Let It Ride (2 page)

He straightened his designer tie and opened the door that led to another world. The world that he’d lived in since he’d been old enough to walk. A world of ostentatious lights, ringing bells and spinning roulette wheels. He paused for a moment to look at his kingdom.

Pride in what he’d accomplished filled him, and he knew, if the woman showed the least bit of promise in the realm of sexual compatibility, he’d seduce her into becoming Mrs. Deacon Prescott. The queen of his little kingdom.

His journey through the casino was anything but quick. He was stopped by regulars and by a recently hired dealer who wanted to talk about a new invention he had for dealing. Deacon rang his secretary, Martha, and had her schedule the dealer for an appointment at the end of his shift. Finally he was out of the casino and in the lobby. He glanced around for the woman.

Suddenly all the suave lines he’d cultivated over the years left him, and he couldn’t think of a thing to say. He was back on the streets for a moment, the grubby little boy looking at the glamour he could never touch.

He smoothed his hands down the sides of his pants and stood a little taller. He was Deacon Prescott, dammit.
Entrepreneur
magazine’s Man of the Year two years running. Certainly no
ordinary
woman could keep him from achieving his goal.

Kylie Smith heard someone approach. The Golden Dream was a classy hotel with Old World charm, but the men who frequented the casino weren’t as classy. She’d been approached by four different guys while waiting for her friend.

Unwanted male attention made her uncomfortable. And she knew it wasn’t because she was drop-dead gorgeous. It was only because she seemed available.

She’d pulled back her hair into a haphazard ponytail, put on her reading glasses, complete with “grandma” chain, to keep from losing them, and she held her favorite classic novel. Her outfit should have been daunting enough to deter even the most determined male. But this person didn’t go away. Maybe it was Tina. One glance over the edge of her book and she realized it wasn’t. Unless Tina had taken to wearing Italian men’s loafers, which seemed highly doubtful. She turned away from the man and tried to concentrate on
The Scarlet Pimpernel.

Except the man smelled good. He had on some kind of cologne with a woodsy scent that made her want to take a deeper breath. She glanced up quickly, from her book, with the intent of averting her gaze quickly but he stopped her.

His features weren’t classically handsome but there was something arresting in those gray eyes. Something that hinted at hidden passion and inner fire—two things she’d never had. Nervously Kylie pushed her glasses farther up her nose and tried to put on a calm face.

Attractive men simply didn’t talk to her.

“Hello,” he said. His voice was deep, not a soft sophisticated sound but a gravelly one that awakened senses she’d thought had gone into a coma.

“Hi,” she said. Yes, she was the queen of scintillating conversation.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. He sat down next to her on the brocade love seat without waiting for an answer.

“I guess not,” she said wryly.

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“Because of fate.”

“Fate?” This guy didn’t look as if he left much to destiny. She sensed a will of pure steel under that thousand-dollar suit.

“Angel, I’m all about chance and luck.”

“Those are decidedly different from fate.” In response to his raised eyebrows, she stumbled on. “Fate implies that something is destined. Luck—not so much.”

“Depends on whether or not you’re fated to have good luck.”

She couldn’t help with smile. He was very charming, though his charm had an air of ritual to it. She had the feeling she wasn’t the first woman to hear those lines.

“How about dinner?” he asked.

“I don’t know you,” she said.

He stood. “Deacon Prescott.”

She took the hand he held out and tried to shake it, but he grasped only her fingers. With his thumb he caressed her knuckles, then brought her hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss to the back of it.

She shivered. More than the hotel had Old World charm.

“And you would be?”

“Kylie Smith.”

“May I join you, Kylie?”

She wanted to pretend not to be interested, but she was. Before she could answer, he sat down again this time, leaving only six inches of space between them. Kylie felt crowded. He was long and lean, but there was a breadth to his shoulders that made her feel small, delicate even.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for someone.”

“A man?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Fair enough. What brings you to Vegas?” he asked, sliding his arm along the back of the love seat. His heat and scent surrounded her. Tempted to lean into his touch, she scooted farther away, instead.

