The Little Black Dress (Love in Las Vegas)

“Tell me, Sophie, are you feeling lucky tonight?” he asks, his voice huskier than before.

My nervous system goes haywire as he stops before me. He doesn’t touch me, but I can feel his dark gaze on my skin as he studies me intently. My chest is heaving as I struggle to breathe, and my traitorous lady bits start to throb with need.

What the fuck is happening right now?

There’s a quick, sharp knock on the door, and Jared and I both jump backward as it swings open. Scotty’s head pops through the opening, his relief at finding us written all over his face.

“There you are. Everything okay in here?” he asks, stepping fully inside.

“We’re fine,” I say quickly, then squeeze past him to make a hasty escape.

I’m halfway through the kitchen when Scotty catches up to me. Placing a hand on the small of my back, he leads me back out into the restaurant and straight to the bar. Ordering us both a drink, he turns to me.

“I’m sorry, Sophie.”

“For what?” I ask, my mind still reeling from that little scene with Jared.

“I meant to tell you about Harrison Ainsley, but in all the upheaval of the week, it completely slipped my mind.”

“Harrison Ainsley?”

“The asshat you had escorted from the building. He was married to Jared’s mom for a short time, and Jared hates his guts.”

I nod thoughtfully. Jared had implied as much when I asked him about the man. I cock my head and pin Scotty with a questioning gaze.

“Why does he hate him so much?”

“That’s Jared’s story to tell. Let’s just say the marriage was a flop, and the divorce was ugly. He still calls the office occasionally, trying to get in touch with Jared. You should never, under any circumstances, transfer his calls through or give Jared any messages from that man.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding as my thoughts run wild.

Judging by the amount of anger radiating off Jared when his ex-stepdad confronted him, it must’ve been a nasty divorce, indeed. And Jared is obviously highly protective of his mother, which is…attractive.

And that train of thought leads me back to the moment before Scotty interrupted us. The tension building between Jared and me was thick and decidedly sexual in nature.

Unless I misread the whole thing.

Taking the drink the bartender hands over, I gulp the whole thing down like a shot. The alcohol warms my belly, but it doesn’t relax me. Not in the least.

I may have misinterpreted Jared’s thoughts and intentions, but I couldn’t fool myself into believing I’d misread my own. I was definitely turned on, and seconds away from doing something stupid.

Like touching him. Maybe even kissing him.

This is bad. Really, really bad.