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“Possibly. I hope you’re not considering going there alone.”
He might not like her, but that didn’t stop him from feeling protective. She could work with that. “Why not?”
His phone chimed, indicating he’d received a text. Pulling it out of his pocket, he checked the screen. Air slipped between his teeth in an impatient exhalation.
“Something’s just come up.” He turned to Madison. “I’ll be back for you at five.”
“Five?” Scarlett echoed doubtfully. “The action doesn’t get started around here until much later. You just go ahead and do whatever it is you do and I’ll make sure Madison gets home.”
“What time?”
“I don’t know. Midnight?”
Logan’s eyebrows dipped as his niece’s expression lit up. “Ten,” he countered.
“Seriously?” Madison piped up. “I’m seventeen years old. You don’t think I’ve been out past ten before?”
He looked as if he were chewing glass as he countered, “Ten-thirty.”
“I’m almost eighteen.”
“Almost being the operative word.”
Madison rolled her eyes at him. “My birthday’s two weeks away.”
“Ten-thirty.”
“When I turn eighteen you can’t tell me what to do.”
Scarlett watched the exchange with interest, noticing the way his gaze bounced from her to Madison and back. It was good to see that she wasn’t the only female who annoyed him.
“Why don’t we say eleven,” she offered, voice bright, smile friendly.
Her words stopped Madison’s revolt in its tracks. “Perfect.”
To Scarlett’s surprise, Madison moved to her side and linked arms. An unstoppable female phalanx against Logan. He did not looked pleased.
“Eleven.” Logan gave a tight nod. “And keep her out of trouble.”
“Stop worrying. She’ll be fine.”
Scarlett gave Logan’s authoritative shoulders and don’t-mess-with-me stride one final glance as he headed out of her office. Oxygen returned to the room in a rush with his departure. The man sure knew how to dominate a room. And a woman’s hormones.
“Let’s start our tour in reservations,” Scarlett murmured, gesturing the teenager toward the hallway.
“I thought maybe we could begin in the casino.”
Scarlett shook her head, crushing Madison’s hopeful expression. “We’ll save the best for last.”
Two hours later Scarlett had shown Madison around the entire hotel and was heading into the casino when her phone rang. Her heart gave a happy little jolt when she recognized Logan’s number. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. The man had given her yet another heaping helping of his bad opinion of her today and she still couldn’t shake this idiotic crush she had on him.
“I’m a glutton for punishment,” she muttered as she answered the call. “Hello, Logan. The tour’s going great in case you’re worried.”
“You’re still at the hotel?”
“Where else would I be?” She paused a beat. “Oh, right, the storage unit.”
“You’re taking this business with the files too lightly.”
Scarlett’s gaze followed Logan’s niece as she ventured toward a display advertising the opening of the Mob Experience exhibit in a month. “I already promised not to take Madison anywhere near the storage unit.”
“It’s not just Madison’s safety I’m talking about.”
A warm glow filled her at his concern. “So, when do you want to go check it out?”
“The sooner the better.”
“Tomorrow?”
“That should work.”
“What time are you going to pick me up?”
She interpreted his hesitation as dismay.
“You misunderstood me,” he said. “I’m going to check out the storage shed. Alone.”
“You could. But you’ll have a difficult time getting in without the key.” She let her meaning settle in for a couple seconds before she finished, “So, it’s a date.”
“It’s not a date.” The vibration in his tone reminded her of an unhappy rottweiler.
“It could be if you took me to dinner first.” As she plied him with her most beguiling voice, Scarlett wondered if the sound she was hearing on the other end was his teeth grinding together.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Scarlett grinned in triumph. “I’ll be counting the hours.”
First a kiss, now a date. She couldn’t believe her incredible luck. Too bad she didn’t gamble or she’d be raking in the winnings. Practically floating across the carpet, she caught up with Madison.
“I can’t believe how many people are in here,” Madison said as they strolled between the tables. “It’s three in the afternoon.”
