One Night Only by Lauren Blakely

Author:Lauren Blakely [Blakely, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little Dog Press

10

Callum

Why did she have to wear red?

That dress worships her body as if it were made to praise the curves of her breasts, the dip in her waist. And that color—so provocative. So perfect for a woman who’s sensual. Who’s deeply erotic.

I want her to be mine.

I bat the thought from my mind and keep my eyes on Ivy as we walk through the casino and wait at the elevator bank.

“What time do you finish?” she asks.

I tap my wristwatch. “My replacement’s already waiting by your door.”

“Care for a drink?” she asks, and temptation, thy name is Ivy Carmichael.

I should go work out, burn off some of the desire for her that buzzes through my body every time she’s near. I should head home, finish up some paperwork for a short-term contract my team has secured for a series of local masquerade parties.

“Sounds good,” I reply instead as the doors ping open and we step inside.

Ivy enters the code for the high rollers’ lounge and the elevator hums us up through the floors of the hotel. I quickly tap out a text to Russ, telling him to meet us at the bar so we can swap shifts.

And perhaps that’s what I need—another reason not to pursue anything more with Ivy Carmichael. I need to think of Russ, a member of my team. A man who relies on me to run a professional operation.

Not to jeopardize his employment by sleeping with a client.

Twice.

The doors open and we walk past the exclusive gaming tables where glamor and money make exquisite bedfellows. Conversation hums around us as we settle at a private table toward the back. Shadows shroud this part of the room, with the seductive golden glow of pendant lights shining overhead.

As the waitress brings our drinks, Russ waves to me from his spot a few feet away, and I nod, then raise my glass of scotch in his direction. I’m officially off-duty.

Somehow, it feels more dangerous than when I was here in a professional capacity.

“Do you ever gamble?” Ivy asks as she sips at her champagne.

“No. It’s not really my thing.” I shrug.

“What is your thing?”

You.

I don’t say it, but damn, the word could form all too easily on my tongue.

Instead, I take a beat, take a drink, and take a glance around the room that’s buzzing with some of the country’s most rich and famous. “Success,” I finally settle on, in answer to her question, “whether that’s scoring a new contract at work or a personal best at the gym. I like to work hard and then enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

Ivy’s gaze lingers on my shoulders, down my arms. “You’re not the only one who likes to enjoy that.” She shifts closer, and even through my pants I feel the subtle sweep of her thigh as it brushes against mine.

But I have to stay strong. Stay focused.

Stay friends.

“You don’t gamble?” I ask, my tone a little tight.

“I’m gambling right now,” she says quietly, but before I can press her, she nods toward a nearby table.

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