Wanting to see Trent in action, she silently eased into the back of the conference room at the end of her shift Wednesday evening. He stood behind the podium wearing a dark suit that accentuated his lean build and broad shoulders. His deep voice paused and his gaze reached across the room to pin her by the door. Her pulse stuttered.
Heads turned to see who had disrupted the speaker. Paige’s cheeks burned. She considered ducking out. But that would only cause more commotion. She hugged the wall and slipped into the shadows at the rear of the room.
Trent resumed his program, discussing the security issues of landing private jets on foreign soil, she quickly deduced. Not a soul fidgeted during the next twenty minutes as he flipped through riveting slides that made the dry statistics come alive even for a novice like her. He had his audience in the palm of his hand—as he’d had her last night.
She’d hoped to end their date with another one of those toe-curling kisses, especially since she and Trent had connected on a personal level during dinner. But that hadn’t happened.
Tonight would be different.
When she and Trent returned to the hotel after their rides she intended to do whatever she could to make him act on those hot looks he’d been sending her way and invite her upstairs. He desired her. So why was he holding back? Ignorance might be bliss for some, but she’d found it tended to bite you in the behind when you least expected it.
Focusing her attention on the man mesmerizing his audience, she decided she actually liked this intense version of Trent more than the easygoing charmer. His confident air of authority was quite a turn-on.
Trent switched to an alarming slide of an obvious hostage situation and said, “We all remember how this tragedy ended. The subsequent lawsuits and negative publicity drove the airline into bankruptcy. What we learned from this is that regardless of the costs, ensuring the safety of your passengers and crew, not to mention your multimillion dollar aircraft, is essential. No matter how tight your budget during this economic downturn, security is not the area from which you can afford to cut corners.”
Upon his conclusion, the attendees applauded then gathered their gear and rose. Some approached the stage. Paige remained stationary, waiting for Trent to finish. She’d had no idea his business could be hazardous beyond the usual concern for crashes. How naive of her considering traveling abroad was her dream. His knowledge pointed out exactly how far apart their worlds were. He was sophisticated and well-traveled, and she was still a sheltered small-town girl despite living in Charleston for four years and Vegas for just over one.
“Hello there, Paige,” said a familiar voice from beside her, pulling her concentration away from Trent.
She forced a smile and looked up at the man standing in the aisle beside her. She couldn’t warm up to Trent’s acquaintance. There was something about Donnie that didn’t encourage trust. She’d figured that out even before Trent had warned her.
“Good evening, Donnie. I hope the conference is going well for you.”
“Only one thing would make it better. Join me for dinner. There’s a sweet steak place down the strip that can’t be missed.”
“Paige will be with me.” The simultaneous sound of Trent’s voice in her ear and his hand on her waist made her jump. Her skin tingled and her pulse quickened. She glanced at Trent, and the territorial stamp on his face sent a thrill through her.
“Thank you for the invitation, Donnie, but Trent and I have a previous engagement.”
Donnie extracted a business card from his wallet. “Your loss, sugar, but here are my numbers if you wise up and want someone who’s a little more fun than our uptight amigo here.” He circled a number on the card. “That’s my cell. You can call me anytime. Day or night.” He nodded and strolled off, leaving Paige holding a business card she didn’t want but for the sake of politeness couldn’t have refused.
Trent glared after Donnie, then looked at Paige. Even though she wore heels he was still tall enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “I need to change clothes. Come upstairs with me.”
Her mouth dried. Back to the scene of the crime—sooner than she’d expected. But she wouldn’t complain. This worked into her plan splendidly. That didn’t mean she didn’t have an entire flock of butterflies circling her tummy. “Lead the way.”
The crowded elevator forced them to stand close together. Trent had his back to the wall, and in typical fashion, every occupant faced the doors. Trent’s sleeve brushed her shoulder, then someone else squeezed into the compartment just before the doors closed, forcing Paige to slide in front of Trent. She could feel his presence behind her like a magnet pulling at her. His breath stirred the hair on the back of her head, and his leather attaché case brushed her leg. She ached to lean against him. An inch, maybe two, and her back would press against those hard pectorals she’d been admiring.
An involuntary shiver racked her. She inhaled and his scent filled her nose. Funny, she could distinguish his unique aroma from the eight others in the confined space. Had she ever been able to do that with David? She couldn’t remember.
Over the shoulders in front of her, she met and held Trent’s reflected gaze in the polished brass doors as the elevator slowly climbed and emptied with each stop until only the two of them remained. He didn’t move away.
