Lethal Seduction (47 page)

“What?” she asked softly.

Killer grin hitting her full force. “You're the smartest woman I know.”

•

“I wanna go to the party,” Jamie said stubbornly.

“Not
a good idea,” Madison said, wishing Jamie would sober up and calm down. Jamie was not used to drinking too much, and it showed.

“Why not?” Jamie replied, tilting her chin in an aggressive manner, ready for a fight.

“How many times do I have to explain this to you?” Madison said, exasperated.

“She ain't listening, girl,” Natalie joined in. “Her head is somewhere else. But I'll tell you what—we'll go find my camera crew and walk around the party for a few minutes. That way Jamie gets to say hello to Kris, an' then we're outta there.”

“Doesn't anybody
get
it?” Jamie said crossly. “Don't you
understand
my plan?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Madison said. “We all
get
it. But you'd better put your plan into action tomorrow, 'cause tonight Kris is
definitely
taken.”

“Fine,” Jamie said. “I'll make a connection with him tonight and do the deed tomorrow. Does that please you?”

“No more drinking,” Madison warned.

“Christ!” Jamie grumbled. “Why do I feel like I'm back in college?”

“Does Peter even know you're here?” Madison asked.

“Who gives a damn,” Jamie said, running her hand through her short blond hair.

“At least you should let him know you're alive, otherwise he'll be sending out search parties.”

“Who cares
what
he thinks,” Jamie said defiantly. “He's ruined my life.”

“No,” Madison said gently. “Your whole life is ahead of you. Don't you ever forget that.”

“What's
wrong
with you?” Jamie said, her eyes filling with unexpected tears. “Surely you
saw
those photos? Can't you
see
what he's done to me?”

“So I guess he's being punished.”

“Yes,” Jamie repeated, reaching for another martini. “I guess he's being punished.”

•

Kris had taken ten bows, waved to his adoring fans and vanished. Now it was time for all the invited to make their way to the main penthouse of the Marigiano Hotel, where the after-concert party was due to take place.

Madison stood up and looked around for Jake. She spotted him and waved. He waved back.

Hmm . . .,
she thought.
Am I making the right move seeing him later?

What the hell—why deny herself? She didn't want to
marry
him, all she wanted was some love and attention, and maybe some great sex. Was that so terrible?

The Blaine party had already left the room, escorted out before the final bow.

Madison grabbed Natalie's arm. “Keep your eye on Jamie,” she said. “I have to talk to Jake for a minute.”

“Oh, now we're talking to Jake, are we?” Natalie said with a sly smile.

“Yes, Nat, do I have your approval?”

“Whatever gets you through the night, girl.”

“Thanks,” she said sarcastically.

“Although it's a shame he's not a
real
player,” Natalie mused. “You know, superrich, that kinda shit. How cool would
that
be? We'd be able to take free trips on his plane and stuff like that. Look at Carrie Hanlon—
she
was sitting with two of the richest guys in America.”

“Do you think she's sleeping with Joel Blaine?” Jamie ventured.

“Naw,” Natalie said. “He's a creep.”

“I
think he's kind of sexy in a swarthy kind of way,” Jamie said.

“Oh,
please,”
Madison said. “Right now, with all those martinis inside you, you'd think the
waiter
was sexy.”

“Well, he
is,”
Jamie giggled. “Did you catch his cute little ass? If Kris is a no, maybe I'll settle for him!”

“Lordy, lordy!” Natalie sighed. “Save this girl from her bad, bad self!”

B
Y THE TIME
M
ADISON
, Jamie and Natalie reached the party it was packed with press and guests, all attempting to hustle their way toward the VIP section in the back.

“That's one place I
ain't
going,” Natalie said, rolling her eyes.

“Who wants to?” Madison agreed.

While Jamie said, “Watch me, guys.” And before either one of them could stop her, she was on her way to the VIP area, only to be prevented from entering the inner sanctum by two burly bodyguards.

