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  When I went to the gym with Finn and Adam, hitting the basketball courts for a pickup game.

  When Finn asked how my night had been.

  When I’d remarked that it was fantastic as we’d walked off the court.

  “Sounds like maybe someone finally found his balls,” Adam had said.

  “Let me know if you need help finding yours,” I’d said, the only acceptable response.

  Later in the afternoon at home, I’d replayed the sex again and again.

  But not only the sex. The conversation too. She’d let me in more easily than I’d thought, and I’d relished learning more about her—her past, her present, her goals.

  I wanted more of that tonight.

  And tomorrow too.

  More Kate, before we had to shut this down.

  This weekend was temporary—she had her work to focus on, and I had no interest in another Debbie situation—but there was no reason this weekend fling had to end today. Sunday night could become part of it too.

  It all hinged on the veggies.

  Kate arched a brow, smiling coyly at me. “You’re angling for another night?”

  No reason to deny the truth. We had set the boundaries, we’d mapped the exit strategy, and while I was in this, I was damn well going to be in it all the way.

  I nodded, owning it. “I am. I absolutely am.”

  She moved a little closer, her eyes never straying from mine. “Then I hope the brussels sprouts are a ten.”

  I wanted to pump a fist. To kiss the air. To shout in victory because she craved the same damn thing as me.

  She mimed slam-dunking a basket as we finished the appetizer. “Ten,” she declared, and the sight of her like that—animated and vibrant—felt like a new detail about her, one I enjoyed knowing.

  “Ten,” I said, seconding her.

  That felt good too—being on the same page and acknowledging it.

  Setting her fork down with gusto, she shook her head in amusement, smiling. “I guess that means you’ll have to take me out tomorrow night.”

  I feigned annoyance, then snapped my fingers. “Damn it.”

  We moved on to other food, chatting as we made our way through peppers and mushrooms, Kampachi and cucumbers, and a bottle of wine.

  As Kate lifted her glass, she took a deep breath, as if preparing to ask something hard. “So, what’s your story, Mr. Hamilton? Why are you Captain Single?”

  Ah. The necessary conversation. The one I’d suspected we’d have at some point, especially since she’d opened up to me last night. But I didn’t mind having it. Kate was easy to talk to—always had been.

  “The truth is simple. One, my last girlfriend wanted to get serious far too quickly, and that’s made me a little wary of getting involved. And two, the woman I dated before her told me when she dumped me that I was already married to work.”

  Kate winced. “Ouch. How did you feel about that?”

  I scratched my jaw, flashing back to the breakup with Cassidy. I’d liked spending time with her, and had been starting to fall for her, but her parting comment had burned.

  With good reason.

  “Honestly, I felt pretty shitty at first,” I admitted with a sigh. “But I knew what my goal was—to help my parents with their retirement. My dad worked his ass off while I was growing up, and the least I can do is help him enjoy his retirement now.”

  “That’s great that you do that for them,” Kate said, a softness in her voice that tugged at my heart. “I can see why it would bother you if someone you were involved with didn’t understand why it was important to you.”

  “Exactly. My dad nearly died of a heart attack, and I have no doubt it was from working too damn hard. The least I can do is help him out.”

  “Oh God,” she said, clasping a hand to her mouth, then letting go. “That’s so tough. I’m so sorry he went through that, but I’m glad he made it.” She reached out and set a hand on my arm, rubbing lightly.

  I glanced down, and even though her hands had skimmed my chest last night, had roamed my body, this touch felt just as intimate as those had.

  But for entirely different reasons.

  Reasons I wasn’t so sure I understood.

  “Thanks. Me too. Obviously. That’s just part of why I want to help them.” My jaw clenched as I thought of all the hard times my dad went through when I was younger, and how, even as a kid, I’d wanted to do whatever I could for him. “I hated watching him and Mom struggle. When I was in middle school, I vowed I’d do whatever I could to help them. But there wasn’t much I could do then.”

  A focused listener, she never let her eyes stray from mine. “Of course not. You were just a kid worried about your father. But look at you—taking care of them now.” She gestured to me with a grin that felt new—one that seemed to come from deep within. “They must be proud of you.”

  A warmth like sunshine spread in my chest. She understood why this mattered to me, why my choices were important. “I’m proud of them. They worked hard, they love hard, and they’re enjoying their retirement as they should. I’m lucky to have them, and I want to do right by them and my sister. She has this kick-ass eleven-year-old.” I went on, telling her all about Carson, our pinball passion, the basketball games, and his sarcastic but clever style.

  “He sounds like you,” Kate said with a laugh that caught me off guard. I’d heard her laugh plenty of times before, but this one felt like it came from a different place, a deeper place. It was softer, sweeter, and at the same time, it seemed to say she knew me. She could laugh at me, with me, for me.

  “Yeah, he kind of is like me.”

  “Lucky kid,” she said softly, pushing a few loose strands of hair away from her cheek.

  Instinctively, I leaned closer and took over for her, brushing those strands out of the way, tucking them behind her ear.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “No, thank you,” I said, lingering on her hair, taking the time to run my fingers over it. Her hair was enticingly soft. “I fucking love your hair.”

