The Seduction of Kinley Foster (What Happens in Vegas)

by Lisa Wells

  His eyes did a slow survey of her.

  She stood rigid. Tried to imagine herself through his eyes. Crazy, curly brown hair pulled back in an I-don’t-care messy bun. A sensible sweater for warmth. Jeans too tight from too many late night glasses of wine. Shoes made for comfort—not seduction.

  Finally, his gaze travelled back up to meet hers.

  Did he like what he saw? “Well?” The one word question sprung out of her mouth despite her brain telling it not to.

  The last day they’d seen one another, she’d been a sassy sixteen, and he’d been an insufferable twenty-two. She’d wanted to give him her virginity. He’d wanted nothing to do with her. Then, before she could escape his apartment, her brother’s fiancée walked naked out of his bedroom carrying an array of condoms and wearing an amused smile.

  What in the hell was Ian Thompson doing in Vegas?

  Ian touched her scar and grimaced. “The only thing that hasn’t changed about you is your sass.” He turned and walked toward the exit with her suitcase. “Come on.” The comment was said in a casual tone. As if they were friends.

  The movement and demand shattered her this-can’t-be-real state of mind. “Hey, stop.” She grabbed her carry-on and followed. Her brother may have accepted Ian’s explanation for that scene in the apartment, but not her. No sir.

  Ian’s stride was long, and she had to hustle to catch him. “I said stop,” she shouted, making people stare. What was it with trust-fund babies that made them think they could always do what they wanted?

  He was hailing a cab when she caught up with him. At six foot four, he looked ridiculous standing on the sidewalk with her hot pink suitcase.

  “Are you kidnapping my suitcase for a reason?” She dropped her carry-on on his feet. “Or is the rumor true that you came out of the closet, and now your feminine side wants my girly luggage for yourself?”

  She’d never believed the rumor about her old high school’s star quarterback. Mostly because she started it.

  But she wasn’t above needling the jerk. He probably still believed he was every girl’s lose-your-virginity-to dream man.

  His lips twitched. “I told your brother I’d make sure you made it to the hotel, get you settled into your room, and keep an eye on you while you’re at the conference.”

  She sucked in a breath of outrage. “What?” Her heartbeat shattered its old mad-to-furious acceleration record. A record set ten years ago in his apartment. Ass. “When?” A desire to knock Ian and her brother’s heads together and then push them into a lane of fast-moving semi-truck traffic swept through her. “How?” Why her brother stayed in touch with Ian after he’d been the cause of his marriage never taking place was beyond her comprehension. The guy deserved to be elbowed into a snake pit, not forgiven.

  Kinley pulled out her phone. If what Ian was saying was true, she was going to—

  “Who are you calling?” Ian asked, giving her a lazy, seductive look.

  The words he spoke barely registered. Probably because the way they sounded coming out of his mouth short-circuited her brain and super-charged her girly-parts.

  His deep rumbly voice left her feeling naughty. Like scandal and sin were dancing on her soul.

  Confused with her body’s betrayal, she glowered. “None of your business.”

  “Calling your brother?”

  She shrugged. Maybe she was calling her boyfriend. He didn’t know she didn’t have one. Unless her brother told him. “Maybe?”

  Disappointment darkened his eyes. “I see you’re still a snitch.” He handed the suitcase to the driver, who stored it in the trunk, and opened the passenger door.

  Her determination wavered. Damn him. Why should he be disappointed in her? “Whatever.” He was the bad guy. Not her. She dropped her phone in her purse.

  “Thank you,” he said, in a voice that sounded sincere.

  She rolled her eyes, not caring that the gesture was childish.

  He motioned toward the open door to the backseat. “After you.”

  Halfway in, she felt the sharp sting of his hand on her ass.

  She inhaled sharply, scrambled the rest of the way in, and turned on him. “How dare you. You can’t just slap a woman’s ass. Especially one who despises you. What the hell—”

  The sound of his laughter cut off her tirade, and she grimaced. Damn it. She’d reacted exactly the way he wanted. Just like when he used to pull her ponytail and she’d yelp.

