He dialed his little brother’s number.

  “Where the fuck are you? I’ve been dying for you to hear my new routine. It might even make you blush,” Brent said, launching right into things, not even bothering with a hello.

  “I’d expect nothing less from your filthy mouth.”

  “Gotta play the part, tats and bike and all.”

  “What would you say to getting on that bike, riding it over to the Allegro, and heading off a package coming from this delivery service before my soon-to-be fiancée gets her hands on it?”

  “Aww. That’s sweet that you need me to be your gopher bitch,” he teased. “What’s it worth to you?”

  “It’s worth me not smacking you upside the head when I see you tonight. How about that?”

  “You always strike a fair bargain. Consider it done.”

  Clay cleared his throat. “And Brent, can you do me a favor? After you get the package, can you check on Julia? Maybe play a few rounds with her, buy her a drink? I won’t be there for another few hours, and I don’t want her to be alone,” he said, laying bare his concerns.

  Brent stripped the joking from his voice, clearly sensing that something was amiss. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I think so. But you can never be too safe right? Sometimes you get a notion that prying eyes are on your woman, and you can’t shake it.”

  “Say no more. I’m there. I’m on my way right now,” he said, and Clay could hear the clinking of keys and the shutting of the door. “Hey, how big is this package?”

  “It should be in a small box, I’m guessing. It’s a necklace, but I didn’t want Julia to see it and think it was the ring because of the size of the box.”

  “All right, man. I’ll drop it at the club. It’s right next door to the Allegro, though next door is a nebulous term in Vegas. Then I’ll go entertain your lady.”

  “If I didn’t trust you with my life, I’d warn you not to try anything funny, but A, I trust you with my life and B, I’d beat you up, just like I did when we were kids.”

  “Hey! You never beat me up. I always beat you.”

  Clay laughed deeply. “That, my friend, is revisionist history right there.”

  “You remember it your way. I remember it my way. I’m going to hit the road. I’ll text you when I’m there in about twenty minutes. The valets know me so parking is easy.”

  Know me. Clay latched onto those words. “You know the firm that runs security for the hotel?”

  “That I do. My friend Mindy runs it.”

  “A woman?”

  “You think a woman can’t handle security? She’s former Special Forces. She’d badass.”

  “I haven’t got a single sexist bone in my body. I was just surprised.”

  “Anyway, you need me to check on something?”

  “Yeah. Make sure Julia’s not being followed.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Then he called Julia, letting her know he was driving instead of flying.

  “Well, that sucks, because I miss you something fierce.”

  “I miss you too. But I’ll be there soon. And listen, Brent’s coming by. Go play some poker with him, okay? I called him to have him look out for you. And before you go all stubborn and independent on me, I did it because you were worried, and when you’re worried I’m worried, and even though I’m sure nothing is amiss I’m not taking any chances. Brent will make sure you feel safe.”

  He tensed, waiting for her to reprimand him. Instead, she made the sweetest sound. “Awww. That is so adorable. And I will happily let your brother be my security detail.”

  “It is? Adorable?”

  “It is. And it makes me think about how far we’ve come. It makes me think about what almost split us up, and now here you are, laying it all out for me and telling me upfront.”

  His heart beat faster and he couldn’t contain the smile. He dropped his foot harder on the gas, needing desperately to see his gorgeous Julia and wrap her in his arms. “And look at you. Taking my help so easily too. So different than before when you were kicking and screaming.”

  “We’re a good team.”

  “Always, gorgeous. Always,” he said, and he was proud of them, of how far they’d come, and how much they’d learned to trust each other. He truly felt the two of them could conquer the world.

  Now, if only he could get to Vegas. He ended the call and punched a few buttons to install an app that gave alerts as to cops and speeding traps. There were none showing, so he let the speedometer crank higher, putting more distance between himself and Los Angeles.