“Girls’ weekend out.”

He gave her a half smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She shivered with awareness. She simply wasn’t a touchy person by nature. And it’d had been a long time since anyone had touched her, unless you counted her mom, who always hugged her when they met weekly for brunch.

“You have beautiful hair,” he said.

Was he hitting on her? Kylie could never be sure if a man was just being friendly or really interested in her. She wished for a minute she was more like Tina, who flitted from one man to the next, enjoying what each had to offer.

But she never had been. She’d been raised to believe that settling down and raising a family was a good thing. And it was something she’d always wanted.

Even after her failed marriage, she still wanted to find the right guy and have kids. But that didn’t mean she wanted to meet him in Vegas. She scooted still farther away and tottered for a moment on the edge of the seat. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Why are
you
in Vegas, Deacon?”

“I live here,” he said as if nothing had happened.

“Do you really? Sorry, don’t answer that. All the bells have rattled my brain.”

He laughed and it was a kind sound, seeming almost strange coming from a man who looked as dark and forbidding as he did. Jet-black hair and tanned olive complexion. He had large hands. On his pinky was a rough-looking gold ring with some sort of insignia she didn’t recognize.

Realizing she’d been staring at him too long, she glanced up to see if he’d noticed. He had. He touched her face with one finger. Why was he touching her? She should pull away.

But she couldn’t. An indefinable emotion in his eyes froze her in place. The intensity of his gaze on her made her feel special. Made her feel as if she was a fairy-tale princess and he was a knight willing to slay dragons for her. Made her feel for once as if she wasn’t staid and safe, but the kind of woman a man would choose for a vacation fling.

But she wasn’t really any of those things. Her stomach growled and Kylie blushed.

“My offer for dinner still stands,” he said.

“I’m reading a really good book,” Kylie said. That had to be the lamest excuse she’d ever come up with.

“The day a book holds more excitement for a woman than I do is a sad one.”

“Prepare to cry.” She wanted to say yes. In fact, she thought, closing the book and putting it in her purse, she was going to. But she didn’t want it to be that easy for him.

“Come on. It’ll be fun,” he cajoled.

“Fun? I’m not sure I’m ready for fun.”

“How about friendly?”

She’d come to Vegas to live a little, and sitting in her room reading didn’t sound exactly exciting. There was something in Deacon’s eyes that promised more than fun and friendly, and Kylie was sick of always being…herself.

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“Meet me back here in an hour.”

“An hour?”

“Fate takes time.”

“Then it’s not really fate.”

He shrugged.

“What should I be prepared for?” she asked.

“To be swept off your feet,” he said with a wink and walked away.

Two

D
eacon returned to the security booth after calling his secretary to find out where Kylie was staying. He was pleased when he discovered she was a guest at his hotel. He’d made arrangements for a picnic dinner to be prepared by the Golden Dreams head chef. He also called the bellman and ordered his Jaguar to be brought around front. Then he called the flower shop and had a bouquet sent to Kylie’s room.

“Smooth work down there,” Mandetti said when Deacon reentered the security room.

“Yeah, I especially liked the part where she almost fell off the bench trying to get away from you,” Mac said with a grin.

Deacon ignored them, his mind on Kylie. She had returned to her room. Thanks to Martha, he knew she was in the east tower, room 1812. He keyed up her hallway on the monitor. It was empty. He tried not to think about her as a woman. She was the means to an end. The faceless model in the Ralph Lauren ad wearing a cable-knit sweater and holding a child.

Except she wasn’t a faceless woman. She was Kylie Smith, a woman with sharp wit and a sense of humor. He hadn’t expected humor from her. He’d never really considered that as a qualification for the right family.

Mac leaned over his shoulder again. “You got it bad.”

“Got what?” Deacon asked.

“The lust bug.”

“Ha. This has nothing to do with lust.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Deacon didn’t discuss women with Mac, because they tended to disagree about them on a fundamental level. Deacon had been raised by his mom and surrounded by showgirls. Mac had been raised by his father, a bitter man who hated all women. Mac’s attitude toward women was that they were after only one thing—money. Deacon had seen firsthand how money could make the difference between life and death to a woman on the streets.

