Tonight

by Nana Malone

  A truce. He wanted a truce with her? “Look, I don’t ever do...” Her voice trailed off and she gestured vaguely with her hand. “That. I’m cautious and I don’t sleep around.”

  He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his beautiful face. “Syn, I didn’t plan last night.”

  Irritation flared. Why wouldn’t he just let her go? “Ya think?”

  He turned a narrowed gaze in her direction, and her core clenched. How the hell did she want him again? His effect on women was an unfair advantage. And with the ache between her thighs, she was weak.

  “What I was saying is, I might not have planned it, but I’m not sorry it happened.”

  Of course he wasn’t. He’d added a notch to his belt. He’d officially thrown her off her game and he wanted to gloat and relish in it. He continued. “You and I, obviously, the chemistry is out of this world.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. But yeah, he had a point.

  “And in bed, we work.” He nodded as he studied the disarray of the bed. “Obviously, as evidenced last night, now that I’ve touched you, it’s become something of an addiction.”

  She tugged harder on the sheet, willing more to give way so she could cover her butt too. “What are you saying, Tristan?”

  He sighed. “I don’t want to be your enemy for the next two days. And I don’t want to be your enemy in the office. I never wanted that. I want to call a truce.”

  What? Was he insane? “I want to make sure I’m hearing this right.”

  “I’m saying why don’t you come back to bed and maybe you’ll let me kiss all your birthmarks again and then we’ll wake up and have breakfast?”

  She blinked. Oh, okay, he wanted to live in a pretend world. In a world where she hadn’t just screwed her biggest competition. In a world where you had the best sex of your life. She shook off the thought. “Tristan, we can’t just pretend that we’re on a lovers’ weekend.”

  “For two days, we can. Maybe we could pretend we weren’t on opposite sides and we weren’t fighting for the same gig and, shocker of shocker, we could pretend we actually liked each other. I’d rather spend the next two nights with you in my bed, making love to you, than lying in an empty bed pretending I’m not thinking about you.”

  “Tristan, we need to use our heads. We leave on Monday. What happens when we go back to work?”

  “We go back to normal. And maybe we find some common ground. Maybe we act like we don’t hate each other.”

  He made it sound so easy, but it wasn’t. “If this gets around at the office, only your career stays intact. Nobody would take me seriously anymore.”

  He shook his head. “But I wouldn’t do that. What happens here stays here. This is Vegas, after all.”

  Could she do that? Just enjoy him for enjoyment’s sake? Yes, her inner sex goddess shouted. But one thing eluded her. “Why?”

  He slid his gaze from hers. “I know that you think I’m a womanizing jerk, but that’s not who I am.”

  “So what is the truth?”

  He shrugged. “Most people, women especially, see what I look like, they hear the Dawson name, and that’s all it takes. I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t reap the benefits of those things before. But they’re not all I am. I’m more than my name. I work hard to prove that.”

  Synthia quirked an eyebrow. “So what you’re saying is you don’t want to be objectified for your body.”

  His smirk was rueful. “Well, let’s not get carried away. If you’re the one doing the objectifying, then I think I’m down for that.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course you are.”

  His eyes softened. “Syn, you intrigue me. From the moment I saw you, you’ve been under my skin. You surprise me. You’re smart and I find it sexy. And hands down, there is no one else I’d rather fight with. You make me bring my A-game. And last night wasn’t nearly enough.” He reached his hand out for her again.

  She thought what to do was say to hell with the sheet and head back to her room, giving him a bird’s-eye view of her ass. What she should do was tell him to take his charm and his designed-to-make-a-woman-crumble words and feed those lines to someone dumb enough to believe him. What she should do was tell him to forget this ever happened.

  Should, should, should. But if she was honest with herself, she’d admit she wanted more of that intimacy. She wanted more of that chance to be carefree. She wanted more of that intense tenderness. She wanted to feel as if she were the only woman in the world again. Even if it was short-lived. Even if it wasn’t real. She wanted to live in a pretend world where she didn’t have to be perfect. Where she could breathe and relax. Where she could just feel.

  She licked her lips. “We go back to normal on Monday?”

  He nodded. “No one will know but us. I swear it.”

  Synthia shifted on her feet again. “And for the rest of the weekend we’re calling a truce?”

  His lips turned up at the corners, and her belly flipped. “I, for one, enjoyed the angry sex, but I prefer not fighting with you in bed or otherwise. We still do our jobs, clearly, but no reason we can’t work together.”

  There was sincerity in his eyes and she wanted to believe. She glanced at his still-outstretched hand and for the first time in her adult life, she did the unplanned thing and took a leap.

  Chapter 8

  “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Tristan asked as they buckled themselves into the helicopter early the next morning. The excursion at breathtaking heights was part of the hotel’s VIP package.

  Syn slid him a withering glance even while her hands shook a little. “I’m good,” she shouted over the roar of the propellers.

  He laughed. She was stubborn, even when it was in her best interest not to be. “You know, we don’t have to do this. We can pick something tamer.”

  “Are you going through with this?”

