Scarlet (3 page)

Cain nodded when he heard the news. He hated snitching on a
customer but damn it, something wasn’t normal about that woman.

Paxson, chief of security, good friend and a star in a more
than a few of Cain’s late-night fantasies—though Pax could never know
that—shrugged. “I can’t really kick her out for wearing a wedding dress.”

“It’s more than that.” Cain dropped down into one of the
high back chairs that faced Paxson’s desk. “Everyone I’ve talked to, all of my
bartenders, has gotten a different story out of her. The one tonight was that
her new husband stole her wallet and dumped her here. She was scamming for free
food.”

Paxson shrugged again. “Maybe she needs it.”

Cain rolled his eyes and groaned. Paxson was too freakin’
kindhearted to be in security. He was big and looked intimidating. The truth
was—he was a cupcake.

Unless you pissed him off. Cain had seen it happen a few
times and had learned to back off and wait for the blood to stop flowing.

“Just talk to her. You’ll see. Her story is not adding up.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to her.”

Cain started to push up out of the chair when the door burst
open and the furious redheaded woman stormed in—eyes blazing, cheeks nicely
pink and damn, her breasts looked ready to pop out of that gown. Oh yeah he was
definitely an ass man but he’d make an exception for a pair of tits like that.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, barely glancing
at Cain as she stalked to Paxson’s desk. His eyes grew wide as he stood to
greet her.

“If you’ll just calm down.”

“Calm down?” Her voice rose to a near-shriek and Cain
stifled a laugh. Damn, she had some personality swings, seeming almost harmless
at the bar, to stalking random men to, well, this…

And
this
was pretty damn sexy. Cain had a thing for
spunky women. Liked things a little rough and tumble…just like he liked his
men.

Cain tipped his head to the side, trying to judge the
roundness of her ass through the fluffy layers of material.

“Your security guard just dragged me through the casino—”

“Uh, no, uh really, sir, I didn’t—” Rogers said, clearly
shaken by the experience.

Paxson nodded and waved the other man away.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Rogers asked.
“She’s a little—”

The woman spun around, her eyes blazing. “What? She’s a
little what?”

Rogers gulped and backed up. “I’ll just go.” The door closed
behind him and the crazy bride whipped back around.

Her eyes landed on Cain. “Oh, hi, you’re here too. Just
great.” She practically snarled the last few words. A sigh huffed from her lips
and she planted her hands on the top of Paxson’s desk, leaning forward, tempting
Cain to reach out and squeeze her ass.

“Why am I here?” she demanded.

Cain turned his head, ready to share a grin with Paxson.
Paxson might be a cupcake but he didn’t let anyone, man or sexy woman, push him
around in his own office.

But instead of meeting Cain’s gaze, Paxson looked at the
woman, his eyes growing even wider. Unable to resist, Cain tracked his friend’s
stare…right to the naked woman standing beside him. Damn, that dress had hid a
lovely ass. His gaze tripped up her body, taking in the nice, rounded breasts.
Yeah, they’d fit in his hands perfectly while he fucked her from behind. His
cock twitched within his jeans and he struggled not to squirm, not sure if he
wanted his dick to have more or less stimulation.

He glanced back at Paxson.

His friend straightened though his eyes were still locked on
her breasts.

“Perhaps we should discuss it after you put on your dress.”

The words barely penetrated her mind when she felt the cool
brush of air across her nipples. Her gasp echoed around the room.

“Yes!” She pumped her fist in triumph. Her head snapped up
and she stared at the large man in front of her.
Him?
She glanced at the
man—the bartender, Cain—seated at her left.
Or him?

Didn’t matter. One of them made the dress fall off.

“Please, Miss.”

She looked up at the big man behind the desk—Paxson
according to his nametag. God bless Vegas. Everyone wore a nametag. His cheeks
almost seemed to be turning red as he averted his eyes.

Cain obviously felt no such urge. He leaned back in his
chair and spread his legs a little bit, as if he was trying to find space for
the wicked bulge that had formed in his jeans.

Nice. Definitely yes.

But first, she had to make sure he was the one. He had to be
the one, right? He’d been in the bar. She’d been so focused on the cowboys
surging around her, that she’d missed Cain.

Or maybe not. Damn, a bit complicated but not impossible and
she was out of the dress for the first time in weeks. The air felt so lovely
against her skin. She took another breath knowing she had to put the damn gown
back on but still, it was a moment of peace.

“Miss.” Paxson’s kind voice turned hard.

She sighed, reached down and grabbed the dress, backing into
the corner as she moved.

“We’re not done,” Paxson said, his hand reaching out as she
bumped into the door.

