CHAPTER 13
Jannie
“So, having less fun as a brunette? Or is that a myth?”
Jannie touched the wavy chestnut tresses of her wig. “I’ll let you know after we get through this dinner undetected.”
She gathered the fabric of the teal gown, adorned with shimmering sequined patterns, lifting it above her ankles to maintain her stride in her nude block-heeled sandals. They had exited the Uber, choosing to walk the rest of the way because of bumper-to-bumper traffic on the strip.
She shook her head, still in disbelief that she was wearing this crazy getup. “This is nuts, you know?”
“Hey, you were the one who suggested it. I understood the assignment.”
“I didn’t mean I’d actually do it!”
Nick’s smirk was sexy and oh-so-devilish. “Yet, here you are.” His quick scan over her face held fake confusion. “Who are you again, ma’am?”
Jannie couldn’t hold back a little laugh.
The brunette disguise was a joke she’d tossed out in passing, which Nick turned into reality this afternoon when he showed up, twirling the long, poker-straight thing on his finger.
He also brought a gray eye shadow palette and a tube of M.A.C.
Ruby Woo. She didn’t ask him how he knew about that popular lipstick shade or if he preferred it.
When she was all done up and looking in the mirror at the brown hair, the striking red lip she never wore, and the dramatic smoky eye, she had to admit she couldn’t even recognize herself. But she didn’t look bad either. In fact, she thought she looked kind of sultry.
She didn’t do sultry; her entire adult life, she’d been the opposite. But looking in the mirror, she saw someone so different from her real reflection that it was kind of fun. “It feels like Halloween.”
“Good. That’s my favorite holiday.”
“Not Christmas?”
“Definitely not Christmas.” That muscle in his jaw tightened, and Jannie’s stomach clenched. Clearly, that was a sensitive topic for him. She searched for something to say to quickly change the subject.
“How is it already Monday?” They passed the undulating fountains of the Bellagio, Jannie lagging slightly behind him.
Nick glanced back and immediately adjusted his pace. “Because what they say is true.”
“What’s that?”
“Time flies when you’re having fun. And if you happen to be flying while it’s flying, it flies even faster.”
“That’s a lot of flying,” she deadpanned. “And tragically corny.”
“I know, but you think it’s funny.”
Jannie had to grin. It wasn’t just Nick’s ridiculous statement that made her smile but also the feeling of accomplishment.
Instrument training had gone well today, and to her delight, she’d made very few mistakes, discovering she could quickly absorb everything he attempted to teach her.
“Constantly scan your instruments. Move only your eyes, not your head, because that can cause spatial disorientation and airsickness.”
“Fly with your fingertips. Trim the aircraft gently—no dramatic wheel turns or holding down the electric trim button.”
“Treat your trim like garlic; check if the plane is in trim before adding more.”
That last one made her laugh. He’d given her Tic Tac mints to suck on to keep her stomach calm. Good thing she hadn’t needed the Ziploc bag, which he’d tucked down the front of her shirt with care. “Just in case.”
The more she practiced, the easier it became and, consequently, more fun.
And, oh, had this week been fun.
She not only loved flying; she also looked forward to Nick’s company when training was over and it was time to chill.
Conversing with him was easy, and she found him to be one of those people you could confide in without fearing judgment. His insights were thoughtful and sharp, and she discovered that he was well-read. The man liked Dostoyevsky. Good thing she was familiar with some of the works he mentioned.
If only he knew some of the things she enjoyed reading. Like spicy romance. Ha.
During flight lessons, he was serious and professional, and it was easy to forget how attracted she was to him. But the moment she shut off the engine, the inexorable pull coming from him grew ever stronger.
The nights … well, they were difficult. She found it hard to fall asleep, and once she did, she often woke up and struggled to get back to slumber, knowing he was in the bedroom two doors down from hers.
Occasionally, she thought she could smell him, and she tossed and turned, hugging a pillow to herself in the futile effort to quell the arousal his scent inevitably caused.
Keeping him friend-zoned was becoming a private hell.
Tonight, their first night out, was no exception.
In his black dress shirt and trousers, he was so damned handsome, moving with such fluid grace, just watching him stride down the street felt like an act of voyeurism.
“Anything goes here.” Jannie eyed the scantily clad showgirls who smiled and waved at passersby, handing out flyers, entirely at ease with their butt cheeks hanging out.
In front of her, a woman walked with her wide-eyed tween son, who strained his neck to view the photos of naked women littering the ground.