Did he feel the current arcing between them? His dilated pupils and flaring nostrils suggested he did. But if so why was he fighting it? Hadn’t she been obvious enough in expressing her interest? Maybe he thought she was looking for more than a short-term affair? According to her sisters, that would scare off any man.
The doors swished open on the thirty-sixth floor. She swallowed to ease her parched throat and forced her feet forward. He brushed past her, his hand briefly touching her waist as he moved around her and setting off a chain of sparks along her synapses. She followed him. With each step she took the knot of tension twisted tighter in her belly.
You’re not going back. You’re moving forward. Make new memories while nudging him with old ones.
He reached the corner room at the end of the hall, swiped his card, opened the door and held it for her. She stepped inside one of the Lagoon’s most luxurious tower suites.
Although she rarely had reason to visit the guest accommodations, she knew that not only did this suite have a marble-floored entry and separate dining area, it contained an entertainment lounge complete with big-screen TV and surround sound, a private work station with every gadget a traveler might require and a luxurious bedroom with a whirlpool bath big enough for two. It was twice the size of her one-bedroom apartment and cost more per night than she paid for an entire month’s rent with utilities.
She’d been alone with Trent in a similar unit before, but she hadn’t been totally sober, nor had she felt anywhere near as electrified as she did now. Her skin tingled as if she’d been sprinkled with sparkling water.
He gestured to the minibar, showing no sign of remembering or worrying about their less-than-stellar past. “Would you care for a drink while I change?”
“No. Thanks.” She wasn’t running the risk of anything dulling her response this time around—if she could convince him to have a second go. The blinking light on the phone caught her eye. “You have a message.”
He stared at the phone for a full five seconds. “I’ll check it later.”
He disappeared into the bedroom, firmly closing the door with a click. No subtlety in that communication. Did she even have a chance of breaking his iron control?
She strolled to the windows. The bright lights glowed beneath her as each hotel and casino vied for attention and tourist dollars. This garishly lit twenty-four-hour city couldn’t be more different than her hometown or even Charleston with its historic flavor and quaint, old-fashioned streetlights.
Then she noted the whipping flags and the Bellagio’s blowing fountains. The wind had picked up since she’d come in this morning. Her heart quickened with the new possibilities. Not that she wasn’t having fun riding the roller coasters, but it was difficult to get intimate in a crowd.
The bedroom door opened. Trent returned to the sitting area wearing another V-neck cashmere sweater, this one in a rich cream, over a black crewneck T-shirt and black jeans. Sexy.
She dampened her suddenly dry lips. “We may have to change our plans. It looks pretty gusty outside. Many of the outdoor rides, including the one we’d intended to visit, don’t operate in inclement weather or windy conditions. We should probably call before walking to the hotel.”
He crossed to the phone and hit the button for the front desk. “The Sahara Hotel, please.”
Paige studied his broad shoulders, straight spine, firm butt and long, muscular legs as he waited for the connection to go through. The man looked yummy in a suit, but what he did for designer denim was an engraved invitation to sin. Her fingers itched to stroke his bottom—and that was so not like her.
Last year they’d been completely comfortable with each other until arriving in the suite. Then it had been as if both of them weren’t so sure they should be here, but neither had wanted to say so. The kisses had been awkward, the caresses even more so.
So why are you here?
Because this year the chemistry between them was too volatile not to give it a shot. She couldn’t remember ever shaking with need or getting flushed all over just from thinking about sex—the way she was now.
She and David had begun as friends in high school and slowly—very slowly—progressed to sex. They—or at least she—had been happy with their comfortable, even-keeled relationship. And while the physical component of their relationship had been good, she’d never experienced an attraction as urgent or strong as the one she shared with Trent in her life.
A crazy urge to sneak up behind Trent while he was on the phone, wind her arms around him and rub her br**sts against him almost overcame her. She ached to touch him, to shape those deep pectorals with her palms and taste that firmly checked mouth with a hunger she hadn’t had felt last time.
“Is Speed, The Ride operating tonight?” Trent said into the receiver, then seconds later he added, “Thank you.” He disconnected and faced her. “You’re ri—”
She tried to wipe her desire from her face, but judging by his sudden alertness, she hadn’t done so fast enough.
Their gazes locked. His pupils expanded and his lips compressed. “The ride is closed until the wind dies down.”
“We could order room service and see if it reopens by the time we’ve finished eating.”
She saw the refusal in his expression before he opened his mouth. But she also caught a flash of heat. The latter gave her courage.
“Paige—”
“Trent, I’m not interested in more than a brief affair, if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t intend to fall in love again or get married and spawn a basketball team of children like my parents did. I’m devoted to my career and my dream of seeing the world—despite what I heard in your scary seminar earlier.”