explained the boutique hotel would sit somewhere between its luxury and lower-tier counterparts. With an Old World Parisian aesthetic outside, and a modern European design inside, the planned hotel would also have a hot nightclub that would attract and cater to the many singletons and unmarried couples who flooded into New Orleans every weekend, looking to have fun. Apparently, Max wasn’t as disconnected from the experience of the non-VIP nightclubber as she would have thought, because he painted a picture of a trendy and sophisticated hotel with prices within reach of people in their twenties who hadn’t been born with silver spoons in their mouths.
Pru could actually imagine herself going out of her way to stay at a place like that back when she’d been in her early twenties. It was also a very intriguing idea, coming from Max, since his hotel would probably be competing with both the Benton New Orleans and the planned Benton Inn New Orleans, which would be opening its doors in the fall.
She didn’t have to fake her interest in the conversation. In fact, she had to keep reminding herself to surreptitiously pour out half flutes of champagne whenever both men weren’t looking (with a silent apology to whomever was in charge of cleaning the club’s carpets at night’s end). And by the time Max was done telling Mike Benz about his plans, both she and the DJ were leaning all the way forward.
Max eventually asked Mike about his plans after his residency was through, and Mike confessed he didn’t have any. By the time Mike’s break was over, the two had all but made a formal deal for Mike Benz to be the first resident DJ at the hotel Max would be opening.
Pru observed Max as he watched Mike Benz leave. Though he’d made it seem as if he was the one doing Mike a favor, he now wore a self-satisfied smile. And Pru began to suspect then that Max hadn’t invited her over to his VIP table to just one-up Mike Benz. Rather, he’d been using her to achieve his ultimate goal. Getting Mike Benz to agree to a handshake deal.
This gave Pru pause, because if she was reading the situation right, Max wasn’t quite the useless ne’er-do-well he’d come off as in the online gossip blogs. In fact, she’d bet money Cole had no idea what his younger brother was up to.
Her suspicions were confirmed when Max’s easygoing smile disappeared as soon as Mike was out of earshot. “Planning to go squealing to my brother about this?” he asked Pru.
Pru answered more frankly than she might have under normal circumstances. “I’m Sunny’s best friend, not Cole’s. I barely see him, and when I do, we’re usually not talking hotel business.”
“That’s not an answer,” he pointed out.
Pru lifted her eyebrows. Max was also quite a bit shrewder than she’d originally given him credit for. “Okay...” She set her glass of champagne down and turned toward him on the couch. “Are you saying you don’t want me to tell your brother about your plans?”
Max also set aside his glass. “What if I were saying that to you?” he asked.
“Then I’d say if you don’t want me to tell him about your hotel, you can just ask me not to, instead of accusing me of being a tattletale.”
After giving her an incredulous look, Max said, “Fine, can you not tell Cole about this?”
“No problem,” Pru answered, somehow managing to keep her voice light despite the raging headache she could feel coming on. Reacting in an outwardly negative fashion to the club’s loud music wasn’t exactly in line with the free-spirit party-girl persona she was trying to affect with Max.
“Hey,” she said, turning her showgirl smile back on, despite the fact that her head was throbbing. “Want to get out of here?”
Max didn’t want to say he was shocked to be leaving the club with Prudence Washington, but he couldn’t exactly say he was not surprised either. He’d already come on to her twice, and he’d been shut down so thoroughly, he hadn’t thought he had much of a chance with her.
The first time, she’d listened to his proposal to keep the time-honored tradition of the best man and maid of honor hookup going with a humorless expression on her beautiful face. “No. Just no,” she’d answered before walking away from him.
The second time, at Cole and Sunny’s shower, he’d decided to try a new tactic, wining and dining Pru before suggesting a sexy rendezvous. But when she saw him approaching, she’d actually turned and walked away before he even had a chance to open his mouth.
However, this time it was Pru who seemed to be coming on to him.
“Do you mind walking?” she asked him with direct eye contact. “My hotel’s right down the street.”
“Which one?” he asked, testing to see if she was serious about her invitation.
She named a cheap but serviceable hotel brand that he’d heard of in passing but had never stayed at himself.
Her quick reply sent Max’s mind into a spin, trying to figure out what had brought on this complete one-eighty. She didn’t seem drunk, or even slightly buzzed, despite the amount of alcohol she’d consumed in the hour since she’d shown up in Sin’s VIP area. He stepped forward and gave the air between them a surreptitious sniff. She smelled fresh. Simple. Soap, a spritz of perfume and nothing more. Just as she had at Sunny’s wedding.
However, Maid of Honor Pru had treated him like a joke—a bad one that she didn’t find remotely charming or funny—while this Pru was all sexy invitation.
Tonight, she was dressed in a gold metallic number that he would have bet money was an actual Halston creation. It accented her flawless brown skin in a way that, along with her long, curly extensions, made her look as if she’d time-traveled right out of Studio 54. It was a look he couldn’t help but appreciate, especially since the dress’s short length showcased her long legs. That was one thing he knew he had in common with his brother. He’d always been a sucker for a nice pair of legs.
And Pru’s legs were a match for Sunny’s, who had also started out as a Benton showgirl. No surprise there, since all of the women hired to dance for the Benton Revue were required to not only be attractive, but also a minimum height of five foot eight.
In a pair of ruby-red stiletto heels so tall they brought her nearly in line with his height of six feet three inches, Pru looked as if she’d fallen out of an ad for the most idealized version of Las Vegas: beautiful, wild and glossy. Like the kind of girl who could rock your world, and happily keep it a secret.
“What changed?” he asked her straight up. He was good at reading people, and as happy as he was to finally close on this long-withheld deal with Sunny’s best friend, he wasn’t sure he trusted the terms yet. “You wouldn’t give me the time of day in Vegas. And now you’re inviting me back to your hotel?”
Pru let his question hang in the air between them for a few seconds, then she stepped forward and whispered low in his ear. “We’re not in Las Vegas anymore.”
He supposed Pru’s comment did explain a few things. For once, there was no one else present looking on. No Sunny or Cole. Not the kid he vaguely remembered Sunny introducing to him as Pru’s younger brother. No one to judge her if she decided to finally take Max up on his original offer to show her a good time.
Good Girl in Las Vegas.
