The Seduction of Kinley Foster (What Happens in Vegas) (13 page)

Chapter Twenty

Kinley sat in the Karaoke Lounge with Kim Killion, owner of Hot Damn Designs, a design and branding company “with an edge,” her assistant, Jennifer Jakes, and several babes and hunks who modeled for the romance book covers the company created. The two were known as the dynamic duo in the publishing industry: Kim, a buxom brunette with a ready smile and wicked sense of humor; Jen, a brown-eyed beauty with more attitude than the Joker and Catwoman combined.

Authors sought them out when it came to having covers designed for their books.

“I hope you guys design the cover for my first book,” Kinley said, taking a sip of her margarita and glancing around. At nine p.m., the place was packed with loud, laughing customers. Kinley recognized a lot of them from the sessions she’d attended so far at the conference.

“Hope is for those who have given up control of their destiny. If you want one of our covers, have it written into your contract,” Jen replied, her brown eyes flashing authority, her smile flashing snark.

The song that was playing ended. A female D.J. tapped the microphone. “I’m going to play one more song, and then it’s time to get our karaoke on.”

The crowd cheered.

Kinley wasn’t among those who were cheering. She couldn’t sing. The only reason she’d ventured into the Karaoke Lounge was because it defined hip, and she’d been in the mood to pretend she was hip. And she’d kind of, sort of, thought she’d seen Ian walk into the bar…with a woman.

She’d been wrong. But she’d stayed anyway.

From the outside, the circular walls of the bar looked like a Mardi Gras bead. Thus, when you were sitting inside, you felt like you were incased in a colored glass bead.

Ian, according to the last text she’d received from him, would be busy until late in the evening with clients and editors.

She’d been unwilling to go back to their room and sit and wait on him.

“What type of romance do you write?” Kim asked. She wore a low-cut dress that made the most of her assets.

“Erotic romance,” Kinley answered, trying to appear at ease while sitting amongst those who were well established in the industry versus her own beginner status.

How she ended up sitting at the cool table in Vegas’s
it
bar, she still didn’t quite understand, but wasn’t arguing the fact.

Okay. That wasn’
t true.

She knew how it had happened.

She tripped over her own two feet and fell into their table…into the lap of one of the male models, an enormous man with beautiful black hair pulled back in a ponytail that hung halfway down his back.

The occupants were gracious enough to offer her a seat. Probably because the male model pulled out a chair and plopped her off his lap and down onto it before she could even get an apology out. And because she offered to buy drinks if they’d let her stay.

Conference somebodies kept stopping by their table to say hi and engage them in industry talk.

Kinley tried not to gape, gush, or gawk. She failed on all three accounts. “
And I don
’
t give a damn,
” she said under her breath, taking another sip of her drink. This was fun.

“I love a good, steamy romance,” one of the female models at the table said.

Kinley pulled her phone out. “I’m sorry to be such a nerd, but do you mind if I get a picture of you guys?” she asked the two male models, who were wearing kilts.

“Not at all, beautiful,” the sexy bald model said.

She raised her phone to snap his picture. She needed to feature him in her next book. He was just as hunky as he could be. Dumber than a box of rocks, but she could smarten him up in a book. Or maybe she’d feature Mr. Ponytail. Because of him, she had a seat at the cool table.

“Wait. You need to be in the picture,” Mr. Ponytail chimed in. He had beautiful legs. Like really, really beautiful legs.

“Here, I’ll take the picture,” one of the female cover models said, her red hair spiraling down her back in perfect ringlets, her wife-beater T-shirt hugging her perky breasts.

The two men stood. The bald one grabbed Kinley’s hands and pulled her into his arms, squishing her in a bear hug and pressing his stiff junk into her midriff.
Is that real? Oh, wait, no, that’s his fake sword.

A flash of light indicated the picture had been taken.

The other model grabbed her and bent her backward in a dip causing her glasses to slide off her face. He leaned down as if to kiss her. His lips were inches from hers. Another picture was snapped, probably capturing the surprised look on her face when she caught a glimpse of Baldy’s real junk beneath his kilt. Dear God, no wonder he was a romance cover model.

