Her Secret Lover (What Happens in Vegas) (10 page)

Her reaction made him smile; he didn’t necessarily disagree with her assessment of his ex-wife, but Kelsey’s outrage was so genuine, so visceral that it made him happy down in the very sick part of his brain that wanted her to give a shit about him. He reached out and grabbed one of her hands, feeling the jump of her pulse point on her wrist as he slid their fingers together. After what they’d done last night, holding hands was pretty tame, but it shot warmth over his skin that he allowed himself to revel in, soaking in her vitality.

“She wrote me a letter, but it came after I was injured. My parents knew and when they came to the hospital in Germany, they got the honor of breaking the news.” She squeezed his hand, adjusting their grip so that her hand covered his own. It was an intimate gesture, one that touched him more than the sex they’d had last night. It reached below the surface and beyond the nerve endings and latched onto that vulnerable spot located just behind his ribs. “Your face looks just like my mom’s did when she told me what had happened with Becky.”

“Well, I hope so,” she said, her words dripping with her heated irritation. “That was a pretty shitty thing to do.”

“Yeah, but looking back on all of it, it was probably never going to work. We loved each other, but it wasn’t the kind that could stand up to what life threw at us and that was the truth. My deployment just made us realize it sooner rather than later.”

“I don’t know how you write the books you write if that is what happened to you,” Kelsey said.

“I guess I’m writing about how I would like for it to have been.” He shrugged and drew her to him, his nose brushing along her jaw as he pressed a soft kiss here and there. She leaned into it and he realized that he hadn’t kissed her this morning. Not properly. He fixed that ridiculous oversight, pressing his mouth softly to hers, the tangle of their tongues remaining sweet and easy. He pulled back, looking down at her as her eyes opened slowly on a sexy, dazed blink of her long, dark lashes. Micah somehow continued what he was saying. “Or the way I think it should be, and hope I might have one day.”

“Do you really think that’s possible?” she asked, her voice a smoky whisper.

“I’ve seen it, and so have you. It’s like the lottery, right? Somebody is going to win it, and it might as well be me.”

“They also say that you have to play to win,” she said. Her smile was twisted, an attempt at sarcasm but he saw the wistful expression in her eyes.

“I didn’t think you were inclined to play that game,” he said, keeping his voice neutral with the hope that he’d get some insight into this intriguing woman.

“I hit my three strikes, and I took myself out.”

“Permanently?”

“I’ve never met anyone who made me change my decision.”

“So the right guy
…
”

“The right guy could change lots of things.” Kelsey stared at him when she said it and he thought he sensed a dare in her eyes to change her mind, and he almost took the conversation further but she blinked and dropped his hand, turning back toward the kitchen. “I’m warming up my coffee.”

Micah almost followed her, but what was the point? He wasn’t staying past Sunday and she wasn’t asking. Instead, he placed his coffee cup down on a side table, turned and continued his review of her shelves, interested in what kind of book Kelsey would choose. The entire wall of her living room was covered in floor-to-ceiling shelves with books stacked two deep on many of them. College textbooks, travel guides, and various “for Dummies” volumes took up a little bit of space and then they gave way to fiction.

Thrillers and suspense, popular mainstream novels, and a couple Tom Clancy books and then it became romance. Every kind of romance: historical, paranormal, contemporary, young adult. Every big name and some he didn’t recognize, new and old. He lifted a Bertrice Small and thumbed over to the copyright page, noting that it was likely from a first or second mass market paperback printing, and it had been well-read and loved. Coffee stains, scratches, and creases covered the front and the pages within.

He’d arrived at the shelf with his books lined up in a row, and she reached around him and pointed to
Safe Harbor
.

“That’s my favorite one of yours,” she said, her body brushing against his.

“Why?” It was probably vain to ask, but he was curious.

“Two words: hammock sex.” Kelsey waggled her eyebrows and he laughed, sliding an arm around her waist and pulled her back until her back touched his entire front. He placed a kiss on the skin exposed by the slide of her T-shirt off her shoulder, loving the way her giggle vibrated against his lips.

