Sweet Southern Betrayal (2 page)

“Thanks, Tony. I appreciate the hospitality,” he said with a smile as he slipped the paper in his pocket.

“Thank you for taking care of my moron nephew.”

And then he was gone in typical Tony fashion. No good-bye. No backward glance.

“I can’t believe he just offered you a job right in front of me,” Leland said. Teague turned to look at his senior partner, surprised at the real anger causing Leland’s “tennis court weekend” tan to redden. “And what was that shit at the end? I think he offered you a hooker.”

“He’s direct. I like that.” While the DC game of reading between the lines of every conversation was enjoyable, it was nice to have someone be straightforward for a change. And Tony had been crystal clear. Teague pushed down the voice in his head that whispered he was more like Tony than he wanted to acknowledge.

“And you handled him like a pro. As always.” Leland paused. Clearly, he didn’t like how that had all gone down. “You know you have to take him up on the VIP offer.”

“Yes, I know. He’s a huge client and it would piss him off unnecessarily.” Teague tried to curb the edge of frustration in his voice, but he knew he did a bad job of it when Leland’s mouth got a little tighter at the edges. “Leland, what the fuck is that look? I know how to handle clients.”

“Well, he’s definitely handling you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What was that little stunt with the job offer?” Leland fumed.

“What? You think I planned that with Tony?” Teague looked down on his boss, feeling the grip on his temper slipping. “I’ve worked my ass off for this firm, fixed every fucking problem you guys threw at me, and you think I’d resort to dramatics to secure my partnership? I don’t need to play fucking games to get what I want. I’m the best. You know it.
Tony
knows it. The partnership committee knows it. End of story.”

“You are a cocky son of a bitch.”

“But I’m right. So cut the bullshit.”

“Fine. But I didn’t like all that crap about secrets and having you followed. Watch your step with him. As far as the firm is concerned, you’re the next great thing and we wouldn’t want you to get that pretty face messed up.”

“Kiss my ass.” Teague laughed, checking his watch to see if he had time to call one of his “friends” for a drink and get a head start on letting off some steam. He’d seen Olivia in the conference room earlier and she’d hinted she was free tonight.

Leland laid a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Well, just keep your ass out of the fire for a couple more weeks until the deal is done. You’ve passed the committee and your final background check, and now it’s just a matter of paperwork.”

“What kind of trouble do you think I can get into the next couple of weeks?”

“You’re going to Vegas with those crazy men you’ve been friends with since the cradle. Booze. Gambling.” Leland followed him out of the conference room and down the hall to the elevator. “You wouldn’t be the first guy to wake up married to a stripper.”

Teague turned, flashing his best grin at his boss. “Am I the kind of guy who would do that sort of thing?”

“Every guy with a functional dick has the potential to be that guy.”

“Leland, you worry too much.” Teague entered the elevator and took one last shot at his boss as the doors started their slow glide closed.

“I promise you I will not marry a stripper.”

Chapter Two

Elvis was wearing a diaper.

Teague Elliott clamped his eyes shut and groaned with the pain of those who realize they did this to themselves with a bottle of tequila and bravado fueled by the most evil Mr. Cuervo. He wasn’t sure if the image of the King of Rock ’n’ Roll was more or less painful than the percussion section practicing in between his ears, but both made him equally queasy. Taking another peek at the mural of the music icon dressed up as Cupid painted on the ceiling over the bed, he decided this was a question best solved in the bathroom.

Navigating his way through the large gold fake-Italian furniture and Elvis memorabilia, he didn’t think it could get any worse until he flipped on the light switch and was blinded by the leopard-print wallpaper and metallic gold toilet, shower, and sink. Fighting down the decor-induced wave of nausea, he emptied his bladder and shuffled over to the sink to throw cold water on his face.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked his reflection. The answer was simple—he wasn’t. The combination of his sister’s wedding and the VIP concierge at the Gold Coast Casino was just too much for him to resist after the crazy fucking year he’d had. He’d known something like this was coming. A year of busting his ass to become the youngest partner at Harrison & Duff, coupled with the added burden of fixing the mess his father left in the wake of his midlife crisis, made this kind of night inevitable. Tequila and his three best friends in the city of sin made this detour to the wild side imperative.

He glanced down at his blessedly bare left-hand ring finger. At least he hadn’t married a stripper. Leland would be pleased. Now he just needed to figure out where the hell he was, locate his friends Beck and Jack, and make sure he didn’t miss his flight back to Virginia.

Leaning over to wipe the excess water off his face with a towel, he spied the wastebasket, his fuzzy brain taking a few seconds to process what was in there. Condom wrappers.
Empty
condom wrappers. He counted quickly—four to be exact—and he reached out to steady himself on the counter. Pride at being able to get it up four times last night battled with the realization that he had taken someone to bed and didn’t remember it.
Oh hell
.

On shaky legs, Teague walked back into the bedroom and over to the bed, wondering how he’d missed the human-shaped lump still there. He walked around the huge, heart-shaped bed and took at look at the woman sleeping there. Hair the color of flame, skin the color of cream, and long, finely boned limbs. She was gorgeous.

Teague leaned closer. The scent of her perfume—something citrus and spicy—flooded him with memories of just how well he knew this stranger. Heated bodies. A husky laugh. Hair like silk gliding along his abdomen as she covered his skin with kisses, making her way down to the part of him that was even now responding to her. Eyes the color of moss—deep green shot with silver.

“Holy hell.” Teague stood up, the fuzziness lifting from his brain with the realization of what he’d done. The risk he’d taken with a stranger. The risk he’d taken with his career. Fuck.

