The One Who Got Away

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Sarah leaned forward over the lip of the table. “Why not make it a double wedding? Or better yet, run off to one of those cool chapels. You could get married by Elvis.” She reached frantically into her oversized purse and pulled out a small notebook and a pen. “This is my room number. I’m here for three more days. If you guys do get married, I want to be there.”

“I’d be delighted to take your card,” Ben said with a bow. “But I’ve been married. It’s not going to happen again. Ever.”

Sarah smiled at him slyly. “You never know. Magic things happen in Las Vegas.”

He looked at Taylor. “Magic, yes. But some things aren’t in the cards.” Nodding once more at Sarah, he said, “Hope you win a bundle.”

She glanced back at the Wheel of Fortune. The same man was still desperately pressing the max bet button, the only thing to have changed was the number of empty cocktail glasses beside him. “I’ll settle for not losing my shirt.”

“Good girl.”

“I’m ready,” Taylor said, and from the high flush of her cheeks, he believed her.

Sarah was forgotten in a flash, as was blackjack, gambling of any sort, the casino, the hotel, the entire city. All that mattered was the woman in front of him and getting her to his room. There was so much to do.

He took her arm at the elbow. “Let’s go.”

TAYLOR PRACTICALLY had to run to keep up with Ben’s long strides. He darted and weaved through the crowd, aiming for the elevators. Her drink sloshed as she tried not to step on toes. It would have been smarter just to put the glass down, but there was no stopping Ben. Nor did she want to. She felt like a teenager…. No, like the teenager she’d been with Ben. How she’d loved him! He’d been the only thing in her life for well over a year.

She sidestepped to avoid a woman in a wheelchair, her purse banging into her side, then they were clear of the casino.

Ben looked back at her, and his grin made her toes curl. She didn’t know the specifics of his plan, but she was all in favor of the general idea.

Good thing she’d dressed with care this morning; shaved everything that should be, worn her matching pink lace bra and panties. She’d even put a couple of condoms in her purse. Then she’d written to her friends at Eve’s Apple, filling them in on the distinct possibility that her Man To Do would be Done before tomorrow. She hadn’t really thought it would happen quite this soon, but who was she to complain?

Ben slowed as they neared the elevator, pulling her close enough to slip his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t remember,” he whispered, “if I told you how beautiful you look this morning.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think you did.”

He nipped her earlobe. “You’re stunning.”

She shivered all the way down to her toes. “Why Mr. Bowman, I do declare.”

His laugh added to her shivers. “I didn’t know Southern California was part of the Deep South.”

Finally, they were at the elevator. The button had already been pushed, but Ben pressed it again. They waited with a family of four, all wearing Las Vegas T-shirts, the adults from Caesar’s Palace, the kids from Circus Circus. The littlest kid looked to be about three, and very cranky. He tugged on Daddy’s shorts, whining about something named “Snooky.”

By the time their elevator arrived, three more people had joined the queue and they all clambered in together, Ben guiding her to the back. He stood next to her, his hip against hers.

As they ascended, she felt a slight tickle just below the hem of her shorts. She jumped, but then realized it was Ben’s fingers, brushing lightly against her skin.

With each floor, his fingers moved up the back of her thigh. She felt herself blush even though no one was looking at them. It was an incredibly intimate gesture, brazen, and yet totally discreet.

His fingers kept inching up until he brushed the curve of her buttock. Barely touching her, he swept his finger back and forth over the same small patch, giving her goose bumps everywhere. Driving her crazy.

She pressed back against the elevator wall, trapping his hand. “Stop,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“Just wait.”

“I don’t want to wait.”

“There’s only one more stop before our floor.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem. Come on. Move.”

She shook her head, figuring she’d won the battle.

Wrong. He turned until he was directly in front of her, his body pressed against hers so tightly she could feel his hard length, the sharp edge of his belt buckle. He smiled, his brown eyes filled with wicked intent, and then he kissed her.

Thank goodness the family had gotten off two floors down, because the kiss was definitely not G-rated. His tongue slipped between her surprised lips, exploring, darting, daring her to respond, to forget where they were, that they weren’t alone.

