The Best Bet (8 page)

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Authors: Hebby Roman

Tags: #contemporary romance

BOOK: The Best Bet
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“Mr. Escobedo, I’m not the one on trial here. Don’t try to deflect the issue from your guilt.

It’s a lowdown tactic and—”

“You’re right.” He lowered his head and shook it. “Forgive me, please. It’s just that...”

He looked up. But when she bravely met his gaze, toe-to-toe, she couldn’t help getting lost in the warmth of his cocoa-brown eyes. He was so attractive, even with those ugly glasses she felt a frisson of electricity run down her spine.

“I feel as if you’ve attacked me. Not just what I’ve done but who I am,” he explained. “It’s not a nice feeling, you know? Because I do have standards. Though, I can understand why you don’t believe it.”

He was tugging at her heartstrings, and she knew it. She shouldn’t let him get to her, shouldn’t feel a surge of empathy for him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He’d been so nice from the start, not like other high rollers.

Not like other men.

She’d liked him from the start—his wry sense of humor and his sensitivity. She’d genuinely believed that he cared about her as a person. And she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way about a man.

Not that she’d given herself that many opportunities to let someone get to know her. Her school and work were the most important things in her life. Her social life was non-existent. Her father had taught her how important success was and that everything else was secondary.

Rafael Escobedo was young and handsome. Discovering that he was an imposter had shattered her fragile hopes. Her anger was fueled by her disappointment. The one time she’d let someone in, even if only for a few hours, he’d disappointed her ... and that hurt.

“Why did you do it?” She had to know. Despite what common sense told her, she wanted to absolve him.

 

“Why?” he echoed. “It was a stupid move, I admit. My twin, Damian, won this comped trip by exceeding his sales quota. He’s been to Vegas so many times that he wasn’t excited about the trip. And I had to come for an interview with the university.”

“The University of Las Vegas, where I study?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. I won’t be ruining your fellow business students’ moral fiber. I’m a professor in humanities.”

“Oh.”

“To make a long story short, my brother wanted me to have a vacation, to stay in Vegas for a few days and enjoy his comped trip. He told me I would be treated like royalty.” Shaking his head, he said, “I had no idea what he meant.

This suite was beyond my wildest dreams, and as soon as I saw it I knew I couldn’t take advantage. But I wanted to get my luggage and—” He paused, his eyes searching her face. “I wanted to see more of you before I gave up the game. That’s the truth. I hope you’ll believe me. And I repeat, I want to pay for everything. Please, give me an itemized bill.”

So he hadn’t just been nice. He was genuinely attracted to her. Now she understood his protectiveness and his rudeness when he thought she was a pro. He’d been disappointed, too.

A rush of warmth heated her face. She was blushing, and it was embarrassing. But it had been so long since anyone had reached out to her that it felt good. Damned good. At least, it proved she was still alive and had feelings.

And now it was her turn to be on the defensive. She’d definitely overreacted because of her disappointment. After all, his brother, Damian Escobedo, had been awarded a trip, which included certain privileges. His firm had obviously paid for the trip, either in cash or by sending enough high rollers to the Xanadu to cover the costs. If she looked at it that way, what harm had been done?

“Please, I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Escobedo. But your brother earned this trip and since he wanted to give it to you, then I see no reason—”

“Nope, can’t accept that. I’m sorry, Adriana. And please, turn me over to the police before you call me Mr. Escobedo again. I hate it. Even my students call me Rafael.”

She allowed herself to grin. “Mr. Escobedo is easier than learning Damian and then Rafael.”

“Touché. Again, I apologize for the farce. And I will pay for this suite.” He waved his hand. “I would like to stay at the Xanadu for several more days in a simple room, of course.

Something I can afford.”

She looked at his packed bags, waiting on the bed, registering what they meant for the first time. It was obvious he meant what he said. He wanted to pay for the suite and move to another room.

Like her father, Rafael Escobedo was a man of honor. Working at the resort, she’d become cynical, learning that most people were out for what they could get, especially if it was free. But Rafael was different. He had a conscience and that was a refreshing revelation.

