Their Million-Dollar Night (6 page)

M
ax spent the rest of the afternoon in the casino. Hayden and Deacon showed up during one of his winning hands and then enticed him to play with them. Deacon Prescott was one of Max's oldest friends. A hell-raiser who'd grown up on Vegas's mean streets and worked hard to make himself into the man he was today. The owner of the Golden Dream Casino was every inch the family man and casino owner. Since they were two of his oldest friends, they played a little dirty, deliberately distracting each other. It was fun, and Max relaxed around the men for the first time since Hayden's marriage.

He didn't analyze it too closely and refused to answer any of Deacon's and Hayden's prying questions about Roxy. He took great pleasure in beating them both and walking away from the table with his friends' money in his pockets.

But as he fastened his tie in a classic Windsor knot, staring at himself in the mirror, he realized that he was doing what he always did. Trying to fix Roxy's life.

Since he'd been eight years old he'd always followed that pattern. As an adult he'd realized that part of the problem was his mother's demand for perfection. She wasn't an uncaring woman; she just had very high standards. And Max was very much her son. But he was also his father's. And if he'd learned perfection at his mother's knee, then he'd learned compassion at his father's—and also how to move on.

The course of his life had been set when he'd befriended Hayden at boarding school. When the two boys had met, they hadn't hit it off at all. Hayden, in fact, hadn't gotten on that well with anyone, spending all his time alone until one night Max had overheard a conversation between Hayden and Hayden's father. The conversation reminded Max of the many he'd had with his mother. And he'd seen that the arrogant boy who no one had liked was really a lot like himself.

Max blinked. Damn. He was still trying to fix people. Hayden had called him on it more than
once, but Max couldn't change. He knew that much about himself.

But fixing Roxy in this instance could help him with business. There was no doubt that he wanted her, but he was thinking of her in terms of permanency, and he'd never thought of any woman that way before. Was it simply the effect of having his pals settle down? Did he want a wife because it would make his negotiations easier? Or did he want Roxy tied to him because of emotions he'd rather not acknowledge?

When he arrived in the lobby Roxy was waiting with the two friends he'd seen her talking to the day before. As soon as she spotted him, she smiled and held up her hand, telling him she'd be right over.

He didn't wait for her to come to him. It was simply a power thing, but he didn't want to lose control for a minute. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him.

“Hello, Blondie.”

“Max,” she said. “These are my friends, Tawny Patterson and Glenda MacIntosh. Tawny and Glenda, this is Max Williams.”

Max shook hands with both women, who eyed him speculatively. “It's a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Right back at ya,” Tawny said, winking at Roxy. “We've got to be going. We'll talk to you later.”

Roxy groaned as her friends walked off. “They are
not going to be happy until they've pumped me for information on you.”

“What will you tell them?” he asked, leading her toward the escalator to the shopping and dining level. The resort was crowded. Now that night had fallen the casino was starting to really come alive.

Max breathed in the sights and the sounds. The feel of the woman in his arms and the sound of her soft voice enhanced the night.

“I'll tell them…I'm not sure, Max. I think I want to keep what I'm feeling for you a secret.”

Not, he suspected, just from her friends, but also from him. She was such a blend of blatant sexuality and shyness. It turned him on to watch her go from confident woman to reserved, because he knew that when he touched her, he could make her lose her inhibitions.

“What are you feeling?” he asked, keeping his hand at the small of her back. Her sundress had a deep V in both the front and back.

He stroked his finger along the fabric and watched her body react. Her skin flushed a little and then goose bumps spread up over her shoulders.

“Lust,” she said.

“How could you be around me and not experience that?” he said without blinking an eye.

“What an ego you have.”

She leaned back into his touch as if she couldn't get enough of his hands on her, feeding his ego in a
way that no woman had done in a long time. She tipped her head to the side when he spoke, really listening to his words. And she showed him the real woman behind that perfect face and knockout body. The real woman, with all her faults and fears. That was a bigger turn-on than she could ever realize.

“Hey, you're the one who brought up lust. The way I feel around you, it would be impossible to deny our attraction.”

“Impossible?” she said, blinking at him.

“Oh, yeah. You're not going to try it, are you?”

“How can I argue with a crazy man?”

He laughed and realized that he was more relaxed here with her than he'd been at the poker table. That the game which had always been his release valve wasn't working the way it was supposed to.

When they reached the dining level, she paused and glanced at the row of restaurants that would impress the most jaded gourmet. Max was glad that the all-you-can-eat lobster buffets of the past were gone. Now, five-star restaurants and celebrity chefs were the norm in Las Vegas.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Dinner, remember? Is that lust thing messing with your mind?”

“Yeah, like that'd ever happen. I meant, where are we going for dinner?”

“I promise you, before our night is over I will
make sure you are totally out of your mind with lust,” he said, lifting her hand to his mouth and brushing a kiss along the back of it.

 

Their dinner was a five-course affair at a themed casino restaurant—the Chimera's Applewood Vineyard of Sonoma—the vineyard sponsored the restaurant and they'd sampled a different wine with every course. She felt very mellow and relaxed as Max led her out of the restaurant and up one more level to one of the smaller clubs on the entertainment level.

While they waited outside for the doors to open, she saw the line to get into the main club revue.
Her
show. Not her show anymore. She'd left that behind…at least for now.

“Is that where you used to work?”

“Uh-huh.” She felt butterflies in her stomach as she recalled how it felt each night to wait backstage for the house doors to open. She remembered how they'd all tease and laugh to hide their nerves, but even the fact that they went out on stage every night hadn't dulled the magic that dancing and performing had always held for her.

“Roxy?”

