Page 25 of Nothing Stays in Vegas

He kept coming and Lara decided retreat wasn’t the right approach. She wasn’t interested in a revolting game of cat and mouse with this bozo. Standing her ground she stopped. “I’m serious—”

“So am I.” His smile was more like a sneer. “I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

“So you’ve said, only I’m seeing you in the same light. There’s nothing between us.”

“Mmm, nothing between us sounds like a good time. Besides you gave Cal a ride.” Undaunted, Keith snaked out his hand toward Lara’s chest. Rage slamming to the surface, she swatted it away and leaned the back of her heel into the top of his shoe with just enough pressure to tell him it could hurt, bad.

“Back off, Keith. Whatever you’re thinking about me is off base. It’s never going to happen between us and I’m in no mind for your bull.”

Jerking his foot back, he glared at her. “Fuck, Lara. No need to be such a bitch about it—”

“Screw off, Keith.” She pushed past him, furious. With a scathing glare over her shoulder, she warned him. “Dette and I have more in common than you think when it comes to temper. Don’t come near me again or you’ll see exactly what a bitch I can be.”

Chapter Eleven

He’d waited for hours, but she hadn’t showed. At one point, Dette returned, flashing smiles and commands, but Lara wasn’t with her. He watched the lessons progress, stood in as Lady Sasha’s partner for a number of dances and even endured her blatant propositions with a smile. But it was all to pass the time until Lara was in his arms and he could drag her away for himself.

Dette had retired well over an hour ago, claiming fatigue from the work of putting the wedding together, and in her absence Adam got soused with his comrades following her departure. Cal hung around, keeping an eye on them, until his rowdy band of attendants started throwing beer bottles into the yard. When Adam began bellowing about hitting the “mother load”, Cal suggested the guys call it a night and go get some sleep. It only took one mention of the potential for Dette’s wrath if they stayed up all night and the group staggered off toward the house.

Alone on the terrace, Cal collected glasses and stacked them on trays behind the bar. After throwing away some of the trash, he glanced toward the house. Within the illuminated windows of the first floor, nothing moved. A single remaining light on the second floor blinked off and with it, went Cal’s hopes of seeing Lara again that night. Damn. He’d wanted to hold her.

On the dance floor, feeling the rub of their bodies together, all he could think about was sinking his cock into her. But now, after the hours had passed, and the blood returned to his brain, he just wanted to feel her head on his shoulder when they slept. Tell her what she’d missed during the evening. See if he could get a jealous rise out of her about the ancient dance instructor grabbing his ass.

Disappointed, he grabbed a longneck from the ice bucket and started down toward the water. The manicured grass ended at a low wood fence that divided the yard from the sandy shore. Following the water’s edge, he neared the boathouse and looked out over the water. If he couldn’t be with Lara, then the end of the dock seemed like a good place to kick back and relax a bit before heading to bed. The water lapped against the wood struts and breakwater a few yards out, the rhythmic splash and whoosh filled the night air with the sounds of nature.

His ears pricked. Nature and something else.

With the rush of the current and the subtle breeze, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d heard. Turning in a circle he looked around for someone passing by on the hill or walking behind him. Maybe it was nothing. He took a few steps over the worn planks of the dock but stopped in his tracks when a man’s voice filtered out of the old boathouse behind him.

“Oh yeah…”

He stepped toward the building. A woman’s voice, too familiar, sounded, “Tell me, tell me.”

“So fucking red hot…so fucking beautiful. Ride me, gorgeous.”

The shrill squeal that followed was like fingernails on the blackboard, and just as memorable. A sound he’d wished he could forget. One he hadn’t heard that morning. Why… There was too much to process. It was her, it was her, here…again. His stomach wrenched. While he was waiting for her, Lara was with another man.

“…tell me how fucking hot I am.”

Cal’s eyes clamped shut, his hands fisted. Damn it! She was his. He’d felt it, known it. How could she be with someone else? Blood rushed his head, thundering past his ears. Mere hours ago she’d been in his arms, ready to leave the terrace with him. It didn’t make sense.

Maybe he was just reading what he wanted to from her. Maybe he was the only one who wanted to leave what happened in Vegas, in Vegas, and give it a fresh shot here. Maybe the chemistry between them was only in his head. Maybe he was a fucking chump.

No. He slammed his fist into his open palm. He’d seen the heat in her eyes when she’d looked at him on the dance floor. He’d felt the way she shuddered when they touched, seen her stare linger just a second longer. He wanted to scream, rip the walls off that damn boathouse and demand an explanation.

His chest burned, felt like everything within it was crumbling. He wanted to grab her face, make her look him in the eye and explain how she had the power to make him such a fool. How could he fall in love with such a liar? She told him, she’d warned him, he just hadn’t believed her. How could he be so stupid?

“Tell me.” Another sultry demand.

“Fucking beautiful.” Another raspy promise.

He wanted to throw up. Couldn’t understand. Couldn’t think. Could barely see. With tunneled vision, he forced his legs to move, to carry him away from her…them. The commands were simple. Lungs—breathe. Legs—cross the sand. Heart—beat. Feet—cut through the grass. Back to the house. Away from them.

At the French doors he stopped, unable to force himself any further. His body felt like the life had been sapped out of it. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass and waited for the ache in his chest to stop.

He wanted to leave, but he was here for Adam. He couldn’t go anywhere until after the wedding. How would he face her? Talk to her? How would he look in the mirror without putting his fist into it? Bracing himself, he pushed through the doors into the stillness of the house

. He knew what to do.

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