He stood a heart’s beat away, his dark eyes caressing her. The spicy clean male smell of him surrounded her. Uncrossing her arms and letting them fall, she felt singularly unprotected. Open and vulnerable to this man, she trembled with unknown possibilities, as if she stood on the edge of a deep chasm with no bottom in sight.

Her gaze fastened on his mouth, his sensuously mobile mouth. An invisible chord bound them. A gossamer web of unseen threads pulled at her, compelling her. Should she do what she wanted to do? Should she?

Taking a step toward him, she felt as if she were crossing the desert, as if she were traversing a wasteland without the promise of an oasis at the end. She took a step forward into his arms and rose on tiptoe, touching her mouth to his. A butterfly kiss.

The contact was brief but explosive. Her senses reeled when she felt the warm molding of his lips against hers. Shaken, she stepped back.

His arms came up, capturing her, enfolding her into his embrace. He took possession of her mouth with his and his lips moved over hers. His kiss was warm and wet, and he caressed her lips with his. His mouth explored hers—his kiss strong and sultry, filled with passion, hard and soft at the same time.

His kiss was so soft, yet so demanding that it filled her with an aching sensation—a desire that reverberated through her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, plucking a need within her, filling her with a slow-kindling passion that rose from the very marrow of her bones.

She clung to him, lost in the magic of their mouths fused together. He teased her, nibbling at her lower lip, flicking his tongue over the sensitive flesh. Sighing into his mouth, she surrendered to the delicious feelings roiling through her.

How she’d longed for this, to be held and cherished. To feel passion seep slowly through her veins, to have her heart beat double-time. Reveling in the sensations, she felt alive for the first time in a long time.

At his gentle but insidious pressure, her lips parted, welcoming him inside. Tentatively, she touched her tongue to his, savoring the hot velvet nap of him, the prickly rough abrasion of his intimate flesh intertwined with her own. Opening her mouth wider, she tasted him fully, devouring the essence of him, hungry beyond measure, starved and needy. Their tongues danced, mated and fell apart, explored and retreated.

Cradling her face in his hands, he lifted his mouth from hers, breaking the kiss. His soft brown eyes were liquid with tenderness, brimming with unspoken feelings.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked.


Claro.

“You speak Spanish?”

“I’m not fluent.”

“Then I’ll teach you.”

“I’d like that.”

She took the promise he offered, the promise of tomorrow, inside of her, hoping that he meant it, wanting him to mean it. But at the same time, a tomorrow with him filled her with fear. What if she wasn’t ready? She’d purposely avoided any form of a relationship so that she could concentrate on her studies and career. But this was different, so different.

“When do we start?” he asked.

She backed up a step. Reluctantly, he released her, dropping his hands to his sides, as if locking temptation away.

“You mean start the lessons? As soon as possible, I’d think.”

“Glad you said that.” He smiled. “Can I see you tonight after you finish working?”

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Dinner and a show?”

Wrinkling her nose, she asked, “Which show? I’ve seen most of them, you know.”

His face fell and then brightened again. “You can’t have seen them all, not the headliners.

Don’t they change every couple of weeks?”

She laughed. “You catch on fast.” Tapping her chin with one finger, she said, “Let me think. How about David Copperfield at the MGM?”

“Sounds great. I’ll phone for tickets.”

Gazing into his open face, she smiled and arched her eyebrows, but he didn’t take the hint. She squeezed his arm, murmuring, “My knight in shining armor, ready to slay dragons for me, like getting tickets to see Copperfield on a Friday night in Vegas.”

His smile turned to a frown. “You mean it’s impossible, don’t you?”

“Copperfield’s been sold out for weeks.”

“Then why did you—?”

“Just testing, I guess.”

What had made her set him up? She didn’t know. It had been so long since she’d had a boyfriend, she didn’t even know how to act. How stupid was that? Not that Rafael was really a boyfriend. He’d be gone in a few days.

“Is there any other show you might want to see?” Her silly gambit didn’t seem to have squashed his enthusiasm.

