The Seduction of Kinley Foster (What Happens in Vegas) (14 page)

Kinley downed her shot. She should slip back to their suite, slip off her panties and put some heels on. Why hadn’t she dressed up before stepping into the Karaoke Lounge? Her sexy was stuck in the bottom of her suitcase. Luckily the vibrator was still in her purse. She’d get that back in place before she went up to her room.

A third round appeared. Kinley raised her glass in the air. “Here’s to being too old to be spanked.” Who was she kidding? She was aroused. She liked the game she and Ian were playing.

With their drinks halfway to their lips, those at the table froze. Their heads jerked, and they glanced at her with heavy amounts of curiosity. Knowing eyebrows raised and nods of approval were given.

She shrugged. They could speculate all they wanted. She wasn’t going to verify. Hopefully, they couldn’t see the blush warming her cheeks.

Jen gave a loud war whoop, causing Kinley to jump and nearly fall out of her chair. Her heart scrambled for cover.

“Hey you,” Jen yelled toward Ian’s table. When he glanced their way, she raised her glass in his direction, “to you,” she shouted, and then they all downed their shots.

Kinley wanted to be invisible. When would she learn not to babble so much? She couldn’t even keep her own secrets. Crap.

“Anyone ready to sing?” asked the female model. She was so freaking beautiful you couldn’t even hate her. All you could do was stare and wonder how
so much everything
ended up being given to one human. With all that red hair, you’d think she’d have freckles. She didn’t. Her skin was flawless.

“Not me,” Kinley said. “Not now. Not ever.” Perhaps it was time to go back to her room. Not because Ian wanted her there, but because…

“I am,” Kim said. “What kind of boss would I be if I didn’t lead by example?” She stood and tugged the hem of her skirt, shimmying her ass as she did so. Her boobs looked like they might escape.

Kinley decided she could stay a little longer. She turned her chair so she could see the stage: a tiny platform with a spotlight and a microphone.

The owner of Hot Damn Designs walked up on the stage with a Marilyn Monroe-esque wiggle-step, took the microphone from the D.J., and gave her the name of her song.

The music started and Kim started singing an oldie by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts. “I saw him—”

Her voice was fabulous, and the audience erupted into a cheer.

“I knew he must…”

She fumbled the microphone and bent to pick it up. The movement caused her skirt to ride up, and catcalls rang out. She straightened and found her place in the music. “Singing, I…”

The audience was singing so loud, you could hardly hear Kim.

Kinley settled into her chair. This was fun. And relaxing. Her insides felt like warm brownies. Better than warm brownies. They felt like the middle of warm brownies. Like the middle of warm brownies taken out of the oven a few minutes too early.

When the song ended, Kim held up her hand to stop the applause. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, I have a real treat for you. There’s a virgin in the house. At karaoke anyway. So be gentle with her. This is, after all, all about having fun, not about being any good. I’d like to welcome to the stage,” she glanced directly at Kinley, “what’s your name?”

Kinley’s smile froze stiffer than a wet rope left out in the elements in the Antarctic. The ooey gooey happy feeling disappeared. In its place, a lump of solidified Crisco. A lump so large her shots were threatening to come back up.

The spotlight swung to highlight her face.

She turned to look for an exit. The room spun from the quick movement. Or maybe from too much to drink.

“She may need a little encouragement,” Kim said into the mic.

The crowd clapped louder.

“Tell them your name,”
Jen urged.

Kinley opened her mouth. A squeak rolled off her tongue like a tumbleweed in an abandoned town. Only her town wasn’t abandoned. It was freaking packed. With people she’d have to attend sessions with tomorrow.

“Kinley,” a male said from somewhere in the room. Somewhere far away in the room. Someone with a sexy voice.

“Kin-ley. Kin-ley. Kin-ley,” chanted the audience. Those at her table stood as they chanted.

The bald model grabbed her, flung her over his shoulder and brought her to the stage. He set her down gently, took her purse from her, and then left her standing up there. In the million-watt spotlight.

“What song are you going to sing?” the D.J. asked.

Somewhere in the darkest areas of her brain, Kinley realized Ian was the one who gave her name to the audience. Realized she was about to humiliate herself and there wasn’t a way out. She searched for his face in the crowd, more for support than anything. He of all people knew just how bad this was going to be.

He was leaning back, his hands behind his head, as if settling in for a laugh at her expense.

For some reason, that pissed her off. Maybe because the blonde was still sitting by him. They were both going to enjoy watching her be humiliated. He wanted to see her fail. The realization pinched at her heart.

“
I don
’t think I can do this,” Kinley said. Why did she care if Ian didn’t have her back? They weren’t a real couple. If the tables were turned, she’d probably sit back and watch him make an idiot of himself.

