At Odds With the Heiress (Las Vegas Nights 1)

“That’s not how I would characterize her.”

Forty-five minutes later, they entered Scarlett’s hotel and crossed to the elevators that would take them to the executive offices on the third floor. When the doors opened, Logan was startled by the man who stepped out. He and John Malcolm exchanged a quick greeting before the lawyer headed off.

Puzzling over the presence of Tiberius Stone’s lawyer in Scarlett’s hotel, Logan absently pointed Madison toward the restroom and told her where to find him when she was done. Seconds later, he entered Scarlett’s office and caught her sitting behind her desk, full lips pursed, her attention on her computer monitor. Logan noticed immediately that she’d changed her clothes. Now she was wearing a sleeveless lime blouse with a ruffled front that drew attention to her full breasts and showed off her toned arms. She’d left her long hair down and it spilled across her shoulders in a honey-streaked brown curtain that made his fingers itch to slide through it. He sunk the treacherous digits into his pocket and strolled up to her desk.

“I didn’t realize you and Tiberius shared a lawyer,” he said, skipping a more traditional hello.

She stood up when he spoke. Instinctively he appreciated how the slim black skirt skimmed her lean hips. The outfit was sexy and professional, a delectable one-two punch to his gut.

“We don’t.” She fetched a manila envelope from her desk. “He brought me this. It’s from Tiberius.”

“What’s in it?”

Surprise flickered in her green eyes at his sharp tone. “I haven’t opened it yet. It’s probably just something he wrote to say goodbye. He was a great guy. I wasn’t as close to him as Violet, but we hung out a lot. He gave me the inside scoop on this town. Who I could trust. Who to watch out for.” Abruptly she stopped speaking. Cocked her head. “Why are you so curious?”

“Tiberius collected information on people.” Logan wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell her. Damn the wily old man and his insatiable curiosity.

“What sort of information?”

“Secrets.”

Her eyes widened. “Dirt?” She turned the envelope over in her hand. When she glanced up and caught his gaze on her, her throaty laugh erupted. “And you think he had something on me.” Not a question. A statement. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have a closet filled with skeletons just waiting to be exposed.” She sobered and leveled a sharp glance his way. “Are you this cynical about everyone or just me?”

“Everyone.”

“Not Harper and not Violet.” Her tone was mild enough, but accusations shimmered in her eyes. “You trust them.”

Meaning, he didn’t trust her. Well, he didn’t. She was a professional actress whose talent for role play spilled into her personal life. He had a hard time reading her and that made him suspicious of everything she said or did.

“They’ve never given me a reason not to trust them.” His mother would scold him for such a blunt statement. She’d raised both her boys to treat women with gentleness and respect. It was just that Scarlett’s wicked eyes and secretive smile got under his skin.

“What have I ever done to you?”

She had him there. His prejudice against her stemmed from the way she affected him. Was it fair to blame her for the way his skin prickled when she brushed against him? Or how the scent of her, light and floral, made his heart slam against his ribs? Or the way his blood flowed hot and carnal through his veins at the sexy sway of her hips as she sauntered through her hotel.

“It’s not what you’ve done.” He bit off each word. “It’s because you like to play games.”

Amusement sparkled in her eyes. “Games can be fun.”

Besieged by provocative images of her dressed in black lingerie and thigh-high boots, armed with a riding crop, he swallowed hard. Around the same time she’d shown up in Las Vegas, an episode of a popular crime series had aired. She’d done a guest spot where she’d played the owner of a fantasy club. Ever since he’d seen her on that show, the erotic snapshot had a habit of popping into his head at the most inopportune times.

“I don’t play games.” Annoyance made his voice gruff.

“Then what would you call that kiss in the elevator?” A challenge flared in her expression. “You kissed me to make a point. How is that not playing games?”

Rather than admit that he’d kissed her because he’d been unable to control his longing to do so, Logan countered with, “What point was I trying to make?”

* * *

While Logan awaited her answer with eyebrows raised, Scarlett kicked herself for letting him get to her again. Why couldn’t they have a civilized conversation? Okay, she admitted, it was fun to get him all riled up. More so now that she knew that frustrating him led to impulsive kisses. Hot, passionate ones. What would happen if she really exasperated him? Anticipation quivered through her.

She blew out a breath. “That I need a man like you in my life.” To her delight, she’d surprised him.

“That’s not why I kissed you.”

“Sure it is. And I quote—‘What you need is a man who will barge right past your defenses and drive you wild.’ Isn’t that what you were trying to do when you kissed me?”

Lips tight, he stared at her for a long minute. “I was demonstrating my point, not auditioning for the job.”