Cat Schield - With Love From Las Vegas

Her red hair was a tangled mess. Her cheek color high. The neckline of Sebastian’s shirt gaped, baring more than a little cleavage. She leaned forward to investigate the faint bruise on her neck put there by her boss. Branded. She stepped back and examined the full picture. Bare legs, mussed hair, well-kissed mouth. Son of a gun, she looked like she’d been up having sex all night.

No wonder Brandon had shot his son a knowing grin.

No wonder Lucas Smythe had scanned her up and down.

No wonder Sebastian appeared as if he’d very much like to throttle her.

He’d been in negotiations with the conservative business owner for four months over the purchase of Smythe Industries. Would Lucas Smythe reconsider selling his family-owned business after finding her almost naked in Sebastian’s suite? Missy prayed that wouldn’t happen. If her actions last night had blown the deal, Sebastian would never forgive her.

Caught in the undertow of repercussions, she doubled over, unable to breathe. What had she done?

Nothing any other red-blooded American girl wouldn’t have.

Slowly, her lungs began to work again.

And really, what had she done? She’d slept with a man she’d known for four years. Big deal. She’d already quit working for him. No line had been crossed. It had been one night. Casual, maybe not forgettable, but certainly not life-changing. Sebastian wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with her. And she didn’t want to set herself up for heartbreak thinking she could fit into his world of money and social status.

For her, it had been rebound sex, pure and simple. After Tim’s rejection, she’d needed a man to demonstrate that she was an attractive, desirable woman. Sebastian had done an admirable job. Her memories would keep her smiling for a long time to come.

Straightening, she stepped into the shower, taking her time beneath the spray. The idea of returning to the suite to face Sebastian’s wrath lacked appeal. He needed some time to cool down. About a week might do it.

She’d go shopping. After her win last night, she had five thousand dollars burning a hole in her purse. The black dress had been her only new purchase yesterday. Sebastian and her father would counsel her to squirrel the money away. The pre-Las Vegas part of her agreed with their logic. Especially now that she’d quit her job. But her new future required a new attitude, and nothing boosted a woman’s confidence like looking fabulous.

She stepped out of the shower, dried her hair, and then set about taming the natural wave with a straight iron. Humming her mother’s favorite gospel song, Missy sorted through her luggage for something to wear. She’d packed nothing but boring business wear. Pantsuits in black and navy. Dress pants and sweater sets for sightseeing and business dinners.

Nothing sexy or eye-catching for her.

Tim wouldn’t have approved of last night’s dress. He was as conservative as her father. But Tim wasn’t in her life anymore. He’d lost any right to an opinion on her wardrobe the second he’d met his “soul mate” and decided to marry her instead of Missy.

Piece by piece, she consigned her wardrobe to the waste-basket beneath the desk. The act of emptying her suitcase was no less cathartic than quitting her job or wagering five thousand dollars on one spin of the roulette wheel. She’d become too complacent in her life. No wonder Tim had found somebody new.

A firm knock sounded on the door that connected her room to the suite. Startled by the sudden noise, Missy answered it without considering her attire. Sebastian stood before her, holding her purse.

“Are your father and Lucas Smythe gone?” she asked.

“Were you hoping to offer them an encore?” His gaze burned hot enough to torch the towel she’d wrapped around her body.

An encore? As if she’d planned for his father and business associate to catch her half-dressed. Whatever had transpired after she’d left had turned his mood from bad to foul.

She glared at him. “Of course not. What is your dad doing in Las Vegas?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Did you ask?”

Sebastian communicated more with one raised eyebrow than most men could with a ten-minute rant. “He claims he’s here to help with the leadership summit.”

“But you don’t believe him?”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t happy to see him in Lucas Smythe’s company.”

Few employees at Case Consolidated Holdings would know the vast chasm that existed between Sebastian and his father when it came to business strategy. Brandon liked to take risks and chase profits, often losing huge amounts of money in the process. Sebastian and Max preferred to use more structured methods when it came to growing Case Consolidated Holdings. Acquiring Lucas Smythe’s company was a perfect example of where they differed.

The two brothers liked the conservatively run company and the way the acquisition would help diversify their mix of product offerings. Brandon wanted to spend their investment capital on something that might offer more growth potential, and he had an ally in his youngest son, Nathan. Problem was, to get to the big gains, it was often necessary to risk big losses.

“Do you think he wants to sabotage the deal with Smythe?”

“He hasn’t had one good thing to say about the purchase. His showing up here means I have to keep an eye on him.”

“What did you tell them about us?”

“Us?” he echoed softly, the warning hiss of a cobra. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

“Why not?”

“It’s none of their business.”

“But they’re bound to wonder. The contracts aren’t yet signed. What if Lucas decides not to sell you his company? You have to make some excuse why I was in your suite, wearing just your shirt.”

“Like what?”

“You could have told him I’d gotten something on my dress and needed to rinse it out.”

“That might have worked if you didn’t look like a woman who’s been thoroughly made love to.”

She tingled all over, reacting not to his sarcastic tone, but to his choice of words. And his sizzling gaze. Her argument went numb.

“And the fact that we’re sharing the suite.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are we sharing the suite, by the way?”

“We’re not sharing the suite. My room adjoins yours. The door between us has a lock.” That last bit sounded somewhat foolish. As if she didn’t trust him. As if he couldn’t persuade her to let him in. “You could have told them that I got drunk and quit. That I came on to you because I’ve had a thing for you for years.”

His gaze rested heavily on her, weakening her knees.

“No.”

“Don’t be a …” She bit her lip before the rest of that sentence came out. Had she almost called the imposing Sebastian Case a fool? “What about the deal? Are you still going forward with the purchase of his company?”

“I don’t know.”

Her breath caught. She scrutinized Sebastian’s impassive features, searching for anger, frustration, disappointment, but she saw nothing.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“Just that.” His lashes lowered, giving him a sleepy look until you noticed the intensity of his watchful gray eyes.

“Yesterday, he was ready to sign the contract once one or two points were ironed out.”

“Some things have come up since then.”

“Like him thinking you make a habit out of seducing your employees?” Missy couldn’t believe how angry she was at the moment. Angry with herself for lingering in Sebastian’s suite because of some silly romantic hope that maybe last night had been the start of something. Angry with his father for showing up this morning with Lucas Smythe. But most of all, angry with Sebastian for his stubborn refusal to make explanations. “You need to tell him the truth. And if you don’t, I will.”