Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

Rex signed his name across the bottom of the check then slid his credit card back into his wallet, tucking it away temporarily. His wallet had been in and out of that pocket more times than she could count, though he didn’t look at all concerned about the cost of the day.

  “Everyone ready to go?” he asked.

  “If you are,” Gabe said.

  Lacey simply nodded. She was ready whenever Rex was. That was the deal.

  Alexia waved an arm toward the entrance of the restaurant and yelled something incoherent.

  “What was that?” Rex asked, looking first to Alexia who was now slumped over her chocolate cake, clumsily attempting to fork another bite into her mouth, then to Gabe and Lacey. “Did either of you catch that?”

  “I think Alexia has had enough fun for one day.” Lacey didn’t like to see anyone so drunk they could barely talk, but Alexia had clearly hit that limit without them realizing it. “I didn’t think she’d had that much to drink.”

  “Wine with dinner. A drink or two at the tables earlier,” Gabe said, checking off drinks on his fingers. “That’s a lot but not enough to do this, is it?”

  “Didn’t she stop at the frozen drink stand too?” Rex asked.

  “That would do it. We should get her into bed before she tries to drink anything else or passes out somewhere.” Lacey stood from the table while Rex and Gabe helped Alexia.

  “I’ll take her to her room. You guys go ahead and enjoy the rest of your night,” Gabe said, putting his arm around Alexia’s waist.

  “Are you sure?” Rex asked.

  “I’m beat anyway. I don’t mind sitting with her for a bit until I know she’ll be okay, then calling it an early night.”

  “Call me if anything comes up,” Rex said, pushing the button for the elevator. When it arrived, he held the door open for Gabe and Alexia. “Don’t leave her until you’re sure she’s okay. Let’s plan to meet for brunch at eleven if everyone’s up for it. Text her so she gets the message when she wakes up.”

  “Sounds good, boss. Enjoy your night. I’ve got this under control.”

  The elevator doors slid closed and Lacey couldn’t help but be worried. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go with them?”

  “Gabe will take good care of her. Trust me. This is not the first drunk assistant we’ve had. Unfortunately, some of my staff aren’t as good at moderation as the rest of us.”

  “But she’ll be okay with Gabe?” There was no easy way to hint at her worry for Alexia. It wasn’t that Lacey didn’t trust Gabe, but Alexia was a woman, alone, and she was very, very drunk.

  “Totally. Gabe is one hundred percent safe. I’d trust him with a drunk little sister, if I had one. Honest. I’d never send a woman, drunk or sober, off alone with a man if I wasn’t absolutely sure she’d be safe. Gabe will call if they need anything.”

  Every ounce of instinct in Lacey agreed that Alexia was safe in Gabe’s care, so she turned her attention back to Rex.

  “What should we try next?” he asked.

  “It’s your money so whatever you want is fine.”

  “Play with me,” he said, grabbing her hand and heading into the casino where the high roller tables waited. His words were innocent enough, but his expression was not. His hand surrounding hers was big and firm—exactly the way she’d imagine the rest of his body being if it was also touching hers.

  She ignored the places her mind wanted to take her with his comment. If he pushed, she might do what he asked, and she wasn’t thinking about a silly card game. “I don’t gamble much, especially not at tables with a high minimum bet.”

  All night he’d been sending flirty little comments her way. They were starting to get under her skin and her resistance was seriously waning. Without Gabe and Alexia around as chaperones, it was getting even harder not to play into his innuendos and hints, harder not to meet his flirtatious comments with her own.

  “Play a couple of rounds on me. If we win, we keep playing. If we lose, we go find some other way to spend our time.”

  What other way did he mean?

  “What game?” she asked.

  “Blackjack.”

  Guiding her toward a table in the corner, his hand rested on her lower back. The touch would’ve boarder on intimate except he stroked her gun holster. She wished she’d taken it off and had only kept on the ankle holster, yearning to feel his hands on her body in new places.

  Stop thinking that way. Even in Vegas, he’s still the boss.

  “You’ve been so relaxed and casual this evening, I forgot you were still technically on duty.” He eyed her as he took his seat and waited for the cards to be dealt. “I often find myself wondering what else you have concealed under your clothes.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks as she struggled to find a witty response, but nothing came to mind. She licked her lips, debating the best answer.

  You’ll never find out…

  Find out for yourself…

  Everything under here is dangerous…

  “Just the usual—an assortment of things in holsters that I’d rather not draw attention to,” she answered, trying her best not to play into his flirtation. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to get all worked up and flirty then not be able to act on it.

  “Really?” he whispered, arching an eyebrow. “Where are they? I can’t see any of them?”

  “That’s the whole point. You’re not supposed to know they’re there.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. Even with the noise of the casino, she didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing. While she was legally allowed to carry, that didn’t mean she wanted to announce it to the rest of the world. “There’s a 9mm at my lower back, a smaller 25 caliber at my ankle, and a knife strapped to my thigh.”

  “Your thigh?” He ran a finger slowly from her knee to the top of her leg, leaving a trail of tingling skin in his wake. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “My other thigh.” Her breath caught in her throat, suddenly finding it hard to breathe the same air as Rex.