  A second later, an incoming text message from Julia flashed across his screen. A multimedia file. Oh fuck. His dick twitched just imagining what she’d sent. He glanced in the rearview mirror, then the side mirror, then made sure all was clear on the stretch of highway ahead of him. He steeled himself as he swiped his finger across the screen and nearly swerved off the side of the road when a picture of her breasts greeted him. So lush, so round, so designed for him to bite down and suck.

  What do you want to do with these tonight?

  He took a deep fueling breath, then spoke into the voice-recognition software, the phone transcribing his reply. “Slide my rock-hard cock between them and watch you suck the head of my dick as I fuck your breasts. That’s what I want to do with them tonight. This is your fair warning.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Friday, 5:58 p.m., Las Vegas

  He wasn’t quite the spitting image of his brother, but he was damn close. Waiting by the replica of Monet’s Japanese Bridge, she picked Brent out of the sea of people in the lobby immediately. He was tall like Clay, and stood head and shoulders above most. With thick, dark hair, piercing brown eyes, and a strong, square jawline, he’d been blessed with the same beauty stick that had tapped his brother. They must have been lady-killers in high school. She was even more eager now to meet Clay’s parents in the flesh, and say hello to the two people who had created such a set of fine male specimens.

  There were plenty of differences though. Brent was scruffier, edgier, and not the least bit the suit. With well-worn jeans, motorcycle boots, and a faded navy T-shirt, he and Clay would never raid each other’s closets. Brent had a whole mess of stubble, and was rocking the I-don’t-need-to-shave look.

  “You must be the bad boy of comedy,” Julia said, extending a hand when he reached her.

  He shrugged playfully, his lips quirking up. “So bad he should be banned,” Brent said, clasping her hand in his. “That’s the slogan at my club. Now, c’mon. Give me a hug. You’re my brother’s woman. We’re beyond handshakes even if we just met.”

  She smiled broadly, liking him immediately. He pulled her in close enough for her to notice his woodsy scent; maybe it was cologne, maybe it was soap. An appealing scent that was sure to send some woman to her knees. As for this woman, she only got on her knees for one man, and she was hoping that was where she’d be soon when Clay arrived. Until then, she’d happily take the company of the younger brother.

  When they pulled apart, Brent tipped his forehead to the casino. “What’s your poison? Craps? Roulette? Blackjack? Or you want to play the one-armed bandits? This hotel has all the new ones, so you’ve got options,” Brent said, and began counting off on his fingers. “We’ve got a Sex and the City machine, and you need to line up three cosmos to win, or else a trio of Samantha’s massagers will do. Or you can go for Aladdin’s Quest and maybe you’ll get to rub that magic lamp and watch the coins pour out. You could also sidle up to the most mind-boggling one of all—the Dolly Parton slot machine.”

  Julia arched an eyebrow. “Should I even ask what you need to line up to win?”

  Brent held both his hands in front of his chest. “Melons,” he said, punctuating the word crisply.

  “Somehow, I think you might be full of it.”

  “Ah, see, I like you already, Julia,” Brent said, draping an arm over her shoulder and guiding her through the echoing marble-floored lobby, and into the cha-ching-clanging casino. Coins rained down for a lucky patron nearby and “9 to 5” began playing loudly. Julia laughed, pointing to the Dolly Parton machine at the end of the aisle, lit up with a trio of photos of the country music legend. “No melons,” she said. “And by the way, I’ll take blackjack for 500, Alex.”

  “Blackjack it is, though Clay said you were a poker fan.”

  “I am, but I played earlier and I am ready to mix it up and try my luck at twenty-one.”

  “Then off to the tables we go,” he said, holding out his right arm grandly as they weaved through the evening crowds, passing a woman decked out in a little black dress, a man in a sharp suit and blue shirt, and a woman wearing flats, gray, pressed pants, and a short-sleeve white blouse, looking like a perfectly adorable second-grade teacher. The woman smiled brightly at Brent, waved at him like she hadn’t seen him in years, then threw her arms around him when she reached them.

  “Hey Miss Mindy, how are you?”

  “Fabulous,” she said in a high-pitched squeak. “And I got your text message earlier, and all is well.”

