“Genevieve? What a beautiful name.”
“You can call me Ginny.”
“Staying here at the hotel?” He popped his member card into the machine, slipped in a fifty-dollar bill and waited for the credits displayed on the reader.
“I am. You?”
“I am. A suite on the top floor.” He pulled the lever and the wheels began to spin. “So what brings you to Vegas?”
She shrugged. “I’m on my honeymoon.”
He froze for a moment. Well, shit. His smile fell. He was really hoping she’d be available. He cleared his throat and pulled the lever again. “Well, congratulations.”
“No need. It’s a solo honeymoon.”
His brow furrowed, confused. Solo honeymoon? He turned his attention back to her. “I don’t follow.” His eyes lowered to her left hand where a wedding ring should be, but her finger was barren of said ring and he noticed a faint white mark where a ring used to be.
“I was stood up at the altar and the reservations were non-refundable. Being that you’re also staying in the suites you can imagine the amount of money that would go to waste if I didn’t come.” She shrugged, her smile turning rueful. “So here I am.”
Dane was struck speechless for a moment. What do you say to a newly jilted bride-to-be? “I’m sorry to hear that.” Yup, that was the best he could come up with.
She laughed softly. “Don’t be. You had nothing to do with it. It was for the best.”
“Were you with him long?”
“Eight years. High school sweethearts.”
“Oh, ouch.” He turned back to the slot machine, focusing on that a moment as he tried to decide on the best course of action. Stay and try to score, or let her go. It was a tough one.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they played, listing the pros and cons in his head. Pro, she was fucking hot. Stunning. And the ache in his groin was becoming a nuisance. Con, she’s fresh out of a relationship. She could be vulnerable and maybe a little too needy for a one-nighter at this point. She was young, he guessed early twenties. If she was with her former fiancé for eight years she may have only ever been with one man so she was virtually a virgin.
Dane clucked his tongue off the roof of his mouth. Was her being inexperienced a con? Nope, nope it wasn’t. He switched that over to the pros list.
“What, is there something in my teeth or something?”
“Huh?” He was so engrossed in his mental list-making that he’d stopped playing completely and discovered he was staring at her.
“You’re staring. I won’t lie. It’s kinda creepy.” Despite her words, there was a twinkle in her eyes and a smile on her perfectly painted lips.
He could feel himself flushing. He wasn’t one to get embarrassed easily, but being caught ogling her did it. Maybe because she didn’t appear like the average girl he would go for. Looking at her, he could tell she had class. Everything from her poise, to her clothing and how perfectly made up she was screamed it. Nope, she wasn’t the typical club hooch he had a tendency to gravitate to.
“Your ex must have been an idiot.” He didn’t mean to say the words, but seeing her smile widen and her cheeks turn an alluring shade of pink made him glad he did.
“Wanna hear something crazy?”
“Sure, I love crazy.”
“He’s a lawyer and it was with one of his co-workers. Cliché, huh?”
“Very. And the fact he’s a lawyer just confirms my opinion that he’s a douche.”
“Not a fan of lawyers, huh?” She’d lost all interest in the machine in front of her and her complete attention was on him – just how he liked it.
“I’m a cop; it’s in our nature to hate lawyers.”
“He was a defense lawyer.”
Dane groaned loudly, making a show out of his mock displeasure, pleased to see her giggling at his antics. “Those are the worst kinds. He did ya a solid.”
The dark-haired beauty laughed. “You think?”
“I know.”
~*~*~*~*~
~ Genevieve ~
“Splatterzone!” the ticket taker who was dressed up like some sort of zombie-
demon cried out, waving their tickets in the air.
Genevieve frowned as she looked down at her cream-coloured dress and Chanel handbag. Splatterzone didn’t sound very good to her. “What’s the Splatterzone?”
she asked.
“You’re going to get fucked up,” the zombie-demon man explained. “Here’s your t-shirt. And go over there and smile or scream or whatever for the camera for your before pictures.”
What the fuck? She looked up nervously at Dane, who merely grinned as they stood in front of a wall featuring the cast of The Evil Dead Musical.
“Don’t forget to look scared!” a demon behind the camera instructed.
She didn’t have to try to act scared, she was scared – terrified. Her Chanel purse retailed for close to five thousand dollars. Dane wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight, leaning into her as the camera flashed.
“Come with me and I’d suggest putting your t-shirts on otherwise your clothes is goin’ ta get fucked up,” a female zombie-demon said.
“Yeah, the first zombie mentioned that,” she muttered, pulling the t-shirt over her head. Luckily it fell to her mid-thigh, covering her purse as well as most of her dress. Thank God for small miracles.
How did I get myself roped into this? She looked to her left, caught Dane’s eyes and smiled. My hormones, that’s how. Guess this is what happens when you have a fiancé who has more sex than you.
After an hour of small talk while losing their money at the slot machines, Dane announced he had a brilliant idea for a fun evening out. Now here they were, at The Evil Dead Musical being seated in the first row center by a female zombie-
demon, preparing to be “fucked up.”
“Just so you know, please turn off and put away all cell phones,” the zombie-
demon usher stated, motioning to their seats.
“Or they’ll get fucked up?” Genevieve offered, giving her a half-grin.
The zombie-demon grinned, or at least grinned as well as the prosthetic
covering her face would allow. “That’s right. We consider those glowing screens targets.”
“For what?” Her grin faded.
Not answering, the zombie-demon turned and skipped off.
“What are they going to do to us, Dane?” Genevieve crossed one leg over the other and squirmed in her chair, attempting to get comfortable and finding she was squirming closer to Dane, until her body was pressed against his.