  “How do you even get to it if you need it? You’re in pants.”

  “If I didn’t think that you’d get the wrong idea, I’d tell you to put your hand in my pocket to find my secret access point.” She laughed at how ridiculous that sounded.

  His grin widened. “Maybe you can show me later.”

  He made no motion to relocate his hand from where it rested high on her leg, his fingers splayed as if to cover as much of her body with one touch as possible. The result was a heat that radiated through her leg and directly to the junction of her thighs. She wanted to squeeze her knees together and smother the pressure building there but doing so would only draw his fingers even closer to her center.

  She shifted and crossed her legs, effectively moving far enough away from him that he had no option but to take his hand back. Her leg instantly felt lonely without his touch, but she ignored her desire and tried to focus on the game and what was going on around them instead. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down when they were out in public.

  “I’m trying to get to twenty-one, right?” she asked, looking at the pair of eights she had on the table in front of her. “Sixteen is pretty close, isn’t it?”

  “Not close enough, sugar.”

  “Do you have to call me that every chance you get?”

  “Why does it bother you so much? It’s only a word.”

  She signaled for the dealer to give her another card. A ten. Too much. “Lacey is a word too. A perfectly good word.”

  “Especially when it’s used to describe lingerie.” His next card was a seven to go with the eleven he already had.

  She rolled her eyes. “Gee, I’ve never heard that joke before. Thanks for the stripper name, mom and dad. No one can be taken seriously with a name like Lacey.”

  The dealer ended with twenty, then scooped up their cards and got ready to deal again. Rex put out another bid for each of them. She hated to see his money disappear so quickly, even if he had plenty of it. There were about a milli
on other ways, better ways, she could think of to spend money.

  “Not true,” Rex said, turning his full attention on her. “I take lace very seriously. In fact, when presented with lace, I’m very careful and meticulous. I take my time to appreciate every single inch.” His voice dropped so low by the end, she found herself leaning into him.

  The fire in his gaze felt like it could burn holes in her clothes to see that she was, in fact, wearing lace trimmed panties and bra. Heat flashed through her entire body and she fought not to tremble. She didn’t want him to know how much his words affected her. She couldn’t give in to the desire building inside.

  The dealer cleared his throat. “To sit at the tables, you must play your hand.”

  Rex glanced at their cards. “She’ll stay, I’ll take another.”

  “Are you trying to seduce me?” she asked in a tone she hoped was lighthearted and joking.

  “I don’t try.” He brushed his lips against her ear, whispering in a deep tone that sent a shiver down her body. “When I see something I want, I take it.”

  She turned to face him, inadvertently moving so their mouths were a fraction of an inch away from each other. “And let me guess, you’re used to getting what you want. I’m not some Hollywood bimbo who’s going to roll over and spread her legs at your command.”

  “Oh, Ms. Grace, don’t challenge me.”

  “Mr. Randall, when will you stop underestimating me? I’m far more challenging than you can handle.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Rex faced the table and collected his chips, ignoring the fact that they’d both lost again. He tossed a chip to the dealer as a tip, then grabbed her hand and pulled her from the stool.

  “Where’re we going now?” she asked. Blackjack had definitely been more fun than Roulette, but it was his money. She hoped they weren’t going to the slots since they were too noisy for her taste.

  “The bar. I need a drink and so do you.”

  “I’m on duty.” He really needed to remember he was with an employee and not on a date, regardless of the flirting between them.

  “What’s your poison when you’re not working?” he asked, bypassing the hostess at the front of the nearest restaurant and heading directly toward the bar.

  “Whiskey.”

  “Interesting.”

  The bartender wandered over casually then stumbled as recognition of who was at his bar took root. “What can I get for you, Mr. Randall?”

  “A bottle of your best whiskey. To go.”

  The bartender’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not sure I’m allowed to do that.”

  Rex leaned his forearms against the bar. “I’m sure whatever your best bottle is, isn’t more than one-fifty to buy.” He put two crisp hundred-dollar bills on the counter and pushed them across. “Keep the rest for your inconvenience. And if your boss complains about the bottle, tell him to contact me directly to discuss it.”

  The way he took charge and instantly got what he wanted made Lacey’s heart pound. She loved a man who knew how to be a man. A man who didn’t take no for an answer. A man who did whatever it took to get what he wanted. She was a take-charge kind of girl, and nothing but a take-charge kind of guy got her hot and bothered.

  The bartender nodded, pocketed the cash, and wandered down to the end of the bar to retrieve the bottle and a bag to carry it in. “Here you are, sir. Enjoy.”

  “Thank you. We will.”

  Rex took her by the hand again and strode around the outside of the casino floor toward the bank of elevators. He flashed his hotel key card at the guard and punched the call button for the elevators that would take them to the top floors.

  “Where exactly are we going?” she asked, even though their location told her exactly where he was taking her—his hotel room, which was located right beside hers. Was he calling it an early night, so they could both get some rest? Although, that didn’t explain the bottle of whiskey…

  He ignored her and stepped through the elevator doors as soon as they opened.

