by V. K. Sykes
HOT NUMBER
V.K. SYKES
Copyright © 2012 by V.K. Sykes
http://www.vksykes.com/
Smashwords Edition
Cover Art © Kimberly Killion of HotDamn Designs
http://www.hotdamndesigns.com/
Formatted by Jessica Lewis
http://www.authorslifesaver.com/
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CHAPTER ONE
“Sadie, you do not look like a hooker,” Cassie said. “You look sexy.”
Professor Sadie Bligh cast a doubting glance at her friend before doing a pirouette in front of the mirror for one last look at the derrière she’d managed to squeeze into skintight designer jeans. “Come on, Cass, these jeans are insane. If I had a dime in my back pocket, you could tell the year it was minted. And this top…” She peered at her reflection, assessing the scooped neckline that plunged precariously close to her nipples. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
Cassie gave an exasperated sigh. “Tight is good, Sade. Guys like tight things. A cute guy wouldn’t give you a second glance if you were wearing one of those schoolmarm pantsuits you always pick. You’d have figured that out by now if you’d ever looked past the top of your math books.”
Sadie ignored that low blow as she tried to calculate just how large her behind looked in her new and way-too-expensive jeans. “Please tell me my butt isn’t as wide as I think it is,” she pleaded.
This time, Cassie let out a snicker. “Just think J. Lo, and you’ll be fine.”
Sadie grabbed a throw pillow off the bed and took an uncoordinated swipe at her friend’s model-perfect rear end. “You are congenitally incapable of speaking the truth, but I love you anyway.”
Abandoning the perusal of her butt, Sadie shook out her unruly mass of auburn curls, then twisted open the pricey lip gloss Cassie had insisted she buy. “What if I run into some professor I know when I’m dressed like this? I’ll never be able to show my face in academia again.”
Cassie rolled her eyes but Sadie didn’t care. She had every intention of ragging her friend nonstop for talking her into this ill-conceived Las Vegas blowout, even though she knew Cassie had been right to make her flee Chicago and her deepening depression. Of all her friends—not that Sadie had that many close friends—only Cassie truly understood what a life-changing disappointment she’d just suffered.
Disappointment didn’t even begin to describe the blow to her spirit that threatened to pull her under. Getting passed over again for the prestigious Eagleton Mathematics Prize had made Sadie feel like a hopeless loser—nothing more than an imposter in a high-powered world where she’d never be more than Professor Anthony Bligh’s precocious but insufficiently talented daughter. Devastated, and feeling like her career and her life were slipping out of her hands, she’d been ripe for Cassie’s prescription: get the hell of out of Dodge. In Sadie’s case, Dodge was the math department of the University of Chicago, the same department where her father conducted his own research.
Cassie sauntered over to the king-sized bed in Sadie’s hotel room and flopped down, her long, tanned legs making a dramatic contrast to the white duvet. Sadie glanced at the whiter-than-white skin of her own chest and arms, liberally dusted with freckles. Crap. Maybe she should have made that visit to the tanning salon, after all.
“If you do see one of your colleagues here, chances are he’s doing even worse things than we are,” Cassie drawled. “You know what they say about what plays in Vegas.”
“Stays in Vegas. I get it.” Sadie reached for her champagne flute, but paused before taking a sip. For all her brave words, her stomach was tied in an anxious knot. “I do want to go for it. I want to try every damn thing I never thought I’d have the guts to do. The problem is I’m not sure I’ll be able go through with it.”
Cassie leapt back up and rushed over to give her an encouraging hug. “Hey, enough with the doubts, Professor. Damn straight you’ll go through with it, because I’m going to be right behind you, kicking your J. Lo ass if I have to.”
They stared at their reflections in the floor-length mirror for several long seconds. Sadie looked forlorn and uncertain—which she hated—and Cassie looked concerned.
“Don’t get so down on yourself, Sade,” Cassie finally said. “You took a big whack when those assholes on the prize committee stiffed you. No wonder you’re a little uptight and scared.”
Sadie nodded, trying to smile for Cassie’s sake. Her best friend knew her better than anyone, but even she couldn’t begin to understand what losing the Eagleton meant. Most mathematicians would have been over the moon just to be nominated for the most coveted award in the entire field. Not her. Winning was all that counted, something her father had drilled into her again and again. To Anthony Bligh, second place meant first loser, and he hadn’t bothered to hide his disappointment when the Eagleton results were announced. The memory of that unpleasant phone conversation—conducted in polite, stiff tones—still made her feel sick to her stomach.
“Nothing’s mattered except that prize, Cass. It’s all I’ve worked for since Dad won it.” Not just once, either. Her father had captured the Eagleton three times. She gave a hollow laugh at the thought that she could even compete. “How crazy am I to do that?”
Cassie jabbed her shoulder. “Like you’d be elected Mayor of Crazytown in a landslide.”
Sadie laughed again, but this time it felt a bit more genuine. “What we’re going to do here is plenty crazy, too. You know that, right?”
Cassie shook her straight, shoulder-length blond hair and threw her a haughty look. “Some people would call it crazy. I prefer to call it therapy.”
