brain that was overriding his common sense took that knowledge and ran with it. He shifted on the sofa, looking for a comfortable position as his body’s physical responses took over.
Thankfully, the server returned with their drinks, shifting his attention as he reached for his wallet. Evie stayed him with a hand as she handed over a bill to the server and told her to keep the change. “Smart women don’t let strange men buy their drinks in bars.” She winked. “It can lead to misunderstandings later.”
Evie wasn’t naive. He liked that. “Then I’ll get the second round.”
Her eyebrows went up in challenge. “That assumes there will be a second round.”
“I’m not assuming anything. Just thinking positively.”
“Hmm, I’ve heard folks talk about the power of positive thinking. Does it work for you?” Holding her drink carefully, Evie smiled as she leaned against the sofa back and crossed those unbelievably long legs. Although the action didn’t look rehearsed or intentional, it was still outrageously seductive. His imagination sprang to life, and all the reasons why he didn’t pick up women in bars anymore were blotted out by the images.
“I’m positive I’m glad your friend made a new friend…”
“Leaving me to make a new friend of my own?” Evie finished.
“Exactly.”
That word sent a shiver down Evie’s spine and kicked her heartbeat up another notch. The power of positive thinking? Hell, she was positive she wasn’t thinking straight, but she was also very positive there was no place on earth she’d rather be than here, with Nick’s dark eyes causing her stomach to turn funny flips. When she’d landed on him and his arms tightened around her, it felt like time stopped. The imprint of his chest against hers, the heat of his skin under the silky cotton shirt, the thump of his heartbeat seeming louder than the music. And when she’d looked up to see her rescuer…
The strobe light kept sending parts of his face into shadow, emphasizing the sharp cheekbones and the strong, square line of his jaw. Dark hair fell across his forehead, nearly covering a scar above his left eyebrow that gave him a dangerous look. She’d had to break eye contact before those eyes of his sucked her in completely and turned her to mush.
Then she’d noticed how the dampness of his shirt caused it to mold across his chest, and her hands had been on him before she realized it. The electric tingle he caused in her fingertips only intensified when he grabbed her hands, and Evie had sent up a fervent prayer of thanks that God made men that looked—and felt—like him.
Only the years Gwen had spent trying to teach her to be a lady had saved her at that moment, letting her fall back into simple conversation instead of throwing herself into his arms. Her sister-in-law would be horrified at the very unladylike way Evie was flirting with Nick now, but someone else seemed to be inhabiting her body at the moment.
Exactly. Was that a challenge? A promise? Nothing at all? Evie knew she was flirting way out of her comfort zone—and probably flirting with disaster at the same time—but she couldn’t seem to dredge up a care. This was a whole new world, and she felt as if she’d slipped out of a confining costume and was finally herself.
It was scary and thrilling, and if she had an ounce of sense, she’d go back to her suite at the Bellagio and forget she’d ever laid eyes—or hands—on this man.
How many times had Will accused her of not having that ounce of sense? Obviously, he was right.
“Are you saying you’d like to be my new friend?” Dear Lord, had she really just said that? And where had that husky tone come from?
The corner of Nick’s mouth twitched. “Yeah.”
Oh, yeah, she was way, way out of her league. Switch to small talk. Small talk would give her a graceful retreat while she regrouped. You can do small talk. Maybe not, she corrected herself as no words came to mind. Flustered by, well, everything, she reached for her glass to help calm her nerves. The vodka burned as she swallowed, and she coughed painfully. Nick signaled the waitress and she quickly brought a glass of water over.
Embarrassed, she could only smile gratefully and hope the darkness of the club would hide the blush on her cheeks.
“Since that drink doesn’t seem to be to your liking, would you like to go somewhere else? Someplace a bit quieter with better-quality vodka?”
That offer nearly caused her to choke, and the water burned worse than the vodka. She cleared her throat. “Like where?”
“There’s a club not far from here—the Starlight—that I like, but the options are wide open. This is Las Vegas, Evie, anything you could ever want is available twenty-four hours a day.”
Her mind went to a dozen inappropriate places—complete with visuals—before she managed to rein it back in. “That sounds good to me.”
Nick stood and offered her his hand. “Then let’s go.”
She hesitated for a millisecond and covered by reaching for her water glass one more time. Out of habit, she immediately wondered what the gossip columns would make of her and Nick, but then she remembered where she was. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. No one here knew or even gave a damn who she was, what she did, or whom she did it with.
She placed her hand in his and her insides turned warm and melty when his fingers closed around hers and he pulled her to her feet. Feet that weren’t very steady at the moment, dancing as they were around excitement, desire and the knowledge of her freedom.
Then Nick smiled at her, and her knees wobbled.
Viva Las Vegas.
Chapter Two
EVIE KNEW SHE WASN’T DRUNK—she’d only had a couple of drinks—but she certainly felt like it. The freedom, the not-caring who was watching, the feeling of lightness—the intoxication was coming from Nick, not a bottle.
Who needed alcohol when every time she inhaled, his scent coiled through her, making her blood sing in her veins? And if there was anything more perfectly thrilling than the feel of his body pressed close to hers on the dance floor…Sweet mercy. She was about to spontaneously combust. This wasn’t dancing: it was rhythmic public foreplay, and the bass line vibrating through her body was an unnecessary additional stimulant.
Oh, no, Nick was more than enough.
But something more than just her libido was awake. At this moment, she wasn’t “Evangeline Harrison, heiress to half of HarCorp International.” She wasn’t under the lens of Dallas society’s microscope. No one was judging her or expecting an appropriate level of behavior from the sister-in-law of Texas’s leading etiquette expert.
She was just “Evie”—random girl-on-the-street—and that Evie was enjoying her time out of the Dallas fishbowl. Nick didn’t know any differently, and he certainly didn’t seem to care who she was when she wasn’t here in Las Vegas. Not only did he have no expectations of her behavior, but he also seemed blissfully ignorant of the kinds of rules she was used to.
Drinking beer straight from the bottle? He didn’t bat an eyelash. Joining the band on the stage and singing backup on her favorite song? He lifted
