One Night in Vegas (Entangled Lovestruck) (Gambling Hearts) (3 page)

“I do.” She gave him a quick smile, and the tension ebbed from his shoulders. “It’s been a while since I went anywhere more exciting than a fast food place, though.”

“Oh come on. Jackson’s taken you better places than that, hasn’t he?”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her purse her lips. “We haven’t spent much time together since he picked me up from the airport.”

“Damn. That’s harsh. I know it’s been a tough year for him at the hospital.” Even if Eliza hadn’t been back to Vegas in years, he knew she and Jackson had remained close. Jackson was a little alienated from his parents—further proof of the damage done by distance—but he always had a couple of stories to share about his sister with pride. Things had to be busy to keep him from visiting with her.

He started the truck. “I don’t imagine it’ll stay like this the whole two weeks.”

“I hope not. It’s been lonely.” She said the last bit so quietly he wasn’t sure if it was intended for his ears or not.

He took his eyes off the road for a moment to meet hers. “It doesn’t have to be lonely. I’m here.”

“Aren’t you busy with your own career?”

He shrugged. “It’s demanding, but not in the same way as being a trauma surgeon. I’ve got downtime, and it’s unusual to have so many emergencies come up that they eat into my social life.”

“That mean you’ve got more of a social life than me and Jackson combined?” she asked wryly.

When was the last time he’d gone out for fun? Too long ago for him to easily remember, and the realization made him chuckle. “Okay, probably not. I could if I wanted, though.”

“So why don’t you?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you call up all your old friends?”

Instead of answering right away she smoothed out a miniscule wrinkle on her skirt, fiddling with the hem for a few seconds. “Fear, I guess. What if things are all different now? What if we hate each other after so long?”

“Did you worry about that with me?”

She wrinkled up her nose. “Not exactly.”

Now she had him intrigued. Should he tell her that Jackson actually suggested he take Eliza out for New Year’s before she even flew in? The hint at them getting together had made him a touch reluctant to meet her again, since it wasn’t as if she lived anywhere nearby. Worse, he was still haunted by feelings he hadn’t wanted to admit in high school. Seeing her in person wasn’t helping. He could still see the girl he’d adored underneath it all, but she’d transformed into a woman he found himself desperate to get to know better. Talking about her brother’s failed attempts at matchmaking could only make things more difficult to deal with. A little flirting might be safe, but he reminded himself none of it could possibly go anywhere. One night was all they could really be sure of.

“So what did you worry about?” he asked, choosing his words carefully.

“It’s not important. It’s been a long time.”

Her answer did little to quell his curiosity.

Chapter Three

The Golden Steer was all white and red and dark wood inside. Dark-stained wooden chairs with plush red seats and backs circled the tables, where brightly colored napkins complemented white tablecloths. The walls were dark wood, too, but the sea of p
ristine tablecloths kept it from feeling oppressive. It had been around since the 1950s and felt drenched in history as a result. Eliza half expected to see the Rat Pack or Elvis tucked off in a corner somewhere.

On the drive over, conversation had stayed light between them, focusing on stories of childhood and other neutral topics. At times she got the feeling that he was trying to keep things as safe as she was, which was difficult to understand. What did he have to be cautious about? He hadn’t utterly humiliated himself, after all. He didn’t have to fear dredging up old memories of his stupidity. That was all on her.

Once she’d decided what she wanted to eat, she set her menu down and looked across the table at Chris. He was looking over the wine list with a small worry wrinkle between his brows. The sight gave her the perverse urge to smooth his forehead with her fingers. Or her lips. She should get a picture of him to send to Sarah. Maybe her best friend would finally understand the devastating effect the man could have on a woman’s libido and higher brain functions. At the very least she could get a shot of his perfect butt in those jeans. If he’d been cute at eighteen, he was heart-stopping gorgeous now.

“Do you have any wine preferences?” he asked, glancing at her over the edge of the menu.

When was the last time she drank wine? It had probably been over a year, if she was honest. “No.”

“All right. How about a glass of Merlot with dinner? I assume you’re having steak?”

“That was the plan.” She started to bite her bottom lip, but stopped herself, not wanting to mess up her lipstick over nerves. “Does it matter?”

He set the menu down and offered her a wry grin that sent unexpected shivers down her spine. “I’ve been told it does. I’m not a wine expert, though.”

Well at least he was unlikely to judge her too harshly on her lack of wine knowledge.

“The horses you talked about. Are we going to one of the stables around here?”

“No, my place is actually zoned for horses, and I can access trails into the mountains from there. It’s just a small lot and the property needs tons of work, but when I saw it I knew I couldn’t pass it up.”

She leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the edge of the table and loosely intertwining her fingers. “So can I ask a personal question?”

His brows furrowed again. And once again, she wanted to kiss them smooth.