  “Excellent. I’ll call you later for more details,” he said and she nodded a yes, then he gestured to Julia. “Mindy, this is Julia Bell. She’s practically part of the family. She’s with Clay.”

  Mindy extended a hand to shake, and holy fucking smokes, she had one of the strongest grips Julia had ever felt. Brent continued the intros. “Julia, this is Mindy. She runs security here for the Allegro. I helped her get the gig.”

  Mindy rolled her pretty blue eyes. “Oh, you wish. You are so full of shit, Brent Nichols. I am not going to let you win at arm wrestling the next time.”

  Then she turned to Julia, who was watching the buddy-buddy rapport between the two of them and trying to get a read on it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mindy said, then wagged a finger at Julia and spoke in a faux-authoritative voice. “And don’t snap any cell-phone pictures of the slot machines or I’ll have to kick you out.”

  “And she kicks like a motherfucker. She spent ten years with Special Forces before starting her own security firm.”

  She waved a hand dismissively as if her reputation were no big deal, and Julia found the oxymoronic nature of this woman adorable—she was tiny and gleeful, but she sure as hell packed a punch, and now Julia knew why. A sparkle from around her neck caught Julia’s attention—a brushed silver chain with a miniature antique-styled teacup hanging on it.

  Like a squirrel drawn to a shiny object, Julia reached for it without thinking. “Oh my, this is so damn cute,” she said, admiring the tiny charm.

  “Thank you so much,” Mindy said, then lowered her voice to a whisper, gesturing to her white and gray attire. “I have to dress simply and blend in, but I do like to add a little accent for fun.”

  “It reminds me of something I saw on my sister’s show,” Julia said, then quickly explained. “She’s a fashion blogger, and she loves vintage and retro clothes and jewelry.”

  “Show?” Mindy’s voice rose with the sound of hope.

  “She has a video show called The Fashion Hound.”

  Mindy’s blue eyes turned into those of a cartoon character, nearly popping out of her head, boinging and bouncing on coiled springs of disbelief. “I. Love. That. Show. I follow it like it’s a religion. She’s my guilty pleasure. She did an episode recently on vintage jewelry and talked about these necklaces.”

  “That is so cool,” Julia said. “I can’t wait to tell her I ran into a fan of hers.”

  “Please tell her my dream is for her to be my fashion consultant for pretty little accessories.”

  “She will be delighted to hear that.”

  Then Mindy’s face turned serious, and she seemed to be focusing on something. She raised her hand to her right ear, pressing on a Bluetooth piece, then spoke in a low voice. “Be right there.”

  Pointing vaguely in the opposite direction, she said, “I need to go take care of something, but it was so great meeting you, Julia. And Brent, I will kick your ass the next time I see you and that’s a promise.”

  She saluted Brent and picked up the pace as she walked away.

  “She’s sweet,” Julia remarked.

  “Yeah, she’s the best. Just don’t cross her,” Brent said playfully, but also in an admiring tone that made her realize he was being truthful. Julia made a mental note—don’t mess with Mindy.

  * * *

  What the hell?

  Now she was using the brother connection as a cover-up for her hustling? Wearing a tight little skirt, a strappy tank, and a long string of pearls, she sashayed up to a blackjack dealer, cashed in for chips, and then commanded the whole damn table. She brought along that wise-ass comedian. Stupid joker acted like he was Vegas royalty, strutting around like a big man on campus.

  He knew all about Julia, knew every last detail, down to who she lived with, and she was fucking this smart aleck’s brother. Now, he was seeing how she operated, bringing in locals to make herself seem clean.

  No wonder she was at the top of the list.

  He brought a glass of water to his lips, and downed it one thirsty gulp. Fucking desert. This place was so goddamn dry, and he was always parched. Plunking the empty glass on the counter, he walked down the steps, running his hands along the railing, contemplating the best way to invite her to a high-stakes game in the private room.

