8 Bodies is Enough(4)
He laughed and pulled her close. “I take it you approve of the accommodations?”
“Yes. Are you sure the auction package is covering this?”
“Well, since I have to work while I’m here, I decided to get a room upgrade. Plus I’m trying to impress you.”
“Mission accomplished,” she murmured, lifting her mouth to receive a very good kiss.
“Well, that’s not the only mission,” he whispered.
Her pulse drummed higher as she returned a second, more hungry kiss. She and Peter had been each other’s first lovers, and they had once been electric together. She wanted them to get to that place again.
He lifted his head. “I’m starving—are you?”
She blinked. “Uh—sure, I could eat.”
“Why don’t we unpack and freshen up, then grab a quick bite and come back and…relax?”
“Okay.” She reasoned Peter was probably a little nervous, too. Which was understandable considering the ups and downs of their relationship.
Carlotta took her time unpacking, thinking she hadn’t brought enough clothes to do justice to the expansive walk-in closet with padded hangers, teak shoe shelves, and velvet-lined drawers. On display, her travel wardrobe looked a little blah, but she’d purposely packed neutral clothes so she wouldn’t be particularly noticeable or memorable as she searched for her mother. She guiltily stowed a red wig and a blond wig in the custom drawers, along with a couple of floppy hats.
Still, not everything she’d packed was practical. From tissue paper, Carlotta removed two sets of exquisite lingerie she’d brought for the occasion, one blue and one yellow, Peter’s favorite colors on her. After she tucked away the bits of silk, she snapped the pink bracelet on her wrist—twice.
The built-in safe was the size of an armoire. Out of curiosity she opened the heavy steel door to find a yawning space inside. But considering the furs, jewelry, cash, and designer accessories most guests who booked this type of room traveled with, she supposed it made sense. And while the Chanel clutch and the Fendi sandals she’d brought were pricey, they weren’t exactly safe-worthy.
She showered quickly and changed into a short black skirt and taupe silk blouse, wound her hair into a low French twist, then found Peter in the sitting area, parked in a club chair.
He didn’t hear her approach on the thick carpet, so she was able to study him unobserved. By anyone’s standards, Peter was a handsome man—tall and fit, with aristocratic features and impeccable grooming. But at the moment, his chiseled mouth was pinched into a line and his forehead creased with worry. Carlotta’s steps faltered—was she to blame for his tense expression, or was Peter worried about something else?
He glanced up and his face rearranged into a smile as he stood. “You look beautiful, Carly.”
“Thank you. You look nice, too. Everything okay?”
He smiled. “Never better.”
The hotel lobby was abuzz with activity, but as soon as they walked outside they were immersed in the full teeth-jarring spectacle of Vegas. Carlotta’s senses were assailed by blaring noise, blazing lights, and a barrage of motion. The crush of bodies was overwhelming. Flamboyant street entertainers vied for attention amid the cacophony of ringing slot machines and jackpot bells from children’s games. The smells of cooking food blasted them from all directions. The range of people milling around them was mind-boggling: young, old, older…male, female, unisex…cowboys, sheiks, showgirls.
They found a Japanese seafood restaurant overlooking an outdoor plaza and ordered a sushi platter to share. When the sumptuous rolls were set in front of them, Carlotta’s mouth watered. No way would Jack eat sushi—
Under the table, she snapped her elastic bracelet.
“What do you think of Vegas so far?” Peter asked, using chopsticks like a pro.
“It’s…shiny,” she said, watching a jester juggle jumbo sparklers for a gathering crowd. “I see the appeal. It looks like everyone here is happy.”
“That’s probably true when people arrive,” he said, polishing off a morsel. “Unfortunately, some people leave a lot worse off.”
Thinking of the task ahead of her, Carlotta chewed slowly, hoping his words weren’t prophetic. Recalling how worried he’d looked when she walked upon him at the hotel, she angled her head. “Is something bothering you, Peter?”
“No. I don’t mean to be a downer, but in my line of work, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fielded a call from a client saying they lost a bundle of their retirement fund at the craps table.”
“Yikes.”