She not only loved flying; she also looked forward to Nick’s company when training was over and it was time to chill.
Conversing with him was easy, and she found him to be one of those people you could confide in without fearing judgment. His insights were thoughtful and sharp, and she discovered that he was well-read. The man liked Dostoyevsky. Good thing she was familiar with some of the works he mentioned.
If only he knew some of the things she enjoyed reading. Like spicy romance. Ha.
During flight lessons, he was serious and professional, and it was easy to forget how attracted she was to him. But the moment she shut off the engine, the inexorable pull coming from him grew ever stronger.
The nights … well, they were difficult. She found it hard to fall asleep, and once she did, she often woke up and struggled to get back to slumber, knowing he was in the bedroom two doors down from hers.
Occasionally, she thought she could smell him, and she tossed and turned, hugging a pillow to herself in the futile effort to quell the arousal his scent inevitably caused.
Keeping him friend-zoned was becoming a private hell.
Tonight, their first night out, was no exception.
In his black dress shirt and trousers, he was so damned handsome, moving with such fluid grace, just watching him stride down the street felt like an act of voyeurism.
“Anything goes here.” Jannie eyed the scantily clad showgirls who smiled and waved at passersby, handing out flyers, entirely at ease with their butt cheeks hanging out. In front of her, a woman walked with her wide-eyed tween son, who strained his neck to view the photos of naked women littering the ground.
He stumbled on an uneven portion of the sidewalk, drawing an annoyed glare from his mother. “Aiden … Aiden! Watch where you’re going!”
Nick’s lips twitched. “Anything and everything goes. A world away from Orlando, isn’t it?”
“Right?”
They stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change.
A bus slid slowly by. The huge ad on its side caught Jannie’s eye: a woman standing tall in a black corset, fishnet stockings, and sky-high stilettos, a short crop in her hand. Before her, on his knees, a blindfolded, bare-chested man, whose chin she lifted with the paddle end.
Jannie kept her jaw from dropping. “Wow,” she whispered.
Beneath the couple, in elegant black letters accented with shocking pink, read,Sin City Dark. Come for the fantasy. Stay for the reality.
Sin City Dark.
Why did that sound familiar?
The image persisted in her mind all the way to the Paris hotel, where Nick pulled open the door, allowing her to enter first.
It felt like stepping into an alternate universe. Overhead, a painted blue sky with puffy clouds glowed softly to simulate daylight. Colorful slot machines filled much of the space, their clicks, whirs, and dings simultaneously assaulting and pleasing the ear. The atmosphere was palpably charged, and people milled about, many dressed to the nines, all seeking some kind of Vegas pleasure or experience.
It was good to be here, and despite the discomfort of the wig, she was grateful to Nick for finding a way to finally get her out of the house.
He led her to the left, and they made their way down the carpeted path between the slots. Ahead, Jannie spotted the white lettering above the glowing red entrance to Gordon Ramsay Steak.
Several people stood there in a short line. At the back were two striking women who brazenly eyed Nick, their gazes roaming over him, their eyes shining with the telltale glitter of excessive alcohol consumption.
One of them looked Jannie up and down. Her gut clenched. Did she look odd?
But then, the woman caught her gaze and held it. “You two are gorgeous.”
“So are you,” Jannie sincerely replied. Both brunettes and perfectly put-together, the two could have graced any high-fashion runway.
The woman licked her lips. “Looking for some fun?”
Oh.
Jannie blinked, momentarily speechless, but she recovered quickly. “If by fun you mean eating some great beef Wellington, then yes.”
