Tall, Dark and Tempting (Tall, Dark and Sexy 3)

A light frown furrowed her brows. “I don’t ever want you to feel that I’m taking advantage of you, or your money . . . like Brandy did.”

He understood her concern because that whole situation had put a sour taste in his mouth when it came to dating women, but Serena was the last person who’d ever use him for his financial status, let alone want tangible things from him because he now had more money that he knew what to do with.

“The difference is, I want to spoil you,” he said, speaking the truth, “while Brandy expected me to spend money on her because I had it.”

And admittedly, he’d indulged her because, quite frankly, Dylan now realized that he hadn’t been there for her emotionally, and it had been his way of making up for his lack of attention. But she’d taken advantage, until Serena had pointed out what, exactly, was happening and forced him to make the easy decision to end the relationship. Since then, he’d had a few other dates who’d expected him to dole out money on expensive items, which was now a huge red flag for him, and it was just easier to keep things casual from the beginning.

Their waiter arrived with their dinner orders, and as they ate the fantastic gourmet meals made by a Michelin star chef, Dylan and Serena joined in on the debate that Chelsea and Eric were in the middle of having over the latest episode of Survivor and the contestant who had been eliminated.

Over an hour later, with their stomachs full and the bottle of champagne consumed, they headed out of the restaurant, with Chelsea and Serena walking ahead of him and Eric, who was blatantly staring at Chelsea’s ass, while Dylan tried not to do the same with Serena. He’d already looked at her breasts so many times tonight that he knew he was going to hell for all the impure thoughts he’d had of her in that dress, and out of it, during dinner.

“It’s too early to go to the nightclub,” Chelsea said, checking the time on her phone. “Things don’t really get started until after ten, so how about we head down to the casino and do some gambling for a while?”

They all agreed, and a few minutes later, Chelsea and Eric were veering off toward the poker tables, while Serena followed him to the roulette table, which was his preferred method of gambling. With only a few people currently playing, Dylan easily found a spot at the table.

“I’ll watch and cheer you on,” Serena said, standing a bit off to the side and out of the way.

“No, you’re going to play, too,” he insisted, and as she opened her mouth to say that she didn’t want to risk losing her money, he gave her a pointed look. “I’m going to spot you a hundred, and don’t argue with me. You’re here this weekend to have fun, and you can’t go to Vegas and not gamble.”

She bit her bottom lip uncertainly, though he could see she really wanted to play, too. “What if I lose all of it?”

He refrained from rolling his eyes, because he knew her worry was real, and came up with the best compromise he could at the spur of the moment. “Then you owe me a week of home-cooked meals.” It was a fair trade considering his cooking skills were crap.

She thought about his suggestion for a moment. “Okay, deal,” she said, and he was pretty sure that the champagne from dinner was partially responsible for making her more agreeable.

Excited now, she came up beside him while he pulled two one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and put them on the table for the attendant to exchange into casino chips. While the croupier started the roulette wheel and spun the silver ball, the few people at the table started placing their bets. Dylan was methodical in his approach, while Serena didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason as to where she put her chips. But in the long run, it didn’t seem to matter because she was lady luck, while he was shit out of luck. As her pile of chips grew, his quickly depleted until he had to toss another hundred on the table.

Because of Serena’s excitement and cheering, she drew other gamblers to the table, one of whom was a guy who parked himself on the other side of her to play. Then the two of them started chatting and laughing, and Dylan clenched his jaw, hating the way Serena smiled at him and the interested way the guy looked at her. When Dylan caught the other man’s gaze drifting down to her cleavage, he had to forcibly tamp down the irritation—okay, fine, jealousy—that was bubbling up inside him.

A few plays later, while the roulette wheel was spinning, Serena reached out to put her chips on the double zeros but couldn’t quite reach. Before Dylan could help, the too friendly guy took her bet and placed it for her. Go figure, she was the only person who won that round based on her random wager. As Serena clapped enthusiastically, the stranger not-so-innocently placed his hand on her bare back, then slid his palm down to the base of her spine, and Dylan blew a fucking gasket.

“Mind getting your hand off of her ass,” he snapped, meeting the other man’s startled gaze with what he knew was a pissed-off glare. “She’s with me tonight.” Oh, shit, he hadn’t meant for that last part to slip out.

Serena’s gaze swiveled around to his, wide with shock.

The guy immediately lifted both of his hands in the air, his expression legitimately contrite. “Sorry, man. I didn’t know.” He picked up his remaining chips and went to a nearby craps table.

“Ready to cash out?” Dylan said gruffly, before she could call him out on what a jackass he’d just bee

n, which was beginning to become the norm for him tonight, all because of the goddamn attention-grabbing dress and fuck-me heels that had men salivating over her.

Much to his relief, she let it go and picked up her winnings. “Yeah, sure.”

They walked to the cashier cage and exchanged their chips into dollar bills. Serena collected her proceeds and turned to him with a huge smile.

“Oh my God, I almost doubled the money you gave me!”

She returned the hundred he’d lent her, and even though he didn’t want it back, Dylan didn’t argue because he knew it would be pointless. He was actually bummed that she’d won, because he’d been really looking forward to a week of home-cooked meals.

They started toward the poker tables, where Chelsea and Eric were still playing, and Serena glanced at him with a sly smile.

“So, I’m with you for the night, hmm?” she teased, bringing up his possessive, out-of-character behavior back at the roulette table.

He smirked and tried to make light of the situation. “Yep. Bought and paid for . . . Well, the outfit, anyway.” When both of her brows raised at his sexist comment, he groaned at the fact that he’d just put both feet in his mouth this time. Not only that, but he was certain he was giving her mixed signals about his attraction to her.

She stopped in between two rows of slot machines and faced him, her gaze narrowed slightly. “So, are you saying the outfit comes with a price, which is my attention for the night?”

He flashed a charming, dimpled grin because this conversation was not going in a positive direction and he was desperate to smooth things over and get things back on track. “Since when is spending the evening with your best friend a hardship?”