Sin City Lights (Sin City #1)

Chapter 8

Adam

He had to hit the gym.

Rolling back in his office chair, Adam reached to rub the stiff muscles at the back of his neck. He needed to pump some serious iron, and a sauna after sounded good too.

He’d been sitting here all day, and Homo sapiens wasn’t meant to waste away behind a desk.

Returning from a personal trip had been, as always, taxing. It would take forever to put a dent in the pile of items needing analysis, consideration, signature, or approval that his assistant had left on his desk. His gaze landed on the corner of one envelope sticking out of the middle of the pile. Round black-and-white logo.

US Department of Transportation

Federal Aviation Administration

He cursed under his breath. This couldn’t be good. A letter from the FAA never was.

NOTICE OF PROPOSED CERTIFICATE ACTION

Take notice, that this office has received an investigative report from which it appears that you violated the Federal Aviation Administration Regulations by reason of the following…

Shit. He’d thought that case was closed and settled. He thumbed through his contacts on his cell until he found the one he wanted. As always, it rang only twice.

“Larssen.”

“I know who you are,”

he told his brother gruffly.

“I was just making sure. You haven’t called in weeks.”

Ian’s voice was upbeat. “What’s up?”

“Up my ass. Just got another love note from the FAA.”

“Another one? Huh. Well, you know what they say: they’re not happy until you’re not happy.”

“You’re going to have to handle this since Lloyd is obviously incompetent.”

“When are you going to finally fire that dude?”

“Can’t. Mom would have my head.”

“Demote him, then. He can service lavs.”

His brother paused. “How was your little hiatus in the Caymans? Did you get any?”

A vision of Eve cradled in his arms on that balcony gave Adam pause. He’d gone to bed with a ramrod in his boxers and the faint scent of Delina on his shirt.

“Good.”

He ignored Ian’s second question. “You know it’s always good there. You should go.”

“I hear you. The trick is to find the time, which I don’t have.”

Adam grunted. In the dictionary, Ian’s picture was prominently featured next to the word “workaholic.”

“How do you like the new Gulfstream?”

Ian asked. “Are we all set for the trip to Drammen?”

“She flies like a dream. We won’t even have to stop to refuel this time around.”

“That’s good to hear. Send me that letter so I can take a look. If it’s what I think it is, I’m going to call Branson at the FAA. He owes me a favor.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Adam thought for a moment, trying to phrase a question he’d been meaning to ask his brother.

“Is there something else?”

Ian asked.

“There is.”

He took a breath. “To get a quick divorce…what do I have to do?”

Heavy silence. Adam could envision Ian’s brows shooting up.

“A divorce.”

“You heard me.”

Adam drummed his fingers on the desk. “Where do I start?”

More silence. Then, “You need to find her.”

Shit.

As far as Adam was concerned, Ingrid was dead the day she left. “Isn’t there a way of doing this through paperwork, without her, since it’s been so long?”

“There is, but you need to prove you’ve made an attempt to locate her before you declare that you don’t know where she is.”

Adam’s mouth twisted. “OK, then.”

“Do you want me to get on that?”

“Please. The sooner, the better.”

“All right!”

Ian sounded downright jubilant. “I will, right after I pop open a bottle of Dom. Damn, I might even spring for the 2009 rosé and osetra to go with it.”

Adam chuckled. “Thanks, Ian.”

“Happy to help. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do. I’ll see you in three weeks.”

“Later.”

Adam ended the call.

It would be good to spend time with his family. Of late, get-togethers had dwindled to only twice a year.

His mind turned to the answer he hadn’t provided to Ian’s question. Normally, in this situation, he would have called a service.

Come to think of it, he would.

But, unlike before, there was only one provider he wanted and only one woman he wished to request.

?

Eve

Eve headed to the kitchen to heat a mug of milk. She couldn’t drink her evening cup now without thinking of lying under the island moonlight, safe in the shelter of Adam’s arms.

She hadn’t heard from him in two weeks.

A part of her expected that. She hadn’t given him what he wanted.

Another part of her had sunk into a funk she couldn’t seem to shake. She needed comfort food. Where was that pizza she had ordered?

Dinner would be pizza Margherita from Grimaldi’s, followed by strawberry H?agen-Dazs spooned right from the tub while watching Gone with the Wind. Calories be damned. Tonight, she didn’t care.

