Las Vegas Nights: At Odds with the Heiress. Cat Schield

twirled gracefully. “I’m Ginger Rogers from the movie Top Hat.”

      She looked ready to be spun around the dance floor or clasped in her costar’s arms for a passionate moonlit kiss. And thanks to her four-inch heels, her delectable mouth was within easy kissing distance....

      Logan crossed his arms over his chest as he was flooded with the memory of her soft moan of surrender earlier that day. A low burn began in his belly. Tension built as he waited for the tiniest spark from her that would ignite him to action.

      But instead of provoking him, she retreated a step. “I should be getting back to the hotel.”

      Did he detect the slightest hint of breathlessness in her voice? Had she sensed he was on the brink of doing something rash and impulsive? Why wasn’t she inviting him to act?

      “Of course.”

      “Will you bring Madison by tomorrow?”

      “I can.”

      “It would be better if we formalized the internship by hiring her. That way she can take ownership of the tasks she’s assigned.”

      Logan knew having a job she enjoyed would be good for his niece, but he worried what having her working for Scarlett was going to do to his blood pressure.

      “What time do you want her?”

      Only because he was so in tune with her did he note the relaxation of her muscles. The change was almost imperceptible.

      “Eight.”

      And then, because she wasn’t expecting it, he slid his hand around the back of her neck and lowered his lips to hers. For a second, shock paralyzed her, then she softened beneath the light pressure he exerted on her mouth. The moonlight and muted night sounds called for leisurely, romantic kisses. He cupped her head and focused all his attention on the texture of her plump lips and the fragrance of her skin.

      Two kisses stretched into ten. Logan knew the interlude couldn’t last forever. Already in the back of his mind irritation buzzed. A sizzling, sultry temptress, she was built for passion and frenzied desire, and here he was treating her like the heroine of a lighthearted romantic comedy.

      But in this moment, with just a hint of coolness rushing across his hot skin, he wanted nothing more than to savor the way she yielded her lips to his mastery, to enjoy how her body trembled as he feathered kisses over her chin and cheeks.

      “Thank you,” she said when at long last he released her.

      He noted that she kept her gaze on his shirt buttons, her thoughts hidden beneath a thick fringe of lashes. “For kissing you?”

      She frowned. He’d disrupted her poise and she was slow to recover.

      “For letting Madison come back to Fontaine Richesse tomorrow.”

      “You made a convincing argument.”

      Already his fingers itched to touch her again. He wished he hadn’t let her go so soon, but any longer and he’d have been overwhelmed by the urge to carry her into the house and spend the rest of the night ravishing her.

      As if reading his mind, Scarlett backed away. “I’d better go.” She returned to the driver’s side of the red convertible. With the car between them she finally met his gaze. “Are we still on for tomorrow night at seven?”

      “I haven’t changed my mind about how dangerous Tiberius’s files are, so yes.”

      “Then it’s a date.”

      “It’s not a date,” he grumbled, but the eager jump in his pulse made him wonder who he was trying to convince, her or himself.

      “Then you won’t want to kiss me goodnight.”

      Any response he might have made would’ve been drowned out by the noise of the engine as she started her car.

      It wasn’t until her taillights disappeared down his driveway that he realized he was smiling.

      * * *

      The first thing Scarlett did when she returned to her suite was crank up the air conditioning. Driving a sedate forty miles an hour back to the hotel hadn’t stirred the hot June night air enough to lower her body temperature after kissing Logan.

      She stripped and stepped into the shower. The cool water made her shiver, but it wasn’t enough to fully banish the heat coursing through her at the memory of Logan’s lips moving over hers.

      Somewhat refreshed, she wrapped herself in a terry robe and sat staring out her window at the bright Vegas strip. Why the hell had he kissed her like that? Passion she could handle. That wild kiss in the elevator had knocked her for a loop, but it had been born out of conflict and chemistry.

      Tonight’s embrace had been heartbreakingly romantic. She never imagined a straightforward guy like Logan would have had it in him to kiss her so sweetly and let her go. The explosive quality between them led her to expect him to want her hard and fast. Not slow and tender.

      She felt a quiver begin in her chest and plummet downward until she was just as hot as before her shower.

      A firm knock sounded on her outside door, making Scarlett’s heart jump. Had Logan followed her back to the hotel intent on picking up where they’d left off in his driveway? If so his timing was terrible. Her hair was wet. She wore no makeup. The only thing sexy about her at the moment was that she was naked beneath the robe.

      For several seconds she stood paralyzed with indecision. A second, urgent knock roused her. She crossed to the door and flung it open.

      “About time,” Violet said, holding up a bottle of Tiberius’s favorite Scotch. “It’s been a long, horrible day and I need a drink.”

      “Ditto.” Harper eyed Scarlett’s attire, then peered past her into the suite. “We’re not interrupting anything, are we?”

      Scarlett laughed, but it had a queer edge to it. “Hardly. And you’re right about the day. It was crazy. I’ll get some glasses.”

      The three sisters settled onto the comfortable couch in Scarlett’s living room, each with a glass of amber liquid. Scarlett enjoyed being sandwiched between her sisters, treasured their closeness. Growing up an only child, she’d always longed for siblings. Now she had two.

      “To Tiberius,” Violet pronounced in solemn tones.

      “To Tiberius,” Harper and Scarlett echoed as they all clinked glasses.

      “How did it go with Logan’s niece today?” Harper asked as Scarlett refilled her glass after tossing back the first shot.

      The alcohol had left a line of heat from her throat to her stomach, a different sort of burn than she’d felt when Logan had kissed her. “She’s great. Wants to be an actress. Her family is horrified.”

      Violet frowned. “There are far worse professions.”

      “Not if you listen to Logan,” Scarlett muttered. “He’s convinced I’m going to corrupt Madison with my evil ways.”

      “Stop exaggerating.” Harper was always the voice of order and reason. “You rub Logan the wrong way because it amuses you.”

      Scarlett couldn’t deny it so she shrugged. “I’d rather rub him the right way, but he made it plain from the start that I wasn’t his type.”

      “Is that why he stares at you so much?” Violet regarded her over the rim of her glass. “Because you’re not his type?”

      Harper patted Scarlett’s hand. “I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’re every man’s type.”

      “Not every man.” But few were immune. Until today she’d believed Logan was one of those. Correction—until tonight. The kiss earlier that day had been about proving a point. Tonight’s kiss had been...intimate. As if the only thing on his mind was connecting with her. Scarlett shook her head and