Paxson shrugged again. “Maybe she needs it.”
Cain rolled his eyes and groaned. Paxson was too freakin’ kindhearted to be in security. He was big and looked intimidating. The truth was—he was a cupcake.
Unless you pissed him off. Cain had seen it happen a few times and had learned to back off and wait for the blood to stop flowing.
“Just talk to her. You’ll see. Her story is not adding up.”
“Fine. I’ll talk to her.”
Cain started to push up out of the chair when the door burst open and the furious redheaded woman stormed in—eyes blazing, cheeks nicely pink and damn, her breasts looked ready to pop out of that gown. Oh yeah he was definitely an ass man but he’d make an exception for a pair of tits like that.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, barely glancing at Cain as she stalked to Paxson’s desk. His eyes grew wide as he stood to greet her.
“If you’ll just calm down.”
“Calm down?” Her voice rose to a near-shriek and Cain stifled a laugh. Damn, she had some personality swings, seeming almost harmless at the bar, to stalking random men to, well, this…
And this was pretty damn sexy. Cain had a thing for spunky women. Liked things a little rough and tumble…just like he liked his men.
Cain tipped his head to the side, trying to judge the roundness of her ass through the fluffy layers of material.
“Your security guard just dragged me through the casino—”
“Uh, no, uh really, sir, I didn’t—” Rogers said, clearly shaken by the experience.
Paxson nodded and waved the other man away.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Rogers asked. “She’s a little—”
The woman spun around, her eyes blazing. “What? She’s a little what?”
Rogers gulped and backed up. “I’ll just go.” The door closed behind him and the crazy bride whipped back around.
Her eyes landed on Cain. “Oh, hi, you’re here too. Just great.” She practically snarled the last few words. A sigh huffed from her lips and she planted her hands on the top of Paxson’s desk, leaning forward, tempting Cain to reach out and squeeze her ass.
“Why am I here?” she demanded.
Cain turned his head, ready to share a grin with Paxson. Paxson might be a cupcake but he didn’t let anyone, man or sexy woman, push him around in his own office.
But instead of meeting Cain’s gaze, Paxson looked at the woman, his eyes growing even wider. Unable to resist, Cain tracked his friend’s stare…right to the naked woman standing beside him. Damn, that dress had hid a lovely ass. His gaze tripped up her body, taking in the nice, rounded breasts. Yeah, they’d fit in his hands perfectly while he fucked her from behind. His cock twitched within his jeans and he struggled not to squirm, not sure if he wanted his dick to have more or less stimulation.
He glanced back at Paxson.
His friend straightened though his eyes were still locked on her breasts.
“Perhaps we should discuss it after you put on your dress.”
The words barely penetrated her mind when she felt the cool brush of air across her nipples. Her gasp echoed around the room.
“Yes!” She pumped her fist in triumph. Her head snapped up and she stared at the large man in front of her. Him? She glanced at the man—the bartender, Cain—seated at her left. Or him?
Didn’t matter. One of them made the dress fall off.
“Please, Miss.”
She looked up at the big man behind the desk—Paxson according to his nametag. God bless Vegas. Everyone wore a nametag. His cheeks almost seemed to be turning red as he averted his eyes.
Cain obviously felt no such urge. He leaned back in his chair and spread his legs a little bit, as if he was trying to find space for the wicked bulge that had formed in his jeans.
Nice. Definitely yes.
But first, she had to make sure he was the one. He had to be the one, right? He’d been in the bar. She’d been so focused on the cowboys surging around her, that she’d missed Cain.
Or maybe not. Damn, a bit complicated but not impossible and she was out of the dress for the first time in weeks. The air felt so lovely against her skin. She took another breath knowing she had to put the damn gown back on but still, it was a moment of peace.
“Miss.” Paxson’s kind voice turned hard.
She sighed, reached down and grabbed the dress, backing into the corner as she moved.
“We’re not done,” Paxson said, his hand reaching out as she bumped into the door.
“Oh no. Just trying to get back in my dress.” She offered a weak smile. “Zipper must be faulty.”
“Now, Miss…?”
He left the word hanging, quietly requesting she fill in the blank. “Bremerton. Heather Bremerton.”
“Miss Bremerton—”
“Call me Heather.” Best be nice to the man who could throw you out. Or he might be the one to make the dress fall off. She shrugged. “Too many syllables otherwise.”
The edge of Paxson’s mouth pulled up in a reluctant smile. “Heather, we’ve noticed you wearing the same wedding dress for two days.”
Like all good interviewers, he let the silence hang between them and Heather told herself to wait until he asked an actual question, to not volunteer information, but she couldn’t keep the words behind her teeth any longer.
“My luggage got lost,” she blurted out, thankful she was at least able to come up with that lie. No way she could explain that the dress was cursed.
“Funny, you told Chelsea your new husband dumped you off here—” Cain stood up and spun around, gliding to a stop with his ass resting on Paxson’s desk. “And that you had no money.”
“Listen, it was just a joke. I was—”
“And chasing those men through the casino.”