He stumbled on an uneven portion of the sidewalk, drawing an annoyed glare from his mother. “Aiden … Aiden! Watch where you’re going!”
Nick’s lips twitched. “Anything and everything goes. A world away from Orlando, isn’t it?”
“Right?”
They stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change.
A bus slid slowly by. The huge ad on its side caught Jannie’s eye: a woman standing tall in a black corset, fishnet stockings, and sky-high stilettos, a short crop in her hand. Before her, on his knees, a blindfolded, bare-chested man, whose chin she lifted with the paddle end.
Jannie kept her jaw from dropping. “Wow,” she whispered.
Beneath the couple, in elegant black letters accented with shocking pink, read, Sin City Dark. Come for the fantasy. Stay for the reality.
Sin City Dark.
Why did that sound familiar?
The image persisted in her mind all the way to the Paris hotel, where Nick pulled open the door, allowing her to enter first.
It felt like stepping into an alternate universe.
Overhead, a painted blue sky with puffy clouds glowed softly to simulate daylight.
Colorful slot machines filled much of the space, their clicks, whirs, and dings simultaneously assaulting and pleasing the ear.
The atmosphere was palpably charged, and people milled about, many dressed to the nines, all seeking some kind of Vegas pleasure or experience.
It was good to be here, and despite the discomfort of the wig, she was grateful to Nick for finding a way to finally get her out of the house.
He led her to the left, and they made their way down the carpeted path between the slots. Ahead, Jannie spotted the white lettering above the glowing red entrance to Gordon Ramsay Steak.
Several people stood there in a short line. At the back were two striking women who brazenly eyed Nick, their gazes roaming over him, their eyes shining with the telltale glitter of excessive alcohol consumption.
One of them looked Jannie up and down. Her gut clenched. Did she look odd?
But then, the woman caught her gaze and held it. “You two are gorgeous.”
“So are you,” Jannie sincerely replied. Both brunettes and perfectly put-together, the two could have graced any high-fashion runway.
The woman licked her lips. “Looking for some fun?”
Oh.
Jannie blinked, momentarily speechless, but she recovered quickly. “If by fun you mean eating some great beef Wellington, then yes.”
The woman giggled. “That’s not the kind of beef we’re craving.” Her gaze raked over Nick. “Looks to me like there’s enough of him to share.”
The other woman snickered. “What happens in Vegas …”
Jannie’s eyes narrowed. “Not happening.”
She slanted a glance at Nick and found him smiling, nonplussed.
“Selfish,” the first woman muttered. “Sorry she’s such a prude, babe,” she said to Nick. “Our tongues all over her pussy while you fucked her mouth would have blown her mind.”
What?
Jannie’s eyes widened.
“Oh, well,” was all Nick said with a shrug, his beautiful lips twitching.
He didn’t seem shocked or upset; that, along with the way they continued to shamelessly eye-fuck him, made something in Jannie’s throat pinch.
She gave them her best saccharine smile. “I’m sure you’ll find yourself another piece of meat.”
“Not as juicy as yours,” the woman said, pouting.
Good grief.
The line advanced, and the women disappeared into the tunnel that led to the restaurant.
Jannie swallowed back her irritation. “Unbelievable,” she muttered.
“Par for the course.” Nick shrugged again, a mischievous grin spreading across his bearded face. “Welcome to fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada.”
It didn’t take long for their turn to come, and the hostess greeted them, explaining that the tunnel entrance they’d just stepped through represented the Chunnel, which connected England to France.
She pointed out the glowing red tubes hanging from the ceiling beneath a painted Union Jack. “The neon sculpture represents Chef Ramsay’s movements when he prepares his famous beef Wellington,” she said with pride.
Jannie knew this already, having been here before, but she nodded politely, glancing around, eyeing the bustling open kitchen and the fully packed restaurant.
Nick pulled out her chair. Jannie lowered herself into the seat and smoothed the starched white napkin across her lap, acutely aware of his fingers brushing her shoulders.
He pulled out his own chair, and her heart quickened at the smooth grace with which he sat across from her.
She watched him place his napkin. Strong, but gentle hands.
He’d helped her zip up the new dress he purchased for her last week, and Jannie shuddered at the memory of his fingertips on her skin.
She looked up to see him smiling at her and dressed in that open-collared shirt that exposed his throat …
She lowered her gaze.
Friend. He is your friend.
A server approached, a starched white towel draped over his arm. “Welcome to Steak. My name is Tanner, and I’m helping Wendy take care of you tonight. Have we been here before?”
Jannie nodded.