Bonnie burst into shocked laughter, and broke away, pushing past him to stand with her back to the room. Night was falling over Las Vegas. Unlike at home, there was no gentle twilight fading into evening. One minute the sun was there, and ten minutes later, it wasn’t. Lights flashed and glowed, making the Strip as bright as day, inviting punters to lose their money in a dozen different ways.
Now she knew exactly what was going on. Ever since she’d arrived here, the other girls had been sharing private jokes and playing tricks on each other. Bonnie was the odd one out, the person added to make up numbers, but the opportunity to come here had fallen into her lap like a gift. Being the subject of a joke was not a new thing for her. She’d been a loner all her life. She didn’t have the knack of reaching out to people, being part of the crowd.
They were going to see a male strip act, but the men involved were notorious for playing jokes on their audience. They’d set up elaborate stunts, film them and show them to everyone later.
The girls had set her up, suggested this stunt as part of the act. She closed her eyes. And she’d announced her big secret. On film.
That explained why Murray Wilson was so good-looking. He was a performer, a male dancer from the show they were to see later. She’d be the first part of the show. Until he’d tipped into sheer idiocy, he’d had him believing her.
Still with her back to him, she said, “Is this being filmed?”
“There’s a camera in the corner, yes. I’d have to be stupid to bring a woman in here without a witness, wouldn’t I?”
Her lip curled in a snarl. “Yes, you would.” She didn’t think for one minute that was the reason for the camera.
They were showing this on a big screens downstairs, as a preliminary act to the show. Jokesters and pranksters thronged this town. The watchers wanted her to wail and cry, and maybe drool over his hot bod. Well, they’d have to whistle for it, because she wasn’t playing their games.
Schooling her expression the best she could, she turned around, and twirled her fingers in a playful gesture. “Go on then. Get on with it.”
His jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide. He was a good actor, she’d give him that. “Get on with what?”
“Get ’em off,” she said, deliberately crude, using the words British women on nights out liked so much. “You fell for my little story, so let’s see the rest. Come on, you want to give the girls value for money. You can’t tell them I didn’t fall for it.”
She glanced at the glowing red light in the corner of the room. “Or I’ll tell them myself.” She glared at the camera. “You might as well enjoy the show, because it’s all you’re getting. I’m on to you.”
“Are you sure?” He lowered his voice to sultry, but it didn’t sound sexy. It sounded put-on.
She could cope with that. After twirling her fingers again, she folded her arms and waited.
Slowly, he slid the end of his tie through the knot, and pulled it off, the silk whirring against the crisp cotton of his shirt. He let it drop to the floor and unfastened his top button.
He watched her, his blue gaze transmitting a challenge.
When he revealed the sliver of tanned skin at his throat, Bonnie swallowed, but stood her ground. The third button opened over a hard chest, thick with muscle. Oh yes, this man worked out. He was a plant for sure. He discarded his shirt and watched her, eyes intent. Having this man focus his attention on her was turning Bonnie to jelly.
She remained firm. She wouldn’t let anyone play her for a fool.
He didn’t stop until he’d undone his shirt and pulled it out of his trousers. Keeping her gaze, he dropped it on top of his tie. “Is that enough, or do you want more?”
“It depends what you usually do.” Tears pricked her eyes. She couldn’t bear any more and the last thing she wanted to do was to cry in front of the people who’d played this cruel joke on her. “Just do your usual act.”
Rather than burst into shocked and disappointed tears to amuse the audience, she would leave now. With quick steps, she strode across the room, and thrust the door open. With her last scrap of courage, she turned and shrilled, “Don’t let me stop you. I find pumped up male models rather boring. Show it off to somebody who will appreciate it.”
Anger and humiliation roiled in her gut to bring her to the edge of collapse. Through the blur of tears, she shoved through doors and thankfully got to the bank of lifts. Nobody stood there, and the doors swished open.
Shaking with rage and distress, Bonnie stepped inside. Somebody would pay for this.
*****
Garrett scooped his shirt up from the floor and shrugged back into it. He was fastening the buttons when Jane returned. “I know you work fast, but that’s some kind of record,” she said.
Garrett shook his head sorrowfully. “I should have kept to business. But the look on her face when I asked her to marry me was too much.” A grin forced its way through. “I couldn’t resist meeting her challenge.”
“I thought you’d lead up to the proposal.”
He grimaced. “I planned to shock her first and then explain. It works well with the board. Remember when I told them I wanted to make the Rocque totally no-smoking?”
Murray, his chief of security entered the room. He dropped a passport on the desk. “Did you get the preliminary report I texted you?”
“Yes, thanks. You discovered enough to make up my mind.” Pulling out his phone, he checked the screen. “Bonnie Miller is a teacher from London, England. She has no criminal record. I can work with her.”
Bonnie Miller was the answer to his prayers. However nothing in the profile he’d read explained the piquant expression or the gleam of humor that lit Bonnie’s eyes when she’d told him she didn’t have any idea card counting was banned. As if he was the one who’d gotten it wrong. She appealed to him, this prim Englishwoman. For his plan to work, he’d have to have chemistry with the woman he married, or Georgia would freak even more.
When Bonnie first entered the room, she’d looked so directly at him he thought she was seeing right through to the heart of him. That was impossible, since he had no heart. He’d locked it away years ago.
To hear she had psychic gifts added to her appeal. In return for her compliance he’d put her in touch with the experts at the Phoenix Agency. Perhaps they’d be able to teach her how to use her gift, though to him it sounded a tad useless. But if anybody could show her how to use it, they could.
And he’d felt the pull the minute she’d entered Murray’s office. Her utter appeal to him. Her too-tight ponytail didn’t conceal her engaging prettiness. He’d watched, fascinated, at the different tones of her mahogany-colored hair, the gleam of it, wondering how it would feel. She had a beautifully compact, rounded little body and he’d bet every inch of it was real.
When Garrett had met her gaze for the first time his world had stopped turning. She’d glanced away again almost immediately, but it was like seeing a kingfisher flash across a stream. She was so natural, a breath of fresh air darting across his existence, the first person to pierce his self-imposed solitude for years. Maybe ever.
Swallowing, he’d looked closer. She was pretty, but something else crept into him and under his skin. He wanted to know more about her. He longed to touch that soft skin, trail his finger from her shoulder to her hand, and then claim it for his own, a sensation so powerful that he’d lifted his hand to reach out to her.
Garrett had never, ever, had that kind of instant response to a woman. Lust, sure, but not that startling sense of claiming. Never one to hesitate, he’d made his decision. Since he had to marry somebody fast, he’d choose her.
He glanced up at Jane. “Georgia won’t let go easily so I’m going to make her.”
Now he had to woo Bonnie back to his lair, and he knew exactly how to do it. He’d make her an offer she couldn’t refuse, as the old movie had it. Tickets to the opening gala would do nicely, and if he added VIP wristbands, that should add extra appeal.
Chuckling, he went behind his desk and scribbled a brief note.
Dear Miss Miller,
Your passport is enclosed. Thanks for the loan. I meant what I said, but you didn’t stay long enough to let me explain. I’d like to talk to you again. Whether you decide to talk with me or not, please accept the tickets for you and your friends. Have a good evening with my compliments.
Garrett.