Finn’s enigmatic smile never faltered as his arm slid around h
er waist. “That’s good to hear. I’ll give you a chance to prove that tonight. Will you be my date, for real?”
The heat in her face spread down her neck. She searched for a way to escape him without hurting his feelings. “Honestly, I don’t even know how to date, it’s been so long.”
“I doubt that,” he replied in a throaty voice, dipping so close she could smell the spicy musk of his aftershave. It was nice, but sweeter than the one Branson wore.
She tried to sidestep away from him, but his arm held firm, pulling her toward one of the slot machines. He herded her into the chair in front of the machine with flashing lights and a sign that read, “$10,000,000 Payout.” His hands rested on her bare shoulders and feathered a stroke on her neck, sending a rippling shudder down her back.
Great. Now he’ll think I’m attracted to him. Better nip that in the bud.
“I should’ve brought a sweater. I’m gonna run upstairs.” She wriggled free of his hold and slid out of the chair. “Be right back,” she threw over her shoulder.
Ignoring his protests, she walked as fast as her towering sandals would allow, belatedly realizing her stride made her hips move in exaggerated form. When she got on the elevator, she joined a couple dressed in elegant fashion, the woman with a diamond-studded necklace. Of course, Steph had no idea if the jewels were real or fake. The only diamond she’d ever owned was the modest solitaire in her old engagement ring.
“You look beautiful,” Steph complimented. “Does everyone dress up like this to gamble?”
“To gamble? No.” The woman shook her head, with a puzzled smile. “You can wear anything you like to play in the casino. The dress you have on is gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” Stephanie lifted one of her feet and pointed to the five-inch heels. “Thinking about changing into something more comfortable.”
“Whatever you want will be fine,” she confirmed. “Anything goes in Vegas. From blue-jeans to formal wear. Most people are dressed somewhere in between.”
“I just wear whatever my boss tells me to wear.” Her husband nudged her arm with his hand.
The wife rolled her eyes. “He’s color blind. He’d look ridiculous if I didn’t lay out his clothes for him.”
“I know what you mean,” Steph agreed. “I do the same thing for…”
She halted as she realized, with a pang, that aspect of her job would soon be ending. It was part of her almost daily routine she enjoyed more than she was willing to admit.
The elevator stopped and the couple exited. “Have a nice evening,” the husband said, in parting.
In her room, Stephanie opted to add a lightweight cape made entirely of delicate lace. It was surprisingly warm, despite the holes. But her strappy heels had already started to rub a blister where they went across her little toe. She chose a beautiful pair of sandals with a more modest heel of three inches. A few trial steps proved the soft straps didn’t rub like the other pair, though her heel slid from side to side when she walked. Her only other choice was a cheap pair of comfy flats she’d intended for wearing around the hotel room.
I’ll be fine, as long as I’m careful.
She opened her door just as Branson stepped out of Carina’s room, jaw-droppingly handsome in his tuxedo.
“Hi.” Her voice squeaked like a nervous schoolgirl.
“Stephanie? I thought you went down with the guys.” His hair was a bit messy on top, and Steph wanted to smooth it, as was her custom. She stopped herself just in time. Carina appeared, her upper lip twitching on one side when she spotted Stephanie.
“Bran-son.” Carina said his name in a stretched-out singsong, like a flirty come-hither. “Will you zip me up?”
Carina turned, revealing the back of her gold satin evening dress, gaping open to expose a red lace thong.
“Seriously, Carina?” Bran muttered, as he tucked his cane under his arm to use both hands for the task.
Stephanie’s empty stomach churned. Some naïve part of her had thought, since they had separate rooms at the house and the hotel, they weren’t sleeping together. Evidently that wasn’t the case. From the self-satisfied expression on Carina’s face, she was thrilled to rub Stephanie’s face in it.
Steph pivoted toward the elevator, to avoid watching the intimate moment. “I’m heading down. See you guys in the casino.”
With long strides, she was pleased to make more rapid progress, thanks to her slightly more practical and much more comfortable shoes. She punched the elevator button multiple times, praying the doors would open quickly and allow her to escape the awkwardness. But evidently her guardian angel was taking a restroom break, because Carina and Branson arrived at the same time as the elevator.
On the ride down, she ventured a glance at Branson, whose expression was unreadable, as usual. Carina caught her looking, her mouth stretched into a perfect imitation of the Wicked Witch of the West.
Why not kill ‘em with kindness?