The Seduction of Kinley Foster (What Happens in Vegas) (2 page)

Chapter Two

The flight from Kansas City, Missouri to Las Vegas,
Nevada
took less than three hours. By the time the wheels touched solid ground, Kinley knew enough about Passion Parties, Inc. to be a representative.

They sold sex toys. Mostly at house parties. But when the occasion presented itself, they sold them on chartered planes heading to Vegas. Drinking often involved.

“Good luck with your agent pitch,” Charlie said, before stepping into the aisle in front of her husband to exit the plane. “
And don
’
t stress.
”

“I wish I could tell you I won’t. But I will.” Kinley stuffed her newly purchased sex toys into her purse. Along with the We-Vibe 4, a dandy little vibrator with a remote control, she also possessed a toy called the Lipstick Vibe. A vibrator disguised as a tube of lipstick. Plus, she’d won a couple of mystery gifts that she’d yet to open.

Gadgets for today’s woman…add a man to the mix—optional.

On the ground, an attendant told her how to find baggage claim.

She squeezed into the crowd and watched for her hot pink suitcase. With its hand-painted tropical flowers, spotting her case was the easiest part of her day. She leaned forward and grabbed for the handle.

“Here, let me,” a man said from behind her.

Kinley took a step back and bumped into a solid form. For an airport luggage boy, he smelled really nice. Sort of like a spring thunderstorm. “Sorry,” she mumbled, twisting and sliding out of the gazillions of bodies. How nice of someone to grab her bag for her. She fumbled in her pocket for a dollar and found a five.

“Thank you,” she said, handing him the money, while reaching for her suitcase.

He didn’t let go of the handle…or take her money.

Wasn’t five enough in Vegas? “I’m not giving you more money.” She tugged on her suitcase.

He tugged back.

What the hell?
She looked up and stared him in the eyes.

Incredible cornflower blue eyes stared back at her.

She blinked. Scowled. Refused to believe what she saw. She’d only ever known two guys with eyes that shade of blue and one of them was on the travel pillow hooked around her neck. The other—a jackass.

Him.

The moment she allowed the thought to take root, it must have shown on her face, because he gave her a slow, you-got-it-babe grin.

Her jaws clenched. Sonofabitch. It couldn’t be.
Him
.

She stepped into his space. The toes of her purple Chucks touched the toes of his fancy-ass dress shoes. She reached up, way up, and fingered the lock of thick dark hair falling over his forehead.

He jutted his chin as if daring her to look.

She’d never been one to back down from a dare. She lifted the hair. “Damn.” There it was. Still. The last piece of evidence to know her eyes weren’t playing a trick on her. She stepped back. “I thought by now you’d be dead.” Killed by a jealous husband or fiancé.

He looked the same but different. Ten years ago he had been crazy cute and sizzling sexy, but now, dressed in a tailored business suit cut to hug his broad shoulders and long legs, his face defined with new character lines, he was an advertisement for power. Rugged. A man’s man.

A man who’d taught her not to trust.

“And in my mind, you’re always buck-toothed and adorably chubby.” His tone was serious. Not teasing. Freaking serious.

Kinley huffed.
“I haven’t been buck-toothed since I was twelve, and you know it.” Chubby was in the eye of the beholder.

His eyes did a slow survey of her.

She stood rigid. Tried to imagine herself through his eyes. Crazy, curly brown hair pulled back in an I-don’t-care messy bun. A sensible sweater for warmth. Jeans too tight from too many late night glasses of wine. Shoes made for comfort—not seduction.

Finally, his gaze travelled back up to meet hers.

Did he like what he saw? “Well?” The one word question sprung out of her mouth despite her brain telling it not to.

The last day they’d seen one another, she’d been a sassy sixteen, and he’d been an insufferable twenty-two. She’d wanted to give him her virginity. He’d wanted nothing to do with her. Then, before she could escape his apartment, her brother’s fiancée walked naked out of his bedroom carrying an array of condoms and wearing an amused smile.

What in the hell was Ian Thompson doing in Vegas?

