Hot Number

by V. K. Sykes

  She glanced up at Cassie, who still looked angry enough to hunt down Nick Saxon and punch him out. Now that would really put a damper on their vacation.

  “Listen, I’ve thought a lot about what happened,” Sadie explained. “The guy was just doing his job. I don’t think he got any particular pleasure out of grilling me.”

  Sighing, she picked up the bottom half of the bikini and draped it across her butt. “This thing is so not going to cover my big ass.”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. “First of all, you don’t have a big ass, so stop saying that. Second, these things aren’t like the old bikinis, Sade. They design them now to show off what you’ve got, and you’ve got plenty of good stuff in your trunk. So, stop worrying. We’re going to turn some heads at the pool. I guarantee it.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Sadie skimmed her eyes over Cassie’s long, slender frame. Underneath the white robe, her friend’s tiny, fuchsia-colored bikini was closer to a thong than a traditional suit. Though Cassie’s breasts were on the small side, Sadie knew she would have no trouble flaunting them. Guys around the pool would be knocking each other out of the way to buy her a drink. That’s just the way it was with Cassie—she had the kind of effortless, sexy poise that Sadie found impossible to emulate.

  “Now that I know he doesn’t resort to torture down there, I have to say I wouldn’t mind having your security man interrogate me. You have to admit, he is smoking hot.” Cassie set her mouth in a playful pout. “Maybe I should bust up a table tonight and see what happens.”

  Sadie felt a flush creep up her neck. A mental picture of Cassie alone with the sheriff, deep in the gulag, invaded her brain. She didn’t like it. Silently, she stepped into the bikini bottom and pulled it up to her hips.

  “That’s what I thought,” Cassie said, breaking the short silence. “He got to you, didn’t he?”

  Sadie sat down on the bed and picked up the skimpy bra. “I couldn’t stop thinking about him all night. God, he just radiates something, Cass. Power, I suppose. Self-control and discipline, too.”

  “Sade, you’re forgetting the most important word. Sex. S-e-x. The guy radiates sex like the freaking sun radiates heat. Hell, I could feel that from forty feet away last night when he was checking you out.”

  Ignoring that last comment—and the thrilling little pulse it set off between her legs—Sadie headed for the full-length mirror. She craned to look over her shoulder, then grimaced. “Could I be any whiter? I thought you were crazy to go to that tanning salon back home. Now I think I should have gone with you.”

  “I doubt Saxon will be upset that you’re not bronzed like a statue. I think he’s impressed with you just the way you are.”

  Sadie gave a dissatisfied grunt. She’d replayed the scene with the sheriff a thousand times, analyzing the nuances of his words, the aggressive jut of his jaw, the way the deep pools of his eyes had bored into her. Analysis was what she did—what she’d always been good at. Yet Nick Saxon had been too reserved and contained for her to figure out. Inexperienced with men, she was probably reading too much into the way his gaze had raked over her.

  “It’s not going to go anywhere,” she said with a dismissive shake of her head. “Hot Vegas security guys don’t chase after clumsy professors unless they want to reprimand them for bad behavior. Besides, I tossed a big chunk of bait at him, and he still walked away without a word.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want it to seem like he was hitting on one of the hotel guests. They probably have rules about stuff like that. You shouldn’t write him off yet, Sade. Not if you felt some fire between you.”

  “I wish. Well, I think I wish.” Sadie wrapped the robe around her nearly-naked figure and slipped on her Crocs flip-flops, mustering up a brave smile even though her mouth had suddenly gone dry with nerves. “Well, party girl, I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s hit the ogle pool.”

  * * *

  “Saxon, what the hell was going on up on thirty last night?” Buzz Carson growled at Nick from behind his mahogany desk. “One minute you’re lacing into some drunk broad downstairs, the next minute the two of you are strolling along, arm-in-arm, and then having a nice little chat inside the door of her room.”

  The chief of security had summoned him to his lavish corner office as soon as Nick had arrived for his shift. Carson’s belligerent questioning didn’t surprise him. The security cameras caught everything, and the chief would never pass up an opportunity to apply coarse-grind sandpaper directly and firmly to Nick’s ass.

