All That Glitters: Glitz, Glam, and Billionaires

by Michele Hauf

  Eyes wide, like a deer caught in the headlights, Cleo nodded and prayed she would survive the night without combusting. Never had she been this sexually attracted to a man before. Knowing she was required to say something, she worried her lower lip between her teeth and searched for some innocuous comment to make.

  “I haven’t been dancing in ages.”

  Duh, was that the best she could come up with? The last time she’d been dancing had been at her cousin Larry’s wedding four years ago, and the person she’d danced with had been her sixty-year-old uncle. This was going to be a far different experience. Just the memory of Sam’s body pressed against hers when he’d kissed her raised her temperature.

  “And I would love to hold you in my arms again. I’m Sam Mason, by the way.”

  He held out his hand. If it were possible, the desire in his eyes would have turned her to cinders.

  She reached for his extended hand and wished she could grab the table to steady herself. There was an awareness here, something beyond the alcohol she’d consumed, something she wanted to explore. Did she dare? Looking up at him, she smiled. Chemistry. It was just chemistry, but with explosive elements she’d never encountered before.

  4

  Reining in the butterflies in her stomach, Cleo smiled and released his hand, grounding herself once more.

  “Cleopatra Jones, my friends call me Cleo.” Her voice had a husky quality to it, unlike her usual kindergarten teacher voice.

  A strange look crossed Sam’s face as if he was disappointed. Did he suspect it wasn’t her name? The reaction was a common one when she was first introduced, and while she used her initials at work, C. C. commanded more respect than Cleo, it really was her first name. Her father had thought naming her Catherine Cleopatra after her mother and two of the most powerful women of their eras boded well for his daughter’s future. Things hadn’t quite turned out that way. Since Mom had been Catherine, never Cathy, she’d gone by her second name, eventually shortened to Cleo. There had been less teasing that way, and the confusion between mother and daughter had been minimal. Only her dad had ever called her Cleopatra, and when he had, she’d usually been in trouble.

  “That’s a name you don’t hear very often. Are you an author as well?”

  His tone put her on the defensive.

  “No, I’m not. You think I’m lying to you, but I can assure you, Sam, Cleopatra is my name. My dad chose it. He’s a big history, mythology, and anthropology buff. We had two cats, Hercules and Venus. Cleo isn’t so bad if you don’t mind sharing your name with a fish from a Disney feature film. It could have been worse. Depending on his mood, I could well have ended up Medusa.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that Vegas is full of people with aliases. I assumed it might be a pen name. Let’s get out of here before I have to arm wrestle every alien in the place for you. I would win of course, but it might sap my energy. I can think of far better ways to use it.”

  He tucked her arm in his and pulled her close, increasing the strange sensations that pulsed through her. Mitch and Charlie walked ahead of them, laughing and talking as if they were old friends. As she watched her friend, she wished she were more like her.

  They were halfway across the room when Cleo noticed the curious glances they were getting, not only from the men, but the women too. In fact, it looked as if every woman in the room would gladly switch places with her. She was so busy absorbing this new information that she almost stumbled and didn’t notice the man dressed as Thor until he planted himself in front of her and blocked her path. He swayed, demonstrating he’d definitely had too much to drink.

  “Leaving already, sweetheart? You know, I was just getting ready to make my move.” The half dozen superheroes Cleo noted standing nearby laughed. “You’re way too hot to waste it on this guy.” He indicated Sam. “He’s just an alien snake man. I’m twice the man he is and a god and an Avenger to boot. Let me show you how a god kisses. Come here.”

  He reached out abruptly and grabbed her hair, yanking her hard against him. Pain filled her and Cleo squealed.

  Suddenly she was free, and the Norse god in question was on the floor, her Cardassian soldier holding him down with a boot on his chest. Hotel security guards, dressed in the infamous Star Trek red shirts, the first guys to die in any episode, rushed to the scene.

  “Unless you plan on returning to Asgard permanently, you need to leave, now. Get this asshole out of here.” He looked at the man’s friends. “I suggest you leave, too.”