She realized he'd spoken, said something. She pulled her gaze from the crowd of people and looked into his gray eyes. He was watching her with that
intense look that was half lust and half something she couldn't read.

“I'm sorry. I haven't been up here since the…accident.” She flushed as she realized she'd mentioned something relating to her injuries.

“Do you want to go into the show? Would that help?”

“No. I'd rather go into the jazz club.”

The doors to their club opened and people slowly filed in. Max and Roxy waited until the crowd had lessened, and then approached the ticket taker. Max handed over their tickets, and they were seated at an intimate table close to the stage.

Her hands were shaking and she didn't understand why. She looked up at Max, a sense of panic closing in on her. “Talk to me, please. I need some kind of distraction.”

“About what?”

“Your job. Are you on vacation?”

“No, I'm here to take a break from some tense negotiations.”

“For what? I don't even know what you do.”

“I run an international company. We're trying to merge a travel agency into our conglomerate. But the owner of the travel agency isn't too sure he wants a man like me at the helm.”

“A man like you?”

“A bachelor. They are very family-focused, and
Harron wants to be assured that I won't let that focus slip.”

“You don't strike me as a family man,” she said, carefully.

“I guess I'm really not. But that doesn't mean I can't see the value in being one.”

She tipped her head to the side. “I've never had a family. Just the girls in the show.”

“Will you be able to dance again?”

She shook her head. “Not at the same level, and I'm not one of those people who will settle for second best.”

He scooted his chair closer to hers and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Leaning in close, he whispered directly into her ear.

“Are you wearing a bra?”

She glanced up at him, startled. “I'm a 36DD, what do you think?”

He ran his finger down the V at the front of her dress to the cleavage revealed there. He slipped his finger under the material. She shivered from his touch. His finger was big and warm. Gently caressing her. Moving slowly lower, his finger encountered the lace edge of her demi-cup bra before brushing her areola.

“Ah, yes, you are.”

Her nipple had hardened at his first touch. They were secluded close to the stage in an alcove where no one could see them. But the fact that they were in a public place heightened her excitement.

He drew the tip of his finger lazily back and forth across her nipple. With his free hand he stroked her neck, urging her to tip her head back onto his shoulder. She did, and he lowered his mouth to hers.

His tongue teased hers before dipping deeper, thrusting into her mouth in time to his finger strokes across her breast. She squeezed her thighs together as she felt an answering pull in her center.

He lifted his mouth from hers. “Are you wearing panties?”

“A thong,” she said, feeling dazed by the sensuality he wove so easily around her.

“Take it off.”

She'd never done anything like this before. And it made her feel exciting and daring. “I'm not—

“Please.”

No other word would have made her react, but that one did. There was a fire in his eyes that answered the one he'd started in her body. She'd expected him to remove his hand, but he kept stroking her breast and nipple as she lowered her hands to her lap.

The table was draped with a cloth that fell to the floor, so there was no way anyone could see her. She attempted to glance around, but Max stopped her with his hand on her chin.

“No one is looking. There's just you and I and the music. No past or present. But it's up to you…do you want to do this?”

She swallowed hard, staring into his eyes. She nodded. Speaking would break the spell he'd cast around her.

“Lift your dress to your waist.”

She did as he asked, pulling the fabric up slowly. His eyes were on hers the entire time. And what she saw in them egged her on. Made her want to be the sexy woman he thought she was. The sexy woman she'd known she was before her attack.

“Is your skirt up?”

“Yes.”

He glanced down and his hand tightened on her breast. He breathed a little more heavily, lowering his hand to her thigh. She glanced down as his hand moving higher, slowly, toward the apex of her legs.

“May I touch you?” he asked, again directly in her ear.”

She nodded again. He slipped his hand into her thong, his blunt fingers caressing her, slipping lower to find her wet and ready for him.

She inhaled sharply as he slipped one finger into her while at the same time scraping his fingernail over her nipple. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from crying out. Just then the house lights dimmed even further and the jazz combo took the stage.

The tempo of the music was mellow and smooth. But the tempo in her body raged out of control—like a Stevie Ray Vaughan guitar riff that went on forever.

His mouth found hers as he teased her body, driving her closer and closer to a climax. A second finger slipped inside her, driving deeper. He continued to play with her nipple and his tongue matched the thrusts of his fingers. She gripped his thigh with one hand then slipped it between his legs, finding him hard. She stroked him in time with his stroking of her body. Her fingers bit into his thigh as he pressed his thumb to the nub at her center and drove her over the precipice to orgasm.

She felt him lower her skirt over her thighs and he pulled his hand from her breast with one last caress. His erection still strained against his zipper, but when she tried to open his pants and bring him some relief, he stopped her.

 

During the second set, couples left their tables for the small dance floor. Max watched Roxy watching them, a look of envy flitting briefly across her face.

“Let's dance,” he said.

She hesitated. “I'm…”

“Scared? I promise not to step on your feet.”

“Not of that. You're poetry in motion.”

He arched one eyebrow at her. “No one has ever said that before.”

“Well, I'm sure they've thought it. You move like a graceful predator.”

“A predator?”

“Not that you're looking for the kill. You're just very confident, very sure of yourself and very aware of where everyone else is.”

Since he knew that he was always aware of others, he wasn't surprised to hear her description, but he was surprised that she'd noticed. She seemed to see more of him than others did.

“I want to hold you in my arms, Blondie. I want your luscious body against mine, teasing us both. I'll catch you if you stumble. Trust me?”

She licked her lips. “Okay.”

Max escorted Roxy to the floor and held her in his arms. Something he'd been craving since…he realized that he had no idea when the urge had begun, only that he
needed
her in his arms.