her conservative suit. Maybe her new blouse had too much synthetic fabric in it. She felt a frown form on her brow and attempted to smooth it away. She didn’t want him to know that his presence rattled her so much.
“You’ve only observed the casino during the day so far. We’re virtually empty then. You should really take a look at the place during the evenings, when most of our customers are here. It’s the best way to see how we do business.”
He did have a point. If she were her boss, she’d tell her to stay. Should she really let her inappropriate attraction to John Fairweather prevent her from doing her job properly? “I suppose you’re right. There’s no need for you to accompany me, though. I don’t want to bother you.”
Constance saw that familiar sparkle of mischief in his dark eyes. “On the contrary. It would be my pleasure.”
When the elevator doors opened, she prepared for him to try to slide his arm through hers, or take her hand, but he simply gestured for her to go first. She walked ahead of him toward the game rooms. Was he looking at her behind? She felt her hips swing a little more than usual, and immediately tried to prevent it. She was probably letting her imagination run away with her, which she confirmed when she turned to find him texting on his phone.
He’s not attracted to you, Constance. Why would he be? He just kissed you because he could. He’s that kind of man.
“Let’s get you a drink.”
“No!” The protest flew from her mouth so loudly it made her glance around.
He smiled. “We have fresh-squeezed fruit juice at the bars. Leon does an amazing concoction of fresh pineapple juice with fresh coconut milk and a dash of his secret spices. Totally nonalcoholic.”
“That does sound good.” Coconut milk was supposed to be healthy and she’d never tried it.
He ordered two of the drinks, which arrived in large glass goblets with the casino’s sunrise logo on them. He lifted his glass. “Here’s to you discovering everything there is to know about us, and liking what you see.”
She merely nodded. She wasn’t supposed to hope that she’d like everything she saw. That would discourage her from looking for problems. She sipped her drink, though, and found it creamy and delicious. “I admit this is really good. I usually just drink soda when I’m out. I guess I’ll have to branch out.”
“I’m always asking them to invent new beverages. There’s no reason why us nondrinkers should be left out in the cold.”
“You don’t drink alcohol?”
“Nope. I steer well clear of it. It killed my mom.”
“What? I thought she was really young when she died.”
“She was twenty. She died in a car wreck. Drove off an overpass. It would never have happened if she’d been sober.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too. I don’t remember her at all. I was only six months old when she died. Luckily for me, she’d left me with a friend for the night. My grandparents made me swear never to touch the stuff and I’ve never seen a reason to defy them.”
“Very sensible.” Her prim reply embarrassed her. John had endured a devastating loss. It must be so odd to grow up not knowing the woman who gave birth to you. “Do you get mad at her for not being there for you?”
He paused, and looked right at her with a curious expression in his eyes. “Yes. When I was younger I was angry with her for not being more careful. Seems crazy, really. It does make me keep a close eye on the younger kids here, though. Especially the ones who’ve moved away from family to join us. I’m a big fan of stern lectures.”
She smiled. “You sound like my parents. I grew up on a steady diet of stern lectures.”
“And look how well you turned out.”
“Some would say I’m far too conservative for my own good.”
“And I’d be one of them.” He winked. “Still, that’s better than some of the alternatives. Let’s go watch the roulette tables.”
“You’re not going to make me play, are you?”
He laughed. “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to.”
* * *
What was it about Constance that got under his skin? John stood next to her as the wheel spun and the ball danced between black and red. She was so unlike the usual stream of glamorous women who hung around him, sniffing the scent of money or promising a steamy affair.
Constance stood with her arms crossed over her prim suit, eyes fixed firmly on the table and not a hint of flirtation in her gestures.
But he knew she was as attracted to him as he was to her. The shine in her eyes when she looked at him, the glow in her cheeks, the way she angled her body toward him unconsciously—it all spoke of the desire that crackled between them so forcefully you could almost hear it snap in the air.
She didn’t want to like him. Or to want him. But somehow that only heightened the tension building as they stood next to each other, pretending to focus on the white ball.
It dropped into a slot and the wheel slowed to a halt. One woman squealed with delight and smiled as the croupier slid a pile of chips toward her. John glanced at Constance and saw the tiny hint of a smile that hovered about her pretty mouth. “That’s why they keep coming back,” he said softly.
“I can see how it would be fun.” She leaned into him so he could hear her but no one else could. Her scent tugged at his sense. “But I’d still rather make money the old-fashioned way.”
“Me, too. I’ll take hard work over chance any day of the week.” He leaned still closer until he could almost feel the heat of her skin. “But everyone’s different.”
Did he like her because she was different? It didn’t really make sense. There was no good reason to flirt with and tempt this woman. She was here on professional business and it was inappropriate for him to even have sensual thoughts about her.
Yet he couldn’t seem to stop.
As he’d promised, he had no intention of making her do anything she didn’t want to. But making her want to? That was a whole different story.
* * *
One time at a college mixer someone had given Constance a glass of orange juice mixed with vodka—without mentioning the vodka. She still remembered the way the world around her had grown blurry, and she’d found herself laughing at things that weren’t even funny. She felt like that right now, though she was sure she’d had nothing but fruit juice all evening.
“...and then after we won every game that season, they wouldn’t let me go.” John leaned into her again, brushing her arm with his. Her skin sizzled inside her suit. “It was a pain in the ass. All I wanted to do was study statistics, and I had to get all this tiresome fresh air and sunshine.”
She laughed. He’d been telling her about how he’d joined the college football team entirely for the
