had.
“What do you think?” he asked.
She paused and tilted her head to the side to study him. She knew without a doubt that he was on the image committee and the development committees for the Strip. Hayden wouldn’t chance leaving any detail that could affect his business to someone else.
“Yes. I like how sophisticated your hotel is, but that doesn’t change the fact that one block over, the area is still a little sleazy.”
“Everyone is looking for something different in Vegas and we like to say we can accommodate any type of poison.”
“What about me?” she asked, wondering what he thought about her was dangerous. What you think of yourself is the only thing that matters. But she’d never held herself in high regard.
“What about you?” he asked. He pulled her into a small alcove.
She felt secluded from the rest of the world with the wall at her back and Hayden blocking her front. He stared down at her with an unreadable expression and she shivered deep inside, realizing how much of life she’d been missing since she left this man.
Because she’d never been able to really trust a man enough to let him affect her the way Hayden always had. She swallowed against a dry throat and said, “What’s my poison?”
“Only you can say. I suspect that it’s a mix between the gritty reality of where you grew up and this.” He gestured to the ornately decorated hallway.
“What about you?” she asked, not willing to dwell too much on how gritty her reality had been.
“I’m the center ring, master of ceremonies. Making sure that whatever reason—fantasy or desire—you brought with you gets fulfilled.”
There was a husky sensuality in his voice. She looked up at Hayden, into his deep blue eyes, and realized that he wasn’t all show and both of them knew it.
Hayden liked the feel of Shelby’s arm under his hand. The lobby of the planetarium was actually between his hotel and Deacon’s Golden Dream. They’d funded a wing together last year that would enhance the experience for their guests. He also had a traveling Impressionists exhibit down the hall in the art museum.
Most people came to Vegas for a reason and Shelby’s was probably just profit motivated, but his gut said there was more. He wanted to know more about those reasons.
Hayden had asked the head chef, Louis Patin, to send up champagne and strawberries for a predinner snack, and one of the hostesses handed a wicker basket to Hayden as they entered. He took Shelby up the back stairs into one of the VIP rooms.
“Give me a minute to get everything set up,” he said.
“Can I help?” she asked.
“No. I’ve got it.” He gestured toward the plush velvet covered seats positioned in front of the low wall. “Enjoy the show.”
She sat down and Hayden watched her carefully cross her legs, then shift to find a more comfortable position on the chair. The slit in her skirt widened and he realized it was a wraparound type and that only one or two buttons were keeping that silky fabric in place.
He caught a glimpse of her thigh before she pulled the fabric over her leg, covering it up. He sighed and then turned to open their champagne.
She was watching him as he poured the liquid and handed her a glass. The material from her skirt slipped free of her fingers. It slid down her leg. The woman had great legs.
“Why are we playing these games, Hayden?” she asked, running her fingers along the length of exposed skin. The stars had begun to appear on the planetarium ceiling, and soft classical music began to play.
“I wasn’t aware we were. We both like to flirt,” he said, lightly touching his glass to hers then moving back to regard her. Her flesh looked so soft and tempting in the muted lighting in the room. His own fingers tingled with the need to caress her. He clenched them and sipped the bubbling drink.
“I thought you were the master of ceremonies. Flirting is where we both try to pretend that we’re not still attracted to each other.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” he asked. Already his blood was flowing heavy and every nerve in his body said screw talking and take her. She didn’t want the niceties he put on when he was trying to be a gentleman instead of the gambler he essentially was.
“I’ve been trying. And not successfully I might add,” she said, twisting her fingers together in a nervous gesture that made him realize that it might not be real desire that motivated Shelby. It was the waiting. Not knowing which way things were going to fall between them.
“Why?” he asked, needing to know more.
“I can’t figure it out. There’s always been something about you that makes me feel…I don’t know, like I’m about to jump off a cliff. I know that it’s going to be an exhilarating ride but I’m not sure my parachute is going to open in time.”
It was different for him. He’d spent the last ten years protecting his emotions from the women with whom he got involved. It hadn’t even been conscious at first, but the last woman he’d broken up with had said that he was the coldest man she’d ever slept with. White-hot in bed but stone-cold out. And Hayden had realized the truth about himself. The truth that had probably been there the entire time. He couldn’t do things by half measures.
“We agreed to dinner,” he said.
“I know. But I got nervous when I saw you watching me.”
“Wanting you,” he said.
He closed the distance between them and bent down on one knee. Up close he could see the smooth, lightly tanned skin.
“Do you want me to want you that way?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, because that gives me something real to cling to.”
He shouldn’t touch her. Not now. Yet he couldn’t help himself. He reached out, scraping one nail along the edge of the material that covered her leg. She shivered, but didn’t pull away.
Her hand fell to his shoulder, holding on to him while he touched her. Stroking her was addictive. Her skin was softer than anything he’d touched in a long time. Her muscles weren’t hardened by hours in the gym, but softer. It was a very feminine thigh.
Taking the fabric in his hand, he drew it up over her leg and uncovered her. She dropped her hand to the top of her thigh, lightly resting it on top of his.
“Sit with me, Hayden. Let’s talk.”
He didn’t ask why. He knew that she wanted that sweet feeling that had always been between them. The real reason he could never forgive Shelby wasn’t so much because of the money she’d taken. It was because of the lesson she’d taught him.
He’d never been the kind of man who had let anyone inside him. Never let anyone see the real man behind the trappings of the spoiled rich-boy facade. But he’d been tempted to let her in and she’d walked away.
“Why’d you do it, Shel?”