“Have you ever thought about being a cover model?”

Still in the dip, Kinley tore her eyes from the dangling parts and glanced in the direction of the voice.

Kim’s eyes were on Kinley.

A blush warmed Kinley’
s cheeks.
“Who, me? No.” She couldn’t believe the owner of Hot Damn Designs was asking her that. She was ordinary, not novel cover beautiful.

“You should. You have the girl next door thing going for you. The blush is a nice touch.”

The model stood her up. “She’s right. You’ve got the perfect figure to do some of her steamier covers.” He twirled her around. “With me of course.”

Kinley glanced down at her tight-fitting, faded out Lucky brand jeans and deep purple Chucks with no strings. Not so much sexy as comfortable. They were obviously drunk if they thought she was cover model material. “
Thanks.
”

Kim pulled her phone out of the deep
V
of her dress and snapped a picture of Kinley. “I’m serious.” She glanced at the picture and nodded. “Are you interested in doing a few practice shots to see how the camera likes you? We’re having a shoot tomorrow.”

Hell yes. “I—” Before she could finish her reply, a hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed.

“She’s busy tomorrow,” Ian said in a tone she couldn’t decipher.

She twisted to see him. Did he skip his last appointments to be with her?

A smile was on his lips. Too bad his eyes weren’t mirroring the happy emotion.

Her brows pulled together. “I…am?” She could miss a session to attend a photo shoot. No big deal.

He gave her a look that reminded her of a bear denied his honey. Not Winnie the Pooh—a humongous, pissed-off grizzly bear. Why was he angry at her? She’d been relatively well behaved today. Hadn’t once called him a liar. Did he expect her to be waiting in their room for him?

Those at the table stopped chattering.

He ran a hand down the side of her cheek. “Kinley, did you forget our breakfast engagement with the editor of Random House?” He leaned in and buzzed her other cheek with his lips.

Oh God. Her stomach dipped and twirled and somersaulted. Did he pitch her book to an editor? Was the editor interested? “Are you sure you mentioned the appointment?” Her voice sang with excitement.

He went rigid.

Damn. Did questioning him, constitute calling him a liar?

He studied her eyes. “Perhaps not.” He glanced at a table across the room where several men and women were sitting. “She’s anxious to meet the new up-and-coming author I’ve been telling her about.”

A woman at the table waved at them.

Wow. Up and coming—Kinley liked those words connected with her name.
Young up-and-coming author hits New York Times with her debut book.
“Is that her?” Kinley asked, waving back. Goose bumps formed on her arms. God. She might actually forgive him all his past sins if he sold her book to Random House.

He glanced at the woman and then at her. “No.”

“Oh.”

A smile twisted his lips. “She was waving at me. We’re meeting for drinks to talk about her manuscript.” This time the humor in his smile made it to his eyes. They were practically twinkling. Like lies and darkness could never live in them. Only laughter and truth. And sunshine and rainbows.

Jealousy shot through Kinley, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. “Isn’t she the lucky one? I hear you’re not easy to get.” The jealousy could be heard in her voice, and she hated herself for indulging in the unjustified emotion.

He was at the conference on business. He was in the business of representing authors. If he’d met one who had a book he wanted to represent, of course he was buying her drinks. Schmoozing. No big deal.

“Kinley, is this your agent?” the blond kilt-wearer asked.

“Oooorr your boy toy?” Jen asked, looking him up and down and giving Kinley a thumbs-up.

Kinley didn’t know how to answer the question. She needed a third option. Like, he’s my lover for the week. Or, if I learn enough about sex and kink, he might—

“Kinley and I go way back,” Ian said for her. “Her brother asked me to make sure she stayed out of trouble this week.”

“You’re failing in your duties,”
Mr. Ponytail said.
“If she’s at this table, she’s either in trouble or is about to get in trouble. It’s a prerequisite.”

Ian rubbed a hand down her cheek. It wasn’
t a soft touch.
“So I’ve been told.”

She took a step back, causing his hand to fall away. “I’m a big girl.”

