Razzmatazz-DDL (2 page)

She raised her chin higher. “Maybe you could get a room like that.” She snapped her fingers, the fuchsia-glazed nails sparkling with reflected light. “But rooms aren’t that easy to come by if you don’t have the money to pay for them.”
 

Alex cocked his head in confusion. “You came here without money for a hotel?”

“I won a contest, an all-expense-paid trip.” Kennie was unable to keep the acid out of her voice.

“But?”

“The MGM Grand has never heard of Honest Dub’s Used Cars or their contest.”

Alex looked confused. “Honest Dub?”

Kennie gave a short laugh. “The only car dealer in Tahoka Springs, Texas. I had the dubious honor of winning first prize at his fourteenth-anniversary Sell-abration, which was my choice between any car on the lot or three nights in fabulous Reno, Nevada.”

“It wouldn’t take much of a car to be worth more than a few days in Reno,” Alex remarked. “Especially when you’re flying Budget Express.”

“You haven’t seen Dub Callahan’s used-car lot.”

“So Honest Dub wasn’t so honest after all....”

Kennie shrugged. “I can’t believe Dub cheated me on purpose, but apparently he made the arrangements through a fly-by-night travel agency that somehow managed to botch things up.” She twisted her lips in sardonic amusement. “Though why I’m surprised, I’ll never know. It’s typical of my luck.”

“Ah...luck.” Alex nodded sagely. “A tricky thing at best. And you’ve been here all day waiting for a flight back to Texas?”

“Since two this afternoon.” She slid her glance over the crumpled Styrofoam coffee cups and empty potato-chip bags piled on an adjacent table.

“Look,” Alex insisted, “why don’t you let me take care of this? I can have you on the next direct flight to Texas, and none of this layover-in-Newark nonsense. Or, better yet, Chris and I could drop you off on our way to Atlanta. I’m sure his pilot could schedule a brief layover in Paducah...Springs?”

“Absolutely not.” Kennie blushed, embarrassed by how many humiliating details she’d already spilled out against her better judgment.

Alex studied her. “You mean you haven’t seen a thing of Reno? Shows? Casinos? Anything?”

She couldn’t restrain a weary laugh. “I saw the lobby of the MGM Grand. I can tell you one thing—it’s nothing like Western Bob’s Motel back home.”

“I can only imagine.” Alex smirked.

“In a way, even though it’s been a disaster,” Kennie went on, relaxing a little, “this has been kind of exciting. I mean, I’d never flown before. And I like to watch all the people. You can tell so much just by the way they act waiting for their planes: which ones came for a little fun and surprised themselves by winning, which ones are high rollers, and a few who obviously lost way too much.” She stopped suddenly, glancing at his face.

Alex angled his body toward her and propped his elbow on the back of his chair. Resting his chin on his fist, he leaned closer and smiled. “Then surely you understand why I had to stop and see if you needed help.”

“I suppose so,” she hedged. “But as I’ve told you, everything’s quite all right.”

Alex snorted in disagreement. “You call this—flying into Reno expecting a big vacation, and leaving before spending one night on the town—all right?”

Kennie shrugged. “If this is the worst thing that ever happens to me, I’ll have led an easy life.”

“Well,” Alex countered smoothly, his eyes taking on a devious gleam. “I refuse to accept that attitude. The least you deserve is dinner.”

“Dinner?”

He grinned. “And maybe a little dancing.”

Kennie eyed him suspiciously. Charming and thoughtful he might be, and evidently wealthy, to boot. But a stranger, still. “No, it’s really nice of you to ask, but I couldn’t possibly—”

“You don’t trust me.”

His direct statement caught her too off guard for her to soften the truth. “You’re darn right I don’t.”

“But why?” Alex spread his arms. “Do I look nefarious?”

“No,” she said, then added firmly, “but neither did Ted Bundy.”

He laughed. “I see your point. Unfortunately, I have no character witnesses readily available.” He cast a regretful look about the area and spotted his friend, who was still playing the slot machines. “Except, of course, for Chris, and I don’t suppose you’d accept his opinion of me.”
 

Kennie smiled in spite of herself. “No, I don’t suppose I would.”

Eyes twinkling, Alex reached inside his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a flat black case. “Perhaps some of my canine friends can provide me with references.”