No probably about it. Of course she would.

The redhead from her table ran up on the stage. Was she coming up to rescue her? Would she sing instead?

Whistles rang out. No doubt every man in the audience had just gotten a hard-on. Kinley tried to hand off the microphone to her savior. She wouldn’t take it.

“Here, drink this,” she said to Kinley, handing her a shot. “And then sing like no one’
s listening.
”

Kinley downed the shot, handed her the glass, and looked at the sound technician. A fuzzy warmth filled her.
What the hell?
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Maybe she wasn’t as bad as she thought she was. Maybe she was great. Maybe Ian had lied to her all those years ago. “Do you have any Rolling Stones?”

“Honey, we’ve got whatever you want.”

Kinley walked over to the D.J. and whispered in her ear.

She smiled. Nodded.

Kinley unbuttoned the top three buttons of her blouse, exposing the lacy edges and plunging
V
of her red bra. She gave Ian a secretive smile. “This is for you.” She reached up and released her hair from its bun. Curls tumbled down and over her shoulders. “Wave hi, Ian.” She pointed him out to the crowd and then combed through her hair with her fingers. Two could play at this game.

His smile faltered. Instead of waving, he held his drink in the air. The cool man’s wave.

The crowd grew quiet.

“Feel free to talk while I sing. This isn’t going to be pretty,” Kinley warned them.

If possible, the room grew quieter. So quiet, she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Damn it. They were going to listen to her sing. These people who seemed so sweet in the conference sessions were liquored up and eager to feed their funny bones on the karaoke virgin.

The music started.

Kinley closed her eyes. Pictured Ian watching her with his smug-ass eyes. She opened her eyes, glanced at the teleprompter, and couldn’t read the words. Sweat broke out on her upper lip. Oh God. She wasn’t wearing her glasses. The prompter was too close to focus on. What were the words to this song? All she could remember were the ones her college roommate, Adeline Rigby, made-up to go along with the tune after a poor choice in the romance department. Shit. Shit. Shit. She closed her eyes to block out the view.

“I dun dun no—orgasm-action. I dun dun no—orgasm-action. Oh he tried, and he tried—”

On the second try, Mr. Ponytail hollered out, “Hey, your purse is vibrating.”

Kinley’s eyes flew open, and her gaze swung to Ian. He was standing at the back of the room. Was that the remote to her vibrator in his hand?

Kinley swallowed. “It’s my phone. It’ll go to voicemail.”

She took a breath. Refused to glance at Ian. Damn.

“He can’
t get me there, he can
’
t get me there,
” she belted out the words, causing a few sitting at the front tables to jump and wince.

Ian Thompson was a horrible, horrible man. Damn it. What would have happened if she’d still been wearing the vibrator? She would have had an orgasm here in front of everyone. That’s what would have happened. And he knew that.

Was this his idea of kinky sex? Getting her aroused in front of an audience?

Kinley managed to hum the next stanza but was unable to actually put a volume to the words.

“He can’
t get me there…
” Somehow she managed to force the made-up song lyrics past the knot in her throat.

Ian pushed away from the wall and took a step in her direction.

Kinley shook her head.

He stopped.

Good. Her singing on stage was enough of a spectacle for one night. He needed to stay the hell away. She glanced at her table. The Box-of-Rocks-for-Brains skirt-wearer gave her two thumbs up.

She hummed the tune. Would the song ever end? And why in the hell were people still not carrying on with their conversations? Leave it to her to debut her karaoke voice in front of a group of well mannered publishing peeps.

Who was she kidding? They weren’t well mannered. They were vultures. They were busy taking mental notes of her trainwreck of a performance for future book material.

“Hey honey, I’m sure I can satisfy you,” some guy yelled.

Ian frowned and, once again, began walking toward her. Slowly. Purposefully.

“I can’
t get no
…” she sang the words softly, her heart kicking around inside of her like a tantrum-throwing toddler. What was he going to do? Did he lose his brain today?

The crowd noticed his approach.

Why was he drawing attention to himself? He was supposed to be a professional.

Whispers swept through the karaoke bar.

Kinley couldn’t tear her gaze away from his. She wanted to. But she couldn’t.

Why did he have that…look on his face?

Ian reached out and took the microphone from her hand. The music faded but continued to play lightly.

“If I’m not mistaken, you’ve thrown down the gauntlet to all the men in this bar with this song.” He spoke into the mic, his voice tight. “And since your big brother, my best friend, asked me to keep an eye on you here at the conference, I’m afraid what I’m about to do is entirely necessary.” He leaned down and had Kinley over his shoulder before she knew what was happening.

There was a group gasp and then laughter.