“Oh no. Just trying to get back in my dress.” She offered a
weak smile. “Zipper must be faulty.”

“Now, Miss…?”

He left the word hanging, quietly requesting she fill in the
blank. “Bremerton. Heather Bremerton.”

“Miss Bremerton—”

“Call me Heather.”
Best be nice to the man who could
throw you out. Or he might be the one to make the dress fall off.
She
shrugged. “Too many syllables otherwise.”

The edge of Paxson’s mouth pulled up in a reluctant smile.
“Heather, we’ve noticed you wearing the same wedding dress for two days.”

Like all good interviewers, he let the silence hang between
them and Heather told herself to wait until he asked an actual question, to not
volunteer information, but she couldn’t keep the words behind her teeth any
longer.

“My luggage got lost,” she blurted out, thankful she was at
least able to come up with that lie. No way she could explain that the dress
was cursed.

“Funny, you told Chelsea your new husband dumped you off
here—” Cain stood up and spun around, gliding to a stop with his ass resting on
Paxson’s desk. “And that you had no money.”

“Listen, it was just a joke. I was—”

“And chasing those men through the casino.”

“I can explain that—”

“Miss Heather—” Paxson held up his hand, his face impassive
but very polite. “None of this is important. The truth is, we are a fairly
conservative establishment, particularly by Vegas standards. Families and wives
come to the events in our arena. While I understand the lure of women in your
profession…” His cheeks turned pink. “It’s really best if you move to another
location.”

“My profession?” Heather’s eyes squinted down.
Wedding
planner? Am I wearing an invisible sign?
The far reaches of her brain
started to vibrate with an idea but she pushed the thoughts away. “What
profession?” she demanded.

Too late, reality forced its way into her thoughts. She
reared back and stared at Paxson, then let her gaze flash to the only other man
in the room. Cain stood there, dark eyes mocking, a smirk on his lips.
Understanding flooded her mind.

“Wait. You think I’m a prostitute?!”

Chapter Three

Dear Diary,

Maybe it’s time to look into a new career. I certainly
can’t be a wedding planner while wearing this ugly dress. Hell, I won’t be able
to do any job while wearing this stupid dress. Maybe I could become a phone sex
operator. Except talking about sex all day and not getting any would frustrate
the hell out of me. Ah hell. If I don’t get out of this dress, I’m never going
to get laid again.

“Now, Miss…” Paxson held his hand up, hoping to calm the woman
standing against the door to his office. She clutched the dress to her body,
but it really did no good. After all, he’d seen her naked. Well, mostly naked.
The red panties had provided a miniscule amount of coverage.

But it didn’t matter…Paxson had the picture in his mind
already—those plump, soft breasts and the sweet curve of her hips. Years of
working in a casino with topless showgirls had trained him to keep his eyes
above the neck but damn, he hadn’t been able to look away.

Of course, it was rare a woman walked into his office and
stripped down to her panties. Happened more often than one might think, but the
usual type of woman did it to be seductive, trying to get Paxson to let them
stay or return to a card table after they’d been accused of cheating.

This woman had just dropped her dress. And stood
there—nipples tight puffy peaks, skin soft and—

He forced his spine to straighten.

“Now I’m not going to call the cops, but you need to take
your, uh, business elsewhere.”

She shook her head, the movement a violent little tremor.
“No. You don’t understand. I’m not a prostitute. I’m a wedding planner.”

Cain shifted on the desk and folded his arms. Paxson stood
behind him and matched the pose. Usually, the women he threw out of the casino
said they were actresses or models, maybe out of work showgirls.

Of course the woman in front of them didn’t really have the
tits to be a showgirl. Not quite big enough, but those tight pretty nipples
would fit perfectly in his mouth. Paxson wondered if he could surreptitiously
give his cock a thump to knock it down.

Cain had the advantage of being seated. Even as Paxson
thought it, Cain’s hands dropped casually into his lap.
Damn, the man’s
hiding his hard-on. Not fair.

“Miss—”

“No. I can prove it to you. I have cards in my purse.” She
stalked forward and plopped her huge bag on his desk, opening the wide mouth
and digging into the depths.

Paxson held his breath as she leaned forward. His eyes
zeroed in on her cleavage and the pretty way her breasts pushed against the top
of the dress. She drew in one deep breath and the dress crumpled to the floor.

“Damn it.” She sighed, bent over—which gave Paxson too many
ideas about ways he’d like to fuck her—yanked the dress back up and held it
there with one hand. “Here.” She slapped a thin case into his hand. “Check
those out.”

Holding the dress to her body, she backed away, once again
retreating to the door.