The door buzzer sounded.

“Just a minute!”

She grabbed her wallet, extracting bills for a tip. Running a hand through her disheveled hair, she hurried, barefoot, to the door, not bothering with the peephole.

She pulled it open.

Adam stood there, a black duffel bag in one hand, a multistemmed white orchid in the other.

“Eve.”

“Adam!”

The sight of him made her go all weak-kneed. He wore black Nikes, sweatpants, and a fitted black T-shirt with six round airplane instruments printed on the chest. Above them, in white all-caps, she read, THE ONLY 6-PACK I’LL EVER NEED.

Eve couldn’t help it: she laughed. Never in a million years would she have seen Adam as the silly T-shirt type.

“Nice shirt,”

she said, stepping aside to let him enter.

He dropped the duffel by the door. “Another gag gift from my sister. It’s comfortable for working out.”

“How did you get into the building?”

His smile was devastating. “Through the front door.”

She shook her head. That smile of his undoubtedly opened many locked doors.

He handed her the orchid. “For you.”

“Thank you.”

His fingertips brushed hers as she took the potted plant, the slight contact sparking electric current.

The orchid looked exactly like the one in their suite at the Ritz.

Was that a coincidence?

Smiling, she placed it on the high countertop adjacent to the kitchen so she could see it no matter where she was in the apartment. A vision of him backing her up to that same counter not too long ago flashed in her mind.

She turned to face him and jumped. He was now right behind her.

Again.

Eve swallowed. “What can I do for you?”

He held her gaze. “Whatever you want to.”

Oh God, that face, that voice. He stepped a little closer, then leaned in, flattening his palms on the countertop on either side of her.

Her eyes widened. It was happening again.

He bent down just a bit.

Her heart rate spiked. Her breath began to come in shallow bursts.

Slowly, very slowly, he slid his hands up, over her wrists, up her forearms, his thumbs stroking her sensitive skin at the crook of her elbows.

Adam and stroking again.

Her knees threatened to buckle.

“I called Eleet the very next morning after we flew back.”

His thumbs continued making lazy circles. “They said—”

his hands moved up and settled on her shoulders “—that you were unavailable.”

She felt his radiating heat. He smelled of soap and his cologne. And him.

“That was a nasty déjà vu, Eve. But I decided to give you time before I called again.”

His hands slid up to her throat. “I waited a few more days. And you know what?”

“What?”

“They still wouldn’t tell me anything, so I got worried and thought I’d check on you. In person.”

His hands moved up to tenderly cradle her face. His sapphire eyes, however, bore deep into her. “You look perfectly healthy to me.”

She couldn’t contradict him. Even if she had wanted to, it was impossible to utter a single syllable.

“I thought we made a connection in the Caymans.”

She swallowed hard.

His thumbs caressed her cheeks. “During the trip, I felt that you may want me too, but I’d given you my word. So, I abstained from letting my baser instincts take control. I am no longer bound by my word. But since I am a gentleman, I’m going to ask you…”

He leaned in carefully, as if afraid to spook her, and brushed his lips against her temple. “…did you feel it, Eve?”

“I…”

Her voice trailed. Of course she had. She closed her eyes.

He nuzzled her forehead. “Do you feel this…this thing between us? Because I do.”

His voice was barely audible. “Tell me you don’t, and I will walk out of this apartment and never bother you again.”

She fought to draw in air, her chest tightening with every breath. The blood pulsed in her ears and other places.

Before she knew it, she’d gripped the front of his T-shirt, twisted it in both fists and pulled.

She heard the rush of his breath as she slammed into him. For a beat, he didn’t move, or blink, or breathe. He steadied both of them by gripping her hips.

His gaze was fire.

And it consumed her.

Suddenly, Eve could no longer hold back. She stood on tiptoe and traced her tongue over his lower lip, seeking entry.

He shuddered violently, but still, he didn’t move.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Kiss me,”

she whispered.

He lowered his head.

And then his lips were hers.

She kissed him with all the passion and longing she had felt since that first encounter when he had swept in and tipped her whole world off its axis.

A lush, decadent ache spiraled within her, searing as it traveled lower, lower…

Wild quivers of pleasure went through her, weakening her knees until she had to lean into him to stay upright.