  As the doors closed, her stomach dropped, but it wasn’t from the rapid rise of the express elevator. The idea of being alone in private with Rex was enough to make her dizzy with desire that would be hard to ignore. But she’d have no choice. Getting mixed up with Rex was a bad idea.

  Lacey slipped her hand from his and folded her arms across her chest, putting distance between them. She wouldn’t go to bed with him. It didn’t matter how much he charmed her, or challenged her, or flirted with her. Her answer was no.

  They arrived at their rooms, stopping in front of the side-by-side doors. Gabe and Alexia each had separate rooms further down the hall. Lacey and Rex had adjoining rooms so that she could enter his room without needing a key. It was a security precaution and nothing more. Their sleeping arrangements were still completely independent of each other.

  “It’s been a long day so I’m going to call it a night. You’re officially relieved from duty until tomorrow morning when I have brunch booked for eleven. Goodnight, Ms. Grace.” Rex’s door closed behind him with a thud that accented the finality of his words.

  He hadn’t pulled her into his room like she’d been prepared for. He hadn’t so much as sent another flirtatious glance her direction. He most definitely hadn’t pushed her up against the wall, pressed his body to hers, and kissed the shit out of her.

  Good.

  Great.

  Exactly as it should be. He knows the rules as well as I do.

  She sighed and let herself into her room. It was dark and quiet as she turned on the lamps and closed the blinds. She sat on the edge of her bed and toed off her shoes, then peeled off her socks, dropping them on the floor.

  The heat that had been coursing through her body for hours suddenly turned cold and a feeling of overwhelming emptiness settled around her. Yes, he’d made the decision she knew was the right one, but that didn’t mean his rejection hadn’t stung just a little. She’d planned on being the one to put a stop to anything happening between them.

  Why didn’t she feel happy about his decision when it was the same one she’d planned to make?

  Because if she’d made it, it was a smart choice for them, but if he made it, it was rejection. Rejection of her as a woman. She wasn’t his type. She knew that. Everyone who’d ever seen a tabloid magazine knew that. Rex went for the tall, blonde model do-whatever-you-say type, not the short, brunette, kick-you-in-the-balls type.

  All his flirting had been for show. A little something for the paparazzi to write about while they wondered what he was doing with his “assistant.” Why hadn’t he told her that to begin with?

  Lesson learned. There was nothing going on between them. Any spark she felt was the product of a great actor and nothing more. She wouldn’t forget his real intentions next time.

  Standing from the bed, she reached under her shirt and was about to undo the clasp of her holster when there was a knock at the door…the door adjoining Rex’s room.

  9

  Rex smiled innocently when Lacey opened the adjoining door between their rooms. She looked confused and concerned.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Her hand was behind her back. Always ready, always on duty, he knew she was reaching for her gun.

  “Everything’s fine, Lacey. You don’t need this anymore tonight.” He stepped into her space and slid his fingers under the hem of her shirt until he found the buckle to her holster. She stood so still he guessed she was even holding her breath. Feeling around, not daring to take his eyes off of hers, he eventually released the clasp and the weight of her gun fell into his palm. “That’s a heavy gun. You must get a sore back with that hanging there for hours.”

  He carefully placed her weapon on the dresser beside the door, while keeping his other hand on her waist. She stepped forward, moving with him, and steadied herself by bracing her hands on his chest. Her touch was warm through his shirt, and he instantly remembered what her palms felt like against his naked sk
in that night in his room when she’d tried to teach him self-defense. He wanted to feel them against his bare skin again.

  The door close behind her with a soft click.

  Rubbing her lower back in small circles, he felt the tension in her body. “Relax, sugar. You’re off duty.”

  For once she didn’t tell him to shut up. She held his gaze and licked her lips. “What are we doing, Rex?” she whispered.

  “You’re always on duty unless I’m in my room, so instead of having a drink in the bar, while you sip yet another water, I thought we’d have a drink in here. Together.”

  “Just a drink?” she asked.

  He shrugged non-committedly. Once he finally started to feel the tension in her back ease, he moved away to retrieve two glasses and the bottle of whiskey. “Straight up or with mix?”

  “On ice, if you have it.”

  As he poured, she peered around his room. He guessed it was identical to hers, but she looked at it with a critical eye as if taking in every detail.

  “Our doors lock automatically, the windows are tinted, we’re thirty-five stories up, and I’m guessing there’s no way even the best assassin could scale the glass façade of the building since there are no balconies, so I think it’s time you let down your guard. We’re perfectly safe in here tonight. Just the two of us.”

  He crossed the room and handed her a drink. He sipped his and sat next to her on the couch, stretching out his legs after a long day of being on the go. In the moment, he didn’t mind the hustle, but when night came, and it was time to chill out, the weight of his day would settle in on him and he’d be spent. Same thing happened every night. It was exhausting, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “How’s your drink? Does it meet your expectations?” he asked, turning toward her.

  “Better than expected, thank you. A good whiskey hits the spot.”

  He could think of a few spots he’d like to hit. For now, he was content enjoying her company in a setting that wasn’t full of stress and worry. She’d done enough of that on his behalf already. He was thrilled to be a source of a different feeling for a change.