Scarlet (2 page)

Deep
breath. She could breathe. The dress was
loosening. She froze. He was here. The small pod of cowboys walked away,
heading down the tile pathway.
No! They can’t leave
. One of those men
made the dress fall off.

My Mr. Right is a cowboy?
That didn’t sound right to
her—she liked to look but she was a bit too “city-mouse” to enjoy farm life.
Still, if it got her out of this dress, she’d go with it.

“Wait.” Heather jumped off the barstool. She glanced back,
remembered her sixteen dollars still in the machine but the cowboys were being
sucked into the crowd and she had to find them. Clutching her purse in her
right hand, she wove through the crowds, chasing after the group of men. Except
they all freakin’ looked alike. She hadn’t really been looking
at them.
She’d been staring at their asses.

The one.
She remembered the one who’d smiled at her.
She just had to find him and he could lead her to his buddies. She walked down
the wide aisle, scanning the crowds. It was finally getting late enough that
she could move without bumping into everyone.

Her eyes latched onto one familiar form and she almost
cheered. The cowboy stood amongst the dollar slot machines. Too rich for my
blood, she thought as she made her way over, trying to act casual but really,
she wanted to stalk up to him and see if the dress fell off.

He smiled again as she approached only this time his gaze
met hers then dipped down, looking at her breasts. Though she wasn’t nearly as
endowed as Cait, she’d filled out the bodice. The diabolical elastic gave her
extra lift and the sweetheart neckline gave her cleavage she didn’t normally
have. His smile widened just a little. Then he looked down and confusion
crinkled his forehead. She sighed. The dress was going to be hard to explain.

“Hi.” Her greeting was a bit more forceful and breathless
than she’d intended. The cowboy nodded politely and took a step back. That wouldn’t
do. She knew from Cait’s experiences that the dress only worked up close.
Heather sidled up a little nearer, invading the man’s personal space.

Irritation crinkled his eyes but more importantly, the dress
stayed firmly in place. “Damn.” He wasn’t the right one.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Do I know you?”

“What? Oh, no. Your friends.”

“My friends?”

“Where did they go?”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to tell you that.” He looked
over her shoulder and raised his chin.

Without turning she knew what would happen next.

“Is there a problem?”

Heather spun around and faced the security guard. “Nope. No
problem.” She flashed a glare at the handsome cowboy and stalked off. Her true
love was somewhere in that room and she was going to find him.

* * * * *

An hour later, she’d circled back around to the Center
Lounge Bar, sweaty and frazzled, her frantic search yielding nothing but a
pretty good aerobic workout. The damn dress had certainly stayed in place.

With a sigh, she plopped down in the same seat she’d vacated
an hour ago and remembered she’d left her money in the machine. She glanced at
the poker screen and saw that her sixteen dollars was still there.

“Cain said you took off pretty fast.” Tami slid a napkin in
front of her. “We made sure no one played your machine.”

“Wow, thanks. Who’s Cain?”

“My boss.” Tami flicked her thumb behind her, directing
Heather’s gaze to the yummy man at the other end of the bar. Once again,
Heather took in the sexy vision. Straight black hair, tan skin and etched
cheekbones. Definitely had Native American in his background. Dressed in jeans
and a plaid shirt like many of the cowboys, he filled out the denim in a sweet,
sweet way.

“Wow,” she said again.

Tami just laughed. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

A drop of sweat slid down her cheek. “How about some water
for now?”

“You got it.”

Heather sighed. Mr. Right, or at least whoever this dress
decided was Mr. Right, had been nearby. She couldn’t lock down the whole city
but somehow, she was going to find him.

Tami brought the glass back and put it on the napkin.

“So, can I ask?”

Heather smiled. “Why am I wearing a wedding dress?”

“Yeah.”

“My luggage didn’t make it.”

“Bummer. What about your groom?”

Heather forced a laugh. “Oh, he’s around here somewhere.”
She dismissed the comment with a wave.

Tami’s lips quirked into a sad smile. “Well, good luck.”

* * * * *

Cain watched as Tami chatted with the pretty woman at the
end of the bar. The low-cut dress made her breasts look nice and plump. Cain
admired the sight but he was more of an ass man himself and the fluffy white
dress made it impossible to see. It looked like a wedding dress but if it was,
it was the ugliest wedding dress he’d ever seen.