  From the tone of his voice, Cleo realized Sam was used to giving orders and, judging by the way the security men hurried to do as he asked, he wasn’t a stranger here. Perhaps he was one of those so-called whales who frequented the casinos. Men with lots of money who gambled big always commanded a lot of respect.

  Filthy rich was almost as bad as being a Chippendale, but on a personal rather than an ethical level. Why couldn’t he be a nice, normal guy?

  “Don’t any of you even think of coming anywhere near her again this weekend. If you do, you’ll regret it,” Sam ordered Thor and his superhero friends, but it sounded as if he were addressing every man in the room. His voice was low and menacing, the threat of violence clear and explicit.

  She shouldn’t let him take over like this, but a part of her was happy to let him deal with the assholes. Good thing he was on her side. Sam Mason would make a powerful enemy. Goosebumps raced down her spine.

  Sam turned to the curiosity seekers who’d gathered around them. “Show’s over,” he stated, contempt dripping from his voice. “Thanks for all your help.”

  The irony wasn’t lost on her nor on the people who quickly moved away.

  Cleo frowned. Once again, she’d been involved unwittingly in actions that had attracted a crowd, and she was grateful to see it disperse. She hadn’t noticed any flashes, and without one, it was too dark in here for a decent picture. Thor grumbled loudly, but allowed himself to be escorted out of the conference room, his friends following along. This was the second time Sam had saved her from some lecherous pig. Disgusted, she rolled her eyes and shook her head. She turned to look for Mitch and Charlie, but they’d disappeared into the crowd. Sam reached for her hand again and led her out into the concourse.

  “This is becoming a habit I would really like to break.” Cleo couldn’t keep the frustration out of her voice. “Thanks for your help. I’m usually quite capable of standing up for myself. I may not enjoy confrontation, but I’m not helpless. What is it with these guys? I’ll admit the outfit’s a little skimpy, but it’s a costume. I’m not pretending to be an Orion slave girl, I’m just dressed like one—big difference in my book. What makes men think it’s okay to touch, leer at, or proposition me? I read the flier in the room. It mentioned the anti-harassment policies and procedures.” She stopped and placed her fists on her hips. “This is all your fault. You shouldn’t have kissed me. You gave everyone the wrong impression of me. It’s what got these jerks all hot and bothered in the first place.” She scowled at him. Maybe she should just leave and go back to her room.

  “You’re right. I was a jerk. I’m trying to apologize for it, but it isn’t enough. I had no business kissing you like that—although I enjoyed it immensely. I’m just as guilty as the next guy, but to be fair. It wasn’t the costume that excited me—although it does look damn fine—it was you. Can you forgive me for being a first-class ass?”

  There was no mistaking the sincerity or tension in his gaze.

  Cleo blew out a breath, her indignation vanishing with it. “I suppose. After all, the kiss was a reward for rescuing me, right?”

  “It was, but I should have waited until it was offered, not taken it like that. Just because I want something doesn’t mean I can have it. It’s a problem I need to work on. I’m tight with management, and I’ll talk to those in charge. They need more light and security, especially near the restrooms. They can post that code of conduct above the urinals, too. If the guys don’t read
it in their rooms, they won’t miss it there. I’ll admit I didn’t read it. Maybe if I had, I would’ve thought twice about the kiss—no, I probably would have done it anyway, but I would’ve apologized sooner.” He shrugged.

  Cleo looked at him and giggled. He was just like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He would say he was sorry, but then steal another cookie first chance he got, and you knew it.

  “People need to be accountable for their actions.” Sam shook his head, his lips tight, genuine regret on his face. “The worst of it was not one person gave me shit for kissing you that way. No one tried to help you with the Romulan. They should have. For the record, you would stand out regardless of what you’re wearing. I think the costume is perfect, and I hope the ideas it’s giving me won’t be too far out of line, but I promise I’ll ask first.”

  She looked into his eyes, saw desire there, and shivered in anticipation. Sam took her hand in his. “Friends still?”

  She nodded, although she hoped they could be friends with benefits.

  “Let’s find the others.”