“Most people come to Las Vegas to gamble. Wait until later. It’ll really be hopping down here then.”
“I like the way the dealers are dressed up as famous movie stars.”
“My friend Tiberius told me how back in the fifties it was not unusual to walk through the casino and see Lucille Ball, Debbie Reynolds or the Rat Pack. The stars loved coming here.” Scarlett paused, wondering if the seventeen-year-old had any idea who she was talking about, and then saw with relief that she did. “Since I grew up in Hollywood, I thought it made sense for me to bring a little of that glamour back to Las Vegas.”
“What a fun idea.”
It was at that moment that Scarlett remembered Madison was an aspiring actress. “So much fun that I like getting in on the action myself.” She linked her arm through Madison’s and steered her toward the elevators. “Let’s go up to my suite and I’ll show you what I mean.”
Ten minutes later, Scarlett threw open the doors to her “special” closet and waited for Madison’s reaction.
“Cool.”
The fifteen-by-fifteen-foot room was lined with costumes, shoes, wigs and jewelry that Scarlett used to transform herself into various starlets from the fifties and sixties.
“On the weekends I like to get dressed up and wander around the casinos. My high rollers love it and I get to pretend that I’m still an actress.” A mild pang of regret came and went.
“You obviously love being one.” Madison walked toward the costumes on the far wall. “Why’d you give it up?”
Scarlett watched Madison trail her fingers along a hot-pink replica of the gown worn by Marilyn Monroe when she sang “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” from the 1953 musical Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.
“The simple answer is that when puberty hit I went from a sweet-faced girl-next-door to a bombshell with too many curves.” Scarlett stood in front of the mirror and gazed critically at her reflection. “Neither the producers of That’s Our Hilary nor my not-so-loyal public were ready for Hilary to grow up so fast.”
“What happened?”
“They spun off a few secondary characters into a new show and gave Hilary the heave-ho.”
“That’s terrible.”
“That’s showbiz.” Scarlett skimmed her palms over her hips, thinking about how she’d put on the black skirt to thumb her nose at Logan’s suggestion that she dress more professionally. He didn’t seem to understand that unless she worked really hard to downplay her allure, her innate sexuality came through whatever she wore.
It’s why the parts that came her way after her stint as Hilary were all of a kind. She’d turned down so many offers to play sexy roles that she’d lost count. Being typecast as the bitchy sexual rival of the heroine was not the part she wanted to play. She longed to be taken seriously as an actress, but her agent said none of the casting directors he spoke to could see past her looks to the talent beneath.
“I know my uncle wants you to talk me out of being an actress.”
“Aren’t you a smart girl.” Scarlett caught Madison’s gaze in the mirror. “Smart enough to have a plan for what happens if you can’t make it in Hollywood?”
Madison looked away. “I’m young. I thought I’d give it a few years. If I don’t make it, I can always go to school later.”
Scarlett considered how many times she’d heard a fellow actor say something similar. It was hard to give up your dream of making it on the silver screen when a great part was always the next audition away.
“Or you could see if your parents would be okay with you attending college in L.A. while you take acting classes and audition.” Scarlett could see that Madison hadn’t considered this option. She’d probably been so focused on defying her parents and fighting for the future she wanted that she’d never considered there might be a middle ground. “It might be a lot more work than you intended, but it might also be a way to make everyone happy.”
“I’ll think about it.”
But Scarlett could see the teenager wasn’t quite ready to.
“In the meantime, do you want to be Judy Garland in Summer Stock or Greta Garbo from Mata Hari?”
“How about Marilyn?”
Scarlett laughed. “Not so fast, my young apprentice. First you need to prove to me you’ve got the chops to be Marilyn.”
“I’ve got the chops.”
“Then you won’t have any trouble making a casino full of people believe you’re Mata Hari.”
“You got that right.”