“You can ask, but if it’s too personal I might not answer. What is it?”

“How did you and Jackson go to college at the same time, spend about the same amount of time at school, and he’s still driving a secondhand car while drowning under student loans, and you don’t seem nearly as worried about money?”

He laughed softly instead of looking offended. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to ask people about money?”

She grinned. “Yes, but I knew you before you could grow facial hair, so I don’t think it counts for me.”

“A scholarship, plus when my grandpa died, he set aside a little money to pay for school. And I made my dad feel so guilty about the divorce he shouldered a lot of the remaining costs himself. I got really lucky and managed to avoid any loans.” His mouth flattened into a thin line, his eyes not quite focused on the present. “Being an only child probably helped, too. No competition for Grandpa.”

The waiter came to the table and Eliza straightened up to speak to him. Once they placed their orders and he left, she picked up her glass of water. “Being an only child seems so lonely, though. You didn’t have anybody at home to play with. I can’t imagine not having Jackson.”

“I had friends. There were you and Jackson. I’d probably like to have more than one kid when I settle down, but I don’t want to leave any of that to chance, either.”

Now it was her turn to frown. She set her glass down. “What do you mean by leaving it to chance?”

“You know, you go off birth control and just wait and see how nature will take its course. I’m planning on banking sperm and having a vasectomy so it can all be planned ahead of time.” He leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile.

She stared at him. “You want kids…so you’re having a vasectomy?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that just adding an extra complication to things?”

“Isn’t getting an IUD or getting a Depo-Provera shot an additional complication? I think it’s stupid to put all the family planning burden on my partner, so…” He shrugged, his white T-shirt momentarily drawing tighter across his chest with the movement.

There wasn’t much she could say to argue against that, even if it did seem like a strange decision. Her dirtbag ex-fiancé had acted like using condoms was a torture banned by the Geneva Convention. A man who would take responsibility instead of just pushing all the burden onto his partner was a refreshing change of pace. Except, she reminded herself, she wasn’t the one to benefit from that sort of thinking. Whatever her brother thought he could make happen over dinner, it wasn’t going anywhere. Chris made his lack of interest clear years earlier.

“That’s strangely sweet,” she finally said.

He gave her a grin, those glacier blue eyes catching her and freezing her breath in her throat for a moment. “Thank you. What about you?”

She blinked. “What about me?”

“Kids. Are you planning on having any?”

“Oh, well.” She waved a hand vaguely. “Sure, if I ever have the right situation.”

She’d thought she found it with Bill and had even been the one to pop the question. Everything seemed to be going well enough until he suddenly decided he needed his space and had to find himself. Specifically, he needed to find himself in bed with other women.

“Yeah?” He took a sip of his wine and she found herself momentarily distracted by him licking a drop of it off his bottom lip. “What’s the right situation?”

“Just the basic stuff. A house of my own, a husband.”

Another smile curled across his lips. “How dull and ordinary. If that’s all you want, I’m a little surprised you’re not married yet.”

She made a pained face, not at all eager to discuss Bill with him. “I guess I’m just waiting for my hero to come and rescue me on the back of his gleaming white steed.”

He chuckled. “Now that sounds like the bubbly girl I used to know.”

She scoffed softly. “I wasn’t bubbly.”

“Okay, fair point.” He stroked his chin a moment, then cocked a brow at her. “Enthusiastic?”

She narrowed her eyes but couldn’t stop from cracking a grin. “I can agree to enthusiastic.”

His fingers brushed hers on the stem of her glass, making her shiver. There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite fathom, but it made her grow more serious.

“All right, we’re settled on that. Now if you were enthusiastic, what was I?”

The driving force behind my developing sex drive
, she thought, but wisely kept her mouth shut.

“Crazy.” She nodded, mostly to herself. That sounded about right.

His brows rose and he actually looked a little offended. She noticed his middle finger was still idly playing at the stem of her glass. It slowly slid up between her index and middle finger to tease where they joined in a way that seemed far too suggestive for hands alone, making her toes curl inside her shoes and her belly lighten. Did he even realize what he was doing?

“What was crazy about me?” he countered.

Rather than take her hand back from his delicious teasing, she used her other hand to tick off her points. “You didn’t do anything like other people. You went paragliding for your twenty-first birthday. Your dad offered to buy you a car when you turned sixteen and you asked for a horse instead. You could’ve had any girl, and instead you only went out with one all through high school. You hated going to parties in college, but you set up a microbrewery in your dorm room.”

He rolled his eyes. “I had good reasons for some of that. After Donna and I broke up, I spent most of the following year pretty busy.”

Eliza remembered that year well. It had been when the two of them started spending more and more time together without Jackson. He’d been “busy” because most every weekend had turned into them spending forty-eight hours solid in each other’s presence. Had that been why he didn’t get another girlfriend?

