Her Secret Lover (What Happens in Vegas) (4 page)

Chapter Five

Wednesday

What the hell was she doing?

Kelsey looked across the table at Micah enjoying the food piled on his plate. She’d changed her clothes, shedding the fitted black suit of her uniform for a pair of black short-shorts, tank top, and a pair of high heel wedge sandals that made her legs look amazing. The fact that she gave a shit about how her legs looked sent all kinds of warning flares off in her head, but she closed her eyes and ignored them.

Yes, this was the perfect opportunity to get to know him better, to figure out what angle she needed to use to get him to agree to hang out with Babette, but it wasn’t the only reason she’d accepted his invite. She
wanted
to go out to dinner with him. Hell, she’d wanted him to kiss her back in his room, and that was crazy. The line between her job, her status as a fangirl of Micah Holmes the author, and her fascination with Micah the man was quickly getting blurry, and she couldn’t blame it on the one beer she was still sipping with dinner.

“This is amazing,” Micah said as he turned to watch the chef prepare another patron’s meal on the huge, circular grill in the middle of the restaurant. Diners went up to the long bar of ingredients—veggies, meat, noodles, seafood—piled it all in their bowls, topped it off with their own combination of the various oils, sauces, and spices, and handed the entire thing over to the chef, who stir-fried the meal right in front of them. “I’ve never been to a place like this before.”

“There are a couple of these closer to the Strip, but this is the one I’ve gone to with my family since I was a kid. My parents know the owners, and the food is always great,” she replied, watching him as he maneuvered a long noodle on his chopsticks and into his mouth. He was only succeeding about half of the time. At this rate he might starve. She giggled. “Do you want a set of cheater chopsticks? They have them for kids.”

He lifted his head slowly, eyes narrowed. “You’re not funny.”

“And watching you waste away while you try to use those chopsticks physically hurts me.” She caught the eye of the waitress and mimed her request for utensils before turning back to Micah. “How do you not know how to use chopsticks?”

“I’ve never been able to get the hang of it. I can take my rifle apart and put it back together faster than any guy in my platoon, but I’m all thumbs when it comes to chopsticks.”

He looked up in obvious relief when the waitress arrived and placed a pile of silverware on the table. Kelsey picked up a fork and waved it in front of him, whipping it out of reach when he reached for it. She laughed at him, and Micah grabbed her wrist to claim the utensil, his warm fingers clutching her bare skin firmly but gently.

They locked eyes across the table, and the laughter continued but there was heat behind it now and she squirmed at the warmth in her belly. She licked her lips, noticing how his eyes immediately zeroed in on her movement.

Micah might think he’s not that good at this, but he was doing fine in her book. If he did it any “finer,” she was going to self-combust and jump him.

He appeared to be perfect, and she knew that wasn’t true. Men always had an angle, and the key was to figure it out before they got in your pants. She didn’t mind getting used while she was getting fucked, as long as she had full disclosure. Which probably meant she should come clean with Micah, but she knew that that much honesty at this point would ruin her efforts; her gut told her he wasn’t the kind of guy who appreciated games. He was a nice guy, and suddenly she felt a little sleazy.

She tugged on her arm and he let it go, letting his fingers slide over the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist before traveling across her palm to take possession of the fork. He lifted his lip in a sexy half-smile and turned his attention back to his plate.

She needed to get this non-date back on track even though it was the most successful date of any kind she’d had in a long while. The request from Saul was hanging over her head, and she felt weird flirting when she was hoping to get him to agree to the request.

“You grew up in Las Vegas?” he asked, pausing as he wolfed down his food. “What was that like?”

“Well, my favorite classes were ‘Casino 101’ and ‘Showgirl Dancing,’ but I think it was probably like growing up anywhere else after we worked our shift at the blackjack tables.”

“I might
sound
like a country hick, but even I’m not falling for that.”

She laughed and popped a shrimp in her mouth before she continued. “I loved growing up here. The Strip is only a small part of what this place is about.”

“A huge part.”

