’m still working my way up the corporate ladder.”

“Then why on earth did you pay for a flight to come here when you could have confronted him in San Francisco?”

“Every time I tried to go to his place to have it out with him, I froze up. I couldn’t ring the bell, the thought of going inside and remembering all the promises he’d made me…” Tears pricked at her eyes. She felt so stupid. “And I couldn’t do anything at work because that would be unprofessional. A friend offered to get me on standby for the flights as a favor and I thought finding Julian on neutral ground might be what I needed.”

Clearly she’d been wrong about this like she was about everything else.

Shades of orange and red streaked across the sky, blurring into one another. The hotels were lighting up, getting ready to put on a show for the tourists.

“Could your friend get you on standby for another flight so you can stay?”

Her teeth bore down on her lip. “Possibly. But the hotel room—”

“I’ve got it.”

She turned to him. “What do you mean you’ve got it?”

“I’ll pay for your hotel room.” The warm glow of evening light illuminated the burnished strands of Lance’s hair. He looked like some golden god sent to tempt her into stepping outside her comfort zone. And she was most certainly tempted.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“I know how you can make it up to me.” A wicked smile curved on his lips.

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t perform sex acts for favors.”

“Bailey, you are truly one of a kind.” He slung an arm around her shoulders as though they were old friends instead of a couple of strangers who’d fallen into this weird situation together. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Oh?” She resisted him for a moment but her body got the better of her mind. She shuffled closer and rested her head on his shoulder, suddenly feeling the need for a little human comfort.

How unusual.

“Stay for the weekend and help me win my boss over and I’ll make sure you get your grandfather’s watch back.”

“How am I going to help you with your boss?”

He brushed an escaped strand of hair from her forehead and the gentle action sent goosebumps skittering across her arms. “Well, she thinks we’re dating now. And one of the reasons that she hates me is because she thinks I’m this big womanizer.”

“Are you?”

Pause. “I don’t mean to be. But I also don’t believe in stringing someone along if things aren’t working.” Lance shrugged. “I make it clear up front that I have no issues bailing.”

“Gee, I bet that sets the scene for a romantic evening.” Bailey rolled her eyes.

“At least I’m honest. Women know what I’m like before they decide to go out with me. I don’t have anything against relationships, but they don’t seem to agree with me. I get bored easily.”

Bored. It was a word that struck so much fear into her heart that she pulled away from Lance’s grip. Each and every time she’d been dumped that word had been hurled at her like a weapon. She wasn’t sure why men chose to date her—it could be because they thought quirky would mean kinky, or perhaps it was because they thought she was hard up for a date and that meant she’d put out. But she
always
knew why they left.

She was boring, inside the bedroom and out.

“I’d rather be labeled a womanizer than someone who promises the moon and then never delivers,” Lance said, running his hand along the edge of his jaw. “But Janet doesn’t see that. She only sees the guy who slept with her daughter and then dumped her. I need to show another side of me. A serious, responsible side.”

“And ‘dating me,’” she said, making finger quotes, “will make you a serious guy?”

“That’s right. A serious guy who’s settling down with the love of his life and is ready to focus on taking his career to the next level. A family man in the making.” He nodded as if agreeing with himself. “So you’ll do it?”

“Do people often say no to you?”

“Only one person, and you’re going to help me with that.” He winked comically at her and she felt the resolve slip out of her body.

This agreement was definitely outside the realms of her experience. But Lance was dangling a tasty carrot. Besides, what could possibly go wrong? A fake relationship surely didn’t have as many risks as a real one. There would be no breakup, no expectations. No sex.

No situations that would make her vulnerable again. All she would have to do is smile for his boss and say what he wanted her to say. If doing all that meant she could finally walk away from Julian—watch in hand—then it seemed like an obvious choice, albeit a strange one.

Besides, what did she have to lose? Her weekend at home would have been spent cleaning her apartment, anyway. And if he was going to cover the cost of her hotel room in exchange for a little of her acting ability, she wouldn’t be out of pocket.

“I don’t have any clothes with me since I wasn’t planning to stay.”

“So I’ll take you shopping.” Lance shrugged as if it meant nothing.

She thought hard for a moment. Potential pros of going through with this agreement? A greater chance of getting her watch back and a weekend away from her sorry lack of a social life. Oh, and pretending that some super hottie like Lance would be interested in her. She might be a logical kind of gal, but even she wasn’t above the occasional fantasy.

So long as she kept her hands and her heart to herself, there shouldn’t be a problem. Easy as pie. It’s not like she’d be stupid enough to fall for a guy in one weekend, right?

“What do you mean there aren’t any more rooms?” Bailey’s eyes were about to pop right out of her head.

The person behind the reservation desk shrugged apologetically. “We’re fully booked for the Romance Lovers Convention, I’m afraid. We don’t have a single room left.”

“What if Michael Jackson walked in here now and asked for a room. Would there be one magically available then?” She folded her arms across her chest.

“Ma’am?” The woman looked from Bailey to Lance and back again. “Michael Jackson is dead.”

“You know what I mean,” Bailey said, rolling her eyes.

“Were any of the other hotels designated for spill over?” Lance asked.

“I know a group of ladies went over to the Vdara earlier today but I think they were booked out, too. You could try the Paris hotel.”

