The Seduction of Kinley Foster (What Happens in Vegas) (3 page)

She smacked his hand away. “You always were greedy.” Was he flirting with her?

His eyes flashed with promise. And then it was gone. Gone so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined the male version of a come hither look. He raised his hand and trailed a finger down the side of her face. “In all seriousness, I’d like to talk with you.”

“Why?” she asked, pushing his hand away again. Her brother had mentioned a couple of times since the blow-up that Ian wanted to speak with her. She’d always refused.

In the beginning, she’d been too hurt and too angry to want to listen. Then, as the years passed, it had been more about not wanting to face her own humiliation. To not relive that awful moment when he’d taken her hopes and dreams—her heart—and shattered her.

Was her anger and bitterness toward him a decade later perhaps a wee bit over the top? Would a normal woman handle this situation with decidedly more panache, a bit more of a water-under-the-bridge attitude? Probably. But then she’d always considered panache to be overrated. And Ian always had a way of unnerving her. Time, it seemed, did nothing to lessen the effect.
Gag
, indeed, to the nth degree.

The laughter in his eyes disappeared. “Because there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time. And this gives me a chance.”

She narrowed her eyes. Ignored her gut telling her she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Pulled up her big girl panties. “I’
m listening.
”

Ten years was a long time to wait for an explanation.

Chapter Three

Ian Thompson sat in the backseat of a taxi with Kinley Foster, his tongue tied in knots. He’d been flustered since her brother had called and asked for a favor.

Ian wasn
’t accustomed to being flustered. He preferred compartmentalizing his emotions and only calling upon the ones that suited his needs. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, like an inexperienced teenage boy who’
d just
been shot down for copping a feel.

Kinley jerked like he’d decked her with an uppercut, and he swallowed the rest of his apology.

“Sorrrrrry?” The word came out of her sounding like a snake’s hiss.

Like he was her fallen hero. Which he was. Not that he’d ever wanted her to see him as a hero. He’d teased her like crazy when she was growing up, trying to kill the puppy-love adoration.

When he’d finally managed to get the job done, he’d really done it. She’d gone from hero-worship to hate with the blink of an eye. And it stuck.

Still.

He would never be forgiven by her. Even though what he’
d done
—

“My brother may be the forgiving type, but I’m not.” Her tone was fierce, full of loyalty toward her brother and loathing toward him.

He sighed.
“You used to think I could do no wrong.” It’d been so long, he’d thought, surely after all this time…

She closed her eyes for a few uncomfortable heartbeats.

Which scene was she replaying in her brain?

The one where he turned down what she was offering him? Or the one where her brother’s fiancée came strutting into his living room wearing nothing but a tan?

She opened her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her voice held no signs of distress. No signs of hidden emotions. But her eyes held a winter-storm warning.

“Liar.” It wasn’t a word he used lightly. But damn it, she knew exactly what he was talking about.

She glanced out the car window. “Aside from some inane request of my brother’s—which you can bet I’m going to verify—why are you in Vegas?”

He picked up her pillow and glanced at it. Scowled. Were these her new heroes? The ones she thought could do no wrong? “You really don’t know?” Her brother told him she didn’t. Told him he’d started to tell her once, but she cut him off. Said she could care less what ‘the ass’ did for a living. But he’d figured she’d simply found out from another source and was putting on an act for her brother.

She glanced back at him. “Sorry to burst your ego, but I don’t know.”

He ran his hand down his jaw. Was she deliberately trying to annoy him? “My pride’s wounded.” Sure he used an assumed identity, but she was smart enough to figure it out if she wanted to. “You haven’t dug deep into Google to find out what I do for a living?” The brat had morphed into a curvy bombshell. One that could blow-up his easygoing lifestyle if he let his guard down.

She laughed. Not a happy laugh. A bitter laugh. “Why on earth would I do that? Have
you
dug deep into Google to learn all about me?” There it was…in her voice. The truth. In her world, he didn’t exist in any depth.

Which meant her anger didn’t stem from any part of her that maybe still thought about him or had an inkling of feeling for him. Damn it.

Her brother was wrong. He’d called with a two-fold plan. The first plan intrigued Ian the most. Her brother hoped that they could patch things up so Kinley could move forward in her love life without her puppy love of Ian holding her back. When pushed for details, her brother clammed up.

Part of Ian had been hopeful that things could be repaired between them.

