Watching her spoon the smooth, dark sauce into that pert mouth would have broken most mortal men.
But not Jack. He'd kept his hands to himself, all the way through dessert and all the way back to the suite.
There he'd behaved like a monk, and he'd been inordinately proud of himself at the time. Because her flushed cheeks and smoky sapphire eyes had transmitted the kind of invitation that made his body beg for mercy.
And it was still begging for mercy.
And she was in the next room. Probably still sleeping, since the traffic noise and the whirr of a far-off vacuum in the hotel hallway were the only sounds in the silent suite.
He toyed with the idea of waking her up.
There was nothing stopping him from crawling in next to her in the warm bed and picking up right where they'd left off.
The worst she could say was no.
The best she could say was …
Instead, Jack reached for the telephone next to his bed. Seven in the morning with no sleep and a raging hard-on was not the best time to be making logical decisions. He punched in Simon's cell phone number.
"Captain Reece here," came Simon's staccato but sleep-edged voice.
"Sorry," said Jack, feeling a twinge of guilt for unnecessarily waking the man up.
"No problem. You ready to go?"
"Not yet."
"Okay." To his credit, Simon didn't ask Jack why the hell he was calling this early.
"Can you buy me another day?"
"In Vegas?"
"Yeah."
Simon stifled a yawn. "Sure. Shipment delay on the parts?"
"That'll do it."
"Done. Just keep me posted."
Jack chuckled. "But maybe not at 7:00 a.m.?"
Simon's voice relaxed. "That'd be nice. But I'm on call whenever you need me."
"Am I screwing up anybody else's schedule?" Jack asked.
Cleveland had exclusive use of one of the Osland company jets, while Jack was the primary user of the other. But Jack didn't need his jet every day, and other Osland executives frequently booked it when he was in L.A.
"Hunter called a charter company. We're covered."
"Great. Thanks for your patience, Simon."
"No worries. I'm fine. I'll grab some tickets for a show tonight."
"Have a good time." Jack hung up the phone, his hand resting on the receiver for a moment. He'd wondered if Kristy might enjoy a show. Cirque du Soleil was playing.
He rolled out of bed.
He took a cold shower and brewed himself a cup of coffee in the in-room machine. Then he picked up the phone to call his assistant.
"Hey, Jack," came Lisa's voice on her cell phone.
"Morning," he responded. "Didn't wake you, did I?"
"It's seven o'clock," she responded. Lisa was a morning person extraordinaire.
"Been jogging yet?"
"Just putting on my shoes."
"Well, I'm stuck in Vegas."
"Really? How'd that happen?"
"Jet trouble. Simon's having it repaired."
"You okay?"
"Fine."
"Why don't you grab a flight?"
"I've got a passenger." It wasn't really an answer, since commercial airlines generally had more than one seat available on their flights.
But Lisa was too polite to ask any questions. "You need anything from me?"
"Did we hear from Neil Roberts on the Perkins project?"
"Let's see." Something rustled in the background. "He says escrow will close on the factory Friday. The union agreements are almost finished-some sticking point on pension transferability. And the tooling for the robotics hit a snag in Bombay, but he's dealing with it next week."
Jack jotted a couple of notes on the hotel stationary. "Does he need me to call?"
"Didn't say so."
"Okay. I'll touch base with him on Monday. Anything else?"
"Harry's retirement in the New Year. If you want the engraving done on time, we have to get the order in now. Gold or platinum."
"You've seen them both. You decide."
"He'll want the gold."
Jack shrugged in the suite. He'd have gone with the platinum. But Lisa knew their Western Regional Controller better than he did. "Go ahead then."
"You sure?"
"You're the expert."
He could hear the grin in her voice. "It's about time you-"
"Have a good run."
"I will. Have fun in Vegas."
Jack grunted something noncommittal before he hung up the phone. He wasn't in Vegas to have fun.
His gaze wandered to Kristy's bedroom door. But having fun was certainly turning into a huge temptation.
He left his notes on the small desk and crossed the room to her door, knocking lightly.
"Hmmff?" came a muffled reply.
He eased the door open. "You waking up?"
She rolled onto her back, her blond hair fanning out across the white pillow, and her creamy shoulders peeking out above the ivory duvet while Dee Dee resettled herself on the foot of the bed. "I am now."
"Not a morning person?" His hand tightened on the doorknob, and he forced his feet to stay glued to the carpet while he let himself wonder if she was naked under the sheets.
"Not when I stay up half the night eating chocolate and ice cream."
Jack's gut clenched once more at the memory of how she'd dug into the chocolate volcano, her tongue curling around the spoon, rescuing a drop of chocolate sauce that had dabbed on her lower lip. He wondered for the thousandth time how he'd had the strength to send her off to her own bedroom.
He forced his thoughts back to the present. "I have good news and bad news."
She sat up, trapping the sheet under her arms, bringing it tight against what he was now sure were her naked breasts. "The good news first."
It took him an inordinately long time to find his voice. "We have tickets to Cirque du Soleil."
"I guess I don't have to guess the bad news." But she didn't look overly distressed at the thought of staying in Vegas.
Jack clenched his teeth, redoubling his effort to stay on this side of the room. "Simon's waiting on the parts shipment," he lied.
She nodded her acceptance of the explanation. "Any guesses as to when he'll get them?"
Jack mustered up a casual shrug, the wordsDon't do it, Don't do it turning into a mantra inside his head.
He was proud of how normal his voice sounded. "Up in the air. We may have to do some more gambling to keep the room."
Kristy smiled at that, and the world shifted inside Jack. Her eyes turned the most incredible shades of blue. They sparkled like jewels when she was happy, then darkened to a smoky sky when she was aroused. He hadn't made her angry yet, but he'd bet anger had its own distinct shade.
For a split second he realized he was going to find out exactly how her anger looked come Monday.
The thought clobbered him, until he shoved it aside.
She shifted to a more comfortable position on the bed, one delicate foot peeking out the side of the blanket. "You do know, don't you, that we could lose more gambling than the suite actually costs?"
He let his gaze rest on her perfect pink toes. "Law of averages says we won't."
"I thought the odds were on the side of the house."
"They are. But most people neither win nor lose big. And we'd have to lose pretty big to cover all this."
She glanced around. "True enough. If we're going to be stuck here, is there any chance we could get our suitcases from the plane?"
He forced his gaze from her bare foot and focused on the headboard behind her left ear, forcing himself to regroup and think logically about his plans. They could send for their suitcases, certainly. But that would undermine his efforts to make her feel like she was in a Cinderella fantasy. Clothes and jewelry were an important part of the package. She had to get completely caught up if he expected her to marry him by Sunday night.
"Don't you think it's more fun for me to take you shopping?" he asked.
She frowned. "I can't let you keep spending money on me."
He gave another shrug. "It's my fault you're stuck here."
She cocked her head to one side. "Youbroke the plane?"
"I own the plane."
She hesitated for a few seconds. "I guess you do, don't you?"
The question seemed rhetorical, so he didn't bother answering.