  The compliment came out unbidden, and it was wholly necessary. Her chestnut strands were gorgeous.

  A faint blush spread on her cheeks. “And thank you for that too.”

  I lowered my hand, unsure of how to respond. Over the last few months, I’d become accustomed to her sass, to her fire, but this was another side of Kate I’d seen this weekend.

  A softer side. A vulnerable side. Sides I dug a whole lot. Even in spite of what had happened with her ex, she seemed to open up easily, to let me in. And every time she let me see more of her, I found myself wanting to kick that door open, know her better, understand her more deeply. And let her into my world too.

  Finally, I found the words. “Thanks for listening.”

  “I like hearing about your family. And your nephew. It’s great that you’re a part of his life,” she said.

  “He’s a good kid. I love getting the chance to spend time with him. And to look out for my sister.”

  “This is the same sister who told you to stop working this weekend,” she said, arching a brow.

  “That’s the one.”

  She took another sip, her expression amused. “Smart sister. Good idea she had.”

  I inched closer to Kate again, wanting to be in her orbit, wanting to be near her. Hell, maybe it was the wine. Maybe the peppers. Maybe it was just the aphrodisiac effect of a fantastic meal. But this woman was doing something to me, heating me all over. It wasn’t merely with lust. It was lust mixed with something else, something new. “Best idea ever.”

  Lifting her glass, she offered it in a toast. “Let’s drink to fantastic weekends.”

  I clinked back. “Like this one.”

  She’d just taken a drink of her wine when a voice cut across the table. A pretty, feminine voice. “Hey, girl! Don’t you look gorgeous tonight?”

  Kate whipped her head to look, then she grinned. “And I see you’re slumming it, as always,” Kate said, rolling her eyes at
the other woman’s just-stepped-off-a-movie-set dress.

  Holy smokes. The other woman was Ivy Carmichael, one of the wealthiest people in Las Vegas.

  “Seriously, that Badgley Mischka is hot,” Kate continued.

  “Thank you,” Ivy said, smoothing a hand over her red dress, then tapping the table with a perfectly polished finger. “Did you get dessert? You have to try the rainbow cake. I’m going to have ten delivered for our next book club.”

  “Ten? That seems a little low. That’s one cake per person,” Kate said, deadpan.

  The other woman tapped her lip, frowning. “True. Better make it twenty—another for everyone to take home. I better place my order now. Tuesday will be here before we know it.”

  “Excellent. As president of the club, I approve. But I have a confession—I didn’t make it through the book. I switched to a hot new romance.”

  Ivy dipped her head and whispered, “Same here.” Then she turned to me, and Kate jumped in.

  “Ivy, this is my good friend Jake Hamilton. Jake, this is Ivy Carmichael.”

  I extended a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Love your hotel.”

  Ivy beamed. “Thank you.” She nodded toward Kate. “And I hope you’re treating my book club president exceedingly well.”

  I grinned. “Only the best for Kate.”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” the woman who owned one of the most luxurious casinos on the Strip said to me. Then she added to Kate in a not-so-hushed whisper, eyes aimed in my direction, “Friend.”

  Ivy shook her head, not buying it.

  Smart woman. Brilliant woman.

  Kate simply shrugged and smiled.

  When Ivy turned to leave, a man about the size of a tree followed close behind her. Bodyguard maybe.

  Ivy glanced back at the man, her eyes lingering on him.

  As they left, I returned my focus to Kate. “So, you’re casual friends with one of the Carmichael sisters?”

  Kate shrugged impishly, her hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. I’d never noticed her eyes could be so playful—another thing about Kate Williams I filed away. The drawer of details was filling up.

  “She’s a voracious reader,” Kate said. “Very clever and insightful. We usually meet in a private room at the Rapture, so I can’t complain about that. And she has quite a sweet tooth, so it works out well.”

  I sensed a chance to learn more about where Kate’s mind was. “Speaking of insight, she seemed to doubt you when you called me a friend . . .”

  Kate licked her lips, lifted her glass, and took a sip. “Like I said, she’s insightful.”

  For the second time that night, I wanted to punch the air.

  But I also wanted something else.

  I wanted a kiss.

  So I took one. I leaned across the table, clasped her cheek, and dropped my lips to hers. The second we made contact, I moaned, and she murmured. Closing my eyes, I savored her lips, kissing her tenderly. We were in a classy joint, after all. Now wasn’t the time to devour her mouth. And right then, I didn’t want to devour. I wanted to savor the taste of the wine on her lips, the softness of her kiss. Maybe I was buzzed from the alcohol. Or possibly from the evening. Whatever it was, my mind went hazy, and Kate Williams went to my head.

  Her hair and her lips, her mind and her mouth . . . From her big heart to the way she listened, her hotel friend was spot on.

  Kate was not a friend.

  And I didn’t feel friendly at all.

  She didn’t seem to either, as she murmured softly, sighing when I broke the kiss.

  “Insightful,” she whispered.

  “Very insightful,” I replied, blinking to clear my head again.

  A few seconds later, the waiter swung by, asking if we needed anything.

  That broke the spell.

  “We’re all good,” I told the man.