  They entered the salon decorated in an outer space theme giving the impression of a nightclub on a distant planet. The ceiling was covered in fabric behind which white twinkle lights shone, simulating stars. Tables were covered in black cloths and featured exotic flowers in vases lit from underneath, giving them an out-of-this-world look. Cleo recognized bird of paradise, orchids, banana, ginger flowers and a few others. Each flower was accompanied by greenery, some of which had been sprayed every color of the rainbow.

  In the far corner, a three-dimensional mural of the eight planets from the sun’s perspective had been set up, and a photographer waited to snap pictures of couples who wanted a permanent souvenir of the occasion—for a price of course.

  A band dressed like the one from the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars, played Europe’s The Final Countdown while costumed dancers of all ages gyrated to the music. Cleo looked around, trying to spot a Klingon/Cardassian couple.

  “I don’t see Charlie and Mitch. I guess they must have gone into another room.”

  Now that her indignation at being treated like a piece of meat had cooled, she wasn’t sure what else to say. She didn’t want to ask what kind of ideas Sam was getting—the kind he’d have to ask permission to act on; she’d rather just imagine those.

  Mitch was the one with all the glib lines. Cleo might be dressed like a temptress, but seduction was way out of her comfort zone. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been left alone with a virtual stranger. The few dates she’d had were with colleagues who shared a common interest. Why did small talk always look so easy in the movies? She struggled for something interesting to say, praying Mitch and Charlie would show up to rescue her soon. She could always make an excuse and leave, but, truth be told, she didn’t want to leave her Cardassian just yet.

  “I can’t imagine where they found all these flowers. Look at that one. It looks like something Cruella Deville would love.” Damn. Kindergarten speak.

  Sam laughed. “They do have some rather weird ones here tonight. That’s a Dalmatian orchid, and you’re right; it would please Cruella. I may be a tough guy, but I’m up to date on my Disney movies. My six-year-old niece insists on it.” He winked. “That blue one over there is called Love in a Mist, and that orange and yellow one is Beehive Ginger—all very exotic, and all very much from this planet.”

  “How do you know so much about flowers? I would love to photograph some of them.”

  “Just a skill I picked up over the years in my line of work.” He chuckled. “So, are you interested in flowers or photography?”

  The band began to play Liz Phair’s Supernova, one of her favorite songs, and she relaxed. “Both, but mainly photography—strictly amateur. I like to take pictures and play around with them on the computer.” This wasn’t so bad. Maybe she could pull it off after all.

  “I would love to see some of your work. Are you going to invite me up to your place later to look at your etchings?” He wiggled his eyebrows and pretended to be smoking a cigar, his voice a bad imitation of Groucho Marx. She was a huge fan of mid-twentieth century comedians and burst out laughing. She liked this guy.

  “Cool your jets, Groucho, I never reveal my etchings on a first date.”

  Sam looked at her, and suddenly it felt as if they were the only ones in the room. He bent his head, and she thought he was going to kiss her again. Instead he spoke softly, pulling her close to him to ensure she could hear his voice over the music.

  “I can arrange for you to take pictures in here tomorrow, when there’s light. No one’s supposed to come into the room, but I have connections.” He indicated a white orchid set apart from the others. It was attached to the wall as if it were growing out of the sky. “That white one over there is a Ghost orchid, very rare and protected under Florida law. That’s a silk recreation of the real thing. Part of the reason it’s on the endangered list is because only one insect, the giant sphinx moth, has a long enough … feeler … to penetrate the long nectar spur and pollinate the flower.”

  The huskiness in his voice sent sexual desire rushing through her. How could talking about insects pollinating flowers make her think of hot sex? The music was fitting. She felt like a star about to explode.

  Sam smiled as if he’d read her mind, and Cleo took a sudden interest in an orange Jamaica orchid until she realized that flower wasn’t cooling the sexual images at all.

  “I thought we’d have a drink in here first, but knowing Charlie, he’s made a beeline for the restaurant. He’s a bottomless pit.”

  Cleo grabbed at the innocuous topic. “Mitch rarely misses meals, although you would never know it to look at her.” As if on cue, her stomach grumbled loudly.