“Lots of readers love that scene,” he answered.

“Because it was freaking hot.”

“Thanks.” Micah leaned in even closer, letting his eyes wander over the line up of books he really didn’t want to write. The question now was whether he had the balls to quit or not.

“Are you really going to stop writing romance? Do you really hate them so much?” she asked, and he bit back a laugh of surprise that she seemed to know his own train of thought.

“I don’t think I hate writing them.”

He turned over his feelings and tried to examine every inch before he answered. “I think I hate feeling like I don’t have the option to write anything else.”

“You could self-publish, some of my favorite authors do that. Then you could write whatever you want for yourself and then the romance for your fans.”

“You sound like Allen.”

“Well, obviously he’s brilliant.” She laughed.

“Jesus, don’t ever tell him that.”

“So if you know you can do whatever you want, then what’s stopping you? Why keep letting the people at the publisher tell you no?” Kelsey asked, turning in his arms to look him right in the eye. “You’ve got a name and connections, and I hope you’ve made some money from the books and the movies.”

Micah fought the urge to squirm but he did break eye contact, leaning his head back to puff out a long sigh at how her words cut him to the quick. She was honest, and he found himself unable to do anything but reciprocate.

“I don’t know
…
ego
…
hurt pride at having them turn down my ideas
…
the sheer amount of fucking incredible work that would have to go into self-publishing.”

“So
…
” She dragged her words out and didn’t mince any of the sarcasm that dripped from every syllable. “You’re holding yourself hostage because you’re ass hurt that they don’t want to play in your sandbox, and you’re afraid of hard work?” She shook her head and gave him a look that told him exactly what she thought of his reasoning. “Nope. I don’t buy it. I’ve only known you for a short time, and that guy is not you.”

“He’s not?”

“No. And you want to know how I know?” Kelsey asked as she leaned in so close that their mouths almost touched. Micah swallowed, tightening his grip on her hips as he involuntarily drew her warm, sexy body to his. She didn’t wait for him to respond to her question. “Because that guy would never have convinced me to invite him into my bed last night.”

Micah stared down at her, exploring every inch of her expression and was floored by the conviction of her words in the depths of her eyes and the set of her jaw. She was right. Somewhere in the last few years, he’d become the guy who took no for an answer and went along with the tide. The same guy who’d let his failed marriage, and the women who only wanted to use him, keep him holed up in his cabin in Bridger Gap and away from real life. But down deep he was there, the old Micah. The one who took chances and risked even his own life to do what he knew was right. It was that Micah that had kept pushing Kelsey to let him in, and he could still taste on his lips just how right that risk had been to take.

He lowered his head and took her mouth, letting the adrenaline rush caused by her words, and his reaction, fuel his desire for her. Kelsey responded, looping her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist when he slid his hands under her ass and lifted her to him. The bookcases behind them shook a little with the momentum of their bodies.

Her quick exhale on impact broke the kiss and dissolved into a low chuckle as their eyes met. Their laughter didn’t stop the next press of mouths and sweep of tongue, adding fuel to the fire between them instead of dampening it. Micah resolved to turn and lay her down on the couch behind them when a loud beeping from down the hall rang out into the stillness of the morning.

It was an alarm clock. Kelsey’s alarm clock.

“No. No. No,” she mumbled against his lips, as the sound got louder and more frequent as they continued to kiss, pulling back only to dive back in as soon as breathing and logistics would allow. But the machine would not be ignored and finally forced them apart, and she pulled away and sprinted down the hallway toward her room. He caught a glimpse of her bare ass cheek when her movement lifted the edge of her robe, and he was tempted to follow her and strip it off her, but a glance at the clock told him that their time was up for now.

Two loud slaps of flesh against something, and a muffled curse from her, and the screeching stopped, the silence ringing with the lingering vibrations.

“That was the most obnoxious sound I have ever heard. Is it broken, or is it supposed to sound like that?” he asked, watching as she reappeared in the living room.

“I bought it because it’s guaranteed to never let you oversleep. I’ve been known to hit the snooze and wake up three days later.”