Tami brought the woman a glass of water. She’d been drinking
chardonnay before. He’d set the glass in front of her, said “good luck” as he
always did, and she’d run off, following that group of men who’d been drinking
beer in the corner of the lounge.

Now she’d come back, an hour later, looking flushed, sweaty
and her hair all messed up. His cock twitched at what she might have been doing
in the past hour. He had a personal rule against sleeping with any of the women
who came into the bar. He flirted and teased—better tips that way—but then let
them go. Too many complications. They often didn’t understand a “one-night
stand” meant
one night
. He’d had too many women appear in the bar the
night after and he couldn’t escape. He had to work.

But looking at a woman like that made him reconsider. He’d
love to see her slim body stripped out of that dress.

Tami walked away and Cain called her over.

“What’s with the runaway bride?”

“Oh, her luggage didn’t show up.”

“What about her groom?”

“I got the impression he’s off gambling, ignoring his bride.
What a horrible way to spend your wedding night.”

Cain nodded. He leaned against the bar and watched the woman
for a little longer. She used her left hand to tap the video screen and even
from this distance, he could see she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. What woman
takes off her wedding ring right after the wedding?

And she’d chased after those cowboys, coming back looking
like she’d spent the last hour in
really
vigorous activities.

Yeah, something about the woman’s story didn’t add up.

Chapter Two

Dear Diary,

I had these wild dreams of hot sex, two guys fucking me.
Not that I didn’t enjoy it :) but damn, I woke up before I could come and when
I tried to do it myself, the stupid dress kept getting in my way. Hard to think
sexy thoughts when you want to scream.

Well, I know the man is, or was, in the building and I’ve
got a plan. I’m going to find this guy and get the hell out of this dress!

Heather climbed out of the shower and ran a comb through her
long red hair. The mass of curls bounced back into shape after a few minutes.
She loved her hair, thought it was her best feature, but it did get in the way
sometimes.

The dress dripped dry, leaving a puddle on the floor of the
bathroom. She’d taken a lot of “birdbaths” over the past couple of weeks, but
after her race around the casino floor last night, she’d needed a full shower.

She glared in the mirror as she brushed her teeth and
finished getting ready. She hated the sight of that stupid dress but she
couldn’t exactly put mascara on with her eyes closed. On the positive side, her
morning routine took almost no time when she didn’t have to decide what to
wear.

Fluffing her hair and putting on a clean pair of panties,
she was ready to find the man who made the dress fall off. She wasn’t going to
think of him as “her true love” as Tasha called him, because, really, how could
a dress pick her soul mate?

Still, she needed to find him and the only way she could
think of, was to repeat what she’d done last night. She knew from her
wedding-planning business that people picked up habits quickly. If they went to
a bar one night, they were likely to hit it the next. Humans liked the
familiar.

Just as she was getting ready to leave, her phone rang.
Knowing it might be Tasha or her mother with an answer, Heather grabbed the
vibrating and chiming box out of her purse. Tasha. Good.

“Hey there.”

“Hey.”

“How’s it going?”

“Fine.”

Heather sighed and waited. Tasha was a great friend but she
had a tendency to lean toward avoidance. Heather was more of a “face it head
on” kind of girl.

“Well, did you get ahold of your mother?”

“No. Not really. I mean, I sent her an email. I’ve texted.
I’ve left voicemail messages. She pretty much told me she and Nick were going
off the grid for a month, and not to worry.”

“What if someone died? Or you got hurt?”

“Don’t be silly. I have ways to contact her in an emergency.”

Heather glared at her phone. “You don’t think this is an
emergency?”

“No. It’s your own fault.”

Heather growled. “I get it. I’m being punished by fate. I
apologize but I have to get out of this dress. I can’t run my business. I can’t
live my life.”

Tasha sighed and Heather knew from the sound that her aunt
was rolling her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. You wanted to prove us wrong and
now you’re paying the price. I had nothing to do with it so apologizing to me
gets you nowhere, except now I’ll take all your shoes out of the bags I was
donating to Goodwill and return them to your closet.”

A strangled garble came out of Heather’s throat and she
fought to breathe. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’ll just have to see when you get home, won’t you? When
are you coming home by the way?”

“I’m here for a week.”

“How is life as a Vegas bride?”

“Kinda sucks. But—I found a guy last night who makes the
dress fall off.”

“Then why are you asking about my mother?”

“Because the dress didn’t actually fall off, which was good because
I was in the middle of a casino at the time, but the point is, a guy who was in
this hotel made the dress fall off.”