“Is that why you’re wearing that dress?” Cain asked.
“Advertising your services?”

Her eyes—Heather’s eyes, Paxson corrected now that he knew
her name—tightened at the corners. He handed one of the cards to Cain and
placed the sleek case on his desk.

She propped her hands on her hips. “Do you really think
anyone would hire a wedding planner wearing a dress this ugly?” Disgust rang through
her voice.

“So why are you wearing it?” Paxson asked.

“Uh, that’s a little hard to explain. Let’s just say it’s a
joke.” She pushed her shoulders back, regaining her mental footing. “Besides,
it’s not against casino rules to wear a wedding dress, is it?” she asked, her
tone overly sweet.

Paxson gulped. “No, of course not, but harassing guests is.”

Okay, based on the wide-eyed look from the cowboy last night
and the uncomfortable grimaces of the men in the restaurant, she couldn’t
really deny it.

Plus, she was pretty sure, she was scaring the sexy security
guard. Cain just looked amused.

“You’re right.” She flashed something closer to a real
smile. “Won’t happen again.” She turned her attention to Cain. Damn he was
gorgeous. Now all she had to do was get him up to her room so she could get the
dress to fall off and poof, she was home free.

Of course, once she had the dress off, Cain might want to
take advantage and she was perfectly happy with that idea.

“If I promise to be a good girl and not frighten any more
cowboys, can I go?”

Paxson cleared his throat. “Yes, but I’ll have to ask you to
be a little more circumspect in your activities.”

Damn, he didn’t believe her. And he used the word
“circumspect”. Must be a reader. She glanced toward Cain. She couldn’t picture
him reading anything longer than the back of a cereal box. But if he wanted to
read it naked in her bed, she could live with that.

She knew she was making a snap judgment, but she’d rarely
met a man that good-looking who wasn’t a little dim. Or at least too
self-centered to actually read.

She pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin. It didn’t
matter what they thought of her or what she thought of them. All that mattered
was getting out of this horrible wedding dress.

And now she had a way.

“Fine. I’ll do my best to be a little less conspicuous.”
Steel lined her words and she was pleased to see Paxson’s eyes widen just a
little.

* * * * *

“Well?” Cain asked as the door closed behind Heather.

“She’s—”

“Nuts.”

Paxson nodded.

Cain smiled. “Wasn’t expecting her do take off the dress
like that.”

This time, Paxson shook his head, his gaze still trained on
the door as if he expected Heather to walk back in.

“That ever happen before?” Cain asked.

“A few times,” Paxson admitted. Finally, he looked down,
shuffling some of the papers on his desk. “Women think they can seduce me out
of eighty-sixing them. Never works.”

Cain chuckled. “I might make an exception for that one.” He
cocked his head toward the door.

Paxson winced. “Me too.”

* * * * *

Heather stepped out of the office and felt the dress tighten
around her rib cage.

Okay, well, she knew one of those two men made it fall to
the ground. As Mr. Right, they both would be viable. Cain with all that lovely
black hair and the delicious way he filled out those jeans. Paxson—big, tough,
looked as if he could break her in half with one hand, but he’d actually
blushed when he’d accused her of being a hooker.

You’re not looking for Mr. Right, she reminded herself. Just
looking for a way out of the dress and it was probably Cain. After all, he’d
been at the bar both nights. He must have been near and she hadn’t noticed him,
too focused on cowboys.

She hesitated near a bank of slot machines, waiting for Cain
to reappear. Within minutes, he strolled out of the security office, heading
back toward his bar.

Heather followed him for a few steps but realized if he got
behind the bar she’d lose him and she couldn’t spend another night in this
dress.

“Wait.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, backing up as
he turned around. It was a delicate balance between close enough to talk and
not so close that the dress fell down. She wrapped her arms around her waist
just in case. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, tipping his
head to the side in a look of reluctant curiosity.

“What?”

The word was more demand than actual question.

“Well, I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to freak you out
by sitting at your bar.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up like he was trying not to
smile. “No worries.”

“I was wondering if maybe you and I could have a drink? Or
dinner?”

“Your wallet is obviously not off with the husband who
dumped you at the altar.”

She held up her massive purse—no reason to hide it. And Cain
seemed like the kind of guy who had a sense of humor.

“I got tired of the sympathetic looks so I started making up
reasons for being in the dress. The more stories I told, the wilder they were
getting.”

The half smile turned into a full-blown grin, a touch of
wickedness lighting his eyes. “I like that.” He cocked his head toward the
Italian restaurant. “Sure. Let’s go eat.”

