Like almost kiss Ian Blaine’s twin in an elevator.
For an instant, she considered telling Amelia about her elevator encounter with the gorgeous Intertwined PA. But what was there to tell, really? The elevator got stuck, he leaned toward her, her heart stopped, then she got the elevator moving again.
Her heart might still need a jump-start, but no one needed to know that.
Nothing to tell.
It could have been worse. At least no one had been there to see how she had reacted to the man.
“Anyway, who cares if you say or do something stupid? You can leave that all behind in Vegas, right?” It took Sadie a moment to realize that Amelia was still talking about the prize date with a cover model.
“But it won’t be left behind. You know they’re going to have photographers all over the place.”
With a fake gasp, Amelia touched her fingers to her chest. “Oh, heavens no. Photographic evidence of time with a hottie? Blasted out to thousands and thousands of people? That would never do.” She pushed the down button and tapped her foot impatiently. “Good grief, Sadie, I think pictures are sort of the whole point.”
“Anyway, don’t they announce that at the end of the hour? I thought the program said it was some sort of game show.” Reaching into her bag again, Sadie rummaged for her conference program.
“It’s Bad Boy Bingo. It’s not just the date with the model, they also have tons of books and other prizes to give away. The sooner we get there, the better our seats will be.”
“You know, even if you win the date, you’ll probably have to sign some sort of stupid waiver that you agree to be in all their ads.” Sadie wrapped her sweater around her shoulder.
“You wouldn’t sign something like that?”
“Absolutely not.” The elevator opened, already full of people, and Sadie stepped in sideways. “But let’s go see who would.”
Chapter Five
Jake flipped and spun the roller cage on the table while he waited for the room to fill up. The red, wire cylinder was so stuffed with entries that he wasn’t sure spinning it did anything to mix them up.
Bunch of desperate women out there.
He chided himself for the uncharitable thought. The women who read the books he edited paid his bills. Paid pretty damn well, actually. He knew he sold fantasies—the chance to escape from the ordinary grind of daily life—and that most of the readers who bought the books recognized them for what they were.
This contest was just another fantasy.
It didn’t hurt anyone.
Except maybe Niall, the poor bastard who had agreed to spend an evening with whichever reader won.
In fact, the closest Jake had come to having to deal with fans was Sadie, who had been continuing her search for Jocelyn for the last twenty-four hours.
He flashed back to that moment in the elevator, the way her hands had felt against his chest. The way he had wanted to crush her to him, feel her soft skin against his.
Dammit. That was not helpful.
Sadie Quinn was the one woman at the conference he absolutely had to stay away from.
But every time he thought he’d dismissed her from his mind, she popped back up, either figuratively—or, he acknowledged wryly as he glanced toward the door and saw her curvy blond friend leading her into the room, in person.
Right on cue.
He tilted his chin in acknowledgment of Amelia’s friendly wave, then nodded again when he caught Sadie’s eye. She responded with something that was almost a smile.
Busying himself with rearranging things on the table, he did his best not to watch where the pair took their seats.
Nothing to do with me. Nothing at all.
“You ready for this?” Kamille asked as she moved up beside him.
“Not my monkeys, not my circus,” he said, but his smile contradicted the words.
“Oh, no,” his boss replied. “It’s your circus.” She stared around the room, her gaze lighting on the three models grouped in a back corner of the room. “But I fear they might be my monkeys.”
Jake snorted and handed her the cordless microphone. “Well, then, ringmaster, let’s get this sideshow started.”
Kamille spun the microphone through her fingers, flipped the switch to turn it on, and, with a wink, bounced up onto the low dais at the front of the room. Used to her standard patter at these events, Jake worked to keep the prizes moving out in an orderly manner. If he was there as her guy Friday, he could at least act the part.
His real work would come into play tomorrow, when he sat with her at the editor pitches and listened to the steady stream of hopeful writers coming through to talk about their manuscripts.
For most of the hour, Jake handed out baskets and bags of various romance-themed prizes.
But he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Sadie Quinn. Although she had begun the session looking slightly dismayed and perhaps even a little bored, her vivacious friend had quickly drawn her in, and the two of them were laughing wildly as they worked to match up the ridiculous penis-shaped markers to the squares on the Bad Boy Bingo cards that Kamille had had printed for the occasion.
When she wasn’t being so serious, Sadie’s brown eyes sparkled, he noticed, and the excitement brought a hint of color to her porcelain cheeks.
Once again, her hair had come out of its tight ponytail and was curling wildly around her face.
Just as he was wondering what it would feel like to let that mass of curls go and tumble free down her back, she glanced up and met his gaze.
For an instant, her lips softened and curved, and a wave of heat passed through him, pulling every inch of him toward her, leaving him hard with longing for her.
What the hell was that?
He gritted his teeth against the feeling and looked back down at the table to find the latest prize.
For the last half hour of the game, he avoided looking at Sadie again. When her friend Amelia came up to claim a prize she had won, he managed to speak to her without glancing toward their table.