“Ooh, so you could come home with your true love.”

Heather laughed though it was more of a sad sound than
joyful. Tasha was such a romantic. She actually believed this dress revealed
your one true love. Tasha had been storing the dress for years waiting for the
right moment to use it.

“I doubt I’ll come home with anyone but myself but if I can
find the guy, I can get out of this damn dress and that’s all that matters.”

Tasha was silent on the other end of the phone. Heather knew
it was because Tasha didn’t want to contradict her.

“Anyway, I’m just about to head out and find—” Damn, what
did she call him? No way did she want to think of him as Mr. Right. “That guy.
Whoever that guy is.”

“Well, have fun. I’m meeting Jason for lunch.”

Heather forced herself to smile, not wanting Tasha to hear
anything but joy in her voice. In truth, Heather really didn’t care for Jason.
He was a good enough guy but he was boring and Tasha had a “boring” tendency as
well. She needed someone to shake up her life and show her how much fun it
could be.

But Tasha loved him so Heather wasn’t going to be the one to
burst her best friend’s bubble.

“That’s great. You guys have fun. I’m off to sit at the
bar.”

Tasha’s laughter followed her as Heather hung up the phone.

She thought about Tasha and Jason. They would be the boring
couple but that was what Tasha wanted. She wanted kids and the white picket
fence. And she was thirty-three, so if she wanted to physically have those
kids, she needed to get started soon, and Jason was the best prospect so far.

The thought made Heather want to scream.

Heather gave herself a shake and stood up, her mission
firmly focused once again in her brain.

She went downstairs and ate breakfast in the café. It was
probably too early in the day for him to be near the bar, but she wasn’t taking
any chances. She took up her place near the end and plopped her money in the
video poker machine.

A different bartender was on duty—Robert. He brought Heather
her diet soda and left her alone to play. The atmosphere was different this
early in the day. After a while, she noticed few cowboys were walking the
aisles. But she could hardly ask Robert where all the cowboys had gone.

“Seems kind of quiet,” she prompted when he came by to
refill her glass.

“Oh, there’s a bull bucking event going on right now at the
arena.” He pointed in the direction of the rooms. “Most of them are probably
there, but they’ll head back here for lunch.”

“That’s probably where he is,” she muttered.

“Your groom?” Robert blurted out.

Heather’s head snapped up. “What? Oh yes, my groom. Probably
watching those bulls buck.”

A quizzical look moved across his face. “Well, if you just
go up that hallway, it leads right to the arena.”

Walking through an arena filled with people, all staring at
her? No thanks.

“Oh, he’ll be back. He always comes back.”

“Okay.” The bartender patted the counter in front of her.
“Let me know if you want something stronger.”

Heather nodded and winced as he turned his back.
How much
sympathy can one woman take?

She decided to keep her position through the lunch rush.
Maybe he would walk by. At lunch, the crowd flowed back into the casino, the
restaurants filling up. But nothing triggered the dress.

Finally, by midafternoon, Heather had had enough soda to
float a battleship and her butt was tired from being perched on that barstool.
And she’d run through almost two hundred dollars on the poker machine. She
grabbed a sandwich at the deli and headed back to her room.

A new sign appeared near the elevator lobby announcing the
Fetish Ball—Friday night, right here in the hotel. She stepped out of the way
of the passing crowd. The desk clerk from last night had made her curious.

Based on the pictures on the poster, it involved a lot of
bare skin and leather. She’d never gotten into the whole bondage thing—found it
more silly than sexy—but the party looked like fun. She glanced down at the
ugly wedding dress. If she got out of the dress before then.

No way was she showing up in a ballroom of leather freaks
wearing this dress.

With a sigh, she made her way upstairs. Just one more thing
to blame on the dress.

A nap helped and when she got up, she was ready to go
searching again.

She returned to the bar, took up her same seat and played
poker, a little slower this time, just enough to feel like they wouldn’t ask
her to leave.

Yet another bartender served her. Her nametag read Chelsea.
She took Heather’s order and brought it back. The boldest of all of them, she
placed the wine in front of Heather. “So, what’s with the wedding dress?”

“Oh, the bastard stood me up at the altar and drove off with
all my clothes.”

“He really is a bastard.”

“Yep.” Heather sipped her wine, trying to hide her smile.
This
could be kind of fun.