  He grinned. “Of course. A chance to see the Grand Canyon from above? Hell yes.”

  She gave him a fragile smile. “Then yes, I need to do this.”

  Tristan shook his head. “Are you always this competitive?”

  She grinned and he was momentarily stunned. “You should see me play cards.”

  “Remind me never to play poker with you.”

  She patted his knee. “Not if you like to keep your money. My dad taught me to play to win, every time.”

  His gaze fixed on her hand, and his sex-dulled brain cells begged for her to go higher up his thigh. Damn. He needed to get this under control. After he’d coaxed her back to bed, they made love...twice. And to be ever so helpful, his brain replayed the reel of her riding him, taking him deep. He blinked several times, trying to change the image. The one he got as a replacement wasn’t much better. Him, between her legs, making her come until she screamed his name. Yeah. Any minute now, he’d work her out of his system. Liar.

  But even more than the sex, he liked her. When she wasn’t busy trying to complicate his life, she was pretty funny and he enjoyed talking to her. He searched for a safer topic of conversation. “Is your dad hard on you?”

  “He was tough. But fair. He believed that I could win at anything as long as I fought hard enough. Sometimes I’m not the most gracious loser.”

  He cocked his head and laughed. “I guess it doesn’t matter if you usually win.”

  She chuckled and shifted her gaze out of the window. “Yeah, but when interlopers come in and give me a run for my money, I’m perhaps less than forgiving.”

  He blinked and raised his eyebrows. “Oh no, is this one of those rare Syn Michaels apologies? In the two years since I started at Stellar Reach, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say you’re sorry.”

  “Don’t get used to it. But I’ve been hard on you. Some of it deserved, but some of it, I was testing you for being the new g
uy.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I was a bit of a jerk too. I saw Bill Meyers at a bar the night before your presentation and seized the opportunity to make my pitch. I had a jump start.”

  Her jaw dropped. “I knew it. I knew it.” She smacked his arm. “I couldn’t even get him to pay a lick of attention to me.”

  “Wow. You’re surprisingly strong.” He clasped her hands in between his. “Would you relax? I’m saying I’m sorry.”

  “You had me thinking I’d lost my mind.”

  “I know.” Wisely he changed the subject before she could decide that she hated him again. “So, is your old man proud of you now? You’re making a name for yourself. Your competitive nature helped you get there.”

  A shadow passed over her face, and her grin dropped into a slight smile. “I hope he would have been.”

  He frowned, not understanding.

  She continued more quietly. “My parents died seven years ago when I was seventeen.”

  Damn. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. That must have been really hard.”

  Her voice was soft. “Yeah, it was. But we Michaels women are tough. My uncle took us in for a couple of years after. The moment I started school and started interning, my sister and I moved to our own place.” She shrugged. “We’ve been looking out for each other ever since.”

  Wow, at twenty-four, she’d already experienced so much loss and accomplished so much. He was a year older and he still felt as though he was foundering. Unsure of what to say to her, he reached out and took her hand. “I’m sure they would have been really proud of you.”

  She quickly changed the subject. “So I guess this is old hat to you. You probably grew up with your own helipad.”

  He laughed. “No, actually. I’ve never been on a helicopter. My brother is the adventurer. You name some death-defying act and he’s probably done it. He’s the one who gave me some ideas of what to test out here in Vegas. Growing up, I was the one who was focused on the future. Sure, I got in a little trouble. But somehow I never saw the appeal of risking my life for kicks.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Seriously? That ruins the whole playboy image I had of you.”

  He shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  The helicopter lifted then and for the next hour, he held her hand. To his surprise, she let him. To his own surprise, he wanted to keep doing it. Throughout their tour, she’d squeeze his hand during banks and dips, and he’d squeeze back as a silent way of telling her it was okay. Her breath caught as the morning sunlight slashed over the enormous, jagged rock formations and sheer rock faces, bathing them in orange and yellow light and casting deep, russet shadows on the valleys below.

  When they landed, she beamed a grin at him. “Okay, that was totally scary, but so awesome.”

  “Uh-oh, don’t tell me I have a little adrenaline junkie on my hands. I’ve created a monster. I’ll need to introduce you to my brother. The stories he could tell you about all the ways he’s nearly killed himself would curl your toes.”

  “Easy, now. I like adrenaline as much as the next girl. I’m just not so keen on the heights thing. Or more like the I-can-fall-out-of-this-tin-can thing.”

  “You were perfectly safe up there with me. Or so I’ve been told.”

  She gave him a characteristic Syn smirk, and his dick twitched. “Said the spider to the fly.”

  “Does this spider look hungry?”

  Immediately, her pupils dilated and her breath hitched. Man, he could get used to that hungry look on her face. He didn’t need anything else in the world in that moment.

  She leaned away from him and shook her head. “You’re dangerous.”

  “Same could be said about you.” He forced himself to take a deliberate step back. “Are you ready for our next adventure?”

  “Let me guess, you want to throw me from a building and see if I can fly?”

