Cat Schield - With Love From Las Vegas

Sebastian steadied her. “What’s wrong?”

She, Missy Ward, unassuming girl from Crusade, west Texas, was about to sleep with the gorgeous and oh-so-elusive Sebastian Case.

If the girls in the office could see her now.

“My heels are a little higher than I’m used to and your legs are longer than mine.” Missy tipped her head back so she could stare into his gray eyes. “However, I’m delighted you’re so eager to get me alone.”

His mouth tightened, but his gaze remained as impenetrable as reinforced steel. “That’s not why I want to get out of here.”

Four-inch heels couldn’t begin to eliminate his height advantage, but she doubted even if they stood eye to eye that his presence would be any less intimidating. A born leader, he took charge in every circumstance. The perfect head of a family owned-and-run business where his brothers were strong-willed and opinionated.

Missy admired how he kept tension from erupting between his brothers Max and Nathan.

Cool. Calm. Collected. Always one hundred percent in control no matter what the situation.

The exact opposite of how she felt at the moment.

“Really?” She slipped on a half smile. “Because I was hoping you were planning on giving me my money’s worth.”

“Let’s cash you out.” Sebastian collected her winnings from her cupped hands and jerked his head toward the cashier. “Then we’ll go upstairs and discuss this crazy wager of yours.”

Not fair, damn it. She’d won him fair and square.

“We wouldn’t be discussing it if you won,” she grumbled as he turned away. She trailed after him. His powerful stride covered ground faster than she could in her heels. By the time she arrived at the cashier, she was out of breath. “You won’t talk me out of it. In fact, the only topic up for discussion is what time you get to put your clothes back on tomorrow morning.”

The woman behind the bars stopped counting out bills. She stared from Sebastian to Missy and back again before starting over.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why? No one cares.” No one except him. “Unless, of course, you’re ashamed of being seen with me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

The look he leveled on her would have reduced every vice president at Case Consolidated Holdings to quivering idiots. Missy had seen it before. She straightened her spine and braced herself against his annoyance.

As the cashier placed ten thousand dollars in front of them, Missy counted along. By the time the woman had lined up the bills on the counter, Missy’s lightheadedness had returned. She’d won five thousand dollars. And a big hunky millionaire. She wasn’t sure which one shocked her more.

Stuffing the bills into her purse, she tugged at Sebastian’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

She was glad to have him at her side as they found the elevators that would take them to the suite of rooms they shared. Besides having gotten lost twice today already, the wad of cash in her purse made her feel as if she had a target painted on her back. Knowing security was a scream away reassured her somewhat, but Sebastian’s tall form guarding her body made her feel completely safe.

As the elevator rose to the fifteenth floor, Missy wasn’t sure if it was Sebastian’s ongoing disapproval that caused the panicky flutters in her stomach or the thought that within the next ten minutes she was going to be naked in his arms.

“You look nervous,” he remarked smoothly as he slid the keycard out of his pocket.

“Nervous?” She released a wild cackle, loosening the death grip on her beaded clutch. Letting him believe she wasn’t one hundred percent ready to make love would give him ammunition to shoot holes in her decision to collect on the bet. She cleared her throat. “Do I have a reason to be?”

A long-suffering sigh spilled from Sebastian. “You are obviously not the sort of girl who sleeps with a man once and walks away. Why don’t I escort you back to your room and we can call it a night?”

“Because if you’d won, you’d collect, and that’s what I’m going to do.” She plucked the keycard from his hand and unlocked the door.

Sebastian’s suite was three times the size of her one-bedroom condo back home and way better decorated. Latte-colored walls, carpet and furniture, espresso drapes and accents gave the room a sophisticated feel. Bold, modern paintings added slashes of color during the day. At night the Vegas strip glittered through the large west-facing windows. The suite boasted three separate conversation areas and a conference room that seated ten.

While Sebastian strode around the room turning on lights as he went, she crossed to the wet bar. “I had them put a bottle of champagne in your fridge.”

“Did you plan for us to drink it together?”

She jumped as he appeared beside her without warning. The carpet had muffled his steps. Eyes hard, he awaited her answer.

“It’s my thirtieth birthday.” Two champagne flutes sat beside the ice bucket on the bar. “I wanted to celebrate. I thought that maybe you’d have a drink with me. I don’t know anyone else in Las Vegas.”

“Did you order the champagne before or after you decided to resign?”

“Before.” She’d been feeling blue this morning. Tim’s reason for dumping her had opened a deep wound in her psyche. Stepping on to the plane, she’d felt like an ugly frumpy mess. Sebastian had treated her like a dictation machine the whole flight. She was invisible. Unremarkable. So when they’d arrived at the hotel, she’d bought a new dress, gotten her hair cut and styled, and realized she wasn’t dull after all. “Can you open this?”

He took the champagne bottle and set it aside. “If you need liquid courage to go through with this, maybe we should forget the whole wager.”

“No.” She cursed her breathless tone. “It’s my birthday. I want to celebrate.”

She reached past him for the bottle, determined to open it herself. Shock waves buffeted her as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

His heat pounded against her like a rogue wave, catching her off balance. She grabbed at his forearms and hard muscle flexed beneath her touch.

He lowered his lips to the very corner of her mouth. Skin tingling at the grazing contact, she shifted her head, but his lips were already gone. She sighed in dismay as he drifted kisses along her cheek.

“You smell like sweetness and sin,” he murmured, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. “How do you manage it?”

Relieved to know he wasn’t completely immune to her, she said. “New perfume. It’s called Sweetness and Sin.”

“Remind me to buy you a case for Christmas.”

His hands cupped her head, holding her poised between close-enough-to-kiss and his-lips-weren’t-going-anywhere-near-hers. Despite the anticipation humming through her body like a high-voltage power line, anxiety was beginning to seep in.

Why was he stalling?

Had she imagined the interest in his eyes? What if he didn’t find her attractive after all?

Maybe if she gave him a little reminder why they were here, he’d remember his manners and make love to her.

“Sebastian,” she began, her tone a low warning.

“Yes, Missy?”

In one long caress, he eased his hands down her spine to her hips and back up again. Her muscles melted against his hard body. As nice as it was being this close to him, proximity to so much raw male power was causing a dramatic spike in her sexual frustration.

“We had a deal.”

“Deals are made to be broken.”

“I won you fair and square,” she said, determination punctuating each word. “So, quit stalling and pay up.”

Frustrating woman.

Yet amusement dominated annoyance at his assistant’s command. How had he never noticed her bossy streak before? “Where would you like me to start?”