  “I hear you could use something to eat, too.” Sam reached for her hand again. “Why don’t we see if we can find something that might pass for eatable food? There’s an alien-themed restaurant on the concourse that serves Earth food, or so the sign claims. I’m not ready for Cardassian zabu stew or Klingon gagh. Maybe we’ll come across Mitch and Charlie in our quest.”

  “Good plan. I’m afraid I’m not much of a drinker, and I haven’t had supper. The wine’s making me lightheaded.” She spoke candidly and gave him a shy smile.

  Interest glimmered in his eyes. “As my lady wishes. Never let it be said Sam Mason didn’t feed his date.”

  “Am I your date?” She expected some glib comment to lighten the moment.

  “Unless you object, I would like to be your date for the entire weekend. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to get to know you.” The penetrating look he gave her sent an intense yearning straight to her lower abdomen. Her body craved something it hadn’t had in a very long time. She felt heat suffuse her cheeks and was grateful for the makeup she hoped hid her blush.

  “I would like that. I have to help Mitch with the book signing again tomorrow night—it’s the price of my admission here—but I’m free the rest of the time. I’m not too sure I want to wear this costume though. I know the way I’m dressed doesn’t excuse those guys, but I’d feel better showing less skin—and I want shoes. I’d have laid that Romulan out if I’d been wearing those boots Mitch has on. Nothing like steel-capped pointed toes to get your point across.”

  “Ouch! That’s never a man’s favorite mental picture, but in that jerk’s case, I would’ve cheered you on. If my vote counts, I really like you in green, but I have a feeling you’ll be just as appealing without any paint on at all. So we’re good for the weekend then?”

  She bit her lower lip, imagining herself naked, and nodded. Maybe she should be playing hard to get, but damn it, he wanted to spend time with her, and she wanted to be with him. Why waste time dancing around it?

  He squeezed her fingers then let go of her hand to put his arm around her. The touch of his hand against her bare back sent shivers of longing down her spine to pool in her lower stomach. She shuddered.

  “I won’t hurt you, you
know. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

  She needed to do a better job of hiding her feelings from this guy. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Liar,” he whispered softly, his warm breath caressing the sensitive skin of her ear and neck.

  Closing her eyes, she reveled in the delicate touch, its sensation obliterating the memory of the Andorian’s similar gesture earlier. She hadn’t lied; if there was one thing she wasn’t, it was afraid of him.

  Sam led her into one of the dining areas. They spotted Mitch and Charlie at a table, and Sam spoke to the hostess. Within a matter of seconds, the woman quickly escorted them to their friends, who were talking and hadn’t even noticed their arrival.

  “Tried to give us the slip, did you? I figured I would find you here. Charlie always leads with his stomach.” There was an undertone in Sam’s voice she didn’t quite understand, and Cleo couldn’t decide if he was glad or mad he’d found his friend.

  Charlie seemed affronted, and Mitch laughed.

  “Sorry, Sam. My fault. I was going to send him to look for you. We got separated when Thor accosted you,” Mitch explained. “Nice move, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody hit the floor that fast—not that the asshole didn’t deserve it. I’m the one who asked to be fed. Charlie was just being a gentleman. We got talking and figured you would find us if you were hungry. We’d planned to go into the ballroom afterward if you didn’t.”

  “I told Sam you would need food.” Cleo said and reached for her water glass. “You usually like to eat when you’re drinking. Neither of us had anything before coming down.”

  She jumped, startled when the waiter’s hand came from behind her and placed the napkin on her lap. Mitch laughed so hard she snorted.

  Cleo rolled her eyes at Mitch. “Really? It wasn’t that funny. I didn’t realize he was there. I guess after Thor and that other creep, I’m a little jumpy.”

  She looked around the room where the soft light from wall sconces and recessed ceiling lights added to the room’s brightness. She’d watched Sam across the room off and on all evening, but this was the first time she got a really good look at him. She observed the candlelight play across Sam’s face while he ordered drinks. She assumed he was getting her a glass of merlot like he’d done earlier. She could use a little liquid courage about now. His easy laughter sounded familiar and she was more convinced than ever he was the man from the Voodoo Lounge. She made no effort to hide her curiosity. When he turned and saw her intense gaze, he cocked an eyebrow in question.