Let it Ride. Katherine Garbera

you would be?”

      “Kylie Smith.”

      “May I join you, Kylie?”

      She wanted to pretend not to be interested, but she was. Before she could answer, he sat down again this time, leaving only six inches of space between them. Kylie felt crowded. He was long and lean, but there was a breadth to his shoulders that made her feel small, delicate even.

      “What are you doing here?” he asked.

      “I’m waiting for someone.”

      “A man?”

      “That’s none of your business.”

      “Fair enough. What brings you to Vegas?” he asked, sliding his arm along the back of the love seat. His heat and scent surrounded her. Tempted to lean into his touch, she scooted farther away, instead.

      “Girls’ weekend out.”

      He gave her a half smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She shivered with awareness. She simply wasn’t a touchy person by nature. And it’d had been a long time since anyone had touched her, unless you counted her mom, who always hugged her when they met weekly for brunch.

      “You have beautiful hair,” he said.

      Was he hitting on her? Kylie could never be sure if a man was just being friendly or really interested in her. She wished for a minute she was more like Tina, who flitted from one man to the next, enjoying what each had to offer.

      But she never had been. She’d been raised to believe that settling down and raising a family was a good thing. And it was something she’d always wanted.

      Even after her failed marriage, she still wanted to find the right guy and have kids. But that didn’t mean she wanted to meet him in Vegas. She scooted still farther away and tottered for a moment on the edge of the seat. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

      “Why are you in Vegas, Deacon?”

      “I live here,” he said as if nothing had happened.

      “Do you really? Sorry, don’t answer that. All the bells have rattled my brain.”

      He laughed and it was a kind sound, seeming almost strange coming from a man who looked as dark and forbidding as he did. Jet-black hair and tanned olive complexion. He had large hands. On his pinky was a rough-looking gold ring with some sort of insignia she didn’t recognize.

      Realizing she’d been staring at him too long, she glanced up to see if he’d noticed. He had. He touched her face with one finger. Why was he touching her? She should pull away.

      But she couldn’t. An indefinable emotion in his eyes froze her in place. The intensity of his gaze on her made her feel special. Made her feel as if she was a fairy-tale princess and he was a knight willing to slay dragons for her. Made her feel for once as if she wasn’t staid and safe, but the kind of woman a man would choose for a vacation fling.

      But she wasn’t really any of those things. Her stomach growled and Kylie blushed.

      “My offer for dinner still stands,” he said.

      “I’m reading a really good book,” Kylie said. That had to be the lamest excuse she’d ever come up with.

      “The day a book holds more excitement for a woman than I do is a sad one.”

      “Prepare to cry.” She wanted to say yes. In fact, she thought, closing the book and putting it in her purse, she was going to. But she didn’t want it to be that easy for him.

      “Come on. It’ll be fun,” he cajoled.

      “Fun? I’m not sure I’m ready for fun.”

      “How about friendly?”

      She’d come to Vegas to live a little, and sitting in her room reading didn’t sound exactly exciting. There was something in Deacon’s eyes that promised more than fun and friendly, and Kylie was sick of always being…herself.

      “Sure. I’d love to.”

      “Meet me back here in an hour.”

      “An hour?”

      “Fate takes time.”

      “Then it’s not really fate.”

      He shrugged.

      “What should I be prepared for?” she asked.

      “To be swept off your feet,” he said with a wink and walked away.

      Two

      Deacon returned to the security booth after calling his secretary to find out where Kylie was staying. He was pleased when he discovered she was a guest at his hotel. He’d made arrangements for a picnic dinner to be prepared by the Golden Dreams head chef. He also called the bellman and ordered his Jaguar to be brought around front. Then he called the flower shop and had a bouquet sent to Kylie’s room.

      “Smooth work down there,” Mandetti said when Deacon reentered the security room.

      “Yeah, I especially liked the part where she almost fell off the bench trying to get away from you,” Mac said with a grin.

      Deacon ignored them, his mind on Kylie. She had returned to her room. Thanks to Martha, he knew she was in the east tower, room 1812. He keyed up her hallway on the monitor. It was empty. He tried not to think about her as a woman. She was the means to an end. The faceless model in the Ralph Lauren ad wearing a cable-knit sweater and holding a child.

      Except she wasn’t a faceless woman. She was Kylie Smith, a woman with sharp wit and a sense of humor. He hadn’t expected humor from her. He’d never really considered that as a qualification for the right family.

      Mac leaned over his shoulder again. “You got it bad.”

      “Got what?” Deacon asked.

      “The lust bug.”

      “Ha. This has nothing to do with lust.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Deacon didn’t discuss women with Mac, because they tended to disagree about them on a fundamental level. Deacon had been raised by his mom and surrounded by showgirls. Mac had been raised by his father, a bitter man who hated all women. Mac’s attitude toward women was that they were after only one thing—money. Deacon had seen firsthand how money could make the difference between life and death to a woman on the streets.

      “She doesn’t seem like the one-night-stand type,” Mandetti said.

      Deacon knew that; his intentions toward her were noble. Kylie was even better-suited to the label in his head that read WIFE than he’d thought she’d be.

      “I can’t believe you, old man,” Mac said.

      “What’s not to believe?” He turned to Mandetti. “Doesn’t she look like marriage material?”

      Mandetti nodded.

      Mac leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “You really think you’re going to marry her.”

      Deacon shrugged. Unless he’d lost his touch, hell, yeah, he was going to marry Kylie.

      “She won’t do it,” Mac said.

      “She might,” Mandetti said.

      Mac could be right. But when he put his mind to something, Deacon never lost. He’d carved a life for himself many wanted but few ever achieved. He wasn’t one of those guys who accepted defeat. Nothing gave Deacon the thrill wagering did. Though Kylie had the potential, he thought. “Wanna bet?”

      “Now you’re talking,” Mac said. “Terms?”

      “There are no terms. If I convince her to marry me, I win.” Deacon liked things simple.

      “Okay, but you do it in two weeks. And it has to be a real marriage.”

      Two