Seducing Seven (What Happens in Vegas)

by MK Meredith

  Settling back in her chair, she turned toward him. “I love to write about things that make people feel.”

  He laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you make people feel, all right.”

  Seven smiled with a quick nod of her head. “Good. I want to give them a visceral and intellectual and emotional experience. I want to give them fireworks.”

  Blake took in the sincerity and determination in her gaze. “That’s a tall order.” She was completely serious. And he could respect her work ethic and passion, because it mirrored his own. She was a nice surprise when most professionals he came across were pros at maxing the min. The least amount of work they could do and still get paid somehow made them happy. He never understood that mentality.

  She nodded. “That’s how I like it.”

  The waiter had long since delivered their drinks, but Blake had been so caught up in the discussion his beer remained full. Seven circled her finger around the top of hers as she watched the singer on stage, then sipped from it with long, slow swallows. Every now and then she’d touch the tip with her tongue to catch drips that threatened to run down the neck.

  Clearing his throat, he pulled from his own beer. She did everything with such intensity, which would be quite something if it lasted, if she maintained that same focus and didn’t lose any of it when new became known, like most people did.

  Which was one reason he’d never get married. Promises like that didn’t last, and good intentions only mattered until something better came along. If his father had taught him anything, it was exactly that. Hell, his dad was on his third business, fourth wife, and God knows how many children. The man couldn’t focus if his life depended on it, or even if his wife’s had.

  Cancer. She’d gotten treatment, but they could have done more. Dates had gotten pushed and readjusted for his schedule, and less aggressive, less disruptive treatments had been chosen. His father’s life had always taken precedence. Meetings and negotiations and trips to wine and dine clients. He needed her there. Clients always found a married man much more trustworthy.

  Blake’s mother had told him no one could have known just how aggressive the cancer was. No one was to blame. But his dad hadn’t batted an eye. Simply moved on. Blake found blaming him pretty fucking easy.

  He finished off his beer.

  Seven slid her hand down to his palm. “What’s going on?”

  He locked eyes with her, challenging her to look away. She refused, and the heat of her thigh resting against his pushed at his senses with insistent force. A smart man would go back to his room, get a little space and clarity, especially with his change of mood, but something about her made him want to stay. Which was a good reason to go.

  He blinked first. Fuck.

  She blinked. “Something’s going on here.”

  Shaking his head, he pushed in his stool. “Nothing more than me saying good-night. I have to get up early. I’ll meet you before dinner tomorrow.”

  Seven bit her lip. “Dinner? You’re forgetting a few meals. Are you really heading up?”

  He jerked his head in a nod. “I’m here on business, too. I can’t let that slide.”

  She nodded. “I understand that.” Digging into her purse, she pulled out a room key and stepped toward him. He could feel the heat of her and stilled.

  Laughing, she handed him the card. “Relax, I’m not going to bite. Not hard, anyway.” She ran her tongue over her lush lower lip.

  It made him think of cherries. What he wouldn’t do for a bowl of the Rainier cherries he’d grown up with. Blake clenched his jaw. He held up the card. “What’s this?”

  Pulling the strap of her purse onto her shoulder, Seven looked around the room, almost as if she was unsure of something. “We have limited time for our little game, Blake. This will just make it easier.” Her brazen words would have sounded much bolder if she’d been able to hide the slight waver in her voice. That gave him something to think about. He was impressed with how passionately she spoke of her work, but all the work ethic in the world wasn’t going to sway him from winning this bet. Time to go.

  “Just to show you how confident I am about winning.” He pulled out his wallet, slid the card into one of the pockets, and then handed his extra key to her. She tried to pull it from his fingers, but he resisted. “One rule: don’t touch my work.”

  She laughed. “You are so full of yourself.”

  Blake looked her over, fighting the urge to stay. Simply for the entertainment. He enjoyed seeing her laugh, even if it was at him. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he nodded. “Good night, then.”

  Tilting her head, she stepped close. “One more thing.”