  When he left, Kate jumped back to an earlier topic. “So, do you think you’re married to work, like your ex said?”

  I liked that she wanted to finish the conversation that had been interrupted by Ivy’s appearance. It said she was focused on getting to know me.

  I scrubbed a hand across the back of my neck, wanting to answer her honestly, as she’d done with me last night. “The age-old question.” I’d let her go first. “Are you?”

  She nodded. “Oh, definitely. But once I get this debt paid off, I want to get a massage and lie out by the pool and read, read, read. Just get lost in a book.”

  “One of my favorite things to do too.”

  “Book lovers unite,” she said with a grin.

  “And to answer your question,” I said, “maybe I am caught up in work. But at the time, it wasn’t something I planned to change.”

  “And now?”

  I flinched. Was she asking about the weekend? Did she mean would I change for her?

  Tension radiated through my bones as a familiar feeling spread over me. Flight. The desire to take off when a woman started encroaching on my carefully constructed goals.

  But then, just as quickly as it had come, that sensation dissipated.

  Maybe because that wasn’t what Kate was truly asking?

  Or maybe because of something else . . .

  When I met her gaze, searching those hazel eyes, I saw something in them I hadn’t seen in other women.

  Not in Debbie. Not in Cassidy.

  Something I wasn’t looking for.

  But now, it was something I was pretty sure I wanted.

  Someone who got me.

  Who understood me.

  And maybe, just maybe, someone I wanted to change for.

  That was what I had been realizing all night with her, what I’d been trying to figure out as we talked.

  That was who she was.

  The realization nearly knocked the breath out of me.

  What the hell?

  This was not on the agenda, not part of the weekend plan.

  Catching feelings was not on the list of things to do with a woman who wanted nothing to do with emotions.

  I had to get it together.

  I needed to center myself and zero in on the mission of the weekend. Fantasies. Pleasure. Role-play.

  Not the role-play of a great date.

  Not the role-play of a fantastic conversation.

  And not the role-play of starting to fall for someone.

  So I did my best impression of a lawyer, evading the question as I said, “You never know.”

  Then I paid the bill, cleared my throat, and told her in that commanding tone she seemed to love that we’d meet at The Chandelier bar downstairs in a few minutes.

  Sex.

  We’d focus on sex.

  And that would get my mind off the inconvenient feelings that were threatening to uproot a perfectly good weekend of hotel sex.

  16

  Kate

  The Chandelier Bar dripped with sensuality. Crystal strands hung from the ceiling, wrapping the bar in a rich, luxurious feel.

  Silver and pink, with plush stools and lounges—this was a bar for hot romance.

  It spoke of trysts and arrangements. It spoke of passion and nights with your lover.

  It spoke of promises.

  Forever promises, in some cases.

  I’d read a novel where the hero proposed to the heroine here in this bar.

  As I sat perched on a stool, I replayed the scene, remembering how he’d asked the question, a smile tugging at my lips.

  But then, I dismissed the scene, the memory.

  Why would I be thinking of scenes like that tonight?

  Jake and I were simply playing a game. We weren’t having a date or a love affair.

  Fine, we might acknowledge that more was brewing between us than mere friendship. But we’d never pretended we were only friends. We’d acknowledged our mutual attraction. That didn’t mean we were going to act on it beyond this weekend.

  We had an expiration date—we’d simply extended it by twenty-four hours.

  A late
checkout, if you will.

  But we still had one, and we’d adhere to it.

  I wasn’t keen on getting involved, and he’d made his feelings on relationships abundantly clear.

  He’d said it himself when I asked the question at Edge two nights ago.

  Like a date?

  No. Like dinner. They serve food. You eat. It’s good.

  Even if we kissed, even if we touched, these were roles we were acting out.

  This thing was all one giant scenario.

  And I needed to get my head in the game.

  I squared my shoulders, took a drink of my water—I’d had enough wine at the restaurant—and prepped to meet a stranger.

  We had our parts to play.

  “Is this seat taken?” His smile was crooked and full of dirty intent.

  I shot him a playful look in return, tapping the stool with my burgundy fingernail. “It is now.”

  He parked himself on it, his eyes roaming over me, then landing on my glass. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  It was a classic pickup line.

  All pickup lines were.

  But that was what we were playing tonight, and my skin was already tingling. Especially since this was a bar for coupling up—the duo at the end of the counter would be coupling upstairs soon, from the look of it.

  The two gorgeous women in tight dresses couldn’t keep their hands off each other. The dark-skinned woman in red threaded her fingers through the blonde’s hair. The blonde leaned into the touch like she was luxuriating in it.

  I wasn’t usually turned on by two women—that wasn’t my thing. But public shows of affection were my kink.

  I tipped my forehead in their direction. “I’ll have what they’re having.”

  Jake’s gaze followed mine, and he murmured appreciatively as he perused the two women. “Looks like they’re having each other.”

  He rose, moved his stool closer to mine, then gestured to the bartender and pointed to the women. “We’ll have what they’re having.”

  “Two martinis, coming right up,” the man said, and set to work.

  Jake turned to me, his eyes eating me up. “So, are you from around here? Or just in town for the weekend?”