  Growing up, he’d been a master at riling her emotions. Not anymore. She was a grown woman, and her buttons were no longer so easily pushed.

  He stuck his head in, an amused glint in his smug eyes. “You’ll find I dare a lot. And the swat was for insinuating I’m gay. And so what if I was?” He slid in beside her, scooting much closer than necessary. His shoulder touched her arm; his presence invaded her space.

  Grown up Kinley resisted the urge to thump him. Besides, if she did, the dramatic action would be more for show. And she prided herself on not being a drama queen.

  Truth was, she was semi-turned on by the alpha-male ass-slap.

  It wasn’t because it was Ian that she was feeling aroused. Surely, it was because she’d done a ton of research on spanking in relationships for her current manuscript. And quite possibly the two chocolate martinis she’d drained on the plane were to blame. And…or…the sex toys burning a hole in her purse, saying, hurry, get to the hotel and try me out.

  Realizing she was sitting in the middle of the seat, she scooted toward the window, away from him so they weren’t touching. Even across the seat, his presence affected her. She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Why would my brother ask you to keep an eye on me when he knows damn well I can’t stand you?”

  God, I can’t believe I’m in a cab with Ian Thompson. After all these years.

  Ian stretched one arm out along the back of the seat. His fingers touched her shoulder. “Are you sure about that? According to him you ask about me all of the time.”

  She knocked his hand away. “I do not. He didn’t say that.” She might occasionally mention him, but it was always in a what-has-the-asshole-been-doing-lately way. To say her brother was too easy to forgive was like saying water is wet. Or love is a myth. Both true, but no way would her brother ask Ian to keep an eye on her. No way would he do that to her. Family loyalty trumps all other loyalty.

  The driver got in the yellow taxi. “Where to?”

  “The Masquerade Hotel and Casino,” Ian said, before Kinley could reply.

  “How do you know which hotel?” Could he see the thump of her heart against her chest? Hear the underlying emotions in her voice? Crud. Why wasn’t she better at playing it cool?

  “Your brother. It was nice to hear from him. I’m afraid we’re guilty of letting life get in the way of our friendship.” He once again rested his arm along the back of the seat.

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Don’t you mean your dick got in the way of your friendship?”

  His lips tightened and then quickly relaxed. “You’re not ever going to let that go, are you?”

  “I can’t imagine why I would.” According to her brother, Ian never gave him a reason as to why his fiancée came out of his bedroom naked. Just played the trust-your-best-friend card, and her brother allowed it.

  Who gives that kind of trust so freely? Not her. Not then. Not now. If she ever had to choose between her gut and her vision, she was going with what she saw. Eyes don’t lie. Guts, on the other hand, tend to be in cahoots with one’s emotions.

  “Asking you to keep an eye on me is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all day. And trust me, I’ve heard some bizarre things today.” Kinley caught an image of herself in the driver’s rearview mirror and realized she still had her travel pillow around her neck. She yanked it off.

  “And yet it’s true.” He slashed an eyebrow. One of his signature moves. A move that used to turn her knees wobbly. A move that prompted her to start reading romances at the age of twelve, hoping they’d teach her h
ow to get him to slash that move on her.

  He never did.

  And, my god, after sooo many years, she shouldn’t even remember that signature move let alone react to the sight of a simple raised brow. She pulled her phone out of her purse. “I told my brother I’d call and tell him I landed safely.”

  “I called him when your plane landed. He knows you’re safe.”

  Kinley frowned and once again put her phone away. She stared out the window. “Do you live in Vegas?” The guy’s social media presence was all protected from casual observers. And he had a picture of his yacht as his avatar. The only thing she knew about him were the bits and pieces she slyly pulled out of her brother.

  “New York.”

  She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t turn to make eye contact. “Please tell me you didn’t drop everything and fly to Vegas just to take care of me.”