  His body tensed, because he knew that look. “What’s that?”

  “My good-night kiss. A gentleman doesn’t leave without a proper good-night.”

  “I never said I was a gentleman.”

  She stepped closer, her breasts grazing his chest, and all his blood rushed south. With a hitch in her breath, she brushed her lips against his, a barely-there kind of thing. Once, twice. Her lips were soft, so soft he wanted to push into them just to feel them more.

  His fingers flexed at her waist, taking him by surprise. He hadn’t realized they’d migrated there, but now the heat of her burned his fingertips. Everything in him swore at him to take it upstairs, to take her upstairs.

  Biology, nothing but biology. Wanting someone had nothing to do with feelings, but unfortunately her damn rules had made sex matter. Goddammit.

  With one last press of her lips, she stepped back and smiled. “I’m going to go find some of my writer friends. Then a bit of work before I crash. See you tomorrow.”

  Forcing one foot in front of the other, Blake made his way to his room, tight with need. Get a fucking grip, Turner. What he needed was to go jerk off. Then maybe his head would be clear enough to strategize, reanalyze, and figure out a way to maintain the upper hand. Pulling out his cell, he made a few swipes on his phone and clicked buy. Satisfied, he dropped it back into his pocket. It might not be fair, but what was the saying? All was fair in love and war.

  He didn’t have any time for a woman in his life, had barely enough time for one over the weekend. Winning this bet should be a piece of cake.

  By the time he settled on his bed, Rules of Seduction was uploaded to his e-reader.

  He clicked open the novel. “Goddammit,” he said, scanning the first page.

  Rules of Seduction

  Sevannah Michaels

  Blake rubbed a hand over his face, a small knot of guilt forming between his shoulder blades. Reading the book was good business. Time to research his opponent, learn her rules, though a little observation was all that really took. He didn’t think for a second there was anything new to learn about seduction from reading her book, but he’d bet his left nut he’d learn a hell of a lot about Seven.

  Seven watched Blake saunter off through the Karaoke Lounge. She pressed her fingers against her lips. A simple, sweet kiss. Not even close to the toe-curling one she’d received earlier in the elevator. Why, then, did the feel of him still linger and her mouth water for more?

  To say she was worried was an understatement. She pushed back the insecurity that clawed up her throat. Not only had she kissed him twice now, she’d shown him her dildo, for Pete’s sake. The whole thing stung like the night she’d tried to seduce her editor.

  What the hell had she been thinking, making this bet?

  Watching until his tight backside disappeared into the elevator, she sighed. He’d practically run back to his room.

  She stilled.

  She needed to figure out exactly what Blake was thinking. She hoped she was getting to him, but the fact that he could leave her with the night so young didn’t bode well for her victory. Her goal was to be irresistible. She had work to do.

  Glancing around the Karaoke Lounge, she recognized quite a few of her writer friends. She needed to talk, but this conversation required tough love and blatant truth. Her friends were amazing, b
ut too many would only tell her what she wanted to hear.

  The last performer of the night took the stage and the chords for “I Want Your Sex” blared out of the speakers. Seven looked him over; he was surprisingly good. Too bad the way he sang didn’t make her want his sex, but someone else’s. Turning away from the stage, she dug her nails into her palms. She had a bet to win. Good thing for her libido the goal was having sex with Blake, not trying to resist him. Now to get him on board. The night had shown her that was another matter altogether.

  Making her way through the lobby, she stepped through the glass doors and into the warm night air. Lights blazed from every angle, making 11:00 p.m. feel like 11:00 a.m. She dropped her arms from across her chest, looking for a good place to make a phone call. One area hosted a half a dozen people, each reveling in the cloud of smoke above their heads. Another area promised a good time with ladies and gentlemen alike in different states of undress. Down the length of the sidewalk, out from under the hotel’s massive overhang, was a set of quiet benches. Bingo.

  Settling in, she pulled out her phone and dialed her sister’s number.