Three
It was ten minutes after eleven, and Logan was pacing from one end of his thirty-foot front porch to the other. There was a pair of rocking chairs where he could sit down and enjoy the flowers cascading from long pots affixed to the railings, but he was too agitated.
Through the Bluetooth receiver in his ear, Logan half listened to his brother muse about Tiberius’s files. “So, we were right.”
“I’ll know for sure tomorrow.”
Logan squinted into the dark night as if that could help him see farther. Where the hell were they?
“I don’t suppose there’s any way she’d just turn the files over to you.”
“Not a chance.” His irritation spiked as he saw headlights appear at the end of his long driveway.
“Yeah, I forgot how well you two get along.” Lucas sounded disgusted. “I don’t know what the hell’s the matter with you. She’s gorgeous and the chemistry between you is off the charts. You’d barely have to lift a finger to charm the key from her.”
“Charming people is your job,” Logan retorted, stepping off the porch as Scarlett’s Audi TT rolled to a stop. “You’re late,” he snapped as she cut the engine.
“I’m late?” Lucas said in his ear, tone rising in confusion.
Scarlett protested, “By ten minutes.”
“You sound too cranky for this to be a booty call,” his brother taunted, having heard the female voice. “I take it our rebellious niece wasn’t home on time.”
“Something like that. Later.” He disconnected the call, cutting off his brother’s laughter.
Logan frowned as Madison stepped from the car. “What is she wearing?”
“I’m Greta Garbo as Mata Hari,” Madison announced, striking a pose, arms out, face in profile, nose lifted to the sky.
Logan surveyed the elaborate headpiece that concealed Madison’s blond hair and the sparkling caftan-looking gown that covered her from chin to toes. With her dramatic makeup and solemn expression, his niece was an acceptable Greta Garbo.
But he’d asked Scarlett to steer Madison away from acting, not demonstrate how much fun it could be.
“Doesn’t she look great?” Scarlett asked, coming around the front of the car. Also in costume, adorably feminine in a blond wig and pale pink ostrich-feather dress, she gave Logan the briefest of glances before settling her attention on the teenager.
The fondness in her gaze struck low and hard at Logan’s gut. Unprepared for the blow, he stiffened. Scarlett genuinely liked the girl. And from Madison’s broad smile and the hint of hero worship in her eyes, the feeling was mutual. When he’d agreed to let Scarlett show his niece around the hotel, he never dreamed they’d become friends. But now he understood his faulty judgment. Having an actress of Scarlett’s caliber to learn from would be any fledgling actress’s dream come true.
“Just great.” He felt a growl building in his chest. “Madison, why don’t you go in and take off the costume so Scarlett can take it back to the hotel with her.”
Logan’s shortness dimmed his niece’s high spirits. “She said I could bring it with me when I go back tomorrow.”
“I’ve been thinking that the hotel might not be the best place for you.”
“It figures that I’d find something I enjoy and you’d take it away.” Madison threw her arms out. “Do you all want me to be miserable? Is that it?”
“I thought you might spend some time with me at the office tomorrow.”
“We tried that, remember?” Madison crossed her arms over her chest and dropped the enigmatic Mata Hari facade. Once again she looked like a twenty-first-century teenager playing dress-up. “You left me sitting in the lobby with the receptionist while you dealt with all the supersecret stuff for your clients. No, thanks.”
Up until now, Scarlett had remained silent. Now she stepped into the fray, her manner relaxed, her voice a refreshing spring breeze. “Madison, why don’t you head in. Your uncle and I will figure something out.”
To his amazement, Madison did as she was told. Giving Scarlett a quick, warm hug, his niece shot him a pleading look before disappearing through the front door.
“How did you do that?” The question tumbled out of him. “She fights me on everything from breakfast to bedtime. But you tell her to do something and she agrees without so much as a frown.”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve treated her like the intelligent young woman she is.”
“Meaning, I haven’t?”
“You’re pretty bossy.”
“She’s seventeen.”
“When I was seventeen, I had my GED, was managing my acting career and having a ball with my friends.”
