drums rolled softly, winding tension tighter.
“One hundred fifty thousand,” Jenna called out coolly. The Ruby Room fell so silent one could hear a pin drop.
Mercedes tipped her coiffed head almost imperceptibly to the man seated beside her—a massive personal assistantcum-bodyguard in a designer suit who then flipped her paddle silently for her, his pockmarked features unmoving.
“We have one hundred seventy-five thousand dollars for the Nevada Orphans Fund!” The auctioneer pointed to the back. “Going to our mystery lady in silver and her assistant at the rear.”
Heads swiveled again, eyes blinking into the darkness.
The lighting technicians scrambled to spin a spotlight toward the back of the room in an effort to illuminate the holder of the big purse. But the beam didn’t reach. One of the techs hurriedly began to remount the light.
Jenna swallowed. Daddy was just going to have to foot the bill on this one. “One eighty,” she called out, squaring her shoulders, smiling seductively, telegraphing outward calm and control—fully aware of the camera lenses on her and her photogenic quality.
“We now have one eighty,” echoed the auctioneer.
Camera flashes popped, making the shimmering zircon crystal beads on her dress glitter like an electric waterfall. Silence pushed down heavier onto the room. The fans circled slowly overhead. Jenna swallowed past the tension in her throat, waiting.
“And…yes, yes, we have one ninety! From the back!”
Jenna cursed violently under her breath, flicked her paddle, smiling sweetly. She didn’t look around, wouldn’t give her rival the pleasure. She was posing now, for the cameras, out to win. On all counts.
But her opponent remained steadfast and countered instantly.
“One ninety-five, to the back.”
Her mind raced, doing the math, second-guessing her father’s reaction. He was already on the hook for the organization of the event, never mind her personal bid.
“Going once. Going…” The auctioneer raised the gavel theatrically. Everyone seemed to lean forward in collective anticipation.
“Two hundred fifty thousand,” Jenna said, voice clear as a bell.
Silence expanded, stretched, vibrated and shimmered like a taut invisible thing in the room.
“We have two hundred fifty thousand dollars, going once…going twice…”
The tech finally managed to remount the spotlight, and he swung it abruptly around, forcing white light into the dim back reaches of the Ruby Room, illuminating the Vegas matriarch in her full glory. She rose majestically to her feet. Tall and elegant.
Then with a gracious tip of her head, Mercedes deferred to Jenna and touched her assistant’s broad shoulder. At the matriarch’s signal her bodyguard rose and escorted his charge toward the grand gilt-engraved doors. He held them open for Mercedes, and she seemed to float from the room. The doors swung slowly, silently shut.
“Sold! To the lady in red.” The gavel hit the block, and the crowd erupted, music exploded and Jenna’s heart thudded wildly. “Special Agent Lexington Duncan fetches a record winning bid for the night, ladies. Please come up and claim your man, 159,” the auctioneer said, referring to the number on Jenna’s paddle.
“Damn, that was close,” she whispered into Cassie’s ear as she bent down and took a deep gulp of champagne from her glass. She then pressed her palms down on her hips, trying to remove the dampness and straighten out her nerves as she walked up to the stage. Agent Duncan stood shirtless, waiting to see the lady in the red dress who’d bought his pleasure. He removed his shades as she neared.
Jenna reached her hand up to him, and he clasped it. His grip was hard, rough, all power as he jumped down from the stage, landing beside her with a thud. Jenna’s heart did a crazy little squeeze that made her catch her breath. Must be the adrenaline, she thought. But when she looked up into his moss-green eyes she knew it was more. Lots more. He raised her hand slowly to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers lightly. “Touché,” he whispered. “I’m yours for a night.” Heat arced along her arm and stabbed into her heart like a jolt of pure electric current. She felt as if she’d just been sucker punched. One look and FBI Agent Lex Duncan had rendered Jenna Jayne Rothchild utterly—and uncharacteristically—speechless.
Cameras flashed blindingly, adding to her strange and sudden sense of confusion.
He bent down, mouth near her ear. “Just name the time and place for our date, and then I can get the hell out of here,” he growled.
A smile curled slowly over her mouth. “Why, but you sound pissed, Agent Duncan. Are you unhappy with your date?”
“Lex,” he said. “And it’s not you—this is not my thing.”
“Jenna,” she said softly. “Jenna Jayne Rothchild.”
He stiffened, recognition suddenly hitting him square between the eyes. He swore viciously under his breath.
“What’s the matter? You have something against the Rothchilds as well as bachelor auctions?”
Hell yeah!
He’d just been “bought” by the heiress of the family he was investigating in connection with murder—a professional conflict of interest that could blow the whole damn case. He was instantly furious. He had to extricate himself ASAP.
“Look,” he said hastily. “There’s been one huge mistake. I need to bow out—”
“Oh, but you can’t, Agent Duncan,” she crooned. “I’ve just paid two hundred fifty thousand dollars for the pleasure of your company. You signed an agreement.”
“This is a conflict of interest, Ms. Rothchild. I’m handling the investigation into your sister’s homicide. And you know it.”
She placed her cool, smooth hand on his amped forearm. “Do you want the Nevada Orphans Fund to be a quarter of a million poorer than it is right now?” she asked with a soft and flirtatious smile, her big dark eyes twinkling. “That money could be targeted specifically to your at-risk coaching program—the one you volunteer for two days a week.”
She knew. Damn her. She knew enough about him to…a dark thought suddenly hit Lex. Jenna Jayne Rothchild was the events planner at the Grand Hotel and Casino, her father’s largest Strip operation. She was renowned for her parties, each one more extravagant than the next.
“Was it you who organized this auction event, Ms. Rothchild?”
“Jenna,” she reminded him, smiling sweetly. “And yes. It went rather well, don’t you think? We must have raised close on—”
“You set me up.”
“And why would I do that?”
To compromise my investigation, to send my case down the legal tubes if it ever reached court. Hell alone knew. Whatever her motive was, Lex was going to find out. Sexy little Jenna Jayne Rothchild had just made herself a key person of interest