Then, thank God, the hour was almost over. Only the model date was left to draw. Kamille, who had spent the whole time pacing back and forth as she called out slightly lewd categories for the bingo game, kept up her spiel as she made her way over to the prize table and the entry barrel, which had gained even more entries as the game had gone on.
“So. Who’s ready to win a date with one of our gorgeous cover models?” She waved toward the men, who had spent their time moving through the crowd, offering chocolate to the women.
Jake was glad his contract had kept him from having to do that job back when he was still modeling—even though he knew Kamille paid the guys especially well, it had always seemed a little demeaning to him.
The three models made their way to the front of the room, grinning, as Kamille asked the women to cheer for their favorites.
This part was rigged. Niall had already agreed to the date, but Kamille liked to put on a show.
Finally, it was time for the drawing.
Once this was done, Jake could stop by the hotel bar for a drink, or maybe two, and take it up to his room, where a virtual stack of manuscripts waited for him on his laptop.
He was ready to be done with this, at least for the day.
He might even order room service and skip dinner with the rest of the editorial team, all of whom still believed he was just Kamille’s assistant—or maybe her lover, depending on which rumors were circulating at any given moment.
He was lost in thoughts of escape when Kamille reached into the rolling barrel and pulled out a slip of paper. The room grew quiet as she glanced around.
In the sudden silence, her voice boomed over the microphone.
“The winner is…Sadie Quinn.”
…
As much fun as the game had been—more entertaining than she had ever expected—Sadie had begun to fantasize about getting out of this room and getting some air. She was just considering heading out onto the Strip to see some
of the sights, when Kamille Stone called out her name.
Wait. What?
A wave of dizziness passed over her as she realized that Amelia was bouncing up and down in her seat, pointing down at Sadie and shouting, “She’s here, she’s here.”
“But…but…” Sadie stammered. I didn’t even enter.
The grin on Amelia’s face gave her away.
“You scheming heifer,” Sadie hissed, but she stood up and moved toward the front of the room anyway. She’d deal with Amelia later. Now, she needed to explain that she couldn’t possibly accept the prize. She didn’t have any interest in going on a date with one of the muscle-bound pretty boys at the front of the room. Brawn wasn’t her thing.
What on earth would she say to him?
“Oh, no,” Sadie whispered, the sound whooshing out of her without her permission, and a hot blush crawled its way up her neck and across her cheeks. She couldn’t even think of anything to say. As she stepped up onto the short stage and turned to face the audience, she caught Jake Blaine staring at her, some indefinable expression racing across his face.
Startled, she glanced around at the other Intertwined employees until her gaze snagged on the model beside her, the man she was supposed to go out on a date with. Finally, she managed to pull her gaze away from his, but not before she caught a glimpse of the twinkle in his eye as the corner of his mouth crooked up.
By the time she opened her mouth to decline the prize, it was too late—Kamille Stone was talking up the dream date.
If she declined now, she’d look like even more of an idiot than she already did.
How utterly humiliating.
…
A flash of anger whipped through Jake when he heard Kamille call out Sadie’s name, the urge possessing him to sweep her up and away from Niall’s grinning face. Before he could stop himself, his hands fisted at his sides, and he took a half step forward.
What was he doing?
He needed to distract himself.
What would Jocelyn do?
This kind of mind game came easily enough to him at home, when he was sitting behind his computer and safe from willowy academic stalkers.
Why couldn’t he figure out how to put on Jocelyn’s persona now, when it counted?
WWJD, indeed.
With a half-smothered curse, he whipped out his phone and snapped a photo as Sadie stepped up beside Niall, her wild curls slipping out of their band to halo around her head in bouncing corkscrews.
The image caught her looking up at the model, wide-eyed and flushed, her lips slightly parted as he turned the full wattage of his overly white smile on her.
If it weren’t for that damned granny sweater and long skirt, she would look like she belonged on the cover of a romance novel.
Reminding himself that this was only for show—last he had heard, Niall was happily married, for Chrissakes—Jake composed a quick tweet, attached the photo, and uploaded it, then dropped the phone back into his pocket.
By the time Sadie glanced his direction again, he had moved to lean against a pillar with his arms crossed, propping himself up with one shoulder, one booted foot kicked over the other. He gave her a short, two-finger wave in the general direction of his forehead—not quite a salute, right on the verge of sarcastic, especially when paired with a slight smile.
She blushed a brighter red, and he instantly regretted the move.
Don’t be a dick, man.
He could tell, a moment later, when her own phone, still clutched in her hand, vibrated to let her know that Jocelyn had posted something. Kamille was asking her what her dream Vegas date was while the other women in the room snapped pictures and Niall and the other models surrounded her in all their hulking masculinity.
Sadie looked like a small bird, surrounded by sleek predators.
A tiny, wounded bird.
The thought surprised him.
He wouldn’t have considered her wounded.
In fact, the first thing that came to mind when he thought of Sadie was a line from a Shakespeare play, half remembered from college: “And though she be but little, she is fierce.”