“A monstrously huge part and the backbone of our economy, but when you get outside of the lights it’s just regular houses and schools and grocery stores.” She took a sip of her beer. “My dad works for the Nevada Gaming Control Board in the Audit Division, and my mom was a librarian.”

“Was it only the three of you?”

“Yep. My dad still lives in the same house where I grew up.” She waited for him to ask the usual question about her mom and she saw it on his lips, but his eyes merely examined her face and then he nodded, giving her a pass. She sighed with relief because she didn’t want to get into the situation with her mom; it was difficult to discuss with her friends, much less a relative stranger who’d be gone as soon as Sunday checkout came around. “From your accent and your bio, I know you grew up in Virginia.”

He nodded and smiled, his eyes warm with the memory and tinged with an edge of longing. Micah Holmes was homesick. She’d bet money on it.

“A little town called Bridger Gap. We have two stoplights, the nearest mall is an hour away, and the only thing to do on Friday nights is to go to the football games and then take your girlfriend to the Tasty Freeze to cool off and to the top of Bridger Ridge to heat things up.”

He waggled his eyebrows at the last bit, and she rolled her eyes. He was cute. Really sexy under all the boyish charm and goofy swagger.

“Funny. Do you still live there? I can’t imagine living in such a small place.”

“I do live there, and it
can
be a little claustrophobic.” He put down his fork and pushed his plate out of the way, making room to lean on the table and spread his hands out. She was aware of how close their fingertips were, the whisper of a touch with each of his movements. “I was so excited to leave when I graduated. I joined the Marines before graduation and left soon after and went straight to boot camp.”

She noticed that he left out the part where he got married in between and the injury that ended his military career, and wondered if he would talk about any of it. Yes, she’d read articles on all of it, but he always refused to talk about any of the details, so it was all speculation on the part of the writer. As the silence drew out, she realized he wasn’t going to offer, and she didn’t feel comfortable asking. Kelsey decided to keep to a safer topic. “So why go back if it feels claustrophobic?”

He shrugged, his index finger brushing against the tablecloth and occasionally along the edge of her hand. His gaze was direct; the dark brown depths warm with obvious desire. She knew she should look away but she couldn’t. She liked him, especially when he looked at her like that.

“It’s my home. I spent a lot of time in the desert wishing I were in the mountains, so I went back when I was discharged. I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he said, breaking eye contact to look down at the table. His voice when he spoke had lost the humor for the first time since she’d known him. “I’ve realized it’s not a good idea to move back to your hometown when your ex-wife lives there with her new husband, who just happens to be your buddy from high school.” He looked up again suddenly, the brown of his gaze murkier than before. “I spend a lot of time traveling around, but I keep a small house on the mountain.”

“Ouch,” she whispered, not sure what to say beyond that. Kelsey found herself reaching out, her fingers brushing over his with a touch so light she might have imagined it except for the spark that zinged between them. She pulled back, reminding herself that this couldn’t go anywhere. “Makes me wonder why you write the books you write.”

Micah’s hand chased hers on its retreat, his skin warm against hers. When his large hand wrapped around hers, she didn’t pull away even though she knew she should.

“You never heard this story?” When she shook her head, he laughed and wiped his free hand over his face, his smile wide and open once again. “It’s insane. I was attending Virginia Tech on the GI Bill and needed cash to pay some extra bills, and my creative writing professor gave me a flyer from my publisher looking for people to ghostwrite for them. I applied, and the romance novels offered the biggest payout. I wrote four for them before the first one hit the NYT list, and everything went nuts. Someone at the house outed me to some book bloggers, and suddenly I was the next Nicholas Sparks.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

“That’s one thing to call it.” He pulled back and shifted in his chair, his shoulders slumped. Gone was the boyish, laid-back Micah, and here was a guy who looked about ten years older who showed the wear and tear of life. “My dream was to be the next Tom Clancy, and I’m stuck writing books about single mother ranchers and ex-con foremen who show up when she needs a good harvest to save the farm.”

“You want to write about Jack Ryan and nuclear weapons?” She was interested in hearing his answer. She could never spin out stories that made her stay up all night, and she was fascinated by this part of the whole thing.