Nope. That wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t know what happened to end her last relationship, but it had nothing to do with her pining after him. All the good kind of emotion she’d ever had for him was extinct.

That meant her anger…was purely that. Loathing and disgust for the past that she refused to see beyond.

The realization sliced at more than just his ego.

Hell. While she wasn’t thinking about him, he’d been busy wondering whom the lucky boy was that did get her virginity. Who the lucky guys were she dated in college? Who the lucky men were she dated now? Did she work with them? Were they educators? “I loved that tiny red bikini you wore in your Cayman vacation pictures at the beach last summer.” He’d had more than one fantasy of peeling if off of her.

Kinley flushed—a beautiful spotlight to her rounded cheekbones.

“Why are you really here?” Her tone ripped him back to the moment. “There’s no way my brother asked you to fly from New York to Las Vegas to babysit me.”

This is where he should tell her the truth. The whole truth. He settled for a partial. The second half of her brother’
s plan.
“Work.”

She glanced away— “Did my brother tell you why I’m in Vegas?” —a
nd slid her hands under her legs.

He smiled. How many times had he witnessed her crossing her fingers and hiding them under her legs while growing up? Her theory? If you cross your fingers before telling a lie, the lie doesn’t count. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re in Vegas?”

She stared solemnly back at him with her beautiful eyes. A sultry brown. He remembered once hypothetically wondering what color eyes their children would have.

“Va—”

“We’re here,” the driver said, opening the door on her side, cutting off their conversation. Cutting off her lie.

Ian cursed under his breath. He wasn’t ready for the two of them to be in a sea of thousands. He wanted more alone time with her.

Kinley jumped out. “Wow. This place is crazy awesome.” She juggled all of her stuff under one arm and grabbed her suitcase from the driver. “Be a doll and pay the fare,” she said to Ian in a faux haughty tone. Underneath, he could hear all of the same confusion he was feeling.

Before he could respond, she rushed toward the hotel’s entrance, her swaying ass mocking him as if to say “sucker.” He chuckled. Did she really think he was going to let her get away? That he wasn’t going to chase her?

That he didn’t know why she was in Vegas?

…

Kinley scurried into the hotel’s lobby juggling her luggage and laptop. People were everywhere. Mostly women. She took a steadying breath.

What little she’d taken in of the outside of the hotel had overwhelmed her. A little bit of jester, a little bit of international kitsch, and a whole lot of Bourbon Street. The inside besieged her eyes with exploding colors. Golds, purples, greens, and silvers. Excess appeared to be the hotel’s motif.

Would Ian follow her inside the hotel? Or had he fulfilled his promise to her brother by getting her here? Just in case there was more to the plan the two of them hatched to keep her
safe
, she whipped around a group of five women and three men and stood very still in an attempt to blend in with the crowd.

If Ian made an attempt to find her, he wouldn’t, and then he’d go away.

A voice behind her said, “Hey, what’s the rush?” Then a hand landed on her shoulder causing her to jump.

“
Damn it.
” She pivoted and glared up at Ian. “Can’t you take a hint?” The people around her gave them a funny look, so she stepped away from the group.

Ian gave her a smile that reminded her of the teenager he used to be when he’d hang out at her house after football practice with her brother. Of the boy who pulled her hair and teased her excessively.

But mostly, the smile reminded her of the boy who’d spent the evening watching movies with her when he found her crying because the cool girls didn’t invite her to the middle school end-of-year party.

He picked up her suitcase. “Shall we get you checked in for the Romance Lovers Convention?”

The breath she was about to expel tumbled back down her throat. She coughed.
Wait. What?
Her brother was
sooooo
dead for telling Ian about her dreams of being an author. Why would he do that? Why?

“This young lady needs to check-in,” Ian said smoothly to the attendant behind the desk. He stepped aside, and Kinley stepped up to the counter.

“Hi, I have a reservation under Kinley Foster.” Once she got to her room, she’d ditch Ian. Ditch the memories his presence stirred, both past and present. Then she’d call her brother and unleash her inner sister-bitch. This was the last time he’d ever interfere with her life. She was a grown woman. With a career. And her own apartment. She paid her own bills. She didn’t need a babysitter.

“Welcome,” the perky blonde said as she pushed buttons on the computer. Her smile dropped into a frown. She glanced at Kinley. “
We don
’t show you having a room for tonight. Your reservation starts in two nights.”

