room, call Steven and say she didn’t feel well, but that would only delay the inevitable. She couldn’t stay in her room the whole week. What made oodles more sense was for her to forget about her Man To Do plan and just go enjoy her brother’s happiness. Forget about Ben and his cheekbones. If he looked anything like he had, there was no way he would be single. No woman could possibly resist him, and living in New York, he was up to his deliciously square chin in stunning babes.
She straightened her shoulders, flicked her hair back and pasted on a smile. Tonight, in fact this whole week, wasn’t about her. It was about her brother. For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t even met Lisa yet, and she was going to be her sister-in-law. With that thought firmly in mind, she once again headed toward the lobby, letting the sounds of bells, coins, music and chatter ease her way.
So what if she didn’t get her Man To Do? She had her vibrator, and that was a relationship she could count on.
BEN SPOTTED STEVE standing near the Jimi Hendrix display. He had his arm around a tall, slim blonde. She was frowning, but even so, she was pretty. A different kind of pretty for Steve. The women he went for tended to look like Playboy Bunnies. They partied like Bunnies, too. But Ben didn’t get that feeling from Lisa. She was dressed in white slacks, a pale blue top and a white jacket, tailored, classy; more Midwest than So Cal. Her hair was neat, not quite to her shoulders, and her shoes and purse were both white and conservative. She looked like she’d be right at home in a country club or on a golf course, not on one of Steve’s boats.
Ben kept on walking, shaking off his first impressions. One thing he’d learned the hard way was that looks don’t mean squat. He’d judge Lisa for who she was behind the Ralph Lauren look.
Steve turned, and grinned like he’d just caught a two-hundred pound swordfish. “Ben, you old bastard!”
Ben shook his head. Some things didn’t change, thank God. “I didn’t know they let people like you in here. Where’s security?”
Steve let go of his girl and gave Ben a rib bruising hug. “Thanks for coming, man.”
“Oh, right. Like I’d let you get married without me? Someone’s got to tell her what she’s getting into.”
Steve laughed, that big hearty guffaw that was as distinct as his fingerprints. It made Ben feel like he was home.
“This—” Steve said, moving toward his lady “—is Lisa.”
Ben met her gaze, liked her smile. Close up, she was attractive, but subtly so. Her blue eyes seemed a little hesitant, judging him. Which was only fair, he supposed. “Nice to meet you, Lisa.”
“Steven has told me so much about you.”
“Uh-oh. Remember, innocent until proven guilty.”
She laughed, then took Steve’s arm. “Do you think we should call your sister? I don’t want to lose our reservation.”
“Let’s give her another— Wait. There she is.”
Ben turned to follow Steve’s gaze. He wasn’t in the least prepared for what he was about to see.
TAYLOR SLOWED as she got her first look at Ben Bowman. Oh, shit. He’d changed, all right. He’d become the most devastatingly handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.
Her legs wobbled beneath her, but she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and not falling on her fanny. She didn’t know what to look at first. No, not true, the cheekbones were first, they had to be, and holy mama, they were even more chiseled than she remembered. His eyes seemed darker, but she’d need to be closer to be sure. He still wore his hair long, just past his ears. It wasn’t neat or tidy in the least. It didn’t need to be. He looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. And she meant that in the best possible way.
Her fingers twitched, itching to run through those dark locks, to see those familiar lips curl up in a wicked smile.
Okay, so she was back to the original plan. Sleep with him or die trying. She could do it. She had to do it. Hell, there was a long couch just this side of the lobby that looked pretty comfortable.
Finally, seconds before she was close enough to actually speak to Ben, her gaze shifted down. His body was every bit as wonderful as her memory had promised. Not the tallest guy on the block, but perfectly proportioned. He wore jeans, well-worn, cowboy boots beneath them. His shirt was white, no tie, his jacket hunter green. Altogether a delicious package.
No way he wasn’t taken. Not possible.
“Taylor, hello?”
Startled, she looked at her brother. “Hi.”
Steve laughed, shook his head. “I see you remember Ben.”
Heat filled her cheeks as she forced herself to forget about Ben and concentrate on her brother and his wife-to-be. After a quick kiss and a poke to his shoulder, she said, “Well? Are you going to introduce me?”
Steve stepped over to the woman in the white pant-suit and put his arm around her shoulders. “Taylor, this is Lisa. The woman who’s changed my whole life.”
Taylor smiled and moved in for an awkward air kiss. To say she was surprised was an understatement. This was Lisa? This preppy sorority sister? Not possible. Taylor glanced at Ben, and from his practiced look, she could tell she wasn’t the only one who thought something was screwy here.
But she wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t even talked to Lisa, so maybe inside those Alpha-Gamma-Delta clothes there lived the soul of a wild woman.
“Everybody hungry?”
Taylor turned to Steve. “Starving. Where are we eating?”
“I thought we’d go over to the Venetian tonight. Eat at The Grand Luxe.”
“Great.”
He turned to Lisa, his gaze adoring. “I’ll go get a cab,” he said.
“I’ll come with you. Give Taylor and Ben a chance to catch up.”
They walked away, leaving her alone with him and awkwardness swallowed her whole. She smiled, turned toward the big glass doors with the guitar-shaped pulls.
“It’s been a while,” Ben said, moving closer to her, ratcheting up the heat in the casino by a good ten degrees. “You look great.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
His low chuckle made her look. The moment their eyes met, she was lost—eighteen again, fumbling, frightened, drowning in lust.
Ben watched as Taylor’s eyes dilated, the pale blue shrinking to a thin halo. Her lips parted, revealing the tops of her even, white teeth. Her cheeks turned from pastel pink to dark, and he thought of her breasts, remembering clearly the shape of her nipples, the color of her areoles matching exactly her blush.
He let his gaze wander to her lips: plump, glistening, inviting, then down her remarkable neck, long and elegant, like Audrey Hepburn’s, only Taylor was blond, a real blonde, with long straight hair that flowed down her back, that rippled in the artificial lights of the lobby. Her figure had changed, all for the better. At eighteen, she’d been so slender