  He chuckled, a sound of condescension. A sound she’d heard before. And, damn it, these memories shouldn’t be so clear. It was like she’d rewound the last decade and could recall every frickin’ detail about him. Ugh. “If I had, getting to see grown-up Kinley Foster would have been worth the effort.”

  “Gag.” She turned to see his reaction to her use of the old go-to expression she used to say whenever he said something she thought was disgusting. Did he miss the way they used to spar with one another?

  “You’ve grown-up quite nicely, little Kinley. I almost didn’t recognize you. Good thing your brother told me about your dreadful suitcase.”

  She tried not to look pleased. A near compliment. From Ian. The guy she fell in love with at the age of eight when he agreed to take her for a sled ride down the monster hill. Didn’t matter that they’d crashed. Or that they’d ended up with scars on their foreheads. Her love had been freely given that day, because he’d told her “yes” when everyone else told her “no.” And then the love blossomed when he dried her tears and told her that when two people have matching scars, they have magic powers. “Well, you’re even uglier than you used to be.”

  He placed a hand across his heart. “That hurts. When did your tongue get so clever?”

  “Bite me.”

  He reached out and touched her hair. Twirled a strand between his fingers. “What if one bite isn’t enough? What if I want a five-course meal of bites?”

  She smacked his hand away. “You always were greedy.” Was he flirting with her?

  His eyes flashed with promise. And then it was gone. Gone so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined the male version of a come hither look. He raised his hand and trailed a finger down the side of her face. “In all seriousness, I’d like to talk with you.”

  “Why?” she asked, pushing his hand away again. Her brother had mentioned a couple of times since the blow-up that Ian wanted to speak with her. She’d always refused.

  In the beginning, she’d been too hurt and too angry to want to listen. Then, as the years passed, it had been more about not wanting to face her own humiliation. To not relive that awful moment when he’d taken her hopes and dreams—her heart—and shattered her.

  Was her anger and bitterness toward him a decade later perhaps a wee bit over the top? Would a normal woman handle this situation with decidedly more panache, a bit more of a water-under-the-bridge attitude? Probably. But then she’d always considered panache to be overrated. And Ian always had a way of unnerving her. Time, it seemed, did nothing to lessen the effect. Gag, indeed, to the nth degree.

  The laughter in his eyes disappeared. “Because there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time. And this gives me a chance.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Ignored her gut telling her she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Pulled up her big girl panties. “I’m listening.”

  Ten years was a long time to wait for an explanation.

  Chapter Three

  Ian Thompson sat in the backseat of a taxi with Kinley Foster, his tongue tied in knots. He’d been flustered since her brother had called and asked for a favor.

  Ian wasn’t accustomed to being flustered. He preferred compartmentalizing his emotions and only calling upon the ones that suited his needs. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, like an inexperienced teenage boy who’d just been shot down for copping a feel.

  Kinley jerked like he’d decked her with an uppercut, and he swallowed the rest of his apology.

  “Sorrrrrry?” The word came out of her sounding like a snake’s hiss.

  Like he was her fallen hero. Which he was. Not that he’d ever wanted her to see him as a hero. He’d teased her like crazy when she was growing up, trying to kill the puppy-love adoration.

  When he’d finally managed to get the job done, he’d really done it. She’d gone from hero-worship to hate with the blink of an eye. And it stuck.

  Still.

  He would never be forgiven by her. Even though what he’d done—

  “My brother may be the forgiving type, but I’m not.” Her tone was fierce, full of loyalty toward her brother and loathing toward him.

  He sighed. “You used to think I could do no wrong.” It’d been so long, he’d thought, surely after all this time…

  She closed her eyes for a few uncomfortable heartbeats.

  Which scene was she replaying in her brain?

  The one where he turned down what she was offering him? Or the one where her brother’s fiancée came strutting into his living room wearing nothing but a tan?

  She opened her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her voice held no signs of distress. No signs of hidden emotions. But her eyes held a winter-storm warning.