The woman stirred at his words, her body stretching out from under the concealment of the covers, exposing more of her skin, the pink nipples on her lush breasts, and the enticing strip of red-gold curls covering her sex. Damn, she was beautiful. Drunk or not, it would have been damn near impossible to walk away from this angel.

“Good morning.” She sat up, completely at ease with her nakedness, the sexy rasp to her voice perfectly suited for a woman who could star in a million fantasies. She ran a hand through her curls, pushing them back from her face as she observed him. Her gaze was open, taking a slow, full measure of him before she cradled her head and winced. “Or is it?”

“Uh…” For a man who made his living with words, Teague had none. It had been years since he’d woken with a stranger in his bed, and he was out of practice with the protocol of how to deal with a drunken hookup. Shake hands? Call her a cab? Offer round two—or in this case—five? “I’m a little fuzzy on the details from last night.”

“Great. That makes two of us.” She slipped out of the bed, her long, supple body unfolding from the nest of bedsheets to walk over to him at a careful pace. When she stopped in front of him, he noted how tall she was, just a few inches shorter than his six feet one inches. Her gaze caught his for a moment before she looked down, slowly taking stock of him, including his cock, now paying full attention to the sexy woman in such close proximity. When she finally raised her head and looked him in the eyes, his skin prickled with the heat and desire banked behind her lashes. He wasn’t the only one who remembered how hot they’d been together, and it took a tight clench of his fists to resist pushing her back on the bed and creating memories that weren’t clouded by the haze of alcohol.

“Well, I always did have amazing taste in men,” she drawled in a voice that made him think of smoke, whiskey, and nights spent shouting out your pleasure.

She was the kind of woman who made men like him forget they had plans. Hell, she’d make them change their plans.

Good thing he was leaving today.

She stuck her hand out, and for a moment he thought she was going to shake his, but instead her palm landed against his chest, skin warm and touch electric.

“I’m Risa. Risa Clay, and I won’t even pretend that I remember your name.”

“Teague Elliott,” he said, his voice rough to his own ears.

“From the accent, I’d say you aren’t from Nevada.” Risa winked at him, her lips twisting into a grin before she walked past him tossing pillows and other bed items in search of something.

“Virginia.” He couldn’t stop watching her. The graceful way she moved, the line of her back, the sway of her hips. He shook himself out of his stupor. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen a hot, naked woman before. “What are you looking for?”

“My phone. From the empty condom wrapper on the bedside table and what I
can
remember, I’m anxious to get a look at my pictures to see what else we got up to last night.” She gave a triumphant yell and waved around a little black purse. “Got it.”

“There are four more in the bathroom,” he said, taking his turn to smirk when she looked at him over his shoulder, wide-eyed. “Four more condom wrappers.”

She let her gaze do another slow walk over his body before shrugging and looking back at the phone in her hand. “Like I said, I have amazing taste in men.”

Teague followed her lead, his mind turning over all the possibilities of what he could have done last night—besides Risa. This was Las Vegas after all, and the menu was a buffet of trouble for a man who had political aspirations. Things even worse than marrying a stripper. His hand shook as he closed it around his own phone, entered the pass code, and thumbed his way through the photo album.

His best friend Lucky and his little sister, Taylor, dressed in their wedding clothes, looking happy and ready to jump each other. Michaela and Jack in their newlywed bliss. Beck with his arm around the waist of a pretty cocktail waitress. Then a series of photos of the night after the wedding—last night—when he’d spent the evening partying with Jack and Beck on the dime of Tony Giambetti. They’d gone to dinner, the casino, and then a show and—bingo—that’s where he’d found the lovely Risa.

There she was on his screen, dressed in the glamorous sequined costume of the dancers in the shows, her glorious breasts showcased by the gold bra-like top and her long legs ending in the highest pair of heels he’d ever seen. She was smiling, her face lit up with fun and carefree joy. In the next photo they were together, Risa now in a gorgeous emerald-green dress and Teague leaning in close, his face now lit up with the same excitement and worry-free expression.

He almost didn’t recognize himself.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

“You’re a dancer,” he mumbled as he flipped through the remaining pics, stopping on the final one. He and Risa were leaning against the headboard of the bed in this room, the camera held over them as they kissed each other. The screen was filled with skin, desire, lust—blatant and unrepentant. Teague could feel the sizzle and wondered why his phone didn’t melt in his grasp. He licked his lips and swallowed down the groan of desire bubbling up.

He must still be drunk.

“Yep. At the Gold Coast Casino.” She sighed with relief. “Thank God. No wedding pics. I think what happened in Vegas is going to stay in Vegas.”

“Jesus.” Teague slumped with his own relief, closing his eyes and feeling the full impact of the residual alcohol in his system. He turned to look at her fully, finally seeing a chink in her bravado as she sagged against the couch and lifted a shaky hand to push hair off her face. She looked younger, vulnerable, and as freaked out as he was.

“Were you worried about that? Being married?” he asked.

“I
never
do this.” She waved at the bed and him, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “If I was crazy enough to go to the Scary Elvis motel with a stranger then hell knows what else happened.”

“Well, you sure did play it cool.”

“I’m good at looking like I don’t give a shit.”

“Me too.”

He locked eyes with her, each of them sizing up the other, recognizing a kindred spirit. Risa understood the game. “Never underestimate a cynic,” his father used to say. “They know the score and will play whatever side is the winner.” He’d bet money that Risa Clay was a winner most of the time. This was a dangerous woman, and that flipped every one of his fucking switches in the best and worst way.

Teague smiled. “I do it every damn day of my life.”

“Are you an actor?”

“No. An attorney.”

“Ah.” She rose and began gathering her clothes from the pile on the floor. “The ultimate entertainer, snake-oil salesman, and original conman.”