  “Not today. Besides, I didn’t see any wings on that beautiful back of yours, so that kind of adventure would ruin plans I have for you over the next two nights. Guess again.”

  Syn shrugged. “Surprise me.”

  “I didn’t think you were much for surprises, but okay.” They stepped out of the helicopter and rounded the back of the helipad and on the other side waiting were a Bugatti Veyron and a Pagani Huayra.

  Her eyes went round and she squeaked as she spoke. “Is that a Bugatti?”

  “You know cars?”

  “Hello, avid Top Gear fan. The UK version, not that watered-down American version they show here.” Even though she vibrated with energy, she hesitated.

  “What’s the matter? Neither of these something you like? And here I thought you were an adrenaline queen.” She laughed and he relished the sound of it.

  “Ease up, Silver Spoon. I’m just trying to determine if I want style or speed.”

  He leaned forward and the hint of her strawberry shampoo wreaked havoc with his senses. “Here’s a hint, honey. They’re both fast. They are race cars, after all.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but you and I both know which one is faster hands down and I’m trying to decide if kicking your butt is more important, or if looking oh so pretty while I do it will be better.”

  Kicking his— The laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him. While her competitiveness usually drove him nuts, right now it made him desperate to kiss her.

  Tristan looped his arms around her waist and pulled her in quick. Her lips parted on a gasp and he took full advantage.

  So maybe kissing her wasn’t his best idea if he wanted to think clearly, but he needed to touch her. As his lips molded to hers, she tentatively wound her hands around his neck. She tasted so good. And she fit so perfectly against him.

  His erection twitched against her belly, and a little mewling sound escaped the back of her throat, driving him crazy. All he wanted to do was drag her back into that helicopter and sink deep into her. He licked into her mouth, tasting, sipping and savoring, unable to get enough. A sudden thought filtered into his mind. They had an audience. With a frustrated growl, he tore his lips from hers. Dragging in ragged breaths, he squeezed her briefly before letting go. “It seems I have a problem controlling myself with you.”

  Synthia brushed her fingers over her lips. “You should come with a hazardous-to-brain-cells warning label.”

  “So, what’s it going to be? You going to stay true to form or you going to give me a chance at winning our little race here?”

  She smirked. “What do you think? I choose making you eat my dust.”

  Tristan shook his head. “Should have known. Not to worry. I don’t need the faster car. I’m a good driver, so I’m still in this race.”

  “Do you have an unfair advantage here?”

  He grinned. “I’m a virgin, honey.” He winked when she barked out a laugh. “A race car virgin. I just believe in myself.”

  She laughed as she donned a helmet and slid behind the wheel of the car. He mimicked her actions. There was no way he was betting her, but man, he loved to see her competitive juices flowing. It made her eyes sparkle, and that smart mouth of hers gave him ideas. An image flashed in his mind of her putting that smart mouth to use all over his body, and he groaned. Advantage Syn.

  * * *

  “You have to admit I came close,” Tristan said once they were settled comfortably in the limousine.

  Laughter bubbled up inside Synthia. “In what universe? I beat you by a hundred yards.” Her blood hummed through her body, and electricity coursed through her veins. She loved this feeling. She looked forward to every casual touch. It was as if once her body knew what it was missing, it wanted it all the time. How was she ever going to survive this? Stop. Monday is a long way away.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  There was no way she would tell him what she was
actually thinking about. “Nothing. Just going over my spectacular win again in my head.”

  He shook his head and tucked a finger under her chin, turning her to face him. “Don’t hide from me. That wasn’t excitement, or happiness or even smugness on your face. It was irritation. What’s up?”

  She pulled her chin from his grip. “Nothing. I swear.”

  “C’mon, be honest with me. This is Vegas, remember? It stays here.”

  Synthia bit her lip. “I’m just readjusting some initial thoughts about you, is all. I pictured you more as the lounging-in-a-hot-tub-surrounded-by-women kind of guy.”

  His gaze was intent on her face and he clamped his jaw tight. “Wow. Such a high opinion of me.” He sighed. “As a general rule of thumb, I only deal with one woman at a time, whether it’s for a weekend or it’s for a year.”

  Now she wished she’d kept that to herself. “I guess I’m surprised.”

  “About what?”

  “Well, I know your reputation. The women in the office talk about you all the time. I guess I had you figured wrong.”

  He chuckled mirthlessly. “It’s not exactly like I steered you away from that impression.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “So you’re not some international playboy?”

  He smiled. “An international playboy, huh? I guess I do have quite the reputation.”

  “What? You’re telling me it’s not true?” Could she believe that? She’d seen him flirting with everything in a skirt.

  “Look, I like women. All kinds of women.” He shrugged. “And I’m a bit of a flirt. But I don’t sleep with every women who flirts with me, nor do I want to. Like I said, I like to keep it simple. One at a time. Besides, so many women I meet want to go out with Tristan Dawson, and not just Tristan.”

  She frowned. She’d never given it much thought before. But there was a lot of muttering about Cinderella fantasies when he’d started. “I suppose you never really know if someone likes you for you or for the Dawson name.”

  “Rich boy problems, right?”