“I'm Mr. Phoenix's interior designer,” she said haughtily. “Would you please tell him I'm here. Jamie Nova, from New York.”

“Yes ma'am, but you'll have to wait until we get clearance,” one of the guards said, placing a heavy hand on her arm.

She flicked his hand off. “Kindly don't touch me,” she said imperiously.

“Sorry, ma'am. We gotta check you out.”

“Go ahead—I'll wait.”

By this time Madison had caught up with her. “What are you
doing?”
she asked.

“Making arrangements for tomorrow,” Jamie said, slurring her words—but only slightly. “Is that okay with you?”

“Please
sober up,” Madison pleaded.

“Sure,” Jamie said with an obliging smile. “I'll be perfectly sober tomorrow when I fuck Kris Phoenix.”

•

Leon Blaine wanted to gamble; Joel Blaine wanted to go to the Kris Phoenix party; Carrie Hanlon wanted to get back to her suite and finally liaise with Eduardo; Marika wanted to leave Las Vegas and get away from Leon's latest infatuation.

Leon won. Naturally. So they were escorted to a roulette table, which was immediately closed to the public, and Leon began to play, piling stacks of chips on the table as if they were going out of style. To Joel's fury, Leon's number kept on coming up. He was winning yet another fortune, the lucky old bastard.

After a while Leon handed a fistful of chips to Carrie. “Cheval twenty-nine,” he commanded.

“What does cheval mean?” she asked.

“Place your chips around a number—surround it.”

As she did so, a crowd gathered. Several guards formed a barrier to keep them away from the table.

“This table is closed,” one of the guards told an eager fan, who was anxious to get a closer look at the very famous Carrie Hanlon.

“Can you do that?” asked a woman from Ontario in bright-orange Bermuda shorts.

“In this casino, ma'am, we can do what we like,” the guard replied.

Joel threw some chips down on the table, concentrating on thirty-five—his lucky number.

Leon placed a stack of chips worth a total of twenty thousand dollars on number twenty-nine.

The croupier spun the wheel.

“C'mon, thirty-five,” Joel muttered under his breath. “C'mon, you motherfucker.”

He had to beat his father—at least at roulette.

“Twenty-nine,” the croupier announced.

“Shit!” Joel muttered. He couldn't catch a break. And Leon, one of the richest men in the world, had won over half a million dollars.

Carrie joyfully clapped her hands together. “How much did I win?” she asked Leon.

He picked up his drink and sipped it. In his experience there was nothing like hard cash to make a woman happy. And even though Carrie Hanlon probably earned big bucks, it wasn't the same as the sexual charge of handling stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Cold hard cash.

“Enough,” he said, reaching for a Cuban cigar.

•

“Your New York apartment is really taking shape,” Jamie said, fingering the delicate diamond cross that hung on a thin gold chain around her swanlike neck.

“Thanks to you, luv,” Kris responded, mentally drooling as he checked out this blond morsel.

Jamie tried the soft smile that melted most men's hearts. “When will you be in New York, Kris?”

“Depends,” he said, admiring her small but perfect breasts.

“On what?”

“You,
beautiful,” he said, giving her the full power of the intense baby blues. “I think you an' I could make—” Before he was able to finish, Amber appeared. “Where you bin, luv?” he asked, grabbing her close, suffused with sudden guilt.

“Talking to your manager,” Amber said. “And attempting to avoid the press. They're
everywhere,
Kris.”

“Oh—tryin' to come on to you, was 'e? 'E's a horny old bastard.”

“Of course not,” Amber said, frowning at such a thought. “You know I like to stay in the background at these things.” She stared at Jamie.

“Uh . . . 'ave you two met?” Kris said. “This is Jamie, uh . . .”

“Nova,” Jamie supplied, slightly put out that he didn't remember her full name.

“Yeah, Jamie Nova,” he said confidently. “She's my uh . . . interior designer in New York. Tarting up the penthouse, she is.” He put an affectionate arm around Jamie's shoulder. “I'd like you to see it, luv.”