“You’d have to be deaf to sleep through that noise.” Micah moved around the sofa and reached out, snagging the belt on her robe and dragged her to him. She gave a token struggle but melted into his arms as he pulled her back into a kiss that lingered. He pulled back enough to murmur against her mouth. “You’ve got to go to work?”

She nodded, releasing a little sigh as she leaned her forehead against his. “Yeah. I’ve got this high maintenance guest I have to look after
all day
.”

“He sounds like a dick,” he said, tracing his hand along the sleek skin of her thigh and under the edge of her robe, cupping the sweet curve of her ass in his palm. Her skin broke out in goose bumps under his touch. “Let me make it up to you tonight?”

She cocked her head, the smile lifting her mouth in a wicked twist that made his gut clench with excitement. “Don’t you have a book to finish today?”

He nodded, anxious to see where she was going with this. “Yes.”

“If you finish the book, I’ll make it up to
you
.”

“Consider it done.”

Chapter Twelve

Running usually cleared his mind. Usually.

But not this morning. After six miles through the streets of Las Vegas, Micah could not get Kelsey Kyle out of his head, and he really needed to get her out. First, he had a book to write, and she took up too much headspace in there. Secondly, he was leaving on Sunday. This was temporary and he could not afford to get emotionally invested in her, no matter how much his long-dormant heart was screaming for him to do it. All these years of bad dates, disastrous relationships with women who “should” have worked for him, and the traitorous organ under his ribs decides to perk up and beat faster whenever Kelsey Kyle smiled at him.

And after last night, his heart wasn’t the only thing that sat up and took notice when she was around. He’d wanted her before, but a night spent between her thighs morphed his casual hormonal reaction to her into something resembling the horny teenager he’d been long before heartache and a tour in hell had made him a man who did everything in a way calculated to minimize any exposure to potential hurt. It also accomplished the opposite and kept him from experiencing anything close to the highs of life, things like skinny-dipping with a girl whose kisses short-circuited his brain.

Micah removed his earbud, and the quiet after such an extended period of time with Metallica blaring in his ears was enough to cause him to stumble, his equilibrium temporarily compromised. The cool of the AC in the deserted lobby pebbled his skin with goose bumps, and he suppressed a shiver as he stopped in front of the elevator doors and swiped the pad with his room key.

Thoughts of completing his book and the reward of another night spent inside Kelsey meant he was surprised when a warm hand stoked over his shoulder and down his bicep. Micah jumped, pitching himself back toward the doors just as they opened, and he barely corrected in time to avoid falling face first into the car. A high-pitched giggle and a lower throaty chuckle joined his grunt of surprise as he righted himself and turned to see who it was.

He recognized the woman: tall and blonde and dripping in jewelry and beauty products from the top of her gravity-defying hair to her stiletto-wearing feet. She was definition of “trophy wife” and one glance at her older, less-attractive spouse convinced him that she worked hard for every penny.

Micah didn’t like that she’d put her hands on him, but his memory reminded him that she was a fan and a VIP client for Kelsey. The longer he stared, he recalled her presence at his signing the day before and the way her hands had wandered over him just as freely. Whoever she was, she had issues with the concept of personal space.

“Did I surprise you?” she asked, as if she hadn’t just watched him almost face-plant on the marble floor.

His manners kicked in and prevented him from saying what sprung to the tip of his tongue. Instead he went for the innocuous. “I don’t usually see anyone else up this early.”

“Can you be up this early when you haven’t gone to bed?” she asked, her sentence ending on a purr as she advanced on him across the elevator.

Micah backed up as far as he could and cursed the chill of the mirrored wall when it hit his back. He was trapped in here with Mrs. Grabby Hands and her hubby who resembled one of the guys from
The Godfather
when they’d had a bad day.

“Wow. You must be beat then,” he stammered, praying that no one else was awake to stop the upward progress of the elevator. “You’ll be ready to hit the sack, I bet.”

Blondie cut a sly glance at her husband and instead of the glower he expected, the man smiled. Everything in his body yelled “oh shit” as she turned back to him. Whatever she was going to say was something he didn’t want to hear.