Sadie couldn’t repress the prickles of apprehension dancing up her spine. She wished she could convince herself that they were caused by the blast of cold air from the overhead vent. “Cutting loose in Vegas isn’t really going to change anything, at least not for me,” she said dubiously.
Cassie began to look impatient. “Well, to paraphrase John Lennon, all I’m saying is give crazy a chance.”
Sadie knew when to sound the retreat. After all, she had agreed to this adventure of her own free will, and it wouldn’t be fair to Cassie to chicken out now. “You’re a dangerously unbalanced woman, but all right. If we’re going to let loose, dressing up like bimbos is as good a place to start as any.”
Cassie grinned with relief and grabbed her champagne flute, raising it in a quick salute. “Amen to that. Now, pull on those wicked boots you got at Neiman Marcus and let’s get down to the casino. There’s a progressive slot machine, a margarita, and some hot guys on that floor, and they’re all calling my name.”
* * *
Thanks to her jazzy stiletto boots, Sadie made a complete ass of herself.
She’d been perched in front of a slot machine for what seemed like forever, downing two large cocktails in rapid succession and boring herself silly. After calculating the enormous odds of winning any substantial amount of money from slots, she’d decided to look for Cassie, who’d wandered away.
Slipping out of her chair, Sadie teetered along the aisle. She was trying mightily to remain upright on four-inch boot heels when her balance—even more precarious than usual, courtesy of Neiman Marcus—entirely deserted her.
Pineapple mojito clutched in one hand, she lurched headlong into a guy coming from the opposite direction. Her shoulder made solid
contact with a hard male chest, one covered by enough gold metal that the chains and medallions clanked like wind chimes in a stiff breeze. Her drink sloshed over the rim of her glass and splashed onto the carpet, barely missing his expensive-looking shoes.
Thank God for small favors.
Righting herself, Sadie was on the verge of blurting out an apology when she felt her mouth drop open in shock. The man had no neck! It had never occurred to her that a member of the human species could lack a neck, but his wide, square head appeared to be directly bolted onto a set of extremely broad and muscular shoulders. Clamping her lips shut, she realized he must be a football player or a wrestler, or some other manifestation of overdeveloped musculature. Even so, this man seemed in a class all his own.
Taking a clumsy step back, she summoned up a semi-coherent apology. “I’m so sorry. I’m quite mortified about this. It’s just that I’m not used to navigating on stilts. And the lighting in here is certainly bizarre, isn’t it? Like some sort of perpetual twilight. Tends to throw one right off one’s equilibrium, don’t you agree?”
The man’s gaze shot up and down her body faster than the hotel’s express elevators whisked up the thirty-plus storey building. When he finished mentally undressing her, he waved away her apology. “No problem, babe. Hey, those boots are cool. And so’s your top,” he said with a leering grin as he stared directly into her cleavage.
“How kind of you to say so,” she said, disconcerted by his boldness. “But evidently I’m challenged when it comes to employing this sort of showy footwear. Hopefully it’s not a permanent disability given how expensive these boots were. But right now I have to conclude that I am a definite hazard to anyone in close proximity.”
The guy’s grin faded, and he looked at her with a vaguely alarmed expression. She couldn’t blame him. She always babbled when she was nervous.
“You sure do use a lot of big words for such a little thing,” he said in a perplexed tone.
Big words. Good Lord, he should try auditing one of her lectures on algorithm theory.
Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Sadie started to edge away from him and the mess she’d created. Time to find Cassie.
The man’s puzzled but still hungry gaze raked over her again as he dropped his hand to her forearm. “Hold on, what’s the rush? Let’s head over to the bar and I’ll replace that drink for you.” He finished with a confident grin, as if she’d already agreed to what Cassie would call a hook-up.
Startled, Sadie peered up into his predatory eyes. Men never looked at her like that. Never. Then again, she’d never worn painted-on jeans, a plunging neckline that exposed a good portion of her breasts, and stiletto boots. What was he thinking behind those hooded eyes and that leering grin? That she was a hooker? Or a party girl looking to give it away for free?
She tried to put herself in Cassie’s shoes and figure out how her friend would have responded. After all, this was just the sort of activity Sadie was supposed to be engaging in. She’d come to Vegas precisely to go wild, get hit on, and get past her inhibitions. At least that was the plan.
Too bad she couldn’t muster up one ounce of enthusiasm.
“I’m sorry, but no,” she replied, carefully extracting her arm from his grip. “I’m with a friend, and we were just about to coordinate our schedule of activities for the remainder of the evening.”
The guy’s face deflated, but to his credit he didn’t push. “Well, if you change your mind, you can usually find me around the craps tables. I’d be happy to buy you another drink.”
“That’s good to know. Have a nice evening, then.” She gave him a wave and moved away as fast as the impossibly difficult boots would let her.
“Hey, you,” came a voice from the side.
Cassie sauntered up from between two rows of slots. Stunning in a red and black slip dress that showed off her perfect legs, her friend looked gorgeous and completely in her element. No doubt she would attract all kinds of masculine admiration this week, and she would revel in every bit of it. Unlike Sadie, who already felt unnerved by her first encounter with a man who wanted to pay her the same kind of attention.