  “Chief, if you read my report about the lady who smashed up a Pai Gow table last night—”

  Carson cut him off. “Yeah, yeah. I know it was her. Scrivens told me that much. What I want to know, Saxon, is what you were doing escorting that broad to her room. Getting chummy, were we? You know the rules as well as I do.”

  As one of the technical operators on duty last night, Wally Scrivens would have reported Nick’s appearance on both the thirtieth floor and the interview room surveillance cameras. A Carson sycophant, Scrivens liked nothing better than to throw some dirt Nick’s way.

  “Did Scrivens forget to mention that the guest in question was practically unable to stand on her feet, let alone walk unaided all the way to her room?”

  Carson’s momentary silence told Nick he’d hit the mark.

  “Okay, let me get this straight. You’re saying this babe was so shit-faced that she smashed up a poker table, and then couldn’t even get her ass back to her room without you holding her upright?”

  “Well, she’d had a fair bit to drink. But—”

  Again, Carson didn’t let him finish his sentence. “So, you put her on the list immediately, right?”

  Carson meant the casino’s blacklist. People designated persona non grata at the Desert Oasis. Since the casinos circulated their lists electronically, a blacklisting at one often meant being shut out at all the major hotels.

  Nick shook his head. “That didn’t make sense to me. She admitted that she’d had a bit too much to drink. But the real cause of the accident was her boots. Plus, she said she’s naturally clumsy.”

  “She’s naturally clumsy,” Carson said, sneering. “And you bought that load of horseshit? You know better than to fall for a line like that, Saxon. The bimbo played you like a nickel slot. You should have run her out of here. Jesus!” The burly Vegas ex-cop hauled his bulk out of the chair and stomped over to the full-length window that overlooked one of the hotel’s sprawling pools.

  “It was my call to make, and I made it. I believed her. Don’t we want to give our patrons the benefit of the doubt?” Nick forced down his anger, keeping his voice level. “And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t keep second-guessing everything I do, Chief.”

  Carson spun back, surprisingly light on his feet for a man of his size. His round face and thick neck turned an unhealthy shade of purple.

  “I’ll do whatever I damn well please around here, Saxon. The reason I have to keep on top of you is because I don’t trust you. You don’t have the instincts for security. And you’re too soft, sometimes. Like now. I told your buddy upstairs we shouldn’t hire you, but he insisted on sticking me with you. But if you keep making stupid decisions, even Webb won’t be able to stop me from firing your ass.”

  Carson never let Nick forget that Michael Webb, the assistant general manager and Nick’s father’s best friend, had insisted he be hired despite Carson’s vigorous objections. For some mystifying reason, Carson hated hiring ex-military men, and that seemed to go double for Nick.

  Nick had a pretty long fuse and he was used to taking crap from superiors in the Marines, but his frustration with Carson was about to blow. The last thing he needed was to lose it and punch out his boss. This job was too important—and had been too difficult to nail down—to let his temper go unchecked. He’d have to keep swallowing Carson’s abuse and make sure he didn’t give the chief even the smallest mistake to use against him. “Is that all for now, Chief?”

  “Yeah
, go on, get out of here.” Carson waved a dismissive hand. “Just do your job, Saxon. And that doesn’t mean babysitting drunks.”

  Nick turned on his heel and strode out, shutting Carson’s door behind him with a satisfying thump.

  Sadie Bligh had been front and center in his mind since he’d met her, and Carson’s tirade had only made it more difficult for him to push her from his thoughts. Last night, she’d practically handed him an engraved invitation to sample her considerable charms. If he’d been thinking only with his dick, he’d have pushed her into the room and found out exactly what was filling out those skintight jeans. Fortunately, his self-preservation instincts had been strong enough for him to walk away. He’d known all too well that security’s state-of-the-art surveillance system caught damn near everything that went on in every corner of the hotel, the casino, and the extensive grounds, including the pools.

  Damn. The European pool. Nick couldn’t shake the mental image of her stretched out on a poolside lounger, her soft, pale breasts bared and slick with tanning oil. He rarely ventured into that part of the pool complex, because guests deserved as much privacy as possible. They didn’t need staff hanging around for cheap thrills—not even security staff.

