Hot Number

V.K. SYKES

Copyright © 2012 by V.K. Sykes

http://www.vksykes.com/

Smashwords Edition

Cover Art © Kimberly Killion of HotDamn Designs

http://www.hotdamndesigns.com/

Formatted by Jessica Lewis

http://www.authorslifesaver.com/

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author.

“Sadie, you do
not
look like a
hooker,” Cassie said. “You look sexy.”

Professor Sadie Bligh cast a doubting glance
at her friend before doing a pirouette in front of the mirror for
one last look at the derrière she’d managed to squeeze into
skintight designer jeans. “Come on, Cass, these jeans are insane.
If I had a dime in my back pocket, you could tell the year it was
minted. And this top…” She peered at her reflection, assessing the
scooped neckline that plunged precariously close to her nipples. “I
can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

Cassie gave an exasperated sigh. “Tight is
good, Sade. Guys like tight things. A cute guy wouldn’t give you a
second glance if you were wearing one of those schoolmarm pantsuits
you always pick. You’d have figured that out by now if you’d ever
looked past the top of your math books.”

Sadie ignored that low blow as she tried to
calculate just how large her behind looked in her new and
way-too-expensive jeans. “Please tell me my butt isn’t as wide as I
think it is,” she pleaded.

This time, Cassie let out a snicker. “Just
think J. Lo, and you’ll be fine.”

Sadie grabbed a throw pillow off the bed and
took an uncoordinated swipe at her friend’s model-perfect rear end.
“You are congenitally incapable of speaking the truth, but I love
you anyway.”

Abandoning the perusal of her butt, Sadie
shook out her unruly mass of auburn curls, then twisted open the
pricey lip gloss Cassie had insisted she buy. “What if I run into
some professor I know when I’m dressed like this? I’ll never be
able to show my face in academia again.”

Cassie rolled her eyes but Sadie didn’t care.
She had every intention of ragging her friend nonstop for talking
her into this ill-conceived Las Vegas blowout, even though she knew
Cassie had been right to make her flee Chicago and her deepening
depression. Of all her friends—not that Sadie had that many close
friends—only Cassie truly understood what a life-changing
disappointment she’d just suffered.

Disappointment
didn’t even begin to
describe the blow to her spirit that threatened to pull her under.
Getting passed over again for the prestigious Eagleton Mathematics
Prize had made Sadie feel like a hopeless loser—nothing more than
an imposter in a high-powered world where she’d never be more than
Professor Anthony Bligh’s precocious but insufficiently talented
daughter. Devastated, and feeling like her career and her life were
slipping out of her hands, she’d been ripe for Cassie’s
prescription: get the hell of out of Dodge. In Sadie’s case, Dodge
was the math department of the University of Chicago, the same
department where her father conducted his own research.

Cassie sauntered over to the king-sized bed
in Sadie’s hotel room and flopped down, her long, tanned legs
making a dramatic contrast to the white duvet. Sadie glanced at the
whiter-than-white skin of her own chest and arms, liberally dusted
with freckles.
Crap.
Maybe she should have made that visit
to the tanning salon, after all.

“If you do see one of your colleagues here,
chances are he’s doing even worse things than we are,” Cassie
drawled. “You know what they say about what plays in Vegas.”

“Stays in Vegas. I get it.” Sadie reached for
her champagne flute, but paused before taking a sip. For all her
brave words, her stomach was tied in an anxious knot. “I
do
want to go for it. I want to try every damn thing I never thought
I’d have the guts to do. The problem is I’m not sure I’ll be able
go through with it.”

Cassie leapt back up and rushed over to give
her an encouraging hug. “Hey, enough with the doubts, Professor.
Damn straight you’ll go through with it, because I’m going to be
right behind you, kicking your J. Lo ass if I have to.”

They stared at their reflections in the
floor-length mirror for several long seconds. Sadie looked forlorn
and uncertain—which she hated—and Cassie looked concerned.

“Don’t get so down on yourself, Sade,” Cassie
finally said. “You took a big whack when those assholes on the
prize committee stiffed you. No wonder you’re a little uptight and
scared.”

Sadie nodded, trying to smile for Cassie’s
sake. Her best friend knew her better than anyone, but even she
couldn’t begin to understand what losing the Eagleton meant. Most
mathematicians would have been over the moon just to be nominated
for the most coveted award in the entire field. Not her. Winning
was all that counted, something her father had drilled into her
again and again. To Anthony Bligh, second place meant first loser,
and he hadn’t bothered to hide his disappointment when the Eagleton
results were announced. The memory of that unpleasant phone
conversation—conducted in polite, stiff tones—still made her feel
sick to her stomach.

“Nothing’s mattered except that prize, Cass.
It’s all I’ve worked for since Dad won it.” Not just once, either.
Her father had captured the Eagleton three times. She gave a hollow
laugh at the thought that she could even compete. “How crazy am I
to do that?”

Cassie jabbed her shoulder. “Like you’d be
elected Mayor of Crazytown in a landslide.”

Sadie laughed again, but this time it felt a
bit more genuine. “What we’re going to do here is plenty crazy,
too. You know that, right?”