“I can explain that—”
“Miss Heather—” Paxson held up his hand, his face impassive but very polite. “None of this is important. The truth is, we are a fairly conservative establishment, particularly by Vegas standards. Families and wives come to the events in our arena. While I understand the lure of women in your profession…” His cheeks turned pink. “It’s really best if you move to another location.”
“My profession?” Heather’s eyes squinted down. Wedding planner? Am I wearing an invisible sign? The far reaches of her brain started to vibrate with an idea but she pushed the thoughts away. “What profession?” she demanded.
Too late, reality forced its way into her thoughts. She reared back and stared at Paxson, then let her gaze flash to the only other man in the room. Cain stood there, dark eyes mocking, a smirk on his lips. Understanding flooded her mind.
“Wait. You think I’m a prostitute?!”
Chapter Three
Dear Diary,
Maybe it’s time to look into a new career. I certainly can’t be a wedding planner while wearing this ugly dress. Hell, I won’t be able to do any job while wearing this stupid dress. Maybe I could become a phone sex operator. Except talking about sex all day and not getting any would frustrate the hell out of me. Ah hell. If I don’t get out of this dress, I’m never going to get laid again.
“Now, Miss…” Paxson held his hand up, hoping to calm the woman standing against the door to his office. She clutched the dress to her body, but it really did no good. After all, he’d seen her naked. Well, mostly naked. The red panties had provided a miniscule amount of coverage.
But it didn’t matter…Paxson had the picture in his mind already—those plump, soft breasts and the sweet curve of her hips. Years of working in a casino with topless showgirls had trained him to keep his eyes above the neck but damn, he hadn’t been able to look away.
Of course, it was rare a woman walked into his office and stripped down to her panties. Happened more often than one might think, but the usual type of woman did it to be seductive, trying to get Paxson to let them stay or return to a card table after they’d been accused of cheating.
This wom
He forced his spine to straighten.
“Now I’m not going to call the cops, but you need to take your, uh, business elsewhere.”
She shook her head, the movement a violent little tremor. “No. You don’t understand. I’m not a prostitute. I’m a wedding planner.”
Cain shifted on the desk and folded his arms. Paxson stood behind him and matched the pose. Usually, the women he threw out of the casino said they were actresses or models, maybe out of work showgirls.
Of course the woman in front of them didn’t really have the tits to be a showgirl. Not quite big enough, but those tight pretty nipples would fit perfectly in his mouth. Paxson wondered if he could surreptitiously give his cock a thump to knock it down.
Cain had the advantage of being seated. Even as Paxson thought it, Cain’s hands dropped casually into his lap. Damn, the man’s hiding his hard-on. Not fair.
“Miss—”
“No. I can prove it to you. I have cards in my purse.” She stalked forward and plopped her huge bag on his desk, opening the wide mouth and digging into the depths.
Paxson held his breath as she leaned forward. His eyes zeroed in on her cleavage and the pretty way her breasts pushed against the top of the dress. She drew in one deep breath and the dress crumpled to the floor.
“Damn it.” She sighed, bent over—which gave Paxson too many ideas about ways he’d like to fuck her—yanked the dress back up and held it there with one hand. “Here.” She slapped a thin case into his hand. “Check those out.”
Holding the dress to her body, she backed away, once again retreating to the door.
“Is that why you’re wearing that dress?” Cain asked. “Advertising your services?”
Her eyes—Heather’s eyes, Paxson corrected now that he knew her name—tightened at the corners. He handed one of the cards to Cain and placed the sleek case on his desk.
She propped her hands on her hips. “Do you really think anyone would hire a wedding planner wearing a dress this ugly?” Disgust rang through her voice.
“So why are you wearing it?” Paxson asked.
“Uh, that’s a little hard to explain. Let’s just say it’s a joke.” She pushed her shoulders back, regaining her mental footing. “Besides, it’s not against casino rules to wear a wedding dress, is it?” she asked, her tone overly sweet.
Paxson gulped. “No, of course not, but harassing guests is.”
Okay, based on the wide-eyed look from the cowboy last night and the uncomfortable grimaces of the men in the restaurant, she couldn’t really deny it.
Plus, she was pretty sure, she was scaring the sexy security guard. Cain just looked amused.
“You’re right.” She flashed something closer to a real smile. “Won’t happen again.” She turned her attention to Cain. Damn he was gorgeous. Now all she had to do was get him up to her room so she could get the dress to fall off and poof, she was home free.
Of course, once she had the dress off, Cain might want to take advantage and she was perfectly happy with that idea.
“If I promise to be a good girl and not frighten any more cowboys, can I go?”
Paxson cleared his throat. “Yes, but I’ll have to ask you to be a little more circumspect in your activities.”
Damn, he didn’t believe her. And he used the word “circumspect”. Must be a reader. She glanced toward Cain. She couldn’t picture him reading anything longer than the back of a cereal box. But if he wanted to read it naked in her bed, she could live with that.
She knew she was making a snap judgment, but she’d rarely met a man that good-looking who wasn’t a little dim. Or at least too self-centered to actually read.
She pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin. It didn’t matter what they thought of her or what she thought of them. All that mattered was getting out of this horrible wedding dress.
And now she had a way.