  He headed back to his office and immersed himself in the reports the staff had filed overnight. As much as he told himself he shouldn’t go near the place, he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that he wouldn’t check out that pool later today.

  If for no other reason than to reassure himself that Ms. Bligh was keeping out of trouble.

  * * *

  “Sadie, just take the damn thing off!” Cassie had already dropped her own bikini top into the pool bag at her feet. Sadie summoned up her courage, reached around her back and popped the snap on her bikini. There were maybe fifty guys around the pool, but only about a dozen women, several of whom appeared to be in their fifties and sixties. They had way more guts than she did.

  “That’s better,” Cassie said with an encouraging smile. “Now, lie back and enjoy the attention.”

  Sadie gritted her teeth, tamping down the urge to fold her arms across her chest. Fooling around at a sunny topless pool had seemed like a fun idea back in frozen Chicago. But now that the skin had hit the sun, so to speak, she had to struggle with an overwhelming sense of vulnerability.

  Arranging a fluffy pillow that smelled of coconut-scented suntan lotion behind her head, she cautiously stretched out on the day-bed they’d reserved. There was more than enough room for her and Cassie, though it couldn’t hold a candle to the luxury of the private cabanas that hovered haughtily over the less fortunate below. A couple of them had been rented by a group of noisy, twenty-something young men. In between gulps from tall beer glasses and boisterous laughter, the guys diligently surveyed the limited number of female breasts below.

  The Desert Oasis had fittingly named this pool Skin. It hummed with noisy energy in the dry heat that was tempered only slightly by the tall, swaying palm trees surrounding the pool area. Rock music blared from speakers on all sides, and a deejay kept up a steady stream of jokes in between songs—some ribald enough to bring a hot flush to Sadie’s face. In fact, the whole thing was beginning to feel like torture, not the sexy escapade she had once hoped it would be.

  “Something to drink?” A poolside waiter rolled up with a stainless steel drink cart. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-two, but Sadie could see Cassie already drooling over the young, tanned hardbody. “I can mix anything you like right here. And ice-cold Evian water is free.” The kid gave Cassie a lingering glance, then unabashedly checked out Sadie’s chest. Something unpleasant twisted in her gut.

  “Give me a pineapple mojito, Sunshine,” Cassie said, stretching her long body out like a cat in the sun. As she reclined on the pillow, her pert breasts jutted into the air.

  Sadie gave the waiter a wry smile. “Make that two, please.”

  “We’d be real pleased to buy you girls those drinks,” someone said from behind them.

  Sadie cautiously looked over her shoulder, trying to minimize the movement of her breasts. Three guys from the nearest cabana had slipped up while they were talking to the waiter. All looked to be in their early or mid-twenties.

  Cassie gave her a questioning lift of her eyebrows and Sadie groaned inside. The men—boys, really—were too young. Some of her students were older than these guys. Plus, they looked a little too far into their beer, and she hated that she couldn’t check out their eyes behind their sunglasses. Still, Cassie looked more than interested, and Sadie didn’t want to have to have an argument with her about it later. After all, this was why they were here. She shrugged her shoulders at Cassie, but then froze when her breasts jiggled from the movement.

  “Well, why not?” Cassie said with a sultry smile.

  The one who looked to be the leader of the pack gave her a lopsided grin. “Great! We’ll grab some chairs and pull up alongside.”

  After the chairs were arranged, one guy sat alongside Cassie, one beside Sadie, and one in front of the day-bed. The men all introduced themselves, though apparently they thought no last names were necessary. Sadie got the pack leader, Todd, beside her.

  “We’re here for the poker tournament at Caesar’s,” Todd drawled in what he probably thought was a sophisticated voice. “How about you girls?”

  “Oh, we’re here for a little sun and fun in Sin City,” Cassie answered. From the way she tilted her head and said those few words, she sent a clear message of sexual availability. Maybe even that both of them were available.

  Sadie gave Cassie a quick roll of her eyes but her friend ignored her.

