Luscious Craving (9 page)

“I think I may have rug burns,” I said, some time later.

Michael gave a spurt of laughter. “Don’t blame me,” he replied. “You’re the one who insisted on the floor.”

“I insisted on you,” I corrected, and saw the way his eyes blazed with new possibilities.

“I stand corrected,” he said.

“Okay, you win. I can’t stand at all.”

I did manage to roll to one side, lever myself up onto one elbow to watch him sit up and retrieve our champagne glasses.

“How long before your next round?”

Michael downed a slug of champagne. “About an hour, I think,” he replied. “I’m not actually sure what time it is, in fact. I’d have to check my watch.”

“And where would that be?” I inquired.

“In the bedroom.”

“Remarkable coincidence,” I said. “I hear there’s this really amazing bed in there.”

He cocked an eyebrow.
“How are you going to see it if you can’t walk?”

“You can get that thought right out of your mind, Michael Pressman,” I said. “I am not the sort of woman who crawls.”

He threw back his head and laughed. I watched the way it moved along his throat. “In that case, I suppose I’ll just have to give you a hand,” he said. He stood, reached down a hand for mine. His cock was already jutting from his body again, not at full attention, but definitely starting to rise.

Good hands and stamina. Now there was a combination a girl could really wrap herself around
, I thought. Michael Pressman was exactly what I needed. We were two bodies, ready and willing to come together.
Nothing less, nothing more.
No promises about the future. No lies.

I reached to take his hand,
then
gave a startled shriek as he pulled me all the way up and onto his shoulder. As he strode toward the bedroom, his hands stroked my ass. By the time he gave me a toss that had me bouncing on the bed, I was breathing hard.

The bed truly was amazing, a gigantic four-poster. Its gauzy hangings were pulled back. There was a second bottle of champagne beside it. I propped myself up on the cushions while Michael dealt with the cork. He poured a single glass this time. Coming down beside me on the bed, he held it to my lips. I drank deeply, but the angle was slightly off. Some of the frothy liquid dripped from the corners of my mouth. It ran down my chin to slide across my breasts.

“Looks like you made a mess,” I said.

Before I quite realized what he intended, Michael tilted the glass over my belly. I gasped as the cool liquid slid straight down between my legs.

“Guess I’m just going to have to clean you up, aren’t I?”

When we got out of the shower, the phone was ringing.

“That’s my heads-up,” Michael said, as he sprinted for the phone. He lifted the receiver, acknowledged the message. I shrugged into my scattered clothes.

“Sorry about this,” he
said,
when he realized what I was doing.

“What for?
You came to play—to win,” I corrected quickly. “If you weren’t in the tournament, you wouldn’t be here at all. I can hardly get upset when you go off to do the thing that brought you here in the first place.”

He crossed the room, gave me a quick, hard kiss.

“How come you don’t live in
Chicago
?”

“Because I live in Vegas,” I said.
Besides
, I thought,
this wouldn’t be the same if we lived in the same city. Part of the reason people come to Vegas in the first place is to do things they would never do at home
.

“I was thinking we should do the town when I get my next break,” he said. I trailed him to the bedroom, watched as he began to tug on his own clothes.
“Or at least some of it.
As long as you don’t mind it being kind of
spur
of the moment.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “In fact…” Before I could complete the thought, my cell phone buzzed. I had clipped it back onto my waistband as I’d dressed. I glanced down and read the number.
Bibi
.

“You’re sure?” Michael said as I reached for the phone.

“Absolutely,” I said. “But I’ve got to take this call.”

“Sure thing,” Michael said at once. “I’ll just check my e-mail before
I
head on down.” He walked back into the living room, to give me some privacy.

I flipped open the phone. “Hi,” I said. “What’s up?”

“I need you to come stop me from killing
Randolph
,”
Bibi’s
voice rasped into the phone.

“Why would I want to do an idiotic thing like that?” I inquired. I had never been wild about the
Bibi
/Randolph relationship, which
Bibi
knew quite well.

“I mean it, Candace,” she said. “I really need your help.”

All of a sudden, I heard the tears behind her voice.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“In the Sand Bar.”

I gave a silent groan.
Bibi
hates the Sand Bar. She goes there only when she’s seriously depressed.

“I’m on my way,” I said, closing the phone.

Going out into the suite’s main room, I saw Michael staring at the screen on his laptop. I went over to kiss him good-bye.

“You really are obsessed,” I said, pointing to a sticker of a miniature royal flush that he had stuck on the edge of his keyboard.