Kinley’
s smile didn
’
t waver.
“I have two confirmation numbers. One for the first two nights, and one for the conference nights.” During the nights of the conference, rooms had to be booked through RLC. Kinley had added two additional nights under a separate reservation so she could keep her writing expenses separate from her personal expenses.

She set her purse on the counter and searched for her confirmation number for the first two nights. She handed the computer printout to the lady behind the desk.

The woman plugged in the numbers. “You’re right. You’re supposed to be booked for tonight and tomorrow night, but you booked through a third party for those two nights and sometimes, unfortunately, they overbook us.”

Kinley placed her Mac on the counter. “What does that mean? I have a confirmation. I’m guaranteed a room. Don’t you have to give me a key?”

The lady shook her head. “I’m really sorry. I hate when these companies do this. I can offer you a room in a nearby hotel.” She started punching keys again.

“But, I’m here for a conference. I don’t want to go to another hotel. I might miss an opportunity to visit with an agent or editor.”

The attendant glanced up. “I’m sorry. It’s the best I can do.”

Kinley slid her glasses down her nose. “Please check again for a room at this hotel.”

“We’
re sold out. We
’ve been booked solid all week. We have a Tool Man’s conference in town.”

Kinley pushed her glasses back in place. Took a deep calming breath before the cloud of tadpoles in her stomach could become a knot of toads. First Ian and now this. What other surprises were in store for her in Vegas? “What is the name of the hotel you can get me in to?” Did the universe want her to go home? Was it trying to tell her if she stayed, her plane going home was going to crash?

“The Irish. It’s in the older part of Vegas. You should be perfectly safe…as long as you don’t go out at night by yourself.”

Kinley placed a hand on her stomach. The toads were frolicking. She ignored the voice in her head telling her to go home. “I can’t believe you don’t have to give me a room when I have a confirmation number.” She resisted the urge to stomp her foot like kindergarteners did when she told them their books were due, and they didn’t want to give them up.

“If you’d booked directly with us, you’d be right. But as it is, this is the best I can do.”

“May I speak to your manager?” Kinley hated being
that
customer. The one who thought if they just go over your head, they’ll get their way. But what choice did she have?

The attendee pointed at her name badge. “I am the manager. I’ll tell you what. For the inconvenience, we’ll comp your room for two nights.”

Kinley sighed
a sigh that didn’t nearly express the true emotions inside of her. This wasn’t how she wanted to start her first conference. No telling how many opportunities she’d miss by being in a different hotel. Everyone knew once a conference started, editors and agents were bombarded with
pick-me, pick-me
requests from authors. The trick was to catch the gatekeepers of publishing prior to the mad-zoo marathon they are about to run. When they are fresh and eager to say yes.

Ian placed a hand in the small of her back and leaned against the counter. He gave the blonde a dazzling smile causing the lights in the foyer to flicker. Or maybe it was something in Kinley that flickered to life. “Are you sure there isn’t something else you can do? Surely you have a few rooms saved back for minor glitches like this.”

Kinley watched him as he leaned across and whispered something to the attendant that caused her to giggle and touch her face.

“I really wish I could help you,” the manager said to Ian in a different tone of voice than she’d used on Kinley.

Kinley resisted the urge to make a gagging noise. She laid a hand on Ian’s shoulder to get his attention—not claim her territory. “Do you have a room here tonight and tomorrow night?”

Her touch didn’t draw his attention away from the attendant. But she did feel him stiffen. “Of course. I always book directly.” His voice was low and cautious.

The woman nodded approvingly.

Kinley argued with herself over the half-formed idea stirring her tired brain cells. It was a bad idea. A really bad idea. But staying in a hotel across town didn’t exactly meet her list of great idea requirements.

Next to them, a woman stepped up to speak to a different attendant. She gave her name. Liz Pelletier.

Kinley’s mouth went sidewalk-chalk-in-the-mouth dry. She knew that name. She was an editor for Entangled. She was in the market to acquire authors who wrote steamy romance. Was Kinley really willing to let a computer glitch keep her from achieving what she came to Vegas to achieve? “Does your room have a couch?” she asked Ian in a no-nonsense tone.

He straightened. Glanced at her with a hooded look. “
I don
’t recall.”

She could practically see the wheels turning in his head.
How can I get rid of her? I’
ve done my good deed.