“Actually, I'll be in New York next week,” Amber said. “I can see it then.”

“Howzatt?”

“I have to do the Letterman show, which I hate.”

“Why're you doin' it then?”

“I promised. I never break promises.”

“So stay in the apartment. Is it ready, Jamie?”

“No, Kris, it won't be ready for several months.”

Damn!
she thought. He was obviously interested in this girl. Not that Amber was any great shakes to look at. Thin and waif-like, with angular features and long, lank hair. What could he possibly see in her?

But Jamie was not to be put off. Revenge was on her mind. And what sweeter revenge than having a one-night stand with Kris Phoenix?

“So, Kris,” she said lightly. “Can we get together tomorrow? I have some concepts I wish to discuss with you. What's a good time?”

“Uh, dunno,” Kris mumbled. “Maybe in the afternoon.” He turned to Amber. “What've we got goin' on tomorrow?” he asked.

“Whatever,” she answered vaguely, shielding her face with one hand as a camera pointed in their direction.

“Amber's shy,” Kris explained.

“We should definitely get together,” Jamie said, giving him a long, innocent stare. “Just the two of us. I want to be sure everything is exactly the way you want it, Kris. As you know, I've been dealing with your people, so it'll be good to speak to the real boss.”

“Got it, luv,” he said cheerfully. “Whyn't you call me around one?” And he threw her a sneaky wink.

Jamie nodded, satisfied that tomorrow he would be hers.

•

It was past midnight by the time Madison and Jake finally got to consider having a romantic dinner for two.

“This is ridiculous,” she said, laughing as they stood in the crowded lobby of the hotel, slot machines ringing all around them. “I can't eat this late.”

“Maybe we should dump on the restaurant idea and go for room service,” he suggested.

“Whose room did you have in mind?”

“Depends on who's got the best room.”

“Coming from you, that's funny.”

“Why?”

“ 'Cause you couldn't care less about your surroundings. You're a maverick—a wanderer. You're not into material things, so why would you care who's got the best room?”

“Let's look at it this way,” he said. “Who's got the best expense account?”

She stared at him, perplexed. “What're you talking about now?”

“I'm in the mood for caviar and champagne.”

“You
want caviar and champagne?” she said disbelievingly.

“We're in Vegas, that means we should indulge ourselves.”

“Hmm . . . I'm sure
I've
got the best expense account, so . . . my room it is.” A smile played across her lips. “Actually, nothing would please me more than sticking Victor with a huge bill.”

“I know you think I'm unreliable,” Jake said, “but I want you to know that I've really missed you.”

“Hey,” she said lightly. “Missed you too.”

“That's the best news I've heard all day.”

“Flatterer,” she said, determined not to take him too seriously.

“How about playing the slots before we go upstairs?”

“Slots are for chickens,” she said. “May I suggest blackjack?”

“Never played. Is it complicated?”

“Oh, Jake,” she sighed. “You're such an innocent.”

“I'm
an innocent?” he objected. “Hey—let's not forget that
I'm
the one who's covered wars in Bosnia and God knows where else, and you're calling me an
innocent?”

“It's not an insult. It's simply that there's something unspoiled about you, which I personally find most admirable.”

“You do, huh?”

“I do. I was watching you today while you were photographing that stupid boxer. You get off on what you do. That's very appealing.”

“I'd like to photograph
you.”

“No
chance,” she said, making a face. “I
hate
posing in front of a camera.”

“No posing, I promise. Let me take some photos of you tonight.”

“Are you
crazy?”

“Sometimes.”

“So,” she said, quickly changing the subject. “What have we decided? Room service? Blackjack? Or the slots?”

“Whatever you like, 'cause I'm happy just being with you.”

“In that case, I choose room service.”

They strolled through the busy casino, hand in hand. Madison suddenly felt very much at ease. She'd delivered Jamie safely to her room, Natalie had gone off with her camera crew to cover yet another party, Jake had put his teenage assistant in a cab, so now they had no responsibilities.