“
Funny, I don
’t think of you as a girl anymore,” Ian murmured into her ear. “You’re all woman in my head.”

She trembled. She liked the way his voice sounded when he lowered it to a tone for her ears only—a hefty dollop of sexy admiration with a cupful of bossy possession.

“Are you sure you’re not secretly in love with our little Kinley?” the other kilt-wearer asked. “I’m getting this old jealous lover vibe from you. And my lover vibe is never wrong.”

Ian chuckled.
“Perhaps it’s skewed from all of the alcohol you’ve consumed.” He took Kinley’s hand and tugged.

Kinley didn’
t budge.
“I’m in good hands. You can drop the big brother act. Go do what you came in here to do. Have a good night.” There was a difference between jealousy and not wanting to share your toys. She glanced toward the woman who’d waved at him. If Ian could have other toys, so could she.

His hand slid down her back. “You are still wearing the vibrator, aren’t you?” he whispered in her ear.

Kinley shivered. “Go to your table. I’m having fun.” Now it was a matter of pride.

He moved his hand, touched the scar on her forehead…frowned. His blue eyes darkened. “I never could tell you no. Even when it was in your best interest.”

“Funny how our memories differ. I remember you once, quite eloquently, telling me no.”

Frustration flashed across his face, before he schooled his expression into one of sardonic amusement. “Does it help you to know I wanted to say yes?” He turned and walked toward his table.

The redhead beauty sighed. “Wow. That’s one hot hunk of he-man.”

Kinley shrugged. “He’s too bossy for my taste.”
Bossy. Boss.
Hell.
A full body shudder zipped through her. Ian was the boss. She’d agreed to those terms. She’d just told the boss no. Even if he never discovered she’d removed the vibrator against his wishes, there would still be consequences for not following his demands. Was it too late to get her own hotel room? Had she just earned her first spanking in this game they were playing?

“
Oh, I don
’t know. I think he could boss me any time—any place,”
Jen said, glancing at her fingernails.

“Anyone want to karaoke with me?” Kim asked, obviously bored with the conversation, tucking her phone back into her boob holster.

“Not me.” Kinley slid her phone into her back pocket and wiped her palms on her jeans. There wasn’t a lot about death she looked forward to, but singing was one of them. If all went according to plan, and she got the green light to heaven, there she’d be given a new voice, one that could sing. Or that was her hope.

Surely God handed out singing voices to those who entered his blinged-out gates. That and a lifetime supply of red wine and dark chocolate and high heels that didn’
t squeeze your toes.

“We’ll see,” the occupants of the table said in unison, replying in faux understanding tones.

“What?” She had an uncomfortable feeling that they were up to something. Did Ian really have an appointment set up for her tomorrow with an editor of Random House? Which editor? She should go back to her room and do some research.

“Shots of tequila for the table,” Kim told the waitress in a voice that sounded a little too perky.

“I wish I could sing. I can’t,” Kinley said, nervously. Wanting to make sure they understood she wasn’t joking about her inability to sing. She glanced around for another table to sit at if they tried to pressure her into going up on stage.

“Nonsense. Everyone can sing. You just open your mouth and make a noise,” Jen said. “It’s like sex. It just happens.”

“Not with me. In fact, the guy who just left once told me my voice scares cats and ghosts away.”

“That’s the beauty of karaoke. The prize is in getting up there. Not if your voice is made for singing,” Kim said, her voice still not its normal tone. What was she up too?

Kinley glanced at Ian’s table. He was in deep conversation with a female, his arm along the seat behind her back. She was practically sitting on his lap. Why? Their table wasn’t that crowded that she needed to sit that close. Kinley stared harder. Was that the speaker from today’s spankophile discussion?

Or was it the lady from behind the check in desk on the first day? They had the same blonde bombshell appearance. Bastard.

The shots came. Jennifer raised hers in the air for a toast. “Here’s to never saying never.”

They all clicked glasses and downed their shots, including Kinley. Never wasn’t one of her favorite words. But, sometimes never is exactly what you needed to say.

Someone ordered another round of shots. Mr. Ponytail held his glass in the air. “Here’s to going commando and bringing sexy back.”