“Well, I’d buy you a drink but they’re free.”

“Just keep ‘em coming,” she said, getting into the role of
the dumped wife.

“The little store here has a few things if you want to get
out of that dress. It’s mostly touristy stuff but it’s got to be better than
wearing the same thing every day.”

You have no idea
. She kept the words in her mouth.

“Oh!” Heather tried to sound surprised. “I’ll have to check
that out tomorrow.”

“They’re open most of the night.”

Damn. Such a helpful staff.

“He took off with my wallet as well.”

A light in Chelsea’s eyes flickered and Heather could see
the sympathy travel across her face. Crap. She’d gone from feminine outrage to
pity.

“Maybe we can get you some food tickets. I’ll talk to Cain.”

“No, that’s not—”

Before she could reply, Chelsea had walked off. Heather
watched as she talked with the sexy man with the long black hair from last
night. He looks like a “Cain”, she thought. Dark and a little dangerous.

Great. Now the whole casino is going to think I’m
abandoned and broke.

The man looked up, his eyes meeting Heather’s. She braced
herself for the sympathetic stare, but instead suspicion crinkled the edges of
his eyes.

The urge to run away was tempered by the need to find the
guy who made the dress fall off. Having Cain act as gorgeous eye candy didn’t
hurt. Even if she never found “the one”, she could look at him for days.

Only, he didn’t look happy to see her.

His mouth curled down into a frown and he nodded to Chelsea.
The woman smiled, turned to Heather and winked.

Heather dropped her gaze and stared at the poker machine.
Playing a quarter at a time, she’d managed to stay fairly level. She
concentrated on the game until a crowd of men moved in around her.

This seemed a convenient location to return empties as
several men reached forward and placed their bottles on the bar. The dress
sagged forward, dropping dangerously low on her chest.

He’s here. He’s—

“Miss, Chelsea mentioned—”

She heard the male voice as she spun around in her chair,
her eyes tracking the backs of the men moving away from her.

“Miss?”

She glanced up and saw the sexy bartender, Cain, but she
couldn’t stop. The chance to get out of this dress was at hand.

“Later,” she waved, grabbing her purse and chasing after the
men, relieved when she discovered they were all staying together. She wasn’t
going to have to race through the casino tonight. She stared at their backs,
not sure how to approach them. They looked older than she’d expected, white
hair, a bit of paunch on most of them.

Maybe the dress thought she needed a “sugar daddy”.
Certainly none of them fit her personal image of a “true love”.

You’re not looking for Mr. Right. Focus on the goal.

They turned into the steakhouse entrance and Heather
stopped. This was perfect. She would wander by the table and discover which man
made the dress fall off.

The dress tightened around her waist and she remembered
Cait’s description of what happened when the dress found “the one”. Not wanting
to be caught unprepared, Heather propped her hands on her hips. The movement
plumped her breasts nicely in the bodice.

She opened the door to the steakhouse and smiled to the
hostess. “I see my friends,” she said as she walked by.

Her gaze homed in on the table of men. Somehow she couldn’t
imagine any of these men being the right one but damn it, the dress
had
moved. Keeping her hands firmly locked on her waist, she strolled around the
table, waiting for the bodice to slip.

Nothing.

Damn. Maybe I’m not close enough.

Smiling at the men, she took a step closer. “Good evening.
Are you all having a good time?”

All five nodded, confused looks on their faces. She stepped
between two of them looking down. Their eyes zeroed in on her chest but the
damn dress didn’t shift one millimeter. With another smile, she moved around
the table, pressing close to each man.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

“Just a second.” She held up one finger to the voice coming
from behind her as she approached the last man. Nothing. “Damn it.”

“Miss.”

“What?” she snapped, turning and coming face to face with a
security guard. She huffed out a breath.

“Could you come with me?”

“What? No, I can’t. I have to get back to my seat. He was
there, damn it, and I missed him.”

The guard nodded, his eyes growing wary as she rambled.
“Really, Miss, you need to come with me.”

He cupped his hand under her elbow and led her out of the
restaurant.

“I’m fine, really.” She tried to pull her arm out of his
grip.

“I’ve been asked by the head of security to bring you to his
office, Miss. You can explain it all to him.”

A line burned down the center of her chest, pooling in her
stomach.

Her hopes of blending in as a “Vegas Bride” seemed to be
dashed.

* * * * *

“Rogers found her flirting with a table of men in the
steakhouse.”