“She doesn’t seem like the one-night-stand type,” Mandetti said.

Deacon knew that; his intentions toward her were noble. Kylie was even better-suited to the label in his head that read
WIFE
than he’d thought she’d be.

“I can’t believe you, old man,” Mac said.

“What’s not to believe?” He turned to Mandetti. “Doesn’t she look like marriage material?”

Mandetti nodded.

Mac leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “You really think you’re going to marry her.”

Deacon shrugged. Unless he’d lost his touch, hell, yeah, he was going to marry Kylie.

“She won’t do it,” Mac said.

“She might,” Mandetti said.

Mac could be right. But when he put his mind to something, Deacon never lost. He’d carved a life for himself many wanted but few ever achieved. He wasn’t one of those guys who accepted defeat. Nothing gave Deacon the thrill wagering did. Though Kylie had the potential, he thought. “Wanna bet?”

“Now you’re talking,” Mac said. “Terms?”

“There are no terms. If I convince her to marry me, I win.” Deacon liked things simple.

“Okay, but you do it in two weeks. And it has to be a real marriage.”

Two weeks, was that enough time? Kylie was a little skittish, but he’d handle her carefully.

“Deal. When I win, you can finance a new addition to the children’s shelter,” Deacon said. One of the first things he’d done when he’d made his fortune was to finance a children’s shelter for Vegas kids. A place to keep them off the streets while their parents gambled or worked in casinos.

“Okay. When I win, you can finance a medieval-sword display at the Chimera.” Mac’s hotel/casino was known for its world-renowned traveling displays.

Mandetti’s cell phone rang, and he turned to take the call. Deacon heard him curse in Italian. “Give me a break, angel. I’m just getting started here.”

“See? Women are nothing but trouble,” Mac said. Mandetti covered the mouthpiece. “I better take this outside. I’m going to be observing your operation on the floor tonight, right?”

“Yes. I’ll join you after midnight. I’ll have Peter meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes, okay?”

Mandetti nodded and left the room. Mac followed him out.

Deacon settled back in one of the empty chairs in the security room. A small team of three men were always on shift. A glass wall separated them from Deacon and his bank of monitors. He’d had the room designed so he could come in and observe whenever he wanted without disturbing the security operation. Also, it allowed him to train new hires without disrupting the workflow.

Kylie emerged from her room, and he watched her pause in the hallway. She chewed her lower lip and turned back to her door. She was going to stand him up, he thought.

She went into her room. Deacon reached for his cell phone, dialed the front desk and asked to be connected to her room. Kylie needed some coaxing.

She answered on the second ring. Her voice had a sexy breathless quality.

“Hey, angel,” he said, trying for a lightness he didn’t feel. It shouldn’t matter to him if she changed her mind. If he lost the bet with Mac, he’d be out a bit of money but hardly enough to break him. And it wasn’t as if there weren’t other respectable women in the world. But there was something about Kylie Smith he wanted.

“Deacon?”

“Who else?”

“I don’t think you know me well enough to call me angel,” she said. The tart note in her voice would have done a schoolteacher proud.

“I will after tonight,” he said. The sensual promise he’d seen in her eyes earlier guaranteed it.

He remembered that scared moment when she’d almost bolted, but then found her sass and stayed. He knew she wanted to have dinner with him. But he also knew that her life to date had conditioned her and he was moving too fast. He’d have to find a way around her objections.

“Um…about that…”

“Not going to back out now, are you?” Deliberately he pitched his voice low. He’d been told by one of his ex-girlfriends that she’d do anything for him when he asked her in that tone.

“Well…”

She was wavering. “Take a chance. This is Vegas, angel, and you’re not living it unless you take a risk.”

“Are you risky?” she asked.

“Not for you,” he said, surprised to realize he meant it. He wanted her to feel safe with him. Safe and secure. And sure that he wasn’t going to wine her, dine her and then walk away in the morning.