So why was he convinced that she was miserable right now despite the fact that she was smiling for the cameras?
It had to have something to do with the men encircling her, though as far as he could see, they hadn’t done or said anything the least bit inappropriate.
He could still cheerfully take down every single one of them right now.
A prickling feeling on his neck warned him that someone was staring at him—but when he turned, it was only Kamille, watching him with an enigmatic smile.
What the hell?
Almost without conscious thought, he stood up straight and leaned over the table with the drawing barrel.
There. On the tablecloth printed with red-and-white hearts. A tiny square of paper, half-crumpled, where Kamille had tossed it as Sadie made her way to the front of the room. Jake scooped it up and opened it.
Caroline Decker.
Sadie hadn’t truly won at all.
What was Kamille up to?
When he turned to look at his boss again, she was still watching him, this time with one side of her mouth quirked up in a grin.
She winked and blew him a kiss, then turned on her microphone and took over the room again. “Okay, everyone. We need to clear out the room to get ready for our next event. But be sure to stop by the prize table on your way out—we have parting gifts for everyone who stuck around for the whole party. Thanks so much for joining us today.”
With all of the models posing for photos with the fans, Jake was left to hand out the gift packs himself as the women filed out of the room.
By the time the last reader left, Sadie had sneaked out another door.
So had Kamille, apparently, leaving Jake to direct the hotel staff members to box up the few remaining supplies and send them to Kamille’s suite.
The instant he had them sorted out, he was going to track down his boss and find out just exactly what she thought she was doing.
Chapter Six
Sadie stood out in the silent hall behind the ballroom, wiping tears from her eyes.
She had managed to keep her game face on while she was standing in front of that mob, but only by pretending she was standing in front of her own class. She knew how to handle those people.
And these men could have been her students, coming to the front of the room to ask questions after class.
Right.
She had stood up there, blushing like a fool, stammering incoherently when Kamille Stone asked her about her idea of a perfect Vegas date. Bad enough that all she could think of was that she’d never been to Vegas before and had planned to see the Bellagio fountains and a show. She had actually said it out loud.
Several of the people in the audience had laughed.
I’m an idiot.
When the women started filing out of the room, Kamille had gotten her contact info. Then as soon as she’d seen an opportunity, Sadie had escaped.
I’m going to hunt Amelia down and kill her for putting my name into that drawing.
Inhaling a deep breath, she used the back of her hand to dash away the tears of embarrassment that had gathered in her eyes. She couldn’t help but replay the scene over and over in her mind, starting from the moment Kamille Stone called out her name and Sadie walked up to the dais. “More like ‘staggered banged with terror through / a million billion trillion stars,’” she said aloud, shaking her head.
“Are you okay?” The deep voice behind her made her jump, and a squeak of surprise escaped her.
Jake Blaine. Of course.
Could this day get any worse?
This close, she could smell him, clean soap and a hint of something that shot straight to the back of her brain, bypassing logic altogether.
She could stand here inhaling him all day long.
If only I wouldn’t look like even more of an idiot.
“I’m fine,” she said.
Straightening her spine, she blinked away the last of the tears, then gathered herself together to turn and smile up at him.
And if the smile felt strained? At least she was no longer standing in the hallway sniveling like a lost child.
Jake took a breath as if he planned to say something, but after a moment, he blew it back out. “Can I walk you to the elevator?” he finally asked, his brows creased in concern.
Sadie managed a tiny laugh. “Oh, I think that’s probably a bad idea.”
His own laugh was rueful. “You don’t trust me in elevators any longer?”
“No,” she almost whispered. “I don’t trust myself.”
Tentatively, almost reverently, he reached out and swept one finger down her cheek. The touch sent ripples through her, and she shivered, but she couldn’t pull her gaze from his.
This is a terrible idea, Sadie.
Even worse than going on a date with a model.
You have a job to do. You’re not here to get seduced by some muscle-bound sex symbol.
A job.
Wait. She suddenly remembered that the Twitter app on her phone had gone off while she’d been dealing with the humiliation of standing in front of a whole room full of people who actually wanted to go on dates with those male models.
Jocelyn.
Jocelyn had posted something.
Scrabbling for the bag at her feet, she grabbed her phone and turned it on.
Yes. There it was. A picture of Sadie standing in the middle of the models, and a caption: Who’s luckier? The amazing Sadie Quinn, or the Intertwined model who gets to go out on a date with her?
“She was there,” Sadie gasped, waggling the phone in Jake’s face. He grabbed her hand to still it and peered at the image, a quizzical look on his face. “Jocelyn Dellarivier was at the Bad Boy Bingo party.”
“Well, yes.” Jake’s Southern drawl was back in full force.
“She must have been…” She stopped to examine the photo more closely. “She must have been standing right next to you. I can’t believe I didn’t see her. You know I’ve been looking for her. Why didn’t you—I don’t know, wave at me, or something?”
Jake held his hands out, warding off the implied accusation. “Hey. It’s not my job to find her for you.”
Hot on His Heels (What Happens in Vegas) Page 4