  “Liar.” It wasn’t a word he used lightly. But damn it, she knew exactly what he was talking about.

  She glanced out the car window. “Aside from some inane request of my brother’s—which you can bet I’m going to verify—why are you in Vegas?”

  He picked up her pillow and glanced at it. Scowled. Were these her new heroes? The ones she thought could do no wrong? “You really don’t know?” Her brother told him she didn’t. Told him he’d started to tell her once, but she cut him off. Said she could care less what ‘the ass’ did for a living. But he’d figured she’d simply found out from another source and was putting on an act for her brother.

  She glanced back at him. “Sorry to burst your ego, but I don’t know.”

  He ran his hand down his jaw. Was she deliberately trying to annoy him? “My pride’s wounded.” Sure he used an assumed identity, but she was smart enough to figure it out if she wanted to. “You haven’t dug deep into Google to find out what I do for a living?” The brat had morphed into a curvy bombshell. One that could blow-up his easygoing lifestyle if he let his guard down.

  She laughed. Not a happy laugh. A bitter laugh. “Why on earth would I do that? Have you dug deep into Google to learn all about me?” There it was…in her voice. The truth. In her world, he didn’t exist in any depth.

  Which meant her anger didn’t stem from any part of her that maybe still thought about him or had an inkling of feeling for him. Damn it.

  Her brother was wrong. He’d called with a two-fold plan. The first plan intrigued Ian the most. Her brother hoped that they could patch things up so Kinley could move forward in her love life without her puppy love of Ian holding her back. When pushed for details, her brother clammed up.

  Part of Ian had been hopeful that things could be repaired between them.

  Nope. That wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t know what happened to end her last relationship, but it had nothing to do with her pining after him. All the good kind of emotion she’d ever had for him was extinct.

  That meant her anger…was purely that. Loathing and disgust for the past that she refused to see beyond.

  The realization sliced at more than just his ego.

  Hell. While she wasn’t thinking about him, he’d been busy wondering whom the lucky boy was that did get her virginity. Who the lucky guys were she dated in college? Who the lucky men
were she dated now? Did she work with them? Were they educators? “I loved that tiny red bikini you wore in your Cayman vacation pictures at the beach last summer.” He’d had more than one fantasy of peeling if off of her.

  Kinley flushed—a beautiful spotlight to her rounded cheekbones.

  “Why are you really here?” Her tone ripped him back to the moment. “There’s no way my brother asked you to fly from New York to Las Vegas to babysit me.”

  This is where he should tell her the truth. The whole truth. He settled for a partial. The second half of her brother’s plan. “Work.”

  She glanced away— “Did my brother tell you why I’m in Vegas?” —and slid her hands under her legs.

  He smiled. How many times had he witnessed her crossing her fingers and hiding them under her legs while growing up? Her theory? If you cross your fingers before telling a lie, the lie doesn’t count. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re in Vegas?”

  She stared solemnly back at him with her beautiful eyes. A sultry brown. He remembered once hypothetically wondering what color eyes their children would have.

  “Va—”

  “We’re here,” the driver said, opening the door on her side, cutting off their conversation. Cutting off her lie.

  Ian cursed under his breath. He wasn’t ready for the two of them to be in a sea of thousands. He wanted more alone time with her.

  Kinley jumped out. “Wow. This place is crazy awesome.” She juggled all of her stuff under one arm and grabbed her suitcase from the driver. “Be a doll and pay the fare,” she said to Ian in a faux haughty tone. Underneath, he could hear all of the same confusion he was feeling.

  Before he could respond, she rushed toward the hotel’s entrance, her swaying ass mocking him as if to say “sucker.” He chuckled. Did she really think he was going to let her get away? That he wasn’t going to chase her?

  That he didn’t know why she was in Vegas?

  …

  Kinley scurried into the hotel’s lobby juggling her luggage and laptop. People were everywhere. Mostly women. She took a steadying breath.