Their Million-Dollar Night. Katherine Garbera

phone. Max left his suite and headed for the busy casino floor, hoping that by surrounding himself with people he could dull his need for Roxy.

      It didn’t work.

      Roxy had three dresses and four approved pant-suits that Hayden had sent to her to wear for this assignment. But they weren’t her style and she hated the feeling she got when she put them on—as if she was pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

      She took the pants from one of the suits and paired them with her favorite silk halter top. She now had to wear flats instead of heels, and she hated that. Grabbing her overnight bag, she left her house without a backward glance.

      She drove the same car she’d had since she’d made headliner. It was a sweet BMW Land Shark convertible. And for the first time in a really long time she didn’t have that sinking feeling in her stomach that stemmed from things lost. Instead she put the top down and let the cool summer air whip her hair around her head. She pumped up the music on the stereo, slipping in her favorite Dave Matthews CD when she couldn’t find a song she liked on the radio.

      She sang at the top of her lungs to “Ants Marching” and refused to let her mind dwell on the joy that had come from…a man. It had come from Max.

      His phone call. She never slept at night. No one knew that. His call had rescued her from tortured hours of trying to force herself to sleep. Trying to close her eyes and not see images of Alan’s face. Or worse, images of herself on stage performing the way she used to before the audience gasped in horror seeing her bright red scars.

      Her foot slipped off the gas. Why had she let her mind go down this path?

      She pulled into the parking lot of the casino and parked, but couldn’t make herself get out of the car. Suddenly everything was there. Every emotion and fear that she’d been running from, every damned thing she’d thought she’d left at her small house was in that car with her.

      She put her head forward on the steering wheel and tried to recapture the joy, but it was gone. Dave Matthews kept singing, but now she felt that bittersweet emotion that came from hearing something happy when all you felt was sad.

      She switched off the radio and forced herself from the car. She put the top up and locked the doors before walking toward the shimmering lights of the Chimera. The ultimate illusion, she reminded herself. She’d learned early on that illusion wasn’t bad. And the Chimera offered her an illusion of herself that she easily embraced.

      She forced herself into the lobby, a smile firmly in place. She could do this. In fact, she had done this every minute since she’d come awake in the hospital. She’d learned that most people were fooled by a smile and a quick assurance, because most people didn’t like to dwell on things like her attack.

      “Roxy.”

      She stopped and looked at Max. He held a cigar loosely in his left hand and watched her with eyes that seemed troubled. He looked sophisticated and urban. The trappings of success fell easily on his shoulders and in the glittering crowds of Vegas she saw him for what he really was.

      There was no illusion in Max Williams. There was only a solid core that made her realize he was the real McCoy. He was successful and sophisticated. She crossed to him and stood, unable to think of what to do next.

      Then she remembered the old Roxy, the one who’d been so bold in life. What would she have done? She’d have wrapped herself around his arm and said something flirty. No matter what she felt inside.

      “Roxy?”

      She shook her head to clear it. She needed to get her emotions under control. Hayden was counting on her to make sure that Max stayed in the hotel and gambled. And she didn’t want to let her friend down. “Sorry, Max. Let’s hit the tables.”

      “Not yet,” he said, cupping his hand under her elbow and leading her out of the hotel and into the lushly landscaped gardens. There was a box-hedge maze that was illuminated by the light of the moon and subtle horticulture lighting.

      “Where are we going?” she asked. She hung on to her illusion of happy Vegas girl by a thread.

      “Somewhere quiet.”

      “Why?” she asked, closing her eyes as she inhaled the aromatic scent of his cigar mingled with the scent of jasmine. For a moment she felt as if she were somewhere else. Someone else. But who?

      He stopped and trailed his fingers up her bare arm, leaving gooseflesh in their path. She shivered, opening her eyes and looking into his clear gray gaze.

      He was watching her with an intensity that made her hyperaware of herself. Of her femininity and his masculinity. Of the elemental differences between the two of them. She put her hand on his biceps and felt the solid strength in him.

      This was a man who could handle everything life threw at him. She wondered if she could learn how he did it. If she could figure out what made him tick and use that knowledge to help herself. Yeah, right, she thought. The main reason she wanted to know what made him tick was that she wanted to know him.

      Wanted to lean up and kiss him. To see if the fire in his eyes would be matched in his embrace. To taste his kiss and see if it would be as exciting as she knew it would be. But he was still a stranger, and she was wary of letting any man too close too quickly.

      He ran his finger down the line of her cheek and traced it over her lower lip. “We are out here because I want us to be. And you are supposed to cater to my every need.”

      His every need. “I’m not sure what you’re insinuating. But I’ve never been that type of girl.”

      “I know that. I’m not insinuating anything. I don’t want you to be my hostess, Roxy.”

      She swallowed. “Okay.”

      “I want to be free to spend my time with you. To take you out of the hotel and away from the gaming room.”

      She didn’t know what to say. She only knew that this job had lasted only one day, and she had no desire to go back to dealing. She was going to be out on the streets. She’d have to sell her car.

      “I want us to get to know each other,” Max said.

      She shook her head. She’d have to find another job. “I’m not ready to date.”

      “Yes, you are,” he said. His breath brushed against her face and she leaned into his body, wanting to kiss him. Wanting to feel his lips on hers and see if it would be the intense experience she sensed it would be. She realized that she was falling for the Vegas fantasy. Rich man, beautiful woman, whirlwind romance.

      She pulled back, turning away from him and walking toward a bench a few feet away. “You’re too bossy.”

      He didn’t follow her, just stood in the middle of the path, taking a draw on his cigar and watching her with enigmatic eyes that saw too much. “I’m used to being in charge.”

      “This isn’t your boardroom and I’m not one of your employees.”

      “No, you’re not. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not going to take control.”

      Max was pushing and he knew it so he backed off. He really did want Roxy by his side, and not just here in Vegas. She was the right woman at the right time. He needed a fiancée and, well, she fit the bill.

      Even as the words echoed in his mind, he knew he was walking on thin ice. She wasn’t just an accessory he could pick up in Vegas and return with to Vancouver.

      “Come with me to the casino. You can be my lucky charm, and then I’ll take you to breakfast and we can discuss this further.”

      “I’ve never been anyone’s lucky charm,” she said.

      “Maybe you just didn’t realize it,” he said, steering them through the crowded casino floor toward the high-stakes poker area in the back. Now he hardly noticed her slight limp.

      “I think I’d know if I was lucky.”