“Thank you.” Lance steered Bailey away from the desk.

“We should have checked before we went shopping.” She glared at the bag in her hand containing a change of clothes she’d purchased at the most affordable boutique they’d been able to find.

“Look, we’ve got two options. We can either make our way down the Strip to find you a room or we can head up to mine and I’ll call room service to get a cot.”

“Your room?” She swallowed and tried not to notice how her pulse fluttered like butterfly wings in her throat.

“I promise that I will be a total gentleman and give you first use of the shower.” Lance pressed his hands to his chest and even though his tone was that of a joker, it made her feel more at ease. “But if you want to traipse around until we find you your own room, then we can do that instead. It’s your call.”

Her feet were already throbbing from all the walking around she’d done since she arrived and right now the idea of a shower and change of clothes sounded heavenly. She bit down on her lip. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t rely on her gut anymore when it came to trusting people, but what else did she have?

Lance didn’t raise any red flags as far as safety was concerned. And it was only for one night.

“I’m not a stalker or a bunny boiler,” he added.

Bailey toyed with the decision for a moment longer. “Fine. Your room it is. And I’m going to take you up on that offer for first dibs on the shower.”

He held out his arm and she suppressed a shiver as she slipped her own over the crook of his elbow. “Be my guest.”

…

Lance paced the length of the hotel room. The sound of rushing water filtered in from the bathroom and it was all he could do not to imagine what Bailey looked like under her prim and proper office attire.

Instead, he tried to focus on how he was going to use this strange turn of events to his advantage. Having her by his side would show Janet that he was capable of maintaining a relationship—especially since she’d called relationships out as an indicator of responsibility. Then there was the fact that Bailey was…well, Bailey. He might see her as a sex-bomb wolf in sheep’s clothing, but he knew that most people wouldn’t look past the thick-rimmed glasses and logical attitude.

In fact, he was counting on it.

He’d slip in a casual comment about them looking to seal the deal with a ring and drop hints about babies. Janet wouldn’t be able to view him as a manipulative playboy and then, once she’d softened up to him, he’d offer an olive branch. Wipe the slate clean. Let bygones be bygones and all that crap.

If he was a more devious guy he might have orchestrated this plan on his own, but luckily for him the gods were lending a helping hand. Then he’d repay Bailey by giving her the opportunity to get even with her ex. What could possibly go wrong?

“Lance?” Bailey came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

Her long dark hair was twisted into a knot on top of her head and water ran in rivulets down her neck. The droplets chased one another as they raced toward her collarbone and the valley between her breasts. The towel stopped mid-thigh, leaving plenty of pale creamy skin for his eyes to latch onto. A jolt of arousal went through him so hard that he was sure he’d short circuited part of his brain.

What are a few brain cells between friends?

“I realized that I don’t have anything to sleep in.” Without any traces of makeup her eyes looked like big blue saucers. “I don’t suppose the hotel provided any complimentary pajamas?”

It wasn’t a trick question, but his brain seemed to be stuck on all that water-dotted skin. His mind sputtered like a lawnmower failing to start.

“Maybe I should call the concierge.” She looked at him strangely and his brain finally kicked into gear.

“It’s fine. You can borrow a T-shirt.” He turned, shaking his head at how fast his heart was hammering inside his chest. He grabbed a soft gray tee from his luggage and handed it over. “Hopefully that’s comfortable.”

Her fingers grazed his as she took the T-shirt from him, sparks shooting up his arm and sending an arrow of heat straight down to his cock.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“I ordered some room service for us.” He pretended to inspect an email on his phone, not daring to look up lest his body decide to transition from half-mast to full-blown erection. He cursed the lightweight tracksuit pants he’d decided to wear. They hid nothing. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I got a bit of everything.”

“I think you’ve restored my faith in human kind, Lance Fulton,” she said. “Thank you.”

He made the mistake of looking up then, the genuine appreciation in her smile like the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. As she sauntered back into the bathroom, her trim hips swinging under the fluffy white cotton, his whole body coiled up like a spring. Every muscle tensed and ached for her. But there was one giant roadblock between what he should do and what he wanted to do.

His boss might not believe it—hell, his own family might not believe it—but he was a moral guy. One who never wanted to prey on anyone in a moment of weakness.

The ironic thing was that he always ended relationships with good intent. But apparently that made him a “playboy”—wasn’t that the word Janet had thrown at him? Like it was totally inconceivable that her daughter had made the first move. Part of him had wanted to tell her that not only had her daughter made the first move, but she’d also made the second, third, fourth, and beyond.

But pettiness, he’d discovered, was a poison. So he’d kept that information to himself.

“This is literally the comfiest T-shirt I have ever worn,” Bailey announced as she returned from the bathroom, her clothing folded into a neat pile in her hands.

The cotton draped over her, covering the tops of her thighs and flowing freely over her body. It shifted as she walked, her breasts bouncing and the points of her nipples pressing against the fabric in the most enticing way.

His mouth ran dry as she bent forward slightly, placing the pile of clothes down on the brightly patterned armchair, causing the fabric to ride up the backs of her thighs. Any farther and he’d get a peek at the cotton of her panties…if she was wearing any, that was.

Lust slammed into him and he shifted to try and hide the effect she had on him.