“How do you even know the stuff after I went to college?”

She smiled. “You know Jackson can’t keep his mouth shut about anything.”

He wasn’t really a gossip; being a doctor and having no discretion was a bad combination. He just wanted to fix things and could tell something had gone wrong between her and Chris. In Jackson’s mind, keeping her aware of every little detail in Chris’s life helped. It was one of the reasons why she’d never confided in her brother about her feelings for Chris. That would have only made his efforts worse. Jackson hadn’t ever said anything on the topic, so she assumed Chris hadn’t told him about the day alone on Mount Charleston either.

“Oh! And another one in the crazy column: you’re going to have surgery to avoid unplanned pregnancies.”

“I like my freedom, and I don’t like taking risks that could infringe upon it,” he protested.

She looked at him for a moment, weighing that over. “Yeah, I can see that. That fits you very well.”

His hand finally left hers to pick up his own glass. “And there’s nothing wrong with being crazy.”

“Maybe, but I think enthusiastic is more fun.”

“Being crazy can lead to fun, too.”

She laughed, having far too much fun with the banter. “How?”

His eyes locked on hers and she stopped laughing. There was heat and weight to his gaze that held her rapt. “It makes me pay attention to things other people ignore. Find new things to try. Be thorough.”

Tingling awareness swept up her body at his words, bringing a burn to her cheeks and spiking her temperature by a few degrees. “You have a talent for making the most innocent things sound dirty.”

His brows rose smoothly as though he were surprised. “Do I? I was just talking about the benefits of being crazy.”

“So should I talk about the benefits of being enthusiastic?”

He leaned forward slightly with a wicked smile that she was sure was going to kill her. “I think my imagination can fill it in pretty well.”

In spite of herself, she laughed again. “You’re really laying the innuendo on thick. What’s brought this on?”

Instead of answering her with another quick quip, his face grew more serious as though he was really considering her question. Or some question, at any rate. At last he found whatever answer he needed in his own mind and reached out to touch the back of her hand again. His fingers were cold from holding his glass of ice water. The contrast between her hot skin and the cold sent pleasant shivers down her spine.

“You’ve got a problem with flirting?”

“Is that what we’re doing?”

“Eliza.” He wove his fingers through hers and squeezed. “We’re holding hands and joking around and I’m pretty sure I just felt your foot in my lap.”

Her startled laugh broke the tension. “No! My feet are staying on my side of the table.”

“Oh well.” He gave a little shrug as his lips curled up in a grin that was warmer than the Strip in August. “I guess it was the waiter.”

Lost about how to keep up with his absurd sense of humor, she shook her head, though there was no fighting the upward curl of her lips. “Okay, I take it back. You’re not crazy.”

He grinned in utter boyish delight, squeezing her hand in his. “And maybe you’re a little crazier than you think.”

“Yeah, like crazy enough to hit your truck.” She winced. “I’m so sorry about that. It was my fault.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about that, but don’t worry so much. There weren’t any dents, and I didn’t get the truck to be pretty.”

“You need it for work?”

He nodded. “I have to haul horses on occasion, and a lot of the time I’m heading out onto roads that aren’t really the best to get to somebody’s ranch.”

“Most people would still want their work truck to be in good condition.”

“Yeah, but this way I’m not too attached to it. I can shrug off any damage instead of stressing out over it. Just walk away whenever I like.”

It was quite a contrast to her brother’s attitude about cars, which involved driving them until they began to rust into the ground. She wondered if Chris was the same way with people. Never getting too attached so he could walk away whenever he liked. Wasn’t that a good description of what happened between them?

She lowered her eyes to their joined hands. His hand was large and work-roughened and felt absolutely right in hers. The feel of his thumb slowly stroking the back of her hand was nearly hypnotic.

“You know, none of my friends back in Missouri believe me when I tell them that there are normal people living here.”

“Yeah? Do they think we all live in casinos and are strippers or Elvis impersonators?”

She laughed at the mental image he conjured, which was unfortunately far too close to the stereotypes she’d run in to. “Pretty close to that, yeah.”

“I hope you disappointed them thoroughly with descriptions of how boring Clark County natives really are.”

There were a lot of adjectives she could use to describe Chris, but boring would never be one of them.

“I must have because, when I tried to tell them what we actually did, they never wanted to listen.”

He chuckled, and the shared warmth made her head feel as if she’d already been knocking back wine. When the waiter arrived with their salad course, Chris released her hand. A comfortable silence settled between them, their eyes more focused on each other than the tableside preparation of the Caesar salad. Once the waiter was done, Chris thanked him and picked up his fork. The continuing weight of his gaze had Eliza squirming in her chair.

“Since it’s been so long for you, do you want to do touristy stuff tonight?”

She wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. “I’ve got zero interest in a show or playing slots.”