Men just like him, only he was dumb enough to pursue the fantasy and think he had a chance of scoring with her.
After a few rounds of blackjack, Carson stepped away to check his cell phone and found he had a voice mail from a number back east. His client, of course. Saturday night brought the end of their weekend, and they would want a progress report, as well as his plan for the following week.
Hell, it was still the goddamn weekend for him, and he was going to enjoy it. They could wait until his fucking weekend was over.
Carson went back to the table, ordered a scotch with some water this time, and placed his bet. He was up for the night, letting loose for the first time that day, and placing some high-stakes bets when a gorgeous redhead sat down next to him.
“Hey,” she said.
Carson slid a sideways glance at the woman and gestured for another card. “Hey.”
“You look like you’re doing pretty well tonight,” she said, eyeing his chips.
He shrugged. “Yeah.”
She tilted her head and offered her name. “Madalyn.”
“Carson,” he responded.
She leaned in and he caught a whiff of her arousal. Rather than being disgusted at the scent of sex permeating from her body, he felt exhilarated. About fucking time I’m turning someone on. He had been so strung out at being constantly aroused the last few weeks, that he failed to realize he was hardly the one making this woman hot and bothered until it was too late.
“Want to quit while you’re ahead? Get a drink?” Madalyn asked.
“Sounds like a plan,” Carson said automatically, then immediately began to regret it. For the second time in a week, he didn’t want to follow through with a heady, lush, and ready woman. This one was on the prowl, and could have suggested a drink to any of the other available men in the casino. It certainly had nothing to do with him.
Since he’d already agreed to the drink, Carson cashed out and walked over to the small lounge with Madalyn, not his normal haunt. The two of them found seats along the ornate marble bar lined with expensive liquor. He imagined Victor would be rolling his eyes at him having drinks with yet another overly-willing woman if they had chosen his bar instead of this more formal, Grecian goddess-themed one.
After ordering, Carson tried to engage in conversation with the woman, but she kept purring and cooing while rubbing her hand up and down his chest in the same way Lucinda had given him the go-ahead signal. He practically rolled his eyes at this point. He hadn’t even heard one word she said.
What might have turned him on a few months ago seemed pathetic and desperate at the moment. He wasn’t even getting any movement down below from a willing and able woman running her hands all over him. In fact, her behavior was making him sick to his stomach.
Carson leaned back slightly, then picked up Madalyn’s hand that was sliding its way toward no-man’s land and placed it back on the bar, thinking how different her pawing was from Sienna’s sweet demeanor. This woman was like a lovesick puppy, trying to crawl her way into bed with her new owner.
Madalyn gave him a practiced little pout, then brushed her breast against his arm as she leaned over and asked, “Are you staying here? Let’s go up to your room.”
Shit, she’s desperate…and it’s fucking gross.
He couldn’t do it. He was whipped by a woman he’d only shared a cup of coffee with. A woman who put her naked body on display for any man to see, yet seemed innocent, untouched, and genuine, which was diametrically opposed to her stage personality. A woman who had shyly declared, “I’m not fast.”
His mind made up, Carson gestured to the bartender for his check. “You know what? I’m sorry, Madalyn, but I’m not feeling it. Really sorry, but I’m going to go back to the blackjack table.”
Watching the aggressive ginger strut away from the bar looking for another wealthy stud really stirred up shit again for Carson. Normally, he would have contemplated whether she was a natural redhead or not, but tonight his thoughts were on a blonde. A blonde he couldn’t care less whether she was natural or not. He wanted her no matter what secrets she was packing. They couldn’t be worse than a bad ex-boyfriend in her past, and a good hairdresser on speed dial.
Carson rubbed a hand over his face, tossed back the remnants of his drink, grabbed his chips, and headed to the elevator. Time for bed. He had to put thoughts of Sienna to sleep for the night.
Good luck with that.
He was less than successful in saying good night to the Sienna in his mind. Her soft skin and delicious curves filled his thoughts. The way she’d said, “You’re handsome,” in that hushed tone that was so seductive, yet seemed so innocent. It was borderline shy. Much like the contradiction between her face and body, her personality reflected a much more intriguing person than her celebrity persona suggested.