  Meanwhile, that same couple joined her at the table. The older duo from the afternoon, and this time they were dressed in evening attire, if you could call it that. Matching polo shirts. He shook his head, but had to hand it to Julia Fucking Bell. She knew how to pick ‘em, and she had a pair of perfect plants with her. He bet they had a criminal record too, just like that Tad Herman she’d met with earlier.

  He ambled past the VIP room, tapping his knuckles against the wall, a reminder that he’d get her in there soon enough.

  Then he’d find out all the things he needed to know. Every. Single. Thing.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Friday, 7:14 p.m., Las Vegas

  The drive to Vegas was smooth sailing on the 15—not a wink of traffic and he managed the route at eighty-five miles an hour, blasting Tom Petty’s Greatest Hits, one of the best road-trip albums ever. As he handed the keys to the valet at the Allegro, he checked his messages. Brent had texted that he’d snagged the gift and would keep it safely stowed until Clay needed it.

  One less thing for him to worry about. The rocky start to the day was behind him, the stress over and done. The rest of the weekend he’d be fucking busy and busy fucking. That’s what he told himself as he stabbed the up button for the elevator in the hotel. He needed to take a piss, wash his hands, and then get downstairs and gather up Julia. Once inside the elevator, he stretched his neck from side to side, trying to work out the kinks from the drive. He’d been tense the whole time, racing against the clock, tearing down the highway, eager to get the weekend back on track. Rubbing his hand against the back of his neck, he tried to work out the knots when the elevator dinged at the twenty-first floor.

  Three minutes later, he was back in the lift, shooting down to the lobby level, ready to find Julia and his brother at the blackjack tables where Brent said they were playing and winning. Good. Julia deserved to win every damn hand this weekend, and then some.

  As he made his way through the lobby and across the crowds, something shifted in the air. A chill ran through him and his skin tingled coldly with the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Looking behind him, he spotted a tall man in a dark suit. His blood froze. Just like Julia had said.

  In seconds, the man was gone.

  Clay shook his head, rubbed his eyes, and wondered if he was seeing things, or if there was something more to Julia’s fears. Or if there was something more to Charlie being angry with him. Was he tracking them? Getting ready to pounce?

  But then all worries were stripped from his brain when he found her at the blackjack table thirty feet away. Wearing her pearls. A bolt of heat tore through his body. The memory of that morning flashed before him like a film reel playing his favorite clips. Sliding the beads over her, watching her reaction as her eyes went hazy with desire. Her asking him to put them inside her, then him tugging them out as she leaned her head back, her mouth falling open, her shout ringing in his ears from her orgasm.

  My God, she was stunning in every way.

  He didn’t take his eyes off her the whole time as he walked up to her. Hell, he couldn’t not look at her—his smart, sassy, bold, confident, and fiery woman. She was made for him; he was made for her. Never had two people been so perfectly matched. Everyone else in the whole casino faded away, a sea of shadowy bodies in shades of gray, and she alone was in Technicolor to him. Her flames of hair, her emerald eyes, the creamy skin of her strong legs, the clingy black skirt, the sexy green top, and the silver bracelet on her wrist that slipped a few inches as she placed her two cards down, splitting her hand. She was all color to him, radiant, high-definition color, bright and beautiful. She was the only one he saw, the only one he ever wanted to see.

  The sight of her turned the temperature in his body all the way up, reaching volcanic levels as he neared her. He swore he could smell her, the sexy-sweet scent of her neck, her hair, her body. He inhaled, and it wafted through him. Or maybe it was just his imagination because she was permanently ingrained in his senses, the imprint of her scent a homing device connecting them.

  She didn’t see him walking over to her, nor did Brent, so he could do his favorite thing.

  Surprise her.

  First, he gently fingered a strand of her hair, a soft curl at the ends. A fluttery, barely-there touch, but enough for her to tighten her shoulders, then turn to him. The second she saw him, her eyes lit up. They were sparkling with excitement. It had only been eight hours since he’d seen her, but it felt like weeks, and to be greeted like this was one of the very many reasons he intended to put a ring on her finger this weekend.