The prospect of having Cassie by her side this week left her with mixed feelings. Yes, they had planned a crash and burn trip—a no holds barred adventure designed to make her forget her miserable existence. Cassie was supposed to be her safety net, the friend who would keep her from making any truly stupid mistakes. But Sadie was starting to figure that Cassie was more likely to throw gasoline on any fire that threatened to develop. Cassie wanted her to get laid, plain and simple.
Then again, that was kind of the point. If Sadie were to make a Letterman list of the top ten things she wanted to do in Vegas, some form of sexual activity would occupy several of the slots. She’d resolved to do it all—gamble till she’d blown her stake, take in male strip shows, and drink mojitos around the topless pool. But sex with a hot guy was definitely priority one. Sex with a guy she’d forget about before her return flight took off for Chicago. Wild, crazy sex that might even make her start to come alive again. To remember that there was more to life than strings of numbers and equations.
Cassie glanced over Sadie’s shoulder, no doubt examining Mr. No Neck as he retreated down the aisle. “Who was that guy you were talking to? He’s kind of hot.”
Sadie grimaced. “Just someone I bumped into. Literally. My right ankle collapsed and I fell against a California Redwood. At least that’s what he felt like.”
“Mmm, he looks like he does weights, for sure.” Cassie had her eyes glued to the guy’s broad, muscular back as he disappeared into the crowd.
“He wanted me to go to the bar with him,” Sadie said, eyeing her empty glass.
Cassie’s brows shot up. “So, what are you doing standing here shooting the breeze with me?”
Sadie rolled her eyes. “Come on, we just got here. Do I need to latch on to the first caveman who waves his big club at me? Especially one whose brain is apparently as minimal as his neck. Good Lord, he actually told me I used big words.”
“Here we go again,” Cassie sighed. “You wouldn’t be doing the New York Times crossword puzzle, you’d be doing him. Sade, you’ve got a mighty, mighty brain, but sometimes you can be as thick as the yellow pages. I’m obviously going to have to stick closer to you from now on.”
“Sure. Where are you hiding the gasoline can?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Just a random thought from the universe.”
Cassie gave her a puzzled grin. “When was the last time I told you how weird you are?”
“About half an hour ago. Anyway, you told me you wanted to give roulette a try, so let’s do it. I just sincerely hope I can make it all the way over there without falling on my face.”
Together, they picked their way through the crowds that jammed every aisle of the packed Desert Oasis casino. With every step, Sadie regretted the ridiculously high heels. Back home, she always chose flat shoes for work and sneakers for walks and weekends. The boots, the jeans, and the hey-look-at-my-boobs top seemed to be doing their job, though. Guy after guy checked out both her and Cassie as they passed between tables. Never had her material assets received such thorough scrutiny. But then again, this was the first time she’d made any effort to show them off. Slutty outfits were not standard attire in a university classroom—at least not from the professor.
“I love roulette,” Cassie chirped as they chose a table with a particularly handsome croupier. “I like to play my birthday numbers—seven and twelve. And my dress size—four.” She carefully placed five dollar chips on the four-seven and nine-twelve lines.
Sadie wrinkled her nose. “I’ll play, but I don’t much like roulette odds.” She flagged down a waitress clad in a harem girl’s outfit of neon colors. “I could use another of these mojitos, couldn’t you?” Cassie nodded and Sadie ordered for them both. It would be her third of the evening, on top of the champagne they’d cracked open back in their room.
Cassie grinned and patted her knee. “Way to go, girl. That’s the way to loosen up.”
Sadie dropped a ten-dollar chip on red. “I’m getting so loose you might end up calling for a stretcher to get me back to the room.” Though her blood alcohol level was inching up toward the red line, she had no intention of cutting herself off anytime soon. Wild and crazy was great in theory, but she knew she couldn’t do it without serious Dutch courage.
“Hopefully, someone other than an EMT will be escorting you to your room later. Unless the EMT is a cutie,” Cassie answered as the croupier spun the wheel. The ball rattled around the slots before coming to rest.
“Seven red,” intoned the croupier.
“Yes!” Cassie whooped, high-fiving Sadie. “I told you my birthday was lucky. And you won, too, Sade.”
Sadie shook her head, astounded by Cassie’s first bet luck. “True, we both won, but my odds were only thirty-seven to eighteen. Yours were thirty-seven to two on each bet. That’s extraordinarily lucky. Not to rain on your parade, Cass, but you could sit here an hour or two playing splits like that and not get another winning ball.”
Cassie’s bright red lips twitched with amusement. “If you were a superhero, you know they’d call you Mighty Math Girl, right? But you told me you’d never been in a casino in your life. So, how come you know so much about roulette?”
“I just Googled a few things. You know me. I remember everything when it comes to numbers. And I didn’t want to come here completely unprepared.”
Cassie plunked two more chips down in precisely the same spots. “Tell me exactly when you have ever been unprepared, Professor Bligh.”
Sadie ignored the question—and everything it implied—and put ten dollars on even. “I’m only going to play red/black and odd/even. That way I won’t lose much, if anything. It’s blackjack that I’m really looking forward to. That takes some brain power.”