His hands were gentle on her face, and then he tipped her head to the side, trailing kisses along her jaw, throat, then up again.

Once more, he opened his mouth over hers, taking firm control, his lips demanding, his tongue leading a slow, erotic stroke. Her hands threaded into his thick, silky hair, pulling hard, and the reality of it between her fingers was a thousand times better than the fantasy.

He groaned. He deepened the kiss, she kissed him right back with abandon, and her ears were buzzing…buzzing….

The door buzzer.

She tore her mouth from his.

He growled.

“Pizza,”

she whispered, panting.

He huffed a frustrated breath. His chest labored, and he had a wild look in his eyes she’d never seen before.

He squeezed his eyelids shut, heaving a huge sigh. “This may be the first time in my life,”

he said against her mouth, “that I’ve wanted to beat up the pizza man.”

Adam

Pizza, they say, is a lot like sex: even when it’s bad, it’s pretty good.

If sex with Eve proved to be anywhere near as good as the pizza she’d ordered, it would be mind-blowing.

“This is excellent.”

He stood at the counter and sank his teeth into a third slice, the mozzarella stretching in a long strand, hanging down his fingers.

“You’re acting as if you’ve never eaten pizza.”

“It’s been a while. I try to stay away from carbs and dairy.”

“Ooh, and this has both evils.”

She tipped her head. “Were you always this disciplined?”

He considered a moment, then had to give her a sheepish grin. “Yeah,”

he admitted.

“What would you like to drink? I poured a mug of milk for myself. I was just going to warm it up.”

He squinted at her. “That’s two dairies.”

She shrugged. “Milk does a body good. Didn’t you learn that as a kid?”

He grimaced. “Did I ever. My dad pushed gallons of the stuff on us. Said he wanted to make sure we all grew tall. Made me averse to it.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?”

Her smile was playful. “I seem to remember an evening in the Caymans when you liked milk. That wasn’t you?”

She was teasing him. And referencing their trip. He liked this.

“The exception that proves the rule.”

She flipped that wavy chestnut hair of hers. “What can I get for you?”

A condom.

Then he remembered the Platinum Package and its perks. He wouldn’t need to wear one with her. He’d just emailed Eleet a new health record.

Fuck.

He shouldn’t think of that when he was wearing sweats.

His gaze roamed over her full breasts and narrow waist. She was dressed to kill a man, he thought, in a tight, ribbed white tank top and denim micro shorts. Daisy Duke, eat your heart out.

She set down her uneaten crust and went to open the refrigerator. Not much food in there, he noted. Mostly bottles of Aquafina and juice cartons. Huh. She ate out a lot. He’d also have to turn her on to Voss.

“I have Pellegrino, orange juice, water, of course, and…”

She leaned deeper inside her fridge to rummage behind bottles, and he treated himself to a view of her bare thighs and pert backside.

“I had a couple of bottles of Corona in here, somewhere,” she said.

She didn’t drink much. He liked that. “No worries. Not a fan of beer.”

“Let me guess. You’re terrified of getting a beer belly.”

“Never going to happen. But, no, I just don’t like the taste.”

She straightened. The front view was just as nice. The white tank top strained over her gorgeous breasts and had slipped off one shoulder. He thought of tonguing there, right at her clavicle.

She hastily fixed her top.

That only made him imagine her peeling down the other side for him. He thought of tugging the whole thing down under her breasts, shoving them up, and burying his face between them.

She started to cross her arms but stopped. She raised her chin. “Sorry. I don’t have any other alcohol besides the beer.”

He recalled her sucking on that tall pi?a colada. “You drank in the Caymans,”

he pointed out, eyes lingering on her mouth.

“I do drink, but not when I’m alone.”

So, she was always alone when she was home? Dared he hope he was the only man she’d ever let in here?

Wishful thinking, he knew, but the notion pleased him. “I’ll take a water. Thanks.”

She handed him a bottle, then ran her palms over her shorts.

“I’ll be right back.”

She seemed a little tense.

He watched her hips shift as she walked in bare feet, to the bathroom, he guessed. Those thighs… He remembered their silky softness under his fingertips.

He needed a drink.

