Clay’s chest tightened. He and Julia were done with her debt and the trouble was behind her, so he didn’t want to let on, or reveal her secrets. But he’d been asking his brother to run intel, so he had to give him something. “She had some trouble with her ex. He left her with a steaming heap of problems, and they’ve been resolved, but I’m always on my guard.”
Brent nodded several times, and that was all it took, all he needed to tell him. “I hear ya. But nothing to worry about it. It’s all about the hotels trying to be pristine even when it comes to something as minor as lifting a few chips.”
Clay noticed Julia in his peripheral vision, and soon she’d rejoined them. “So, boys, what’ll it be? Are we staying for the next show?”
Brent wiggled his eyebrows, and pointed his thumb at Julia. “See? I like her. She’s up for an encore of me.”
Clay draped his arm around Julia. She raised her hand, linking her fingers through his. “We’re taking off. I have plans for her.”
“Plans?” she asked eagerly.
“Just you wait and see.”
* * *
He studied his notes once more. The man bothered him; squeaky clean, he had the reputation of a choirboy in business. Nothing shady, nothing underhanded. Damn near impeachable on paper. He scrolled through the documents he’d researched on Clay Nichols that he’d stored in his phone since the man had arrived in town. Local family, varsity football, pre-law, then Yale law school, and ten years as an attorney. No debt, no trouble. He tucked his phone in his pocket, annoyance rolling through him. Neither one had made a move yet, but he knew, he fucking knew she would any second. She was gone for the night, but he had his associate tailing her, and the two of them were at the Venetian. He had eyes everywhere so if she started hustling there, he’d be ready. He protected the Venetian too. For now, he threaded his way through the $100 tables, and found the couple she’d been hanging with earlier.
Time to make their acquaintance.
Then a bird trilled softly in his ear, and he straightened his spine, recognizing the ringtone. He snagged the phone from his pocket to double check that it was coming from a 415 area code. It was, so he did a 180, turning away from the tables. His contact was ringing him.
“I thought we had a deal,” he said as he answered the call from San Francisco.
“We did.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Friday, 11:52 p.m., Las Vegas
The music was indistinguishable. She had no clue as to the words, or if there even were lyrics. But the song didn’t need them. This was music that was felt, that thrummed through her body, that made her feel like a guitar being played.
The low bass, the rhythmic beat, and the sexy voice of the singer all did what they were supposed to do—put you in the mood to dance horizontally. Soon, she’d be doing just that. For now, she was still vertical and moving to the beat at Tao, a nightclub at the Venetian.
It was a Friday night in Vegas, and the posh club was teeming with hot, young, sweaty things wrapped up in each other. Neon-blue lights illuminated the bar, manned by fit and pretty bartenders, concocting pink, blue and orange drinks, and pouring the occasional vodka or scotch, like the ones they’d ordered and downed. Now, she was swaying her hips to the techno beat, grinding against Clay. Because that’s what you do at a nightclub. You bump. You grind. You simulate all the naughty things you want to do later. Well, maybe not all. But enough of those things, and right now her body was nearly plastered to his, her arm raised and wrapped around his neck, his hand holding tightly to her hip. She rubbed against him, and he pulled her close to his pelvis. Their constant need to touch each other, to find ways to get closer, to erase all the negative space between them was thick in the air. She stretched her neck against his shoulder, leaning back to look at him.
“What would Tad Herman say if he saw us now?”
“I don’t know. Is public copulation forbidden in your morals clause?” he whispered in her ear.
“I’m not sure. Are you planning on copulating with me here on the dance floor?”
“Here. There. Everywhere. But only if it’s legal.”
“The things you to do my body are clearly illegal, so I think we’ve already violated all the clauses.”
“Gorgeous, there are so many more ways I want to violate you. I’ll never stop wanting to infringe on morals when it comes to your sinful body,” he said, then licked a path from her collarbone, up to her ear, and she purred, her arousal ratcheting higher.
She pointed to the bar. “Go over there. Pretend you’re a stranger.”
“I’ll see if I can find the hottest woman here.”