Bex Kingsley strode into the Euphoria Lounge at the Renegade Hotel and considered the odds. The crowd writhing on the sunken dance floor was over sixty percent women—thanks, no doubt, to the female/male ratio that bouncers so diligently enforced—and about twenty-five percent of the men were way too young for her taste. That left her a thirty-seven point five percent chance of leaving here with the right guy for the job.

But she only needed one.

Beside her, Emma Harrington frowned, tossing her pale blond hair over her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to be here?” She tugged at the hem of her tight purple dress and glanced around the crowd. Strobing lights highlighted the people who had come to drink, dance, and—most importantly—hook up. “I have a feeling we’re getting too old for this.”

Sure, there was a gaggle of college-aged guys scamming some girls on the dance floor, and there was more than a fair share of exposed skin and cleavage, but this was Las Vegas. Bex wouldn’t expect anything less.

She made a face at Emma. “If you’re three years younger than me and you’re too old, what does that make me?”

“Smart enough not to pick up a guy in a club.”

Bex laughed. “As both my friend and coworker, I feel like you, more than anyone, should appreciate what I’m doing here.”

“Ah, the old ‘I’m a sex toy designer’ routine. You know that you can’t expense the cost of drinks, right?”

“Come on, you know it’s part of my process.” Bex tugged Emma’s elbow and led her toward a low, empty table ringed by plush couches. They dodged a group of women in tight blue dresses clustered around a statuesque blonde with a veil tucked into her hair.

Bex glanced down at her own blue dress and cringed. “All I need to do is find one guy for a little inspiration, design a new toy, and move on.”

Emma snorted but followed her through the crowd. “Inspiration? More like taking what he does wrong and making a piece of plastic that can do it better.”

Bex looked over her shoulder and lifted her eyebrows at Emma. “Can I help it if my toys deliver more pleasure than the average man?”

“I’m glad you’re so proud.”

She smiled. “I am. There’s nothing wrong with taking pride in your work. It’s a service to womankind.”

“I just feel bad for the poor sucker. He doesn’t know what’s coming.”

Bex shot Emma a wicked grin as they approached the couches. “Hopefully we’ll both be coming. So don’t feel too bad. Anyway, this isn’t going to be just any sex toy. It’ll be an award-winning, bonus-earning sex toy. I need that extra cash to put toward Sam’s adoption fund.”

“All right.” Emma dropped onto the nearest couch. “I’m giving you a free pass, but only because I wish my brother and I were as close as you and Sam.” She lifted one high-heeled foot and rubbed her ankle. “But next time, O Tech Queen, just go on Tinder or something.”

Bex made a face. “But then I wouldn’t get to have free drinks with my wingwoman.”

“It would have been much easier to score those free drinks at The Walton.”

“Emma, free or not, no drinks are worth the cost of using my brother’s bar as a pickup location. Anyway, I’m much more likely to find some tourist here who’s willing to buy into the ‘what happens in Vegas’ mentality. I only need one night.”

Emma groaned, and Bex shushed her. “Free drinks are coming right up, okay? I always deliver.”

Bex pushed back through the crowd and angled in at the onyx-colored bar. She rested her forearms on the polished surface and leaned forward. “Hey, Derrick.”

The bartender turned, his green eyes lighting with recognition. “Hey yourself. Enjoying everything our facility has to offer you this fine evening?”

She laughed. “Absolutely. Any chance I can get two Cosmos?”

“A hundred percent chance, actually.” Derrick fixed the drinks with expertise honed over years of tending bar and presented them to her with a flourish and a smile. “Tell your brother I say hi.”

“You know the offer to work for him at The Walton still stands.”

Derrick gestured at the crowd. “But how could I turn down all this glamour?”

Bex giggled and lifted the glasses, threading through the crowd to find Emma.

“Don’t look now, but Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome over there has his eye on you,” Emma said as Bex handed over Emma’s Cosmo and arranged herself on the sofa.

“I was too busy getting your free drink to notice.” Bex lowered her lips to the delicate rim of her own glass and took a long, slow draw. Top-shelf vodka washed over her tongue, and a warm, loose feeling spread through her chest. “Is he good?”

“Check, check, and check. But he’s more your type than mine.” Emma’s eyes widened. “He’s headed this way. I’m going to bounce.” She blew Bex an air kiss and slipped away.

The cool air of the club swirled around Bex’s bare shoulders as she waited, and something in the breeze shifted the moment the man arrived. Electricity crackled with intense heat as if all the electrons were flowing between all the atoms in the room, and she was caught in the very middle of it—so alive she was almost on fire.

“Did you just sweet talk the bartender into a free drink?” delivered a smooth, deep voice.

Bex turned toward the source and gasped. Dammit, Emma. She’d totally undersold him.

The man in front of her looked like he was carved from marble—like the David replica in the shops over at Caesars Palace. Bex didn’t need to see him naked to imagine the tight, hard lines of his body. His black button-down shirt molded to his perfectly-formed torso, and his gray suit jacket hung from strong shoulders. His face was the real masterpiece—a study in symmetry and the power of sharp cheekbones. Tan skin offset intelligent brown eyes, and his dark eyebrows matched a head of thick, full hair. It was the kind of hair that you wanted to grab while he swirled his tongue in your mouth.