Kennie took the case from him and popped open the lid. A bronze medallion lay nestled in black velvet. Circling the edge was an inscription:
Friends of Man’s Best Friend. Alexander W. Carruthers—Friend of the Year
was centered beneath an embossed terrier’s head. She returned it to him. “Oh yeah? And this proves exactly what?”

“That’s what brought me to Reno, to receive this award.”
 

“So. Dogs like you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Dogs like everybody.”

“You’re right. You have no reason to trust me, or even the dogs. It was really only dinner I’m offering, but I certainly understand your reluctance.

And this was going to be how it all ended, her one chance at something special, at a break from—from reality, and boredom, and the same view out of the same window every day of her life?

Kennie found herself chewing her lower lip again. She should say no.
 

But he was so darned nice.
 

And so...so overwhelming.

The moment before he smiled, she sensed his awareness of her indecision.

And when Alex Carruthers smiled, Kennie felt a golden warmth melt the cold knot in her stomach as surely as the Texas sun melts a scoop of ice cream. And smiled back at him.

He held out his hand, and she took it, and stood, one heel settling on an uneven surface. She lifted her foot and glanced down at a golden coin winking up at her. “Someone must have lost this.” She stooped to retrieve it.

But Alex scooped it up first. Grabbing her firmly by the elbow, he pulled her to her feet again. He studied the strange coin. “Well, well, well...what have we here?” He flipped it over in his palm, then grinned. Quickly, he slipped the coin into his pants pocket. “Finders keepers. This seems to be my lucky day.”

“Lucky?” she breathed softly, too aware of his warm, gentle grip on her elbow.

“Very lucky. And you’d let a very lucky gentleman take you to dinner, wouldn’t you?” He dropped his hand and offered his arm instead. “How about it? Chris can chaperone, and we’ll have you back in less than two hours.”
 

“Two hours?” Kennie wavered, the thought of food making her weak with hunger. After all, she was supposed to be on vacation. And goodness knew she deserved something good after everything she’d been through in the past few months....

And the day she couldn’t handle a couple of city slickers like these was a day when she didn’t have a fierce left hook or mace in her arsenal.
 

“Chris!” Alex called.

The blond diverted his attention from the slot machine, his classic features crestfallen. “Not already!”

“We’re taking the lovely lady from Texas to dinner.”

Chris’s face brightened considerably, and he strolled toward them, rubbing his palms together. “Now, that’s what I call a wonderful idea, old friend.”

Uncertain, Kennie backed away, knocking her large canvas bag from its precarious perch on the edge of the table. It tilted sideways, spilling half its contents across the floor.
 

“Oh, dear!” She dropped to her knees, trying to shove everything back inside. But before she succeeded, Alex squatted beside her and grabbed two items from the jumble. Her gaze froze on his thighs which strained so powerfully beneath the perfectly-tailored cut of his trousers.
 

He cleared his throat, and blushing, she forced her glance to the can of Mace in his right hand, the air horn in his left. A quizzical arch shaped his brows. “You came prepared, didn’t you?” His and Chris’s laughter rang through the waiting area.

Though Kennie felt a crimson stain creeping up her neck, she managed to sniff haughtily. “You never know when someone undesirable might accost you in an airport,” she snapped, holding her bag open wide as he dropped them in.

“That settles it.” Alex grinned, pulling her back to her feet. “You wouldn’t be any safer with the Seventh Cavalry as an honor guard. You have no excuses—you’re going to dinner with us.”

Suddenly, Kennie felt a shot of adrenaline—or was it anticipation?—scooting through her veins. Trying to mask her eagerness, she narrowed her eyes in warning. “Two hours, and not a minute more.”

“My word of honor.” Alex flashed a perfect smile, offering his arm.

“Welcome to Reno—Sin City, U.S.A.,” Chris chimed in from the other side, offering his arm.

Kennie zigzagged a startled look from Alex to Chris to Alex again but had to respond to their infectious laughter.

As the three of them walked down the corridor, she caught a glimpse of their reflection in a plate-glass window.

Two tuxedo-clad Galahads on either side of a slender daffodil of a woman, guiding her toward the escalators, the main lobby, the waiting taxi cabs—toward what some tingling feeling told her would be a glittering, glamorous night to remember.