“I’m not tired,” she said, brushing her breasts against the bare skin of his arm. He could either scurry back like a spooked reptile, or stand his ground. He opted to use the balls that were currently not responding to all the pheromones Blondie was throwing in his direction. “I’ve still got lots of energy to burn off.” Another sloe-eyed glance at her husband and she pushed her body fully into him and started to let her hand wander down his abdomen before giving him her full attention. “You could join me.” Another look at her hubby and back at him. “He likes to watch.”

He wasn’t new to getting hit on. Women frequently propositioned him, but this chick was a pro that made all the others look like poor auditions for the understudy. Micah stared at her, his gaze traveling to her husband, who confirmed her statement with a nod. Oh, fuck no. Even if he had been inclined, this had all the earmarks of a bad scene just waiting to happen, with the end result being his body in a shallow grave in the desert. He’d seen
Goodfellas
. It could happen.

She might be using sex as her tool, but she was no different than the women who’d been tailing him since he’d hit the NYT list. He didn’t fool himself for one minute that she really wanted him. No, she wanted Micah Holmes, semi-famous author, in between her thighs so she could check him off some list or brag to her friends at the weekly trophy wife meeting.

“Oh. That’s…” He had a million words in his head and spun them on the page every day, but not one of them came to mind. Micah opened his mouth and prayed it was the right thing. “That’s really nice, but I’m going to have to pass. Really…no thank you, Mrs…”

“Forasch. Babette Forasch.”

“We met yesterday, forgive me for not remembering.” The cab stopped and time slowed down to a crawl as he waited for the doors to slide open and give him an escape route. The universe finally took pity on him and they slid back, and he edged around her to step onto his floor, dismayed when they disembarked with him. Mr. Forasch played with his room keycard, and Micah groaned inwardly with the knowledge that these people were on his floor.

Great.

He propelled himself down the hallway, hoping that the God he prayed to wasn’t preoccupied with all of the pleas for help wafting up from the casino floor. He wanted to get to his door, open it, and escape from the potential for a threesome that would likely turn him off sex for the rest of his life. Now that he had Kelsey in his bed
—
or he was in hers
—
he wasn’t going to jeopardize it.

He reached his door and swiped the keycard, the color green on the metal box now his official favorite color. The Forasches were right behind him lingering in the hallway, and he felt compelled by his goddamn southern manners to turn and say good-bye.

“Have good day,” he said.

“We’re in Room 4045 if you change your mind,” Babette said with a giggle and a shimmy of her very large breasts.

Micah had nothing, so he merely stepped across the threshold of his room and shut the door, heading for the hottest shower he could stand before he got to work.

...

Kelsey looked down at her watch and wondered where the morning had gone.

The convention was now fully underway with hordes of readers all over the hotel and workshops, panels, and signings in every available space. She had to admit to a couple of fangirl moments when two of her favorite authors were nearby, but she kept it completely professional since she didn’t have time to ask for autographs.

Besides, her favorite author was holed up in his room finishing his book and also hiding from the crowds. They’d agreed on a time when she could come and pry him out of the suite and take him to his first panel of the day. It would be a long day for Micah, ending with the “Bring Your Hero to Dinner” event where he would have a meal and dance with some of his biggest fans. He was probably trying to figure out a way to sneak out of the hotel right now.

Her earpiece buzzed, and she tapped the device answering the call, “Kyle.”

It was Perry.

“Kelsey, did you hear about the incident last night?”

She paused, wondering when Perry had decided to join in with the staff gossip. Everyone was talking about the shit that had gone down in the hotel last night.

“I did, and I’m wondering when that became legal in the state of Nevada.”

“Our lawyers are working on that question, but that’s not why I called.” He cleared his throat. “Kelsey, I need you to come to the concierge lounge immediately.”

Oh hell. He sounded grumpier than his usual self, and didn’t that just jump up and bite her in the ass?

“On my way.” She disconnected the call and made her way through the crowd to the office, wondering what else Perry was going to put on her plate for today. She was chock-full, but that had never stopped him before.