Cassie shook her straight, shoulder-length
blond hair and threw her a haughty look. “Some people would call it
crazy. I prefer to call it therapy.”

Sadie couldn’t repress the prickles of
apprehension dancing up her spine. She wished she could convince
herself that they were caused by the blast of cold air from the
overhead vent. “Cutting loose in Vegas isn’t really going to change
anything, at least not for me,” she said dubiously.

Cassie began to look impatient. “Well, to
paraphrase John Lennon, all I’m saying is give crazy a chance.”

Sadie knew when to sound the retreat. After
all, she had agreed to this adventure of her own free will, and it
wouldn’t be fair to Cassie to chicken out now. “You’re a
dangerously unbalanced woman, but all right. If we’re going to let
loose, dressing up like bimbos is as good a place to start as
any.”

Cassie grinned with relief and grabbed her
champagne flute, raising it in a quick salute. “Amen to that. Now,
pull on those wicked boots you got at Neiman Marcus and let’s get
down to the casino. There’s a progressive slot machine, a
margarita, and some hot guys on that floor, and they’re all calling
my name.”

* * *

Thanks to her jazzy stiletto boots, Sadie
made a complete ass of herself.

She’d been perched in front of a slot machine
for what seemed like forever, downing two large cocktails in rapid
succession and boring herself silly. After calculating the enormous
odds of winning any substantial amount of money from slots, she’d
decided to look for Cassie, who’d wandered away.

Slipping out of her chair, Sadie teetered
along the aisle. She was trying mightily to remain upright on
four-inch boot heels when her balance—even more precarious than
usual, courtesy of Neiman Marcus—entirely deserted her.

Pineapple mojito clutched in one hand, she
lurched headlong into a guy coming from the opposite direction. Her
shoulder made solid contact with a hard male chest, one covered by
enough gold metal that the chains and medallions clanked like wind
chimes in a stiff breeze. Her drink sloshed over the rim of her
glass and splashed onto the carpet, barely missing his
expensive-looking shoes.

Thank God for small favors.

Righting herself, Sadie was on the verge of
blurting out an apology when she felt her mouth drop open in shock.
The man had no neck! It had never occurred to her that a member of
the human species could lack a neck, but his wide, square head
appeared to be directly bolted onto a set of extremely broad and
muscular shoulders. Clamping her lips shut, she realized he must be
a football player or a wrestler, or some other manifestation of
overdeveloped musculature. Even so, this man seemed in a class all
his own.

Taking a clumsy step back, she summoned up a
semi-coherent apology. “I’m so sorry. I’m quite mortified about
this. It’s just that I’m not used to navigating on stilts. And the
lighting in here is certainly bizarre, isn’t it? Like some sort of
perpetual twilight. Tends to throw one right off one’s equilibrium,
don’t you agree?”

The man’s gaze shot up and down her body
faster than the hotel’s express elevators whisked up the
thirty-plus storey building. When he finished mentally undressing
her, he waved away her apology. “No problem, babe. Hey, those boots
are cool. And so’s your top,” he said with a leering grin as he
stared directly into her cleavage.

“How kind of you to say so,” she said,
disconcerted by his boldness. “But evidently I’m challenged when it
comes to employing this sort of showy footwear. Hopefully it’s not
a permanent disability given how expensive these boots were. But
right now I have to conclude that I am a definite hazard to anyone
in close proximity.”

The guy’s grin faded, and he looked at her
with a vaguely alarmed expression. She couldn’t blame him. She
always babbled when she was nervous.

“You sure do use a lot of big words for such
a little thing,” he said in a perplexed tone.

Big words
. Good Lord, he should try
auditing one of her lectures on algorithm theory.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Sadie started
to edge away from him and the mess she’d created. Time to find
Cassie.

The man’s puzzled but still hungry gaze raked
over her again as he dropped his hand to her forearm. “Hold on,
what’s the rush? Let’s head over to the bar and I’ll replace that
drink for you.” He finished with a confident grin, as if she’d
already agreed to what Cassie would call a hook-up.

Startled, Sadie peered up into his predatory
eyes. Men never looked at her like that. Never. Then again, she’d
never worn painted-on jeans, a plunging neckline that exposed a
good portion of her breasts, and stiletto boots. What was he
thinking behind those hooded eyes and that leering grin? That she
was a hooker? Or a party girl looking to give it away for free?

She tried to put herself in Cassie’s shoes
and figure out how her friend would have responded. After all, this
was just the sort of activity Sadie was supposed to be engaging in.
She’d come to Vegas precisely to go wild, get hit on, and get past
her inhibitions. At least that was the plan.

Too bad she couldn’t muster up one ounce of
enthusiasm.

“I’m sorry, but no,” she replied, carefully
extracting her arm from his grip. “I’m with a friend, and we were
just about to coordinate our schedule of activities for the
remainder of the evening.”

The guy’s face deflated, but to his credit he
didn’t push. “Well, if you change your mind, you can usually find
me around the craps tables. I’d be happy to buy you another
drink.”