She had a flash of inspiration. “Actually, why don’t we go to a comedy club? You can catch some really fresh talent at those clubs.”

“Sounds like fun. But leave it to me, okay? I want you off duty for tonight. I’ll make all the arrangements, including dinner.
¿Me entiendes?”

She grinned. “
Yo te entiendo
. How am I doing,
maestro
?”


Muy bien.
” He grinned back.

She started for the door, turned part way around and said, “One thing more.”

“Yes.”

“Lose the glasses, they’re awful.
Por favor
.”

#

When he exited the bank of elevators, Rafael saw her immediately, standing in the middle of the main lobby. She’d taken her long russet hair and piled it on top of her head in a whimsical knot with a few stray curls loosed, caressing her throat. Gazing at the beautiful outline of her cheekbones, he approved of the new hairdo, which displayed the fine bone structure of her face. Then he let his gaze wander down.

Gone was the severe business suit, replaced by a black tube dress. The dress was plain to the point of being austere: no lace, no rhinestones, and no frills, just black fabric that clung in all the right places. Her golden shoulders were bare, except for insubstantial wisps of spaghetti straps. The dress stopped mid-thigh, exposing her tanned and muscular legs in stiletto black heels, adorned with red sequins on their toes. She carried a matching black satin clutch that was also adorned in red sequins.

Staring at her, his throat went dry. He could hardly believe his good luck. Could hardly believe she’d consented to be his date for tonight and not because it was part of her job.

Confessing his charade had been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. Facing her had been like being caught in the middle of a thunderstorm—thunder and lightning and lashing rain, and then the calm after the storm.

Straightening his tie, he hoped he wasn’t overdressed. If he was, he’d ditch the tie and even his best sports jacket—just like he’d lost the glasses.

“Hi,” he greeted her.

Leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers, remembering their earlier kiss. He liked to think the kiss they’d shared had changed her, softened her somehow. After their kiss, she’d turned lighthearted and even teased him, shedding her serious corporate demeanor. And if the dress was any indication of her state of mind, he would bet she was ready to have fun tonight.

“You look great,” he said. It was an understatement.

“You don’t look so bad, either.” Though her words were flippant, the tone of her voice held a note of genuine approval. Relaxing a fraction, he was glad he’d decided to dress up rather than down.

Reaching for her arm, he asked, “What’s this?” He’d been so overawed by her figure in the form-fitting dress that he hadn’t noticed the black-and-red shawl draped over her arm.

She moved the shawl to her other arm. “It’s for the air conditioning. Even in March, they keep the air cranked up in the showrooms. We are going to a comedy club, aren’t we?”

“Among other things.”

“What other things?”

“I’m in charge of tonight. Remember? Your job is to sit back and enjoy.”

He meant what he said. He wanted to treat her tonight. Her job was to create perfect evenings for other people. Now it was her turn. After moving into his new room, he’d spent most of his afternoon planning.

He’d researched numerous links on the Internet for Las Vegas, reviewing different options for both dining and entertainment. Once he’d narrowed his choices, he’d printed off some possibilities and then taken them downstairs and consulted with the Xanadu concierge. Given Adriana’s encyclopedic knowledge of Vegas, the last thing he wanted to do was to take her to a tourist trap or somewhere she’d been before. He wanted tonight to be both special and memorable.

“Okay,
maestro
, lead on. My car is out front.” Rummaging in the black and red sequin clutch, she withdrew her car keys.

“Will it be okay if you leave your car out front for the evening? Or should you park it around back?”

“What do you mean? I thought—”

“That we’d take your car? Not on my date, we’re not. We’ll take a taxi.”

“Oh, the macho man, I see.” She squeezed his arm. “How can I resist? But you know it’s a terrible waste of money, when I have my car.”

“I’m flush,” he quipped. It wasn’t a completely accurate statement, at least, not anymore. It would have been more accurate to say that he’d been flush before he paid for the suite. But a promise was a promise, and he still had plenty of money left over. “I won at craps last night.”

“How much did you finally end up with? I left while you were still playing.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said.

“Hey, it was late, and I waited until you were breaking even.”

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