“Yep. I want to write books about spies and terrorists and the guy who never falls in love but bangs more chicks than James Bond.”

“That’s a lot of testosterone there.”

He held out his hands in a “what can I say” gesture. “I’ve got a penis. It comes with the equipment.”

She shook her head, not understanding what she was hearing. “If that’s how you feel, how can you write those amazing, romantic stories that make everyone cry like a baby?”

“It’s fiction. I’m a good storyteller, and I was in love once before. There are some experiences you never forget, and falling in love is one of them,” he said. “And what I write is only about the beginning, the good stuff. I don’t have to worry about what comes after. That’s the part where it all falls apart. As long as I can remember how I felt in the free fall before the crash, I’m good.”

That was an opening to ask about his divorce, but the flash of pain in the dark expanse of his eyes dried up the words on her tongue. It probably wasn’t first non-date conversation anyway.

“What other experiences do you never forget?”

“Holding a new baby. Burying a parent. Taking a life.” He moved back in and leaned across the table, and she mimicked his movement. “You’ve been in love before, right?”

She blinked, unprepared to have the tables turned on her. Kelsey admitted the truth before she thought too hard about it. “I thought I was.”

“You
thought
you were?”

“Let’s just say that working at hotel and casino in Vegas gives me lots of access to guys who remove their wedding bands the minute they get on the plane. It took me a while to realize that if their mouths are moving, then they are probably lying. I got my heart broken a time or two before I figured it out.”

“Now it’s my turn to say ouch.”

“Yes, well. Some people are assholes and that is a good lesson to learn if you want to keep working here in Sin City.” She chuckled and took another sip of beer. “I don’t date, but I love my job and it takes up most of my time. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“What do you love about it?”

That was easy. “The problem-solving. The organizing. I like arranging the perfect experience for a guest and delivering it to them. If they can sit back, relax, and everything goes smoothly, I’m happy.”

Micah looked around the restaurant and then winked. “You’re very good at it. This is a great place, and I really needed to get out of the hotel.”

“Yes, you did. The staff calls you the Hobbit because you never leave the ‘Shire.’”

“I went to the gym every day,” he said while laughing and shrugging in acceptance of the nickname. “I
was
working. I had an excuse.”

“Well, you’ll get plenty of time to meet the masses at the convention. I talked to the organizers, and you are very popular.” Kelsey watched him closely, trying to gauge his potential to agree to her request. “Your fan club event tomorrow is completely sold out, and many of them would love more time to spend with you.”

It wasn’t a lie. Babette was not the only guest who’d asked the hotel and the convention organizers to try and arrange their own fan experience or to try and figure out where Micah was going to be so they could “accidentally” bump into him.

Now he looked uncomfortable, the kind of unease that was way down in the bones.

“I’m not good with strangers. I’m an introvert, always have been. I think it’s why I was always writing stuff down. The people in my head were easier to deal with.”

“But you played sports.” She thought back to the bios she’d read about him over the years. “You joined the Marines, that’s thousands of strangers.”

“I’m better when I can blend in with the crowd. Put a uniform on me and I can disappear for a while and do my job. I was an excellent Marine because of it, I think,” he said, his mouth doing that half-smile he did when he was embarrassed. She was starting to recognize his quirks and they made her heart rate kick up. “I’m better with one-on-one after I get to know someone.”

“Well, you did fine with me. I had a great time.” She paused, and Micah took it as the signal to get the check.

He insisted on paying for his “excursion” and she let him, also letting him pull her chair out for her and place his hand on the small of her back as he led her out of the restaurant. It was warm and heavy there, his long fingers spanning most of her body. It was also kind of old-fashioned and not something her usual dates would do. Chivalry was not alive and well in Vegas.

Kelsey knew in her gut that this superfan thing was probably dead in the water. Micah wasn’t putting on false modesty or faking his bashfulness. She could tell by every awkward squirm and the way he tore his napkin into tiny little pieces that his aversion to the social aspect of his job was real. Should she even bother asking? Babette was coming to the fan club event tomorrow, and maybe the solution was to introduce them and let Micah see whom he’d be hanging out with. It might work.