Let it Ride. Katherine Garbera

Deacon said. One of the first things he’d done when he’d made his fortune was to finance a children’s shelter for Vegas kids. A place to keep them off the streets while their parents gambled or worked in casinos.

      “Okay. When I win, you can finance a medieval-sword display at the Chimera.” Mac’s hotel/casino was known for its world-renowned traveling displays.

      Mandetti’s cell phone rang, and he turned to take the call. Deacon heard him curse in Italian. “Give me a break, angel. I’m just getting started here.”

      “See? Women are nothing but trouble,” Mac said. Mandetti covered the mouthpiece. “I better take this outside. I’m going to be observing your operation on the floor tonight, right?”

      “Yes. I’ll join you after midnight. I’ll have Peter meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes, okay?”

      Mandetti nodded and left the room. Mac followed him out.

      Deacon settled back in one of the empty chairs in the security room. A small team of three men were always on shift. A glass wall separated them from Deacon and his bank of monitors. He’d had the room designed so he could come in and observe whenever he wanted without disturbing the security operation. Also, it allowed him to train new hires without disrupting the workflow.

      Kylie emerged from her room, and he watched her pause in the hallway. She chewed her lower lip and turned back to her door. She was going to stand him up, he thought.

      She went into her room. Deacon reached for his cell phone, dialed the front desk and asked to be connected to her room. Kylie needed some coaxing.

      She answered on the second ring. Her voice had a sexy breathless quality.

      “Hey, angel,” he said, trying for a lightness he didn’t feel. It shouldn’t matter to him if she changed her mind. If he lost the bet with Mac, he’d be out a bit of money but hardly enough to break him. And it wasn’t as if there weren’t other respectable women in the world. But there was something about Kylie Smith he wanted.

      “Deacon?”

      “Who else?”

      “I don’t think you know me well enough to call me angel,” she said. The tart note in her voice would have done a schoolteacher proud.

      “I will after tonight,” he said. The sensual promise he’d seen in her eyes earlier guaranteed it.

      He remembered that scared moment when she’d almost bolted, but then found her sass and stayed. He knew she wanted to have dinner with him. But he also knew that her life to date had conditioned her and he was moving too fast. He’d have to find a way around her objections.

      “Um…about that…”

      “Not going to back out now, are you?” Deliberately he pitched his voice low. He’d been told by one of his ex-girlfriends that she’d do anything for him when he asked her in that tone.

      “Well…”

      She was wavering. “Take a chance. This is Vegas, angel, and you’re not living it unless you take a risk.”

      “Are you risky?” she asked.

      “Not for you,” he said, surprised to realize he meant it. He wanted her to feel safe with him. Safe and secure. And sure that he wasn’t going to wine her, dine her and then walk away in the morning.

      “It’s just dinner,” he said after a few moments of silence.

      She hesitated. He heard the catch in her breath. She was going to say no.

      “Okay. I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she said.

      “Good.”

      He disconnected and headed for the lobby. Again his trip through the casino was slow. He entered the lobby and paused. Kylie was waiting for him by the fountain. But she hardly resembled the woman he’d originally seen in the security camera.

      Her hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders, her sundress delineated the curves of her body, and her long legs were bare. A wave of lust hit him hard. And he knew himself well enough to know that waiting for her, seducing her slowly, was going to be hell.

      Kylie had changed her mind and her clothes about fifty times in the hour since she’d left the lobby and Deacon Prescott. If it wasn’t for Deacon’s phone call, she’d be sitting in her room, eating a room-service cheeseburger and reading The Scarlet Pimpernel. But instead, she was in the lobby waiting for a man who made her heart beat double time and who had awakened her senses with his touch.

      That didn’t gibe with the sensible administrative assistant she was in her normal life. She’d thought about having a reality check. Calling her mom and listening to all the reasons that sane, sensible Kylie shouldn’t be in Vegas. But she was tired of being sane and sensible.

      She’d checked in with her girlfriends before leaving for the evening. And they were prowling the casinos tonight with some guys they’d met earlier. They’d all made plans to meet in the lobby bar just after midnight.

      She glanced at her watch and then around the lobby. Her breath caught in her throat. Deacon walked toward her with the self-assured stride of a successful man. His suit jacket was buttoned and his silk tie perfectly knotted. He stopped to exchange pleasantries with a few people on his way to her.

      Their eyes met and held for a moment. It seemed as if only she and Deacon existed in the lobby. His gaze skimmed down her body, stirring all her senses to life and making her blood flow heavier.

      He moved very close to her. His scent surrounded her and she breathed it in deeply. She wished she was more like Deacon just then, who could reach out and touch someone he was attracted to whenever he wanted. Her fingers tingled with the need to touch him.

      “You look lovely,” he said, sliding an arm around her shoulders and brushing her cheek with a kiss.

      His words threw her because she was the “nice” sister. Not the pretty one. Not the smart one. Just the nice ordinary one. She knew she wasn’t any man’s definition of lovely. Even with his intense gray eyes shining with sincerity.

      She stepped back, not knowing how to take him. No man had ever made her feel what he did. A million and one different things at once. And she wanted to believe. Believe that this was the one man who’d see her and she’d be lovely in his eyes, but she doubted it.

      “That was a compliment,” he said, slipping his hand under her elbow and leading her out of the hotel. “You’re supposed to say thank-you.”

      “Sorry to disappoint you,” she said.

      “You didn’t. But there was something in your eyes that said you may not believe me.”

      “That’s because my dad’s Irish and I heard my share of blarney growing up.”

      “I can’t be the first man to compliment you.”

      She tugged her arm from his grip and pulled her purse strap higher on her shoulder. She didn’t want to have this conversation.

      “Can we talk about something else?” she asked. She was tempted to believe him. The way she’d believed Jeff’s lies. But she wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl anymore, and the woman she was at twenty-eight was a lot smarter. Yeah, right, she thought.

      He deliberately took her arm again and continued leading her through the lobby. They reached the bell stand and the valet led them to a Jaguar convertible out front. “Your car, Mr. Prescott.”

      “Thank you, Scott,” Deacon said, slipping the man a folded bill.

      “Mr. Prescott, a moment?” said another man from the hotel entrance.

      “Do you mind, Kylie?”

      “Not at all,” she said.

      Kylie suspected that Deacon was more than a guest at the Golden Dream casino. He held the door for her and she slid into the leather passenger