  “Hey, Six.”

  Her sister squealed from the other end of the line, and Seven yanked the phone away from her ear with a wince. Carefully, she placed the phone back to her head. “Oh my God, you’re going to make me go deaf.” Laughing, she crossed her legs and scanned her surroundings.

  “O. M. G. You’re in Vegas, right? Damn it, I wished I could have made it this year. Stupid priorities.”

  Seven laughed. “Yeah, stupid priorities. You’re only single-handedly starting a new company.”

  Her sister was less than eighteen months her junior. By the time Seven could talk, she’d named her Six, and it had stuck. Six was a spunky go-getter who believed in green living and greener success, so she took on starting a sustainable, organic baby goods company, inspired by their friends’ need for healthy products at a reasonable price. Unfortunately, the Romance Lover’s Convention fell on the same weekend a potential backer was flying in to meet with Six. Otherwise, the sisters would have taken on Vegas attached at the hip. Seven smiled as her sister chattered on.

  “Are the models as hot as last year? When’s the signing? Oh, oh! Is there a ball? Damn it, I had an idea for the perfect dress, too.”

  “Slow down. And don’t worry; you can come with me next year. Though I do wish you were here now.”

  Six quieted. “I know that tone. What happened?”

  Seven looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I made a bet. With a man.”

  “A bet?”

  “Yes. I basically bet a man, a cocky romance-insulting man, that I could make him have feelings for me, proved by having sex by the end of the weekend.”

  A shriek blasted through the phone. Seven jerked it away from her head so fast it flew out of her hand, landing in the shrubbery behind the bench. Smothering a curse, she skirted around the bench and gingerly stepped into the landscaping to retrieve her phone. Six’s shrieks guided her right to it.

  Holding the phone about an inch from her head, she yelled, “Six, stop screaming.”

  Her sister finally quieted, and Seven pressed the phone to her head once again. “Oh my God, if you scream like that again I’m going to kill you.”

  “Sex does not prove feelings.”

  “But it does in this instance. We agreed to it.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  Seven pulled in a breath and let it out slowly through pursed lips.

  She went through the whole story, from her creepy stalker, to finding Blake on the elevator, the bet, dinner, and the dildo, followed by drinks at Karaoke. “And then he called an early night.”

  The end of her story met with silence.

  “Six?”

  “You showed him your dildo?” Her disbelief was palpable.

  “Six.”

  “I’m— Holy shit. Are you crazy?”

  Seven grinned, her stomach tightening. “I know. But I figured hell, I’m in Vegas, baby. And you should see this guy. He is so freakin’ hot. Too hot, which makes him perfect for this bet. There’s no way this guy would ever be good for anything more than a steamy, sweaty fling.”

  “Oh, that kind. That is perfect. What’s his name?”

  “Blake Turner. He does high-end luxury sales for some company. Thinks he’s God’s gift to women everywhere. He wants me to set all womankind straight about the folly of romance if I lose. Which I’m not going to. And God, he smells so good, and he has the most—”

  “Oh my God, you like him.”

  Seven straightened in her seat. “Shut your face. I do not.” Her heart slammed in her chest. How the hell could her sister, of all people, get it so wrong?

  “The hell you don’t. I know that tone. How are you supposed to win this bet if you fall for the guy?”

  Clenching her teeth, she rolled her eyes. “I do not like this guy. I just told you how arrogant he was. I—”

  “Whatever. I can hear it in your voice.”

  What the hell? “Six, he saw me practically naked, holding a dildo, yet he’s up in his room working, and I’m sitting by myself in Vegas talking to my sister.”

  “But—”

  Seven gritted out, “I’m. Not. Falling for him.”

  “Okay, okay. Whatever you say. Hmmmm, what exactly did he tell you?”

  Seven thought back. They’d been having a really good time. Her techniques were having an effect, catching him off guard, at least she hoped.

  She pulled her shoulders back. No one was going to tell her romance was dead or romance novels were worthless. “He had work to go do, then I kissed him.”