Palming his phone, he quickly found the app he wanted. A few clicks, then he tapped on “place order,”

picked up his bottle of Aquafina, and wandered into the living room.

Minimal decor.

Modern red leather sofa, matching silk pillows, plain cherry coffee table, and one oversize high-backed wicker peacock chair that looked out of place and didn’t fit the rest of her furniture. A fat tan cushion sat upon it, and he could picture her curled up in it, reading. He glanced at the heavy book on the side table next to it, a highlighter tucked halfway in.

Anatomy textbook. Interesting.

Thrown across the curved arm of the chair was an old afghan. Crocheted loosely in brown, yellow, and orange, it reminded him of candy corn.

He hated candy corn.

Damn. The seventies were calling, and they wanted their ugly afghan back.

“My grandmother crocheted that,”

he heard her say defensively.

Eve had changed clothes. She now wore baggy sweatpants and an oversize black Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas hoodie. Disappointed, he eyed the famous sign printed in vivid color across her chest. “I liked the other outfit better.”

“Yeah, well, this is more comfortable. And now we match.”

She gave him a sassy little smile.

Hoodie or not, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her again but decided it might be better to wait for the proverbial all good things.

She sank down on the leather sofa. “Have a seat.”

He sat beside her but not as close as he wanted. Uncapping his water, he tipped back his head and quickly downed half the bottle. He felt her heated gaze on his throat, smiled to himself, and made a mental note to drink more slowly. Maybe she’d be tempted to lick him again.

He capped the bottle. “Tell me about your grandmother.”

She sipped her milk and licked her lower lip. “There’s not a lot to tell. I don’t remember much.”

Her eyes took on a faraway expression. “She used to take me to the beach to hunt for seashells. There aren’t any good ones at Cape Canaveral, but I would find the most amazing shells in all shapes, sizes, and colors. I realized later that she would buy them from a tourist shop and plant them in the sand for me to find.”

Adam imagined Eve as a little girl, big brown eyes alight as she hunted for seashells with her grandma. What a cute kid she must have been.

“She’d tell me stories,”

Eve continued. “She never read them from a book; she’d make them up.”

A wan smile curved her lips. “Nowadays, her stories would be considered outdated.”

Adam frowned. “Why?”

She gazed at him for a moment, and he saw something wistful in her dark eyes. He could get lost in them and wouldn’t care if no one ever found him.

“The thing now is to be an independent woman. No rescuing, no happily ever after, no…”

No Prince Charming.

He heard it as if she’d spoken it out loud.

He looked deep into her eyes. “And what do you think of that?”

She held his gaze.

He held his breath.

“Fairy tales are nice,”

she finally replied. “But we live in the real world.”

He motioned toward the book. “What’s with the anatomy textbook?”

Pride spread throughout the smile she gave him. “I’m working toward my degree.”

“In physical therapy?”

“Yeah. I’m taking classes at UNLV. I’m almost done.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Then I have three more years to go until I earn my doctorate.”

An escort working toward a doctorate. “What made you choose physical therapy?”

Her entire face lit up. “I took my first anatomy and physiology course in high school and was hooked. I remember learning about the intricacies of the different systems of the body and being amazed by how they all work together. I loved learning about how the body repairs damage to its own structures.”

It was evident from how she talked about it that this was her passion. So, how had she ended up doing escort work? He tried to think of a way of asking without insulting her.

“The human body absolutely fascinates me.”

Her gaze dipped to his torso, paused at his throat, then moved back to his eyes. “When I was looking for places to go to college and researching majors, I discovered kinesiology. It took my obsession to another level. Not only could I study the different systems of the body, but I could learn in-depth and focus on—”

The ring of the phone interrupted her. Adam mentally cursed.

Eve checked the number on the display. “It’s the front desk.”

She put the phone on speaker. “Yes?”

“I have Instacart here for you.”

She turned questioning eyes to Adam, and he nodded.

A slight frown furrowed her brow. “Send them up.”

She hung up. “Instacart?”

He showed her the app on his phone. “I ordered wine for us.”

“Sneaky.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

It didn’t take long for the delivery to arrive.

“I’ll get it.”

Adam tipped the man, closed the door behind him, and pulled the bottle out of the paper bag. “Oh, yeah,”

he said, eyeing the light green label, “now we’re talking. Do you have a corkscrew?”