“She’s not you.”
“I’m not saying she is. But she’s smart and ambitious. If she’s behaving like a brat, it might be because no one is listening to her.”
“So now you’re an expert.”
Scarlett’s only reaction to his sarcasm was the warning flash in her eyes. Her tone remained neutral as she said, “I’m not an expert. I’m simply offering you my opinion.”
“Noted.”
“Please let her come back to the hotel tomorrow. She can shadow my general manager. Lucille’s exactly what you want in a mentor. A professional career woman with a master’s degree in business. Hardworking. Conservative dresser. You’ll love her.”
While Logan appreciated that Scarlett had taken a strong interest in Madison, he couldn’t shake the concern that no matter how hard she tried to steer his niece toward college and a career that would please her parents, Madison would continue to be dazzled by Scarlett’s larger-than-life persona and remain steadfast in her decision to become an actress.
“Please, Logan. Let me help.” A trace of pleading had entered Scarlett’s voice. “I’m worried that if everyone keeps telling her what to do, Madison will become even more determined to skip college and go to L.A.”
“And you think you can change her mind.”
“I’m not promising that, but I think she’ll listen to what I say.”
That’s exactly what Logan was afraid of. She’d already half convinced him to let Madison return to the hotel. His irritation cooled and other emotions crowded in.
“And who are you supposed to be?” he asked, as he finally took in the full effect of her outfit.
She twirled gracefully. “I’m Ginger Rogers from the movie Top Hat.”
She looked ready to be spun around the dance floor or clasped in her costar’s arms for a passionate moonlit kiss. And thanks to her four-inch heels, her delectable mouth was within easy kissing distance....
Logan crossed his arms over his chest as he was flooded with the memory of her soft moan of surrender earlier that day. A low burn began in his belly. Tension built as he waited for the tiniest spark from her that would ignite him to action.
But instead of provoking him, she retreated a step. “I should be getting back to the hotel.”
Did he detect the slightest hint of breathlessness in her voice? Had she sensed he was on the brink of doing something rash and impulsive? Why wasn’t she inviting him to act?
“Of course.”
“Will you bring Madison by tomorrow?”
“I can.”
“It would be better if we formalized the internship by hiring her. That way she can take ownership of the tasks she’s assigned.”
Logan knew having a job she enjoyed would be good for his niece, but he worried what having her working for Scarlett was going to do to his blood pressure.
“What time do you want her?”
Only because he was so in tune with her did he note the relaxation of her muscles. The change was almost imperceptible.
“Eight.”
And then, because she wasn’t expecting it, he slid his hand around the back of her neck and lowered his lips to hers. For a second, shock paralyzed her, then she softened beneath the light pressure he exerted on her mouth. The moonlight and muted night sounds called for leisurely, romantic kisses. He cupped her head and focused all his attention on the texture of her plump lips and the fragrance of her skin.
Two kisses stretched into ten. Logan knew the interlude couldn’t last forever. Already in the back of his mind irritation buzzed. A sizzling, sultry temptress, she was built for passion and frenzied desire, and here he was treating her like the heroine of a lighthearted romantic comedy.
But in this moment, with just a hint of coolness rushing across his hot skin, he wanted nothing more than to savor the way she yielded her lips to his mastery, to enjoy how her body trembled as he feathered kisses over her chin and cheeks.
“Thank you,” she said when at long last he released her.
He noted that she kept her gaze on his shirt buttons, her thoughts hidden beneath a thick fringe of lashes. “For kissing you?”
She frowned. He’d disrupted her poise and she was slow to recover.
“For letting Madison come back to Fontaine Richesse tomorrow.”
“You made a convincing argument.”
Already his fingers itched to touch her again. He wished he hadn’t let her go so soon, but any longer and he’d have been overwhelmed by the urge to carry her into the house and spend the rest of the night ravishing her.
