Wendy Etherington - What Happened in Vegas...

“You have proof of this theft?” she demanded.

“I have the original insurance claim.”

“Dated nineteen-forty…”

“Nine.”

“And the insurance agent can testify to that?”

“He’s dead.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“We weren’t close.”

“Still, it must have been a tragic loss for your family and your…” She paused and smirked. “Legacy.”

She was mistaken if she thought insulting him would get rid of him. “Are you doubting my word that the emerald was stolen from my family?”

She pursed her lips. “Mmm. Let me think….” Her gaze sliced to his. “Yes.”

He clenched his jaw.

Passion always brought passion—in either devotion or conflict. He could work with that. He’d made it work for him many times before. He’d hoped their past would bond them, if only a little. He’d hoped to flirt and tease his way into her good graces.

But he could be hard. Tough. Unrelenting.

His pulse hammering in his veins, he rounded the display cases and advanced toward her. He felt the weight of each step.

The closer he got, the wider her eyes became.

He’d always been charming with her. He’d been careful to be easygoing. That persona suited him.

But everything was different today.

Today, she had what he wanted. Today, she glared at him. Today, she doubted his word. Today, six years had passed since he’d touched her, since he’d felt the tension and need between them.

Today, despite all logic, distance and opposing views, he still wanted her.

As he drew closer, her body heat melded with his. The sensual perfume that was part her and part chemical reaction between them teased him. Invited him. The intimacies they’d shared flowed through him. Memories of her hot, silky skin wouldn’t let go, as if she’d physically grabbed him around his throat.

Well, actually, she’d grabbed him a bit lower.

And she had amazing hands.

“That emerald is mine,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse with suppressed desire.

“I don’t think so, Adventure Boy. It’s in my display case. It’s on my auction roster.”

“I’m not a boy.”

She cocked her head. “Leave it to a guy to dispute, not the facts, but the cheap attack on his manhood.” Drawing her finger down his chest, she smiled smugly. “You’ve softened over the years, Gideon. What a shame.”

As he grabbed her finger, he could actually feel his blood boiling. He’d tracked his family’s gem for more than a decade. He’d run down false leads. He’d bribed people. He’d failed and started again. He’d been subjected to ridicule and continually fought through the doubts of his family, friends and colleagues.

With the emerald finally within his reach, with his family’s honor at stake, he wasn’t compromising.

Even for the sensual abandon of the woman before him.

He squeezed her finger. “As I recall you liked me hard, so any softness must be a great disappointment.”

Her eyes darkened to smoke. Her lips parted.

So maybe the icy shell she’d built around her wasn’t so thick after all. Maybe she did remember the heat they’d shared. How long before he could loosen the buttons of her suit, before he could reveal that lush body she was trying so hard to hide?

He’d promised himself he’d be professional, that this was not the time for sex. He’d hoped that goal would last more than twenty minutes.

She smiled, but not with invitation. “If I had any intention of picking up where we left off six years ago, I might be disappointed.”

“I didn’t offer you anything.” Yet, anyway.

She smiled again, her eyes mocking. “Sure you did.”

“So we’re keeping things strictly professional?”

“This thing isn’t going to last more than ten minutes, so, yes, I’d say so.”

“You give me the emerald. I walk out of here. Okay, ten minutes sounds about right.”

“Not so fast.” She angled her head, looking amused. “You really think it’s yours.”

“I know it is.”

She tapped one finger on his chest, then scooted around him. “Prove it.”

He clenched his fists at his sides to keep from reaching for her. Or strangling her. Her amusement at his expense was infuriating. Why wasn’t she wound as tight as he was? Why did one touch, one sensual smile, have him hard and aching? The moment when she’d softened—an expression reminiscent of that weekend—had been way too short.

He wanted that connection back. He wanted her horizontal for hours on end.

But not more than you want the emerald, you idiot. Charming. Think charming. Get what you want, then worry about the rest.

“Let’s talk about it over dinner.”

“I have plans for dinner.”

“Then drinks.” He glanced at his watch. “At six. At Thai Bistro. It’s down the street.”

She frowned.

“You do still like Thai food?”

“What difference does it make? We’re just having drinks.”

“An excellent point.” He forced a smile. “So, we’re on?”

She extended her hand, clearly indicating she wanted him to leave the vault. “Sure. Can’t wait.”

Like spending time with him was torture. To keep his temper in check, he thought of his family’s legacy so closely within his grasp. It had actually been in his grasp a few minutes ago. That gem held answers to his past. He wasn’t letting it go. “Think of the professional contacts you could make with my family and their friends. Don’t you want to spend time with Sophia Graystone’s grandson?”

She pulled the door to the vault closed. The alarm reset automatically, emitting a series of beeps. “Not particularly, no.”

He’d have to see what he could do about changing her mind.

JACINDA SMOOTHED her hand down her hair as she approached the entrance of Thai Bistro. Her heart was pounding ridiculously, and she couldn’t get the image of Gideon’s inviting smile out of her mind. Nor the memory of his hot body, and the amazing things he could do with it.

He’d tempted her beyond her boundaries before. He’d made her forget her goals of earning money for school, of working her way up to a respectable profession and life. He’d dangled the possibility of a life without rules, without structure or—at least she thought at the time—security.

To learn he had all the security—aka dollars—he needed, and then some, was maddening. Infuriating. And, damn it, smart. The fact that he’d lied to an exotic dancer he’d picked up for a two-night stand in Vegas was certainly understandable.

The big questions for her were more profound. Would she have given up her big plans if she’d known about his bank account during those few crazy days? Would she have followed him into the sunset and happily been his arm candy?

Would she have compromised her goals for money?

The fact that she honestly didn’t know made her as edgy and irritable now as it had earlier that morning when Gideon had disclosed his family’s history.

Of course, she’d thoroughly checked out him and his story. After reluctantly confessing her personal history and present regarding Gideon—leaving out the claims about the emerald, since they were too bizarre to consider—she and Andrew had scoured the Internet, hoping beyond reason to find a hole in Gideon’s story, to find doubt that he was the grandson of the infamous Sophia Graystone.

Andrew, with all his high-society connections, had called a friend, who’d called a friend to get the scoop. His people had gleefully confirmed that the rebellious, not-quite-respectable, Indiana Jones–like Gideon Nash was a member of the Graystone dynasty.

Ugh.

Worse, later, when she was alone again she’d found published photos of Sophia wearing the gem that resembled the emerald currently sitting in the Callibro’s Auction House vault. Scheduled to be sold in six days. For millions of dollars.