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU REALLY SHOULD try the slot machines.” Chris and Kennie glided across the nearly empty dance floor, the small band providing a subtle Caribbean rhythm.

“I beg your pardon?” Kennie tripped, but Chris turned her bobble into a smooth dip. “I told you I couldn’t dance,” she sighed.
 

“And I told you, I can dance with anybody.” He shortened his steps, adjusting.

As Chris launched into a dizzying monologue about the number of blue-haired matrons and skinny adolescents he’d been required to dance with at society debuts and charity balls, Kennie cast an anxious glance at her watch, then across the restaurant toward their empty table. A nervous fluttering settled in her stomach at Alex’s absence, but she had no time to ponder where he might be, for Chris’s flamboyant movements forced her to concentrate on each step, each dip, each swirl. This was nothing like the Texas two-step, but her innate sense of rhythm and hours of Exer-Jazz helped her keep up.

“I’ll bet you’re hell on skates,” she muttered.

The tall blond smiled and shrugged, even that slight movement just another nuance of his fluid style as he guided them to the edge of the floor. “So, is Tahoka Springs near Dallas? Alex and I have friends in Dallas.”

“No. We’re about forty miles from Odessa.”

“Odessa.” He brightened. “Maybe you do know our friends. They have holdings out there, too. The Hunters? Emmaline and Budd?”

This time her missed step was too obvious to recover. “Of Horseshoe Oil?”

“You know them?”

“I know who they are. Everybody knows who they are.”
 

“Alex and Budd have been bridge partners for years. They’ve won a lot of—”

“You’re monopolizing the lady, friend.” Alex closed his hand over Chris’s shoulder. His smile was friendly enough, but a predatory gleam flickered in his dark eyes.

Chris released her with a grin. “If you insist, but she’s in for a disappointment. I’m afraid I’ve spoiled her for any other dancer.”

As Alex’s touch on her shoulder guided her back to the center of the darkened dance floor, she tried to tell herself that he was only another tuxedo, just an interchangeable part of this bizarre evening.
 

But the pulse rumba-ing in her chest didn’t agree.

“You know Budd Hunter?” she asked, still stunned. “Chris said that you—”

“We’re friends.” Alex’s voice was tense, edgy. “Chris has been trying to get you to go to the casinos, hasn’t he?”
 

“We-ell,” Kennie hedged.

Alex pulled her closer, his nose whisking against her curly blond topknot. “Is it my imagination, or does your hair smell like coconut?”

Kennie wrinkled her nose, then nodded. “No, it’s not your imagination.” Seeing his bemused expression, she laughed. “It’s my hair conditioner. It’s made with coconut oil.”

“I like it.” His tone was casual, yet his half-closed eyes seemed to probe for more than a casual answer as he asked, “Enjoying yourself?”

Kennie considered her answers, determined to keep the conversation impersonal. “It beats Reno-Tahoe International Airport.”

“And don’t you forget it, milady.”

“Hmmph.” She gave a very unladylike snort and tilted her face away from his.

“So, now you must tell me.” His expression danced with mischief. “Why did you agree to come?”

She felt a slow flush burning as his gaze wandered down her neck. “Just dumb, I guess.”

“You seem very smart, to me.”

“Because I let the first fast-talking men who approached me pick me up?” she snapped.

“Now, now. Don’t tell me you’re going to bite the hand that feeds you.” His fingers slid over her back, rippling the polished cotton against her smooth skin. A tremor skimmed down her spine, and she was helpless to determine whether it was foreboding or anticipation, or just a not-so-innocent response to his burning touch.

“When the hand starts feeding, maybe I won’t feel so much like biting.” Kennie craned her neck to see over his shoulder. “Haven’t they brought dinner yet? I haven’t got all night.”

“Of course you do.” Alex’s head dipped closer, and in the dim light the lean angles of his face took on a wolfish edge. “In fact, that’s exactly how long you have. All night.”
 

“You promised. Only two hours.” An old disjointed adage lodged in her mind: a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
 

Then he threw back his head and laughed, and the wolf was gone—leaving her breathless and wondering if she had imagined it.

“Yes, I promised, and I intend to keep that promise, if that’s really what you want. But shall we set the record straight?” His smile was still in place, yet his eyes sparkled with a tantalizing lure. “You have as long as you want to have.”