Kinley pummeled his back. How dare he treat her like this? People were watching. Sure, they didn’t know her. She was an unknown. But they knew him.

A female from the audience ran up on the stage. She took the mic. “Umm, I’ll sing what she sang.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Ian carried Kinley off the stage, not giving a damn that people were watching and whispering and videoing. He accepted her purse from that bonehead would-be Highlander and didn’t put her down until they were inside an empty elevator.

“Have you lost your ever-loving mind making a spectacle of us out there like that?” Her eyes were spitting poisoned darts at him.

He resisted an urge to smile at her outrage. Maybe his actions had been a little over the top. Then again, his woman for the week had been up on stage asking to be satisfied. And some idiot was ready to take her up on it. “It would appear I have.” What in the hell was a man to do if not go all primal? Unable to resist any longer, he grinned. Like a big goofy idiot. He hadn’t had this much fun since…since a very long time. “You’ve been very naughty.”

She blinked, shook her head at him, and then twitched her lips. “What are you going to do?” she asked in a suggestive tone.

Was she swaying?

Hell, she was tipsy. He pulled her into his arms to keep her steady. “What do you think I’m going to do?” he whispered against her hair.

She placed both hands on his chest and pushed away enough to be able to look into his eyes. “I hope you’re going to give me a man-made orgasm.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Man-made, huh?” He’d turned the vibrator on as payback after he received a phone call from a man she met at the club the other night whom she’d given Ian’s phone number. He’d wanted to know if Ian would like to hookup.

She tapped his lips with her finger. “
An Ian-made orgasm.
”

Ian’s cock responded to the invitation. “You’re very bad for taking out your vibrator. You disobeyed a direct order.”

The elevator came to a stop on their floor. He turned her toward the open door and pushed slightly to get her to start walking.

She stumbled out. “You can spank me if you want. I’m not afraid.”

He missed a step. Ever since she’d come back into his life, he’d felt off balance—as if walking on a wire, where one misstep could end things. But making it all the way across could be the start of a new venture in his life.

In their room, he walked to the couch, sat down, and patted the cushion next to him. “
I don
’t ever want you to be afraid of me.”

“That’s good because you’re not the least bit scary.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Is it time for my spanking?” She used a purring tone. Like someone looking forward to what they were proposing. Did being spanked turn her on? Well, hell, that was the point—to excite both of them.

She sat down with the grace of a newborn colt—all arms and legs going everywhere.

“Not just yet.” He’d been hard for her all evening. Hell, probably since he laid eyes on her in the airport wearing that ridiculous pillow around her neck.

She waved a finger at him. “So then what?”

He grinned. Kinley Foster was more than just a little tipsy. He should put her to bed, but a person could find out a lot about another person when they were sloshed. And there was something he was dying to ask her. “If I ask you a question, will you promise to tell me the truth?”

She awkwardly laid her head on his lap, mouth facing his cock, and curled up.

He groaned silently and rubbed her hair.

“I never lie,” she said.

“Me either.”

She rolled over on her back and peered up at him. “Since when?”

He ran a finger across her brows, smoothing them out. “Since always.” Should he ask her? Was that taking advantage of a boozed-up—

Kinley took his finger and kissed the tip and then bit down. “Tell me about you and my brother’s fiancée.”

He pulled his finger out of her grip, away from her teeth. “You’re not sober enough to have
that
particular conversation.”

She placed her palm on his chest. “You started this tête-à-tête, not me.”

He smiled. With her speech slightly slurred, it sounded like she said tit-on-tit.

She had a point. He decided to give her a straight answer. Maybe because he was tired of keeping the truth to himself. Maybe because she finally asked. Maybe because he was beginning to think he wanted a relationship with Kinley, and the truth was necessary. Maybe his behavior in the bar was his roundabout way of telling the world, she was his. Maybe…

“Stacy wasn’t good enough for your brother.”

Kinley’s roving hand stilled against his chest. “Who said you got to be the person to decide who was or wasn’t good enough for my brother?”

Ian hoped she was too drunk to feel the rapid beat of his heart under her hand. “She did when she came to my apartment to tell me she was in love with me. That she never loved your brother.”

Kinley’s eyes narrowed. “I think you seduced her into coming to your apartment.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I saw her in your apartment. Naked.”

“Then you ran home and told your brother.”

She sighed and raised her legs in the air and kicked off her shoes. “Don’t you think he had a right to know?”

“He had a right to hear the story from me.”

She unzipped her jeans then raised her hips and wriggled out of them. “You wouldn’t have told him the truth,” she said, tossing them on the floor. “Guys never tell the truth.”

Ian swallowed hard. “We’ll never know, because you didn’t give me a chance.” When she reached for her shirt to take it off, he placed a hand over hers and held it in place.

