and held up two fingers. “Scouts’ honor. I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”
Her quasi-promise was already forgotten an hour later, as she and Molly stood on the patio of one of the Bellagio’s crowded lounges, watching its famed fountains as they waited for a table to open up.
“I wonder if I’d get arrested for dancing under the spray,” she mused aloud.
Molly was used to her friend’s antics and merely rolled her eyes. “Let’s not find out, okay?”
“I’m not saying I plan to do it.” Serena lifted her shoulders. “Just wondering, that’s all.”
“I wish Alex and Jayne had come out with us.”
“I know. Do you think Jayne’s having a good time?” Serena asked.
“About as good as she can under the circumstances.”
“If I ever get my hands on that—”
“She’s better off without him,” Molly interjected.
“That goes without saying, but I hate that Rich walked away unscathed after all the pain and humiliation he caused her.”
“He’ll get his eventually,” Molly predicted.
“I want to be there when he does. Maybe even help the process along a little, you know?”
“I do, indeed. Men can be such idiots.” Molly’s tone turned wistful then. “Still, they do have their uses.”
“And some of them aren’t hard to look at either,” Serena added as she caught a glimpse of a blond-haired god of a man.
Gorgeous was an understatement. Something about him, something more than his looks, had her heart ticking out an extra beat. Before she could figure out what it was, though, he was swallowed up by the crowd.
The first thing Jonas Benjamin noticed as he walked through the Bellagio’s bustling lounge was the redhead standing at the patio rail. She was impossible to miss—and not only because of the neon colors in her tie-dyed cropped jacket.
She had her back to him, so he couldn’t see her face, but talk about a killer pair of legs. Slender, yet shapely, they gave the illusion of going on forever thanks to the skinny jeans that hugged her curves from thigh to ankle. They ended just shy of dagger-like leopard-print heels.
As water shot high into the air behind her she turned, and Jonas glimpsed her face. Her features were as stunning as he’d anticipated: high cheekbones, lushly fringed eyes, a slightly upturned nose beneath which a pair of pouting lips were slicked with red gloss. Lust wasn’t unexpected, but the powerful zap of recognition he experienced was.
It made no sense. He didn’t know the woman. He’d never seen her before and wasn’t likely to again, since most if not all the bar’s patrons were tourists. Added to that, she wasn’t his type. Too unconventional, and way too flashy. His gaze skimmed her colorful jacket before focusing on a pair of earrings that dangled practically to her shoulders. The women he dated dressed conservatively. When it came to jewelry they leaned toward pearl studs or gold posts. They wouldn’t be caught dead in quarter-sized hoops, let alone silver chandeliers that dripped with iridescent beads. The redhead’s slightest movement caused the earrings to sway. The effect was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic.
Jonas rubbed his eyes and dismissed the bizarre feeling that he’d somehow been waiting for her. He was overworked, and with his campaign for mayor heading toward the final stretch had gone far too long without intimate female companionship. It was eleven o’clock on a Saturday night and he’d just come from a meeting with his campaign manager, Jameson Culver. They’d spent the better part of five hours discussing how best to capitalize on Jonas’s most recent poll numbers, which showed him slightly ahead of his opponent.
It was no small coup that a political novice such as Jonas had managed to snag the veteran strategist for his camp. Still, Jameson was tedious and humorless. If possible he could be even more overbearing than Jonas’s father, Corbin Benjamin, who’d enjoyed two terms as Nevada’s governor in the 1990s before being elected to Congress, where he still served.
“You’ll need more than a stint on the city’s planning board on your political résumé if you expect to someday lead the State or move on to Washington,” Corbin liked to remind him. “Mayor will be a good start.”
A good start and a good ending. Jonas felt he had a lot to offer as Las Vegas’s mayor, but he didn’t have the stomach for state or national politics—not that he’d ever been able to convince his father of that.
He tugged at his necktie. God, he needed a drink. It was why he’d come. He knew he could relax in obscurity amid the tourists. Not many locals patronized the place unless they were entertaining out-of-town guests. From the corner of his eye he saw a couple leave. He headed to their table, arriving at the same time as the redhead, who had an attractive brunette in tow.
“I’ll flip you for it,” she said.
Given her looks, he had expected her voice to be husky. It was smooth as velvet.
“I’ve got a better idea. How about we share it?” Even as Jonas struggled to process the fact that he’d just made that suggestion, he was making another. “I’ll even buy you and your friend a drink.”
“I don’t know.” She tilted her head to one side, considering. The earrings undulated and his pulse picked up speed. “I’m not sure if you’ll care for our conversation.”
“I’ve got a sister.” Jonas shrugged. “I think I can handle a bit of girl talk if it means I get to sit down.” Who knew when the next table would become available? Surely that was the only reason he’d offered to share it in the first place?
The redhead laughed. The sound was rich and robust, just as he’d anticipated. What he wasn’t prepared for was the way her sultry features took on an engagingly impish quality. Just that fast she went from searing siren to gamine girl-next-door. It was quite a transformation, and even though Jonas hadn’t a clue as to what had inspired her mirth, he found himself grinning back and wanting to find out.
“What’s so amusing?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” the brunette murmured.
“Come on,” Jonas coaxed.
The redhead shrugged. “Okay, but don’t say you weren’t warned. My friend and I were just discussing the most painful way to castrate a man.”
Jonas winced, and resisted the urge to lower his hands in a protective gesture. “You’re talking figuratively, right?”
A pair of red lips curved in answer.
“Okaaay,” he said slowly. “Any man in particular, or the whole of the species?”
The redhead laughed. “Don’t worry, Adonis. Your goods are safe.” Just as he started to relax, though, she added, “For now,” and laughed again.
“Do you still want to share a table with us?” the brunette asked. She was doing her best to hide a grin.
“Why not? I like to live dangerously.”