“Fine. I’ll do my best to be a little less conspicuous.” Steel lined her words and she was pleased to see Paxson’s eyes widen just a little.
* * * * *
“Well?” Cain asked as the door closed behind Heather.
“She’s—”
“Nuts.”
Paxson nodded.
Cain smiled. “Wasn’t expecting her do take off the dress like that.”
This time, Paxson shook his head, his gaze still trained on the door as if he expected Heather to walk back in.
“That ever happen before?” Cain asked.
“A few times,” Paxson admitted. Finally, he looked down, shuffling some of the papers on his desk. “Women think they can seduce me out of eighty-sixing them. Never works.”
Cain chuckled. “I might make an exception for that one.” He cocked his head toward the door.
Paxson winced. “Me too.”
* * * * *
Heather stepped out of the office and felt the dress tighten around her rib cage.
Okay, well, she knew one of those two men made it fall to the ground. As Mr. Right, they both would be viable. Cain with all that lovely black hair and the delicious way he filled out those jeans. Paxson—big, tough, looked as if he could break her in half with one hand, but he’d actually blushed when he’d accused her of being a hooker.
You’re not looking for Mr. Right, she reminded herself. Just looking for a way out of the dress and it was probably Cain. After all, he’d been at the bar both nights. He must have been near and she hadn’t noticed him, too focused on cowboys.
She hesitated near a bank of slot machines, waiting for Cain to reappear. Within minutes, he strolled out of the security office, heading back toward his bar.
Heather followed him for a few steps but realized if he got behind the bar she’d lose him and she couldn’t spend another night in this dress.
“Wait.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, backing up as he turned around. It was a delicate balance between close enough to talk and not so close that the dress fell down. She wrapped her arms around her waist just in case. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”
He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, tipping his head to the side in a look of reluctant curiosity.
“What?”
The word was more demand than actual question.
“Well, I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to freak you out by sitting at your bar.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up like he was trying not to smile. “No worries.”
“I was wondering if maybe you and I could have a drink? Or dinner?”
“Your wallet is obviously not off with the husband who dumped you at the altar.”
She held up her massive purse—no reason to hide it. And Cain seemed like the kind of guy who had a sense of humor.
“I got tired of the sympathetic looks so I started making up reasons for being in the dress. The more stories I told, the wilder they were getting.”
The half smile turned into a full-blown grin, a touch of wickedness lighting his eyes. “I like that.” He cocked his head toward the Italian restaurant. “Sure. Let’s go eat.”
She followed along, testing the limits of the dress, figuring out how close she could get before it fell off her. It was kind of fun actually. Every time the dress started to fall off, it caressed her nipples. She glanced down at one point and saw them poking through the thick material.
Cain happened to look at her at the same moment and she watched a glimmer of lust fill his eyes. Okay, she could deal with her nipples showing if it got that kind of reaction.
They entered the restaurant and were immediately led to a booth near the corner. She slid in and kept sliding, knowing she needed to be as far away from Cain as possible to keep the dress on. She wanted it off, but not in public.
This late in the evening, the restaurant was mostly empty so their waiter appeared quickly, took their order and left them alone.
Heather relaxed and let some of the stress ooze from her body. Relief that she was going to get out of this dress seeped into her muscles. And damn, it would happen tonight if she had to drag Cain up to her room by his hair. But based on the glint in Cain’s eyes, no dragging would be required.
Unfortunately, as the strain left her body, it allowed other sensations in and she realized she was a wee bit aroused. Cait had warned her about this as well.
Heather took a breath, letting the bodice tease her nipples again, and propped her elbows on the table.
“So, tell me about yourself,” she said, curious to know what kind of man the dress deemed worthy. Her earlier assessment of “too pretty to be smart” vanished in the first five minutes.
They chatted until their meals arrived. By then, Heather was out of breath from laughing so hard. But damn it, the man was funny.
The waiter placed her order of spaghetti with marinara sauce in front of her.
“Do you need something?” He waved his hand vaguely toward her chest. “You wouldn’t want to spill anything on your beautiful—” He practically choked on the word. “Wedding dress.”
“Oh, it’s not really her wedding dress,” Cain said. “She lost a bet.”
Heather shrugged. “Yes, and if he’d lost, he’d be the one wearing it,” she said sweetly.
Cain nodded his agreement.
The waiter pursed his lips and looked at Cain’s body. “Now that I would have paid to see.” He winked and spun away, stalking off as Heather burst out laughing.
Dinner passed quickly. Cain was entertaining and engaging with just enough flirtation to keep a steady hum of arousal moving through her body.
Heather barely tasted the food. All her senses seemed to be focused on the man across from her and all the wicked things they could do together. Just from the power of his words and voice, her skin tingled, her pussy contracted and she was pretty damn sure her panties were wet. The evil dress didn’t help. Every breath meant the lace rubbed against her nipples and sent a delicious spike of pleasure into her core.
As if he could sense her predicament, Cain’s eyes dipped to her cleavage, locking on her breasts. The dress slipped and she was afraid to look down, frightened her nipples were showing. But if they were, Cain didn’t mind. He lifted his gaze, unrepentant hunger flowing through his eyes.
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