Kinley rolled her eyes like she was upset he wasn’t going to let her get naked. “When he confronted you and Stacy, you didn’t deny her story. She said you two had been sleeping together for quite some time.”

“I wouldn’t contradict her story.” He couldn’t believe they were having this discussion. After all these years. With her drunk and in her panties, lying on his lap. Her brother had simply taken his word for it when he told him there was more to the story, but he wasn’t at liberty to tell all. That’s what best friends do.

Would she remember a damn thing come tomorrow?

She pulled her hand out from under his. “You wouldn’t contradict her story because you don’t lie, and what she said was true?” She slipped her hand inside her tiny red panties that matched the red bra she’d shown everyone in the bar.

He gulped. God, he couldn’t think with her doing
that
. Was she distracting him on purpose? If so, the plot was working. “If I tell you the reason, do you promise not to tell anyone?” He tugged her hand out and laced his fingers with hers—like a girl wanting to hold hands. What was wrong with him?

“Absoooooolutely you can trust me.” She giggled, ruining the believability of her response.

He ran his free hand down the side of his face. How much and where should he start with the story? “Stacy came to my apartment about a week before their wedding and said she was in love with me. I sent her home. Told her she was having cold feet. Perfectly normal.”

“I never did like her feet. She had the ugliest toes of anyone I’ve ever known.” Kinley raised her foot and twitched her toes. “I like my toes. Do you like my toes?”

“You have lovely toes,”
Ian said, chuckling.
“Then the day you came by, Stacy dropped by about twenty minutes earlier. Drunk and crying. I told her to go lie down and sleep off the alcohol. She went into my bedroom, and I thought that’s what she was doing.”

Kinley hiccuped.
“
Sorry. Continue.
”

“You knocked. When I opened the door, you threw yourself in my arms and kissed me, and offered me your virginity.” She’d been wearing a raincoat. She’d opened it, showing him her school uniform. The skirt rolled up at the waistband. She’d been so adorably sexy and naive.

“Technically, I tripped and landed in your arms and then just decided to kiss you while I was there.”

That would explain the velocity with which she came at him. “Unbeknownst to either of us, when you rang the doorbell, Stacy heard. She recorded our interaction.”

“The bitch.”

“When you left, she said I either had to back up her story, or she was going to post the video on Facebook.”

“Why? What did I ever do to her?”

“Nothing. She wanted me, and I guess she thought I’d marry her to keep her quiet about you. You were underage at the time, and she probably thought that would be enough for me to yield to her demands.”

Kinley pulled her hand out of his. “And then you slept with her?”

Their gazes locked. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Why didn’t you just tell my brother the truth?”

He glanced away. “I couldn’t let Stacy ruin your reputation. You were still in school.”

Kinley sat up. “Shut up. That’s too sweet to be true.”

“
I don
’
t lie.
” There were a lot of things he did wrong, but he wasn’t a liar.

Kinley’s eyes took on a glassy appearance. Almost as if she were on the verge of tears, but more likely the result of alcohol. “How did you keep her quiet when she realized you weren’t going to marry her?”

“I paid her off.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “So you just let half the town think you were the reason my brother and Stacy didn’
t get married?
”

He popped his neck. “It’s what you do for the people you love.”

She bit her lip and glanced away.

He waited.

After what felt like a century, she glanced back at him and grinned. She gave him an I-know-what-you’
re-up-to nod.
“Is this all an elaborate lie so I’ll have sex with you? Because you should know, I’m going to have sex with you.”

He exhaled. “
I don
’
t lie.
” He should record himself saying that on a loop and send it to her so she could listen to it over and over when she was sober.

“Did you know I design T-shirts ranting about how we live in a society where trust is a stupid emotion?”

As a matter of fact he did. “Have you sold many?” He was the proud owner of one.

“Enough to pay for this trip.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve answered your personal question, may I ask you one?”

“Seeing as I’m lying here in my panties”—she did a Vanna White over the lower half of her body—“I’d say that’s going to be a request I approve.”

He laughed. He found himself laughing a lot around her.

His laughter died away, and he took a deep breath. The weight of what he was about to ask settled on his shoulders, and a decade’s worth of doubts slammed like a linebacker into his chest. “When you lost your virginity, did you think about me?” It was the million-dollar question. The one he’d wanted to ask her for ten years. He stared into her eyes and waited for a response.

She blinked several times. Closed her eyes.

He waited. Not breathing.

Nothing. Had she passed out?

He exhaled. “Are you going to answer me?”

She opened her eyes. They were full of distress. “Do you care if we talk about this tomorrow…? I think I’m going to be sick?”