She followed along, testing the limits of the dress,
figuring out how close she could get before it fell off her. It was kind of fun
actually. Every time the dress started to fall off, it caressed her nipples.
She glanced down at one point and saw them poking through the thick material.

Cain happened to look at her at the same moment and she
watched a glimmer of lust fill his eyes. Okay, she could deal with her nipples
showing if it got that kind of reaction.

They entered the restaurant and were immediately led to a
booth near the corner. She slid in and kept sliding, knowing she needed to be
as far away from Cain as possible to keep the dress on. She wanted it off, but
not in public.

This late in the evening, the restaurant was mostly empty so
their waiter appeared quickly, took their order and left them alone.

Heather relaxed and let some of the stress ooze from her
body. Relief that she was going to get out of this dress seeped into her
muscles. And damn, it would happen tonight if she had to drag Cain up to her
room by his hair. But based on the glint in Cain’s eyes, no dragging would be
required.

Unfortunately, as the strain left her body, it allowed other
sensations in and she realized she was a wee bit aroused. Cait had warned her
about this as well.

Heather took a breath, letting the bodice tease her nipples
again, and propped her elbows on the table.

“So, tell me about yourself,” she said, curious to know what
kind of man the dress deemed worthy. Her earlier assessment of “too pretty to
be smart” vanished in the first five minutes.

They chatted until their meals arrived. By then, Heather was
out of breath from laughing so hard. But damn it, the man was funny.

The waiter placed her order of spaghetti with marinara sauce
in front of her.

“Do you need something?” He waved his hand vaguely toward
her chest. “You wouldn’t want to spill anything on your beautiful—” He
practically choked on the word. “Wedding dress.”

“Oh, it’s not really her wedding dress,” Cain said. “She
lost a bet.”

Heather shrugged. “Yes, and if he’d lost, he’d be the one
wearing it,” she said sweetly.

Cain nodded his agreement.

The waiter pursed his lips and looked at Cain’s body. “Now
that
I would have paid to see.” He winked and spun away, stalking off as Heather
burst out laughing.

Dinner passed quickly. Cain was entertaining and engaging
with just enough flirtation to keep a steady hum of arousal moving through her
body.

Heather barely tasted the food. All her senses seemed to be
focused on the man across from her and all the wicked things they could do
together. Just from the power of his words and voice, her skin tingled, her
pussy contracted and she was pretty damn sure her panties were wet. The evil
dress didn’t help. Every breath meant the lace rubbed against her nipples and
sent a delicious spike of pleasure into her core.

As if he could sense her predicament, Cain’s eyes dipped to
her cleavage, locking on her breasts. The dress slipped and she was afraid to
look down, frightened her nipples were showing. But if they were, Cain didn’t
mind. He lifted his gaze, unrepentant hunger flowing through his eyes.

The laughter and teasing shifted into a sexy tension that
invaded the space between them. She glanced up and saw the waiter standing in
the background, bouncing a bit on his toes.

“We should probably go,” she said, nodding toward the antsy
waiter. Cain glanced back and nodded. He stood up out of the booth and reached
for her. For a moment, she forgot about the dress and placed her hand in his
and allowed him to assist her to standing. Immediately the dress slipped, until
she felt a quick brush of cool air across her breasts.

She snatched her hand back and stepped forward, practically
lunging to get out of range. The pull on the dress weakened when she got a few
feet away. She tugged the edges of the bodice back up. It covered her nipples
but she could still feel them and knew they were prominent through the
material.

“Heather?” Cain’s curiosity mixed with confusion in his
voice.

“Oh sorry. Tripped over the dress.”

He nodded but she could tell he didn’t believe her. Who
would?

They walked out of the restaurant. She kept just out of
reach, trying to stay with him but not too close.

“I should—”

“Could you—”

Cain smiled and nodded for her to continue. She knew it was
polite to tell him to go first but she was afraid he would say he needed to get
back to work.

They didn’t need to have sex—though the idea was more
appealing with each passing moment—but she needed him so she could get out of
this dress. If it fell off her one more time, she was going to let it stay off
and she’d run to her room naked.

She didn’t want to do that, so she’d just get Cain up to her
room. Allowing her own desire to show through her eyes, she asked, “Would you
walk me to my room?”

Cain paused for a heartbeat or two, then nodded and followed
her down the wide hallway to the elevators.

It was only when the door opened that she realized the
elevator was a small space, and based on the looks Cain had been giving her
during dinner, he was going to want to snuggle up close. Bad idea in an
elevator with cameras.

Heather rushed on and moved into the corner. Cain followed a
little slower, taking the same path she did. The bodice of the dress loosened
and she knew she was only a step or two away from bare tits.