  Todd unleashed a smarmy grin. “Where are you from?”

  “Chicago.” Cassie managed to make the one-word reply sound like a come-on.

  “Cool.” It was the first word Kevin, the guy sprawled in the chair beside Cassie, had uttered—probably because he’d lost his concentration staring at Cassie’s breasts.

  Todd came forward in his chair and leaned over the day bed, deliberately bringing himself closer to Sadie’s body. She resisted the urge to shrink back. She would not let this jerk sexually intimidate her.

  “So, what do you do in Chicago, Cassie?” Todd asked.

  “I’m a secretary in the math department at the University of Chicago. In fact, I’m her secretary.” Cassie flicked a glance toward Sadie.

  “You’re her secretary?” Todd raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Are you like an administrator or something, Sadie?

  Oh, Lord. Worse and worse. She hated when men asked what she did for a living. If Cassie hadn’t given the game away, she’d have told the guy she taught sixth grade at a private girls’ school, or worked as a bookkeeper at a funeral home. Anything but a college professor.

  “I teach mathematics,” she said, trying not to sound defensive.

  Todd jerked back as if she had zinged him with a cattle prod. “Jesus. You teach university math?”

  Oh, well. At least now he might leave her alone. “That’s correct.”

  Unfortunately, he didn’t respond the way she had anticipated. Most men headed for the hills when they found out what she did for a living, but Todd spread his legs wide and propped his elbows on his thighs, leaning as close to her as he could without falling into her lap.

  “Well, that’s fantastic. I never much liked math, but a hot teacher like you sure could have changed my mind.” He tried to say it in a sexy voice, but it came out more as a beery rumble. His stale-smelling, alcohol breath washed over her, causing her stomach to rebel. She shrank back against her pillow, trying to put some distance between them.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie noticed that even Cassie was cringing at Todd’s inanity, leaving her wondering how they could gracefully get rid of these idiots. A few minutes with them had already seemed like an eternity. Right now, she wished she were anywhere else, including walking headfirst into a sleet-filled, February wind howling down Michigan Avenue.

  But Todd and his cronies seemed
oblivious. They spent the next twenty minutes regaling them with stories about the poker tournament, providing endless detail on all the brilliant moves of poker stars neither of them had ever heard of. And as the beer kept flowing, the three men got increasingly loud and obnoxious. Sadie would have given her right arm to get out of there, but Cassie still seemed to be enjoying all the masculine attention. It appeared they wouldn’t be escaping anytime soon.

  Sadie’s tolerance ran out a few minutes later when Todd slid his hand onto her thigh. She gave it a hard slap—harder than she’d intended. “And what exactly led you to conclude that I would welcome your paw on my leg?” she snapped in her best schoolmarm voice.

  Todd’s eyes snapped wide open and he jerked back as if he’d been bitten by a rattlesnake. His chair slammed into a woman sitting behind him, knocking her forward and cascading her drink across the day-bed beside her. Splashed by the flying daiquiri, the young woman on the day-bed shrieked as if it were acid.

  Sadie rolled over to check out the chaos the oaf had caused. Todd looked befuddled as the two women began to give him a verbal beat-down.

  “Hey, Sade,” hissed Cassie. “Take a look over there. Down at the end of the pool.”

  Sadie gazed across the shimmering expanse of blue-green water to the other end of the pool. Shielding her eyes with the flat of her hand, her heart gave a jolt as she saw what Cassie was talking about. The sheriff. And he was striding in their direction—fast.

  Saxon looked utterly out of place in his light grey suit, white dress shirt and black shoes. Even the pool staff at Skin wore only shorts. But though his clothes looked out of place in the blazing sun, the man radiated a controlled and totally masculine cool. In contrast, a sudden, furious heat raced through Sadie’s limbs.

  Even behind his sunglasses, she could tell his gaze was fixed on her. His mouth hadn’t even hinted at a smile. Her little spurt of excitement faded, and unease took its place. Would he think her a tramp for baring her boobs in public? She shouldn’t give a damn about what Nick Saxon might or might not think, but she was surprised to find how much she did.