As if reading his mind, Scarlett backed away. “I’d better go.” She returned to the driver’s side of the red convertible. With the car between them she finally met his gaze. “Are we still on for tomorrow night at seven?”
“I haven’t changed my mind about how dangerous Tiberius’s files are, so yes.”
“Then it’s a date.”
“It’s not a date,” he grumbled, but the eager jump in his pulse made him wonder who he was trying to convince, her or himself.
“Then you won’t want to kiss me goodnight.”
Any response he might have made would’ve been drowned out by the noise of the engine as she started her car.
It wasn’t until her taillights disappeared down his driveway that he realized he was smiling.
* * *
The first thing Scarlett did when she returned to her suite was crank up the air conditioning. Driving a sedate forty miles an hour back to the hotel hadn’t stirred the hot June night air enough to lower her body temperature after kissing Logan.
She stripped and stepped into the shower. The cool water made her shiver, but it wasn’t enough to fully banish the heat coursing through her at the memory of Logan’s lips moving over hers.
Somewhat refreshed, she wrapped herself in a terry robe and sat staring out her window at the bright Vegas strip. Why the hell had he kissed her like that? Passion she could handle. That wild kiss in the elevator had knocked her for a loop, but it had been born out of conflict and chemistry.
Tonight’s embrace had been heartbreakingly romantic. She never imagined a straightforward guy like Logan would have had it in him to kiss her so sweetly and let her go. The explosive quality between them led her to expect him to want her hard and fast. Not slow and tender.
She felt a quiver begin in her chest and plummet downward until she was just as hot as before her shower.
A firm knock sounded on her outside door, making Scarlett’s heart jump. Had Logan followed her back to the hotel intent on picking up where they’d left off in his driveway? If so his timing was terrible. Her hair was wet. She wore no makeup. The only thing sexy about her at the moment was that she was naked beneath the robe.
For several seconds she stood paralyzed with indecision. A second, urgent knock roused her. She crossed to the door and flung it open.
“About time,” Violet said, holding up a bottle of Tiberius’s favorite Scotch. “It’s been a long, horrible day and I need a drink.”
“Ditto.” Harper eyed Scarlett’s attire, then peered past her into the suite. “We’re not interrupting anything, are we?”
Scarlett laughed, but it had a queer edge to it. “Hardly. And you’re right about the day. It was crazy. I’ll get some glasses.”
The three sisters settled onto the comfortable couch in Scarlett’s living room, each with a glass of amber liquid. Scarlett enjoyed being sandwiched between her sisters, treasured their closeness. Growing up an only child, she’d always longed for siblings. Now she had two.
“To Tiberius,” Violet pronounced in solemn tones.
“To Tiberius,” Harper and Scarlett echoed as they all clinked glasses.
“How did it go with Logan’s niece today?” Harper asked as Scarlett refilled her glass after tossing back the first shot.
The alcohol had left a line of heat from her throat to her stomach, a different sort of burn than she’d felt when Logan had kissed her. “She’s great. Wants to be an actress. Her family is horrified.”
Violet frowned. “There are far worse professions.”
“Not if you listen to Logan,” Scarlett muttered. “He’s convinced I’m going to corrupt Madison with my evil ways.”
“Stop exaggerating.” Harper was always the voice of order and reason. “You rub Logan the wrong way because it amuses you.”
Scarlett couldn’t deny it so she shrugged. “I’d rather rub him the right way, but he made it plain from the start that I wasn’t his type.”
“Is that why he stares at you so much?” Violet regarded her over the rim of her glass. “Because you’re not his type?”
Harper patted Scarlett’s hand. “I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’re every man’s type.”
“Not every man.” But few were immune. Until today she’d believed Logan was one of those. Correction—until tonight. The kiss earlier that day had been about proving a point. Tonight’s kiss had been...intimate. As if the only thing on his mind was connecting with her. Scarlett shook her head and put a stop to such fancy. Turning to Violet, she said, “Something weird happened today. John Malcolm stopped by with an envelope for me from Tiberius.”
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