Yeah, she was already starting to go there.

Bex blushed, glad for the way the dark club hid her cheeks. It was so, so hot in here. She wanted to fan herself, but she made herself sit still while the man took another step forward. He was maybe a few years older than her, but he moved toward her with fluid confidence, like he’d spent years truly living inside his body.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Snagged a free drink? Maybe.”

He leaned down close enough that his cologne beckoned to her, spicy and deep. All man. “Can you teach me your ways?”

Bex smirked. “You might be missing a few of the desired assets.”

“Fair point.” The man had a dimple when he smiled. God, she was a sucker for dimples. “May I?” He gestured at the couch.

She nodded, and he sat down next to her, his knees an inch from hers. “So this is going to sound like a line,” he continued, “but I promise it’s not. Have I seen you before?” He didn’t just meet her eyes, he captured them, staring at her like they were all alone rather than surrounded by a few hundred people well on their way to getting shitfaced. And on the cozy couch, with the rest of the crowd dancing and drinking, they might as well have been.

“I don’t think so.”

“You look so familiar.”

Bex gave him a playful look. “Sure you’re not confusing me with the bachelorette party across the room?” She gestured at her dress, a tiny number with spaghetti straps that exposed the freckles dusting the tops of her shoulders. No one would see her freckles in the dark, but if she ended up in someone’s bed…well, that was another story. “Apparently, the little blue dress is the de-facto club choice for bridal parties everywhere.”

He swept his whiskey-colored eyes down her body, and heat rose on her skin every place his gaze touched. “I do like the dress, but I swear I’ve seen you. I’m a photographer. I have a good eye.”

She smirked. “That also sounds like a line.”

“Unintentional, I swear.” His smile pulled straight through her, made her reach out her hand to shake his. Her palm fit into his, and instead of just dropping it, he squeezed gently. A shock of tingles shot up her arm. And also straight to her clit.

Damn.

“Bex Kingsley.” Her voice sounded low and throaty in her own ears.

“Gabriel Marx, but you can call me Gabe. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He cocked his head at her. “So, is Bex short for Beatrix?”

“Short for Rebecca, actually. I was named after my grandmother.” She had no doubt that if the five-foot, two-inch redheaded spitfire of a matriarch was alive now, she’d be damn proud of her for attracting this man’s attention to begin with. Hell, if she were still alive, she’d probably be batting her eyelashes at him and making a pass of her own.

A lump of sadness and love lodged in Bex’s throat, and she swallowed her drink to wash it away.

“I like a person with some history,” Gabe said. “Hard to find around here. Everyone drifts in and out.”

“I’m guessing that means you’re a local.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Sleeping with a local could be a complication. Vegas was a big town, but it was small, too. And a no-strings-attached hookup was all Bex wanted right now. Still, something about him made it impossible to stand up and walk away like she knew she should.

“So what brings you to The Strip?” she asked. She leaned forward to set her almost-empty glass on the table, taking pleasure in the way his eyes flicked to her chest as she bent over. Yeah, tonight was definitely going in the right direction.

Gabe gestured through the crowd and pointed to a younger version of himself with his hands on the hips of a busty brunette. “Showing my brother a good time.”

“I take it he’s not from around here?”

“Nah. He’s visiting from out of town.” Gabe tipped his head, a smile in his eyes. “But despite my reassurances, he hasn’t gotten the hint that it’s so much less of a hassle to party Downtown. So The Strip it is.” He spoke with a teasing affection that made her smile.

“Well, it looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

“A club full of people too drunk to notice he’s dressed like he’s about to do a guest spot on The Sopranos? What’s not to love?”

Bex laughed, her chest light.

Gabe leaned closer to her, and his knees bumped into hers, sending more heat to her already flushed cheeks. He lowered his voice, conspiratorial. “So, Miss Bex, what are you doing here?”

She flashed him a smile. “Looking for you, obviously.”

“It must be fate.”

“Uh-oh,” she teased.

“What? You don’t believe everything happens for a reason?” She shrugged and dropped her eyes. No—sometimes life was shitty and there was no good reason for it. “Maybe I should prove it to you.”

Bex raised her eyes again at the seductive note in Gabe’s voice. It’s not like he hadn’t been charming her the whole time, but his smooth suggestion made her skin tingle, and another wave of heat swept over her body and settled between her thighs. His gaze was glued to her face, and his eyes seemed to be hot-wired to her clit. He smoldered, and she combusted. What was it about him?

Bex bit her lower lip and looked up at him through her lashes. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Gabe reached forward and traced a single finger over her shoulder. She sucked in a deep breath, her nipples peaking under the thin fabric of her dress. But then he dropped his hands, leaving her bereft. “I think I should bring you home and show you my camera.”

“Let me guess…not a line?”

He smiled and leaned close to her ear. “Actually, no. That one was totally a line.”

Bex laughed.

“So that’s a yes?”

“What about your brother?” she asked.

“He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“Well, in that case.” She smiled, and her body thrilled with anticipation. “Gabriel Marx, that’s a yes.”