“Yet another good luck experiment,” he said, standing up to draw me into his arms. He gave me a kiss that made me want to linger.

“Michael,” I sighed. “I have to go. You have to go triumph in the next round, and I have to go rescue a friend who’s down.”

“This isn’t some prearranged kiss-off, is it?” he asked.

I shook my head.
“Absolutely not.
I’d really like to see you for as long as you’re in Vegas. What do you say to that?”

“Now I know I’m lucky.”

Other than Louie, the bartender,
Bibi
was the only occupant of the Sand Bar. Not even the tourists like to come here. Louie glanced at me as I walked in, but I shook my head. I didn’t want anything to drink. He picked up some damp cloths and went through a swinging door into the kitchen behind the bar.

For a second, light spilled past the door, bringing the dreary space to life. The walls became a vibrant red, and the fake gemstones pasted to the wooden beams sparkled. Then the door swung closed and all was bleak once more.

Bibi
was sitting on a high stool with a diet soda in front of her. She was staring off into the distance, lost in thought. Her long legs, clad in pink practice tights, were crossed, the heel of her left shoe balanced on the lowest rung.
Bibi
Schwartz is one of those women who
is…
more
. Her black hair has more highlights in it, and it’s far more manageable than mine. Her breasts are
more lush
. Her legs have more length than any one woman’s should. And she feels emotions with more depth than anyone I know.

We met in a dance class in
San Francisco
and clicked right away. But our friendship was signed, sealed, and delivered when she came to my rescue after Ash had taken his too-big bite out of me. An event we always refer to as the “elevator incident.” It was
Bibi
who found me and who got me to a doctor before I bled to death. It was
Bibi
who stayed by my side while my body healed, who held me while I wept and stormed and raged, while I struggled to heal emotionally. I literally owe
Bibi
Schwartz my life.

“So I take it
Randolph
is still alive?” I said as I slipped onto the stool next to her. “Why do you want to kill him, by the way?”

“Katherine is coming to Vegas for New Year’s Eve. The slimy
sonofabitch
has known for months. He didn’t tell me until tonight.”

Katherine is Mrs. Randolph Glass,
aka
the boss’s wife.
Bibi
and Randolph hooked up not long after
Bibi
moved to Vegas. It would have been a happily ever-after if there wasn’t also a Mrs. Glass involved.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“She’s supposed to stay on the East Coast,”
Bibi
said now. “Katherine plays society lady in
Boston
and
Martha’s Vineyard
.
Randolph
lives here, three time zones away, and invests her money in the casino. That’s the way things are.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, loyally. I knew
Bibi
wanted only sympathy. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be telling me what we were both perfectly well aware I already knew.

“It
was
a plan,” she said. “It
is
a plan.
A damn good one.
They see each other at Christmas and for a week in the summer when
Randolph
flies back East. But New Year’s Eve is
our
special night.
Randolph’s and mine.”
Fury flashed in her dark eyes. “Then, just an hour ago, he springs it on me. Katherine’s coming for the big party he’s planning to hold on New Year’s Eve!”

“Well, that completely sucks. Did he at least give you a reason?” I asked.

Bibi
gave a weary sigh.
“Of course.
When you own a casino, you always need money, approval, and goodwill.
Which is why we’ve got this charity tournament taking over half the
Sher
.
The fact that Senator
Hamlyn
—who’s got friends on the gaming commission by the way—has agreed to play in the tournament is
Randolph
’s dream come true. It gives him real cachet with the power brokers.

“Well, guess whose family and the senator’s have been friends since the dawn of time?”
Bibi
finished her soda with a
slurpy
flourish.

“Uh-oh,” I replied.

“Damn straight, uh-oh,”
Bibi
snarled. “If Katherine doesn’t show up for at least the tournament’s finale, it won’t look right. Even
I
can see that much.”

“
Bibi
, I’m so sorry.”

She patted my hand as if I were the one needing consolation. “Thanks, kiddo. I knew I could count on you to let me enjoy a good whine. You know I’m not really mad at
Randolph
. I’m mad at myself for putting up with his shit for so long. And I am
not
crawling back after Katherine leaves. I can tell you that much. I deserve better, and I am going out to look for it.”

“Here, here!” I gave her a round of applause.

“And you’re coming with me,” she said. “You could use a little something new yourself, Candace.”

“Actually…,” I said. Instantly,
Bibi’s
eyes grew wide.

“You’ve got a guy. Who is he?” she pounced.

“His name is Michael.”

“Is it serious?”