Page 10 of Just My Luck

“I know just the spot.” I smiled, the lingering tension from the meeting finally fading into the background.

Outside, a rare layer of high desert clouds had rolled over the valley, blocking out the oppressive midday sun and cooling the afternoon down to a perfect, comfortable warmth. A light breeze stirred the air as we stepped onto the sidewalk of the Strip, making the walk feel like a luxury instead of an endurance test.

We headed to the lower end of the Strip to a rustic, multi-level spot specializing in low-and-slow barbecue. Up on the expansive rooftop patio, we scored a table right against the railing, surrounded by the ambient noise of the city and the smell of smoked brisket.

There was a band playing and couples dancing to the music in front of the stage area.

I ordered an ice-cold beer while Nova picked a sweet frozen cocktail. We ordered a massive platter of ribs and cornbread.

“All right, let’s look at the data objectively,” Nova said, leaning her elbows on the table and swirling her drink with her straw. “Jerk or not, Kit Sterling was impressed with the presentation. When we go to dinner tonight, we need to push the regional ad-buy strategy. I bet we can get him to agree to that framework over appetizers.”

“You really think we can trust him to keep his hands above the table?” I asked, taking a long pull from my beer. I hated how much space the guy was taking up in my head, but I couldn’t ignore the predatory vibe he put off.

“I think Kit is a man who likes a challenge, in and out of the boardroom,” Nova said thoughtfully, her eyes fixed on the distant steel frame of the Onyx construction site up the road. “But I also think he respects competence. As long as we keep the boundary clear, we use his interest to lock GSM into his budget for all his Colorado marketing needs over the next three years.” She looked back across the table at me, her gaze softening with that fierce, unshakeable loyalty that always blew me away. “I’m not letting him—or anyone else—stand in the way of what you’ve earned, Jax.”

I looked at her as the cool condensation dripped down my beer bottle and felt a dangerous shift in my own resolve. Kit Sterling thought he could play games with us, but he didn’t know the history he was trying to compete with.

Chapter 5

Nova

The smoky flavor of the brisket and the ice-cold sweetness of my cocktail were the perfect antidote to the stress of the morning. Sitting out on that rooftop deck with Jax, watching the clouds track across the sky and the busy people below us, felt dangerously easy.

We moved on from work talk to argue about the Avalanche’s defensive pairings, since the game was playing on the big screens all around us. We debated whether brisket required sauce—it absolutely does—and then completely dismantled Kit Sterling’s corporate structure until we had a bulletproof strategy for the evening.

Once the platter was cleared, I wiped my hands on a napkin and set my empty drink glass down with a definitive click.

“All right,” I declared, sliding my purse strap over my shoulder. “Lunch is handled. Now I need to acquire some tactical weaponry.”

Jax raised an eyebrow, paying the bill and sliding his wallet into his back pocket. “Tactical weaponry? In a barbecue joint?”

“We are going shopping,” I corrected, offering him a sweet, entirely unapologetic smile as I pulled him out toward the stairs. “If I have to help broker a multi-million-dollar regional contract at an exclusive VIP lounge tonight, I am not doing it in a business suit. And I certainly can’t wear the emerald dress again. Kit already commented on it.”

Jax’s posture stiffened slightly at the mention of Kit’s name, his jaw tightening just a fraction before he forced a relaxed shrug. “Fine. Lead the way. But I’m drawing the line at holding your bags if they’re neon pink like last time. My brothers never stopped poking fun at me.”

I laughed. “That was in, what? Tenth grade?”

He shrugged and had me laughing even more.

We hit the upscale shopping promenade connected to the Apex. It was a climate-controlled paradise of high-end designers, heavy glass storefronts, and the distinct scent of wealth. I dragged Jax through three different boutiques, deliberately ignoring the eye-watering price tags because, technically speaking, this fell under the heading of necessary business expenses. Right?

Besides, I had my winnings from the night before to cushion the blow.

Jax was surprisingly patient, leaning against the velvet chairs outside the fitting rooms as he watched me reject dress after dress.

Then I found it in a boutique near the back of the promenade.

It hung on a minimalist rack, practically glowing under the soft gallery lighting. It was a fluid, liquid-gold silk slip dress. It had a cowl neckline, an open back that dipped into a sharp V, and a subtle slit up the right thigh that gave it just enough edge to offset the elegance. It was sophisticated, bold, and screamed high-stakes Vegas luxury.

“I’ll be right back,” I told Jax, snatching the hanger and ducking into the changing room.

The dress slid over my skin like warm water. I zipped it up, adjusted the delicate straps, and turned to look in the full-length mirror. The gold fabric caught every angle of the light, making my skin look luminous and completely transforming me into someone who belonged in the spotlight.

I took a breath, stepped out of the fitting room, and walked into the main lounge area.

“Okay, be brutally honest⁠—”

The words died in my throat. Jax was sitting on the leather bench, and the moment I stepped out, he froze. His arms slowly uncrossed. His crystal blue eyes tracked from the hem of the gold silk up the length of my legs and then over the fit of the waist, before locking directly onto my face.