A few short moments later she pushed open the glass outer doors to the concierge lounge and left the loud roar of the convention behind her. The change was a little unsettling, and it took her a few moments to reorient herself to the peace of the office space. She heard voices from the direction of Perry’s office and headed straight there, only slowing her steps down when she recognized who was in the room with him.

Saul and Babette Forasch. Shit. This wasn’t going to end well. If she were a betting gal, she’d put it all on the line.

Perry looked up as she entered the room, and his smile was grim and laced with an edge of “how could you leave me with these people?” She got it. She really did.

“Mr. and Mrs. Forasch,” she said, hoping her enthusiasm would make up for the fact that she didn’t have the answer they wanted. “Are you enjoying your stay?”

“I’d enjoy it more if I had my VIP time with Micah Holmes,” Babette said on a babyish pout that didn’t quite disguise the warning in her eyes. Kelsey’s skin tingled with the awareness that this woman might look like a young, clueless trophy wife, but it was a facade put in place to hide the conniving, ambitious woman underneath. Saul better have an ironclad prenup, or this one was going to leave him with nothing.

“Mrs. Forasch, I think I explained to you at the beginning that Mr. Holmes is extremely reluctant to do those types of events.”

“And you assured me you could make it happen.” She turned her gaze to Perry and pointed with one long, fake fingernail. “You told me she could do this.”

Perry flashed her a glance that told her she needed to fix this immediately. The Masquerade did not like to disappoint its highest of high rollers.

“I’m not saying no, but I am saying that I need more time.” That was the understatement of the century, but she still believed she could figure out a way to make this palatable to Micah. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She’d watched him with his fans and knew how to put him at ease, so there had to be a way to get Babette the one-on-one time she wanted, but still keep Micah comfortable.
There had to be a way
. She could figure this out, she always did. “I’ll be working with him again today, and I’ll try to find a time to approach him with the suggestion.”

“Don’t
suggest
,” Saul barked out, his arm slipping around Babette’s waist. “Make it happen.”

“You two looked pretty cozy yesterday at the signing,” Babette said with more than a little whine in her tone. “Really cozy.”

Kelsey froze in place, refusing to swing her gaze toward Perry even though she could feel his eyes on her. Babette knew nothing. She didn’t know anything about last night. She was just observing how well she and Micah worked together, and there was no reason to panic that her secret was out.

“We worked together well yesterday. It’s my job to make all the guests comfortable and to assist however I am needed. Mr. Holmes is easy to work with, and we performed well as a team yesterday.”

She stopped talking knowing that anything else she said might give her away. Keep it professional. Keep it on task. Her phone buzzed with a text message, and she excused herself to check it. The name “M. Holmes” ran across the top, and she tapped the screen to read the message. It was one line. Three letters:
sos

Kelsey glanced at the clock on the phone and realized his first panel of the day was less than an hour away, and a distress signal at this time was not going to be a good thing.

“Pardon me. I have an emergency
…
with the convention.” She made eye contact with the Forasches, hoping they didn’t drag this out any longer. “I will let you know my progress soon.”

Kelsey turned and beat feet out of there before they could stop her, her mind wondering what was up with Micah. He was supposed to be writing so what kind of emergency could he have?

Laptop charger not working?

Food?

More of those damn extra towels?

She moved across the lobby, nodding to the other staff and smiling at the guests as she stepped onto the elevator and slid her passcard through the reader to allow her to get to the executive level. She pressed the button for the fortieth floor and then tapped her Bluetooth earpiece and commanded the phone to dial Micah. He answered after one and a half rings.

“Kelsey, get up here now. This is serious.”

“Are you okay?” The doors opened and she stepped out onto the carpeted hallway, picking up her pace with no guests in the corridor to see her. “I’m almost there.”

A few short steps and she knocked on his door, surprised when it flew open immediately, and Micah reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding his phone to tug her inside and shut the door behind her. Kelsey let her gaze roam all over him, trying to spot whatever it was that was causing the crisis. Micah lowered his phone from his ear and thumbed off the call, one eyebrow raised to match the smirk tugging at his lips.

“There’s no emergency, is there?”

He smiled.