“No.”

“She doesn’t have a corkscrew.”

He sighed and shook his head. “OK, then. Not a problem.”

He reached for the black duffel he’d left right by the door.

“Don’t tell me you carry a corkscrew in your gym bag.”

“I don’t. But I always—”

he unzipped the front pocket “—carry my trusty Leatherman.”

He held up the blue-handled steel multitool. “I suppose it would be pointless to ask if you own wineglasses.”

She led the way back to the kitchen. “Mugs, water glasses, or red Solo cups. Your choice.”

“Solo cups. Take me back to my college days. I liked it there.”

She found the package in an upper cabinet. “I would challenge you to a game of beer pong, but you don’t like beer.”

He couldn’t picture her playing beer pong. He could, however, see her being studious in a library, taking notes and poring over textbooks.

How the hell had this woman ended up working for Eleet?

Adam made quick work of the cork, then poured the ruby liquid into the two red plastic cups. He mentally shook his head. No decanter, no glasses to show off the color. A damn shame.

She touched her cup to his. “Cheers.”

He watched her take a sip of Cab and draw her tongue over her upper lip.

“Oh, this is good,” she said.

“Caymus Special Reserve. One of the best California Cabs, in my opinion.”

He took a sip to fortify himself. It was time to get the truth out of her, whatever that may be.

He sought her gaze and held it. “You have refused all my requests over the last two weeks. Tell me why.”

“Your requests?”

Her voice sounded incredulous.

He nodded, frowning.

She regarded him, brow furrowing. “I received six.”

“Six.”

His jaw clenched. Six men had requested time with her.

How many fucked you?

Why did that bother him so much? In all the years he’d met with escorts—more than he could count—he hadn’t given a damn about who else they saw.

But this was different. He liked her. Had he not known what she did for a living, he would have believed she was the girl next door because her personality and attitude didn’t match her profession. He found himself wanting to get to know her and to learn why she’d ended up where she was.

“None of them were from you,”

she insisted. “You said you called to ask about me. I didn’t know you’d formally made requests.”

“I made four, Eve.”

She stared at him, lips parting. “They never told me.”

Her voice was soft.

Relief flooded him, followed by anger.

“Why? Why would Eleet do such a thing?”

A tiny smile curved her pink lips. “I think I know.”

Her lashes lowered. Her gaze drifted down over his body, and he felt that gaze as surely as if it were an actual touch.

And then she did reach out and touch him. Her fingertips trailed down his forearm, nails raking lightly over his skin. His muscles twitched involuntarily.

Her gaze dipped to his lap. Adam breathed faster.

“Because,”

she murmured, her fingers wrapping around his wrist, “you have a huge c…”

Adam’s throat spasmed. The wine nearly shot up his nose. He coughed.

“…credit,”

she finished.

Ah. They had already collected his money and needed a fresh influx of cash. At least now, it made sense.

What didn’t make sense was how much of an issue he had with what she did for a living. The fact that he did have a problem with it was a complication.

But in his experience, problems could be solved with perseverance, and an idea formed that just might work, at least for now.

“I guess a talk with Eleet is in order,”

he said. “But I have a proposition for you.”

She blinked. “For me?”

She took her hand off his wrist, which was a good thing because her touch was swiftly causing hard consequences.

He sipped his wine. “What does your schedule look like for the next three months?”

Her lips parted, then formed a lush, pink O that he wanted to capture with his mouth and thoroughly plunder. “The next three months?”

“That’s what I said.”

He took another swallow, regarding her intently.

“Why?”

“Because I want to take you for the next three months.”

Literally.

He had purposely lowered his voice, and, he noted with satisfaction, a little shiver ran through her.

“You want to book me for an entire quarter.”

It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “Affirmative.”

She was silent for a beat. “How come?”

He wanted to snark that coming had a lot to do with it, but her wide-eyed apprehension stopped him. Somehow, she brought out all the good manners his mother had ever taught him.

It was his turn to touch her wrist. One fingertip was all it took. He heard and saw her sharp intake of breath.

He couldn’t hold back a satisfied smile. “Because I want to find out why I can’t stop thinking about you.”

And because the thought of you with other men makes me want to punch my fist through a wall.

“So, what do you say? Do I call Eleet?”