  “Like it was the first time?”

  “Every time.” Rule number one, one of her favorites. “But this one was sweet, chaste even.”

  Her sister’s laugh carried over the line. “Okay, then what happened?”

  “He was definitely into it. He was touching my waist, and then he almost grabbed me.” At least, she’d hoped so at the time. She shifted on the bench.

  “And?”

  “And then I stepped back, and he went to his room. We’d agreed earlier to drinks then work, but still…”

  “I think it could be one of two things. Either you’re losing him and need to up your game, really utilize your rules, or—”

  Six paused, and Seven leaned forward. “Or what?”

  “Or you’re really getting to him, and he’s retreating, regrouping, figuring out a new strategy.”

  She could be right. Seven smiled. “Well, no doubt I prefer the second one, but damn it, I don’t know.”

  “Well, dear big sister, then you better go all out tomorrow until you know where he stands.”

  Go all out. Yes. An idea formed in her head. If she wanted to win this bet, it was time to take some risks.

  Think big.

  Think like a salesman.

  Chapter Four

  Pulling in a steadying breath, Seven stared at her reflection in the mirror and lifted her chin. A good night’s sleep helped clear her mind.

  Go all out, Six had said. And that’s exactly what she would have her heroines do.

  Taking her hair down from her ponytail, she shook it out, then added a little liner and black mascara to make her long lashes even longer. With the barest of gloss to moisten her lips, she was ready.

  Who was she kidding? She was scared shitless.

  But she’d do it anyway. She needed to thank Blake for the genius idea she’d had this morning. It could lead to either something or nothing. She simply needed the time to pull him in, show him more of her, of them together. And for herself, she needed to be brave enough to go after what she wanted.

  Tossing her robe onto her bed, she slipped into a dusky pink push-up bra and matching pair of Brazilian-cut panties, then checked her efforts in the mirror. Her assets were on full display, and the push-up bra helped balance out her curves. Her stomach tightened, and she chewed on her lower lip. What if he prefe
rred larger boobs and a smaller ass?

  She narrowed her eyes and pulled back her shoulders. Well, then, he’d just be stupid, which would make this bet that much easier.

  She tiptoed over to the door and listened for any signs of morning life. Nothing. Good.

  Heart hammering in her chest, she pulled in a breath. Rule number six: maintain an air of mystery. Keep him guessing; be unpredictable. Well, if this wasn’t unpredictable, she didn’t know what was.

  She pulled on her robe, slipped a couple dollar bills into her bra, then peeked her head out of her doorway. Not a soul to be found, which wasn’t surprising at 6:00 a.m. Most people had just returned to their rooms and passed out within the last hour. She tiptoed to Blake’s room, then paused, trying to pull in some air. The door behind her opened, and she spun around.

  At least seventy-five years of experience studied her with a twinkle through a pair of cat-eye glasses. The old lady raised her tumbler half full of an amber liquid. “Go get ’em, darlin’.” Her slurred whisper, octaves higher than if she hadn’t whispered, echoed down the hallway.

  Seven brought her finger to her lips, praying the lady would get the picture.

  She nodded, sloshing her drink in the glass with every jerk of her blue-haired head. “Oh, sure. Sorry. Have fun.” She raised her glass again, knocking herself off balance, and stumbled back into her room. Seven lunged across the hall and grabbed the door before it slammed closed. Peeking just inside the old lady’s door, she found her nosy neighbor humming about as if she hadn’t almost reenacted the old “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” commercials.

  Seven closed the door and then closed her eyes, willing her heart to slow in her chest. At this point, she was tempted to throw in the towel. But winners didn’t quit, and she was going to win this, damn it.

  With perfect timing, room service appeared with coffee.

  She whispered a thank-you and pulled the bills from her bra, trying not to die of embarrassment. Anywhere but Vegas, she’d be receiving sidelong glances for this stunt, but the waiter smiled with a salute and took his leave.