Her hands went to his shoulders, trying to push him back, but he wasn’t having any of that. Instead, he folded her in his arms, and reminded her what it was she’d loved about kissing.

His mouth opened just enough, his tongue, tasting slightly of gin, teased her into a moan that should have embarrassed her a great deal more than it did.

Then he was gone, leaving her on shaky legs, her mouth still open and moist. It took her a second to realize the elevator had stopped, that the strangers at each corner were staring at her, that Ben had already walked into the hall.

She escaped with seconds to spare.

He grinned again, knowing full well what he’d done, what he’d put her through. “I warned you,” he said.

“Okay. If that’s the way you want to play it.” She didn’t wait for his response, she just headed down the hall toward her room.

He caught up to her seconds later, putting that devil hand of his on the small of her back. “Yeah, I think it is the way I want to play it.”

“No mercy?”

His pace quickened along with his heartbeat. “No mercy.”

5

BEN’S THOUGHTS went immediately to the gutter. No mercy. The thought of taking Taylor right to the edge made his body hum with adrenaline and flat-out need.

From the moment he’d seen her last night, he’d spent every idle moment running seduction scenarios. Each vignette was rawer than the last, as the memory of that wild eighteen-year-old spurred him farther.

She wasn’t eighteen anymore, but he could still see the girl in her. Made better by the years, and not just because her body had ripened to perfection. There was something whole about her, confident and sure. As if she’d grown into someone she liked very much. He couldn’t remember ever thinking that about a woman, and he couldn’t even give any particulars as to what had brought on the impression. The way she dressed, the way she held herself. Who cared? It was just hot as hell.

She stopped three rooms before his and pulled out her key card. It took her two tries to get the green light, but once she did, she flung the door open and dragged him in behind her.

Before she let him go, she kicked the door shut, then shoved him against the wall. He barely had time to grin before her hands were on his shoulders and her lips were crushing his.

His eyes closed as her tongue thrust into his mouth. It was her show, and he wasn’t about to interfere. Not when she made full body contact, rubbing against him from breasts to hips.

If she couldn’t feel what she was doing to him, then something was seriously wrong, but he figured she got the drift. Especially after she gave him the little bump and grind right where it counted.

Taylor pulled back just enough to nip his lower lip, then she was off him, walking toward the minibar.

He, on the other hand, felt like a moth pinned to a Peg-Board, unable to move. “Damn, girl. A drive-by ravishing.”

She laughed, and the sound shot right to his groin. After a moment pondering the inside of the small fridge, she brought out a bottle of white wine. “It’s not a martini, but would you like some?”

He shook his head. “I already had one. Too early for another.”

“I know. Hey, it’s Vegas. No rules.”

“No mercy, no rules. What have I gotten myself into?”

She put the bottle on the dresser and her hand on her hip. “You’re right. If you were smart, you’d peel yourself off that wall and march right out of here.”

He chuckled as he complied with the first part, but instead of leaving, he joined her near the dresser. “I’ve never forgotten you,” he said.

“Oh?”

Shaking his head, he moved in closer, not touching her with his hands, but with his body. “That weekend rates right up there with the moon landing and getting my first bike.”

“Wow, and I thought you were just humoring me.”

“Hey, you needed a guiding hand, and God knows at that age, I was all hands.”

“You sweet-talker. I’m all aflutter.”

“No, you’re not. But you will be.” He leaned in then, touching her lips lightly with his own. He wanted to take it slowly this time, learning her with due diligence and patience. They had almost a week, and he planned to milk each step for all it was worth.

She didn’t try to rush him. In fact, she simply parted her lips slightly and shared her sweet breath as he lazily ran his tongue over her silky contours.

He thought about moving to the bed, but that could wait, too. For now, the only thing that mattered was her mouth, the way she tasted, the softness and the heat.

Her body, touching him at his waist and slightly below, melted back against the credenza, but she didn’t use her hands to steady herself. It was as if they had choreographed the whole scene beforehand. To test his theory he pulled back and she followed effortlessly, neither increasing or decreasing the pressure of the kiss. Damn. He thought immediately of how the principle would apply when they got to the bed. Like synchronized swimmers without the water. Maybe he should try it now, while the magic was still in the air.