Ian touched her scar
and grimaced
. “The only thing that hasn’t changed about you is your sass.” He turned and walked toward the exit with her suitcase. “Come on.” The comment was said in a casual tone. As if they were friends.

The movement and demand shattered her this-can’t-be-real state of mind. “Hey, stop.” She grabbed her carry-on and followed. Her brother may have accepted Ian’s explanation for that scene in the apartment, but not her. No sir.

Ian’s stride was long, and she had to hustle to catch him. “I said stop,” she shouted, making people stare. What was it with trust-fund babies that made them think they could always do what they wanted?

He was hailing a cab when she caught up with him. At six foot four, he looked ridiculous standing on the sidewalk with her hot pink suitcase.

“Are you kidnapping my suitcase for a reason?” She dropped her carry-on on his feet. “Or is the rumor true that you came out of the closet, and now your feminine side wants my girly luggage for yourself?”

She’d never believed the rumor about her old high school’s star quarterback. Mostly because she started it.

But she wasn’t above needling the jerk. He probably still believed he was every girl’s lose-your-virginity-to dream man.

His lips twitched. “I told your brother I’d make sure you made it to the hotel, get you settled into your room, and keep an eye on you while you’re at the conference.”

She sucked in a breath of outrage. “
What
?” Her heartbeat shattered its old mad-to-furious acceleration record. A record set ten years ago in
his
apartment.
Ass
. “When?” A desire to knock Ian and her brother’s heads together and then push them into a lane of fast-moving semi-truck traffic swept through her. “How?” Why her brother stayed in touch with Ian after he’d been the cause of his marriage never taking place was beyond her comprehension. The guy deserved to be elbowed into a snake pit, not forgiven.

Kinley pulled out her phone. If what Ian was saying was true, she was going to—

“Who are you calling?” Ian asked, giving her a lazy, seductive look.

The words he spoke barely registered. Probably because the way they sounded coming out of his mouth short-circuited her brain and super-charged her girly-parts.

His deep rumbly voice left her feeling naughty. Like scandal and sin were dancing on her soul.

Confused with her body’s betrayal, she glowered. “None of your business.”

“Calling your brother?”

She shrugged. Maybe she was calling her boyfriend. He didn’t know she didn’t have one. Unless her brother told him. “Maybe?”

Disappointment darkened his eyes. “I see you’
re still a snitch.
” He handed the suitcase to the driver, who stored it in the trunk, and opened the passenger door.

Her determination wavered. Damn him. Why should he be disappointed in her? “Whatever.” He was the bad guy. Not her. She dropped her phone in her purse.

“Thank you,” he said, in a voice that sounded sincere.

She rolled her eyes, not caring that the gesture was childish.

He motioned toward the open door to the backseat. “After you.”

Halfway in, she felt the sharp sting of his hand on her ass.

She inhaled sharply, scrambled the rest of the way in, and turned on him. “How dare you. You can’t just slap a woman’s ass. Especially one who despises you. What the hell—”

The sound of his laughter cut off her tirade, and she grimaced. Damn it. She’d reacted exactly the way he wanted. Just like when he used to pull her ponytail and she’d yelp.

Growing up, he’d been a master at riling her emotions. Not anymore. She was a grown woman, and her buttons were no longer so easily pushed.

He stuck his head in, an amused glint in his smug eyes. “You’ll find I dare a lot. And the swat was for insinuating I’m gay. And so what if I was?” He slid in beside her, scooting much closer than necessary. His shoulder touched her arm; his presence invaded her space.

Grown up Kinley resisted the urge to thump him. Besides, if she did, the dramatic action would be more for show. And she prided herself on not being a drama queen.

Truth was, she was semi-turned on by the alpha-male ass-slap.

It wasn’t because it was Ian that she was feeling aroused. Surely, it was because she’d done a ton of research on spanking in relationships for her current manuscript. And quite possibly the two chocolate martinis she’d drained on the plane were to blame. And…or…the sex toys burning a hole in her purse, saying,
hurry, get to the hotel and try me out
.

