Page 78 of Sin City Lights

The look Hughes gave her as he nodded and stepped aside said he believed the opposite.

Hughes raked a hand through his ginger hair.“Have a good rest of the night, sir. Apologies again.”

“No problem.”

With one curt nod, Hughes backed away, leaving Eve standing there looking like the million bucks everyone who came to Vegas hoped to win.

Her dress was royal purple. So were her nails, he observed, as they clutched a little silver purse. His heart kicked into high gear instantly, but his body remained slumped, arms hanging loosely over the sides of his chair.

His head felt like a bass drum at Homecoming.

The door closed quietly behind her. Her heels clicked as she swiftly advanced across his mahogany hardwood floor. He noted the same silver sandals she had worn in the Caymans.

He also noted she was pissed.

She halted at his side. Two more clicks of those shoes, and there she was, standing in front of his chair, killer legs in a wide stance, one hand on her hip.

“You’re drunk,” she stated.

He managed a crooked smile.“Not drunk enough. Getting there, though.”

She stared down at him for a couple of seconds, then tossed her hair, pitching her purse on the black leather sofa beside his chair.

“If you were going to spend this evening with a bottle instead of me, I would at least have appreciated a cancellation.”

His brow furrowed. What was she doing here on a weekday?

He peered up at her.“It’s Friday.”

“It is.”

“And?”

She pursed her pretty lips. Slowly, she shook her head.“It’s Dinner Friday, Adam.”

He blinked. His foggy brain was slow to process, but as he fought to access information, she saved him the trouble.

“One Friday a month. Remember?”

Shit.

She was right. The contract allowed him to take her to one fancy dinner on the last Friday of each month.

“Today was that Friday,” he muttered.

“Today was that Friday,” she repeated.

He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose.“8:30. Delilah, at the Wynn.” He’d called in a favor to get that reservation. It was nearly impossible to score one, even months out.

“That’s right. I’ll have you know that their slip of the tongue martinis are to die for.”

His stomach turned.“You waited at the bar?”

A curt nod.“Good thing I’m used to fending off horny men.”

He swallowed hard, then looked her squarely in the eye.“I’m sorry. No excuses.”

That seemed to mollify her. She nodded, eyes searching his face for a long moment. Gradually, he saw their expression soften, then felt her gaze roam critically over him.

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