Page 21 of Wicked Temptation

Maybe Nick was right. Maybe two thousand miles would be a great place to make a new start and, finally, put the pastin the past.

Seeing Lisbeth again gave him hope. Perhaps they could make up for lost time while she was in Vegas. Samson still remembered how her body felt in his hands and how she moaned his name while melding into him.

Only this time, there wouldn’t be any interruptions, and they wouldn’t have to sneak around.

This time, he’d lay her out and take his sweet time reacquainting himself with every inch of her body, and when they were both craving it, he’d sink into her sweetness and make her his.

8

Lisbeth angled the blinds in her office so she could still see out without the glare from the late morning sun. Unlike most normal people, she liked Mondays and looked at them as a fresh start, a new chance to move her business forward. Only this Monday, she admitted to dragging a bit. Seeing Samson at the club, her mind tortured her with painfulwhat-ifsand flashbacks of their short, memorable, and what Samson referred to as “their wicked time together.”

Oh God, Club Wicked! He certainly didn’t name his club after—no, not possible.

The whirlwind of setting up her Las Vegas office and apartment in a modest building on the other side of I-15 occupied most of her time. It was half the size of her condo in LA, but Lisbeth believed in living below her means. No matter how successful, running a business had its ups and downs, and she’d seen many fold because of overspending.

She gazed out at the mountains in the distance and forced her brain to regroup and get on track. It was bad enough that Lisbeth tossed and turned for the last two nights, and she refused to let her restlessness bleed into a business day.

She’d rented a small office space in a building on Charleston Boulevard. Within a month, she hoped to have it running smoothly enough for her to return to LA, leaving her two valued employees, Evelyn and Willow, in charge.

“How was your weekend?” Evelyn asked. “Namely, the bachelorette.”

At fifty-eight and single, Evelyn made Luxury Lifestyles by Lisbeth her life. She accounted for every bill, every invoice, and every penny Lisbeth ever made. Evelyn watched the accounts with an eagle eye, ensuring not one dollar was lost or misused. Her stern demeanor belied a grandmotherly concern when it came to Lisbeth, and she depended on Evelyn’s sound advice, both professional and personal.

“Club Wicked is amazing. Sure to be the latest hit. And you know Juliet spared no expense, so it was a fun night.”

Except for running into an old—Lisbeth didn’t think there was a word for what she and Samson shared. They hadn’t actually dated and wouldn’t be considered a couple. She and Samson were more like two people thrust together in a simmering heap of lust, who secretly fell into each other’s arms at every chance and every place imaginable. Hallmark still hasn’t made a card for whatever turmoil they experienced.

“I hope you checked in with Edward throughout the night.” Evelyn adored Edward and saw him as her perfect match. Of course, he was, but sometimes she’d swear Evelyn had a crush on her fiancé.

A trickle of guilt skittered through her, but her lie was a small deception if it meant landing such a huge account. She’d prove herself, and then her marital status wouldn’t matter to Samson. He might even be relieved knowing they could proceed as business associates only. She sincerely doubted he’d been celibate the last ten years and most surely had someone steady in his life.

“You know how he worries.”

“Yes, I kept in touch and filled him in on all the club details.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Lisbeth had been so shocked to see Samson that her brain spun with memories of him throughout the night. It wasn’t until she returned to her apartment that she called a very concerned Edward. After assuring him everything was fine and the party was a success, Lisbeth fell into a fitful sleep, plagued with erotic dreams of Samson. She woke the next morning feeling exhausted, aroused, and unexplainably restless.

“I emailed you the list of other independent clubs and organizations you requested,” Evelyn added. “It should keep you busy for a while. It’s quite long.”

Perfect. Just what she needed—busy work to keep her mind occupied and off her past. Plus, she wanted to put together a proposal for Club Wicked so Samson could see the clientele she’d bring into his club. She’d use his recommendation as a stepping stone for other clubs that sponsored regular charity and celebrity events, thus pushing her agency into the next echelon. A Vegas client base equaling her California office was her goal and dream at the same time.

Willow breezed into her office wearing hip-hugger bell-bottom jeans with a peasant shirt, and Lisbeth smiled at the contrast. Evelyn and Willow were complete opposites, but with hard work and a little luck, they’d managed to make Luxury Lifestyles by Lisbeth profitable.

Willow maintained a free spirit. At twenty-five, she could’ve easily passed for a 1960s hippie, rocking fringe jackets, long beaded earrings, and bohemian dresses. She grew up in San Francisco, graduated from the Academy of Art University with honors, and her artistic and creative input proved invaluable. Her youth and innovation kept Lisbeth up to date with the latest trends.

“Looks like our boss impressed the hot-as-hell owner of Club Wicked this weekend.” Willow eased her lithe body into the chair opposite Lisbeth’s desk.

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You didn’t tell me you met the owner.”

“She not only met him, he asked her to come to his private office.” Willow’s huge eyes widened dramatically.

“Why would he do that?” Evelyn’s mama bear antenna perked up. “You were there for your bachelorette.”

“To talk business.” Lisbeth held Evelyn’s gaze. “Why else?”

Samson’s raspy voice sounded in her head, and heat traveled up her neck. She turned her head back to her computer monitor, cursing her fair complexion for showing every ounce of emotion.

“On the opening night of his club, he wanted to talk business?” Evelyn missed her calling. She should’ve worked for a detective agency.

---