Realizing she was sitting in the middle of the seat, she scooted toward the window, away from him so they weren’t touching. Even across the seat, his presence affected her. She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Why would my brother ask you to keep an eye on me when he knows damn well I can’t stand you?”

God, I can’t believe I’m in a cab with Ian Thompson. After all these years.

Ian stretched one arm out along the back of the seat. His fingers touched her shoulder. “Are you sure about that? According to him you ask about me all of the time.”

She knocked his hand away. “I do not. He didn’t say that.” She might occasionally mention him, but it was always in a what-has-the-asshole-been-doing-lately way. To say her brother was too easy to forgive was like saying water is wet. Or love is a myth. Both true, but no way would her brother ask Ian to keep an eye on her. No way would he do that to her. Family loyalty trumps all other loyalty.

The driver got in the yellow taxi. “Where to?”

“The Masquerade Hotel and Casino,” Ian said, before Kinley could reply.

“How do you know which hotel?” Could he see the thump of her heart against her chest? Hear the underlying emotions in her voice? Crud. Why wasn’t she better at playing it cool?

“Your brother. It was nice to hear from him. I’
m afraid
we
’re guilty of letting life get in the way of our friendship.” He once again rested his arm along the back of the seat.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Don’t you mean your dick got in the way of your friendship?”

His lips tightened and then quickly relaxed. “You’re not ever going to let that go, are you?”

“I can’t imagine why I would.” According to her brother, Ian never gave him a reason as to why his fiancée came out of his bedroom naked. Just played the trust-your-best-friend card, and her brother allowed it.

Who gives that kind of trust so freely? Not her. Not then. Not now. If she ever had to choose between her gut and her vision, she was going with what she saw. Eyes don’t lie. Guts, on the other hand, tend to be in cahoots with one’s emotions.

“Asking you to keep an eye on me is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all day. And trust me, I’ve heard some bizarre things today.” Kinley caught an image of herself in the driver’s rearview mirror and realized she still had her travel pillow around her neck. She yanked it off.

“And yet it’
s true.
” He slashed an eyebrow. One of his signature moves. A move that used to turn her knees wobbly. A move that prompted her to start reading romances at the age of twelve, hoping they’d teach her how to get him to slash that move on her.

He never did.

And, my god, after
sooo
many years, she shouldn’t even remember that signature move let alone react to the sight of a simple raised brow. She pulled her phone out of her purse. “I told my brother I’d call and tell him I landed safely.”

“I called him when your plane landed. He knows you’re safe.”

Kinley frowned and once again put her phone away. She stared out the window. “Do you live in Vegas?” The guy’s social media presence was all protected from casual observers. And he had a picture of his yacht as his avatar. The only thing she knew about him were the bits and pieces she slyly pulled out of her brother.

“New York.”

She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t turn to make eye contact. “Please tell me you didn’t drop everything and fly to Vegas just to take care of me.”

He chuckled, a sound of condescension. A sound she’d heard before. And, damn it, these memories shouldn’t be so clear. It was like she’d rewound the last decade and could recall every frickin’ detail about him. Ugh. “If I had, getting to see grown-up Kinley Foster would have been worth the effort.”

“Gag.” She turned to see his reaction to her use of the old go-to expression she used to say whenever he said something she thought was disgusting. Did he miss the way they used to spar with one another?

“You’ve grown-up quite nicely, little Kinley. I almost didn’t recognize you. Good thing your brother told me about your dreadful suitcase.”

She tried not to look pleased. A near compliment. From Ian. The guy she fell in love with at the age of eight when he agreed to take her for a sled ride down the monster hill. Didn’t matter that they’d crashed. Or that they’d ended up with scars on their foreheads. Her love had been freely given that day, because he’d told her “yes” when everyone else told her “no.” And then the love blossomed when he dried her tears and told her that when two people have matching scars, they have magic powers. “Well, you’re even uglier than you used to be.”

He placed a hand across his heart. “That hurts. When did your tongue get so clever?”

“Bite me.”

He reached out and touched her hair. Twirled a strand between